Seven Minutes In Hell {Breakup! Eustass Kid X Reader}

Seven Minutes in Hell {Breakup! Eustass Kid X Reader}

You have been treated badly one too many times. It's time to leave your Boyfriend behind

Shit hasn't been well, this song slaps and let's get this shit show started!

Ofc kinda angsty(not really though?, but on god Reader deserves freedom (Dw, my pookie will get another actual One shot soon lmao, hopefully as tasteful as the song but lbfr i'll probabky flump it again)

Anywho, let's get it started

Admittedly, your relationship with Kid was everything but healthy. He was loud and didn't really care about if you had to stand up in the morning, police called to your place more than once for loud screaming and arguments. There were his guy friends, his crew, that were obviously higher on his priority list than you — far higher. The amount of times he nearly went to jail for them, you'd thought Kid would have learned his lesson, but alas he never did. And you? Well, you seemed to only be there for one thing — stress relief. If that meant fucking you and screaming at you, something even throwing random stuff at you he found in the house, well, that was for him to decide on the whim.

If at least the sex was good, but even that was all about him. It was like the world revolved around him and only him and everyone had to do what he wanted. Well, too bad for him, you had enough. Years of misery finally snapping to a close, you decided he wasn't worth your time anymore. You were done with being treated like an old-timey housewife of the Middle Ages. You had packed your things while he was out with his friends again, ready to leave. There was no way in hell however you would want to miss his face when you confronted him, oh how you imagined he'd look. Would he be upset, would he scream at you again, only proving your point?

You put your last bag in your best friend's trunk, she had been kind enough to lend you a hand in her endeavor. If it went how she wanted to, you probably wouldn't even have started this relationship, but now she just sat ready to drive, the box of glitter she brought still sitting on the back seat as she gave you a last encouraging nod to take it. You didn't and went back inside, letting her know it could get late — she waited, of course. And you went back inside.

Kid was expecting food on the stove when he came back home, he didn't even notice your shoes missing on the shoe rack out front when he unlocked the apartment, but he did notice one thing — all that decor he had absolutely despised missing. He even smiled triumphantly before he realised the missing smell of fresh food. Kicking off his boots haphazardly, he stopped into the kitchen and saw you on your phone, sitting on a chair at the table. "Yo, what's with food?" "I won't make you food anymore."

There was a silence, a calm before the storm. You put your phone in your back pocket before he could fly off the handle, just in time. "What the fuck?! You're not even gonna make me food now, what are you even worth?!" You let him have his little temper tantrum, before you sighed. "We're done, Kid. I'm worth far more than you, and by all means... I really hope you never get another partner in your life, my god" He seethed, his face contorting in anger, but he didn't say anything, couldn't say anything, words missing on his tongue and voice dying in his throat. "Oh, and uh, I'm moving out. Like today." You shrugged.

All the tension in him seemed to snap at once, as he lunged forwards, grabbing you by your throat and pushing you against the wall. His metal fingers pressing down hard, actually restricting your airway. "You fucking bitch have the audacity to come in here, live here for years, be absolutely useless to me, then up and leave? No, no, you don't get to do that!" "Well, I was good enough to make you food. And to get you off, apparently. Also, you hurt me in any way, I won't hesitate to call the police, I only need to press one button right now." He huffed, he really seemed like a bull trapped in a ring with gladiators, just that this was no real fight. "Don't fucking pretend like you didn't like this shit, wasn't that part of the reason you even came here in the first place?"

"It was, at the start" You smiled. "You just kind of… Put me through hell, not gonna lie. Like, you've gotten so bad in bed, it's actively hell. Like I'm just there, and honestly, no. Not even a thank you, no — just no." His hands clenched into fists, and for a second you thought you had crossed the line, as he raised his hand, before he turned, smashing the table with his prosthetic. "Get out you fucking whore! Get out, or I swear I'll rip your fucking throat out!" You didn't need to get asked twice, running to your friends' car, who looked at you worriedly, but you smiled as you hoped into the passenger seat. "Drive, Drive!" And without a word, she started the car as you began laughing. Finally, you were free again.

No Need To Fear {Moira & Mercy, Angst}

After an Attack on an Overwatch and Blackwatch Meeting, Moira and Angela are trapped in the rubble. A lone window on the ceiling their only escape, Angela the only one able to reach it. Yet, as Fate wished it, Angela is badly injured and in need of medical attention, Moira the only one that could heal her. But does she trust the sadistic scientist to keep her promise?

Angela Ziegler knew better than to trust Moira O'Deorain. She knew better, she should have known better. For years, she had despised her methods, had resisted a collaboration between the two, had decidedly pushed everything away Moira had offered.

Moira just wanted to advance her research, she wanted to surpass death, but she was ruthless. Angela knew that very well. Blackwatch was a disgrace in her mind. Out of hand, uncontrollable and wild. Blackwatch was evil, more so because of the fellow scientist hired.

Angela always met Moira with disdain, dismissive and absolute. Judging her Methods and morals, yet Moira remained unbothered. Calm. Objective set on discovering her revival technology. No, she had long ago made up her mind. Never would she put her trust in Moira, never would she work together with her and never would she believe her words.

Moira had escaped the attack unscathed, Mercy — Angela — had not. Angela was in her Mercy Uniform, the Wings in her back, fitting to her name, bleeding profusely. A part of the protective armour was shattered, flesh exposed underneath and Moira could already tell what a disaster it was, shrapnel and dirt in her open wound, if she was lucky, she could get it out. If only Angela would let her.

Angela's mind was fuzzy, edges blurring and her thoughts mixing into a muddy soup. But she stood strong, slapping away Moira's hands, whenever she caught the slender, bony limbs reach and touch. “My staff”

Moira had already looked for the staff, partially because she wanted to look at it, understand it, but mainly because a great mind like Angela's shouldn't be lost because of stubbornness. She had pulled it out of rubble, and while she was unsure about how it worked, it was broken in multiple pieces. It somehow looked alive inside, and if it was, it wasn't anymore. It had burned and soot was covering the shiny metal.

Angela knew she couldn't fix her staff in time. They were trapped anyway, and Moira needed her if she wanted to escape — there was a window above them, but it was too high for the Irish Woman to reach, even with using the rubble as a vantage point. The highest she got was her long fingernails barely scraping along the glass. Moira had no choice. She was the one who had it. If she would let Moira help her, surely she wouldn't do anything stupid?

Moira had tried breaking the window and failed. The explosion had caged them in, it was a miracle the godforsaken window stood strong, albeit a terribly timed miracle. She clicked her tongue as she walked quickly over to Angela, her shoes clicking against the floor, as she knelt down. “Let me help you, Angela. I promise I won't do anything, all you have to do is trust me.”

Angela had trusted Moira once. Back when they were still in med school, she had trusted her and Moira had coldly used it against her. Angela knew Moira, she knew her nature, she knew Moira wouldn't be able to resist another betrayal of trust, it's what she did to everyone, she didn't care. But Angela cared. At least she would have, her mind was too unfocused, too messy. She couldn't grasp a single thought, and as Moira's hands grasped at the Armour, she couldn't lift herself to stop her, her hands not raising as she tried. She was so weak, so tired.

Moira smiled, as she tugged the armour off, Angela pale and sweaty, as she looked at the wound, taking out the shrapnel with her medical equipment she carried with. Angela flinched and yelped at the pain, but Moira was undeterred. She lifted Angela's undershirt, securing it with a loose knot so it wouldn't fall over the wound steadily leaking blood. Threatening words left Angela's mouth, but the vigor behind it was missing, so Moira continued.

Angela was helpless. She watches as if dazed, as Moira took out a bottle of disinfectant, but instead of doing it properly, she poured it into the wound, a wicked smile on her features. Angela couldn't help but scream, it hurt so bad. Suddenly filled with adrenaline and pain, she pushed Moira from her slumped body, as she turned, trying to crawl along the wall. She wouldn't get far, she couldn't, with them being trapped, but she sure would try.

Moira wasn't pleased. It wasn't the first time her patients went running. Sometimes she let them, only to chase them afterwards - sometimes, it was just thrilling fun, but not this time. Scoffing, Moira reached for Angela's shoulders, roughly spinning her around before pointedly seating herself on her hips, pinning her down. Angela yelled, thrashed. The wound leaked more blood and Moira got angry. She didn't want Angela to die of blood loss, that wouldn't do. Extending her right arm, she aimed at the other Overwatch employee, also injured but already unconscious, extracting his life force, before showering Angela in the soft, warm, sharply stinging healing spray.

Angela was surprised at first, she was scared, afraid of Moira but Moira had actually helped her. She retracted her hands from trying to punch and push Moira, as Moira reached out. Her expression was neutral, as she softly grabbed her hands, and then, in less than a second, Angela was helpless again. Her hands were pinned over her head with Moira's right hand as she could only watch how Moira pulled a syringe out of her med kit, the contents purple like her biotic grasp, before she injected it right where her old wound was.

Moira watched as Angela lay there, helpless and restrained, only able to wait for the effects of whatever Moira had just injected her to kick in. Moira, of course, knew what she had injected her fellow scientist with. Soon, Angela would feel nauseous, she'd fall unconscious before the chemical could actually fulfill it's true purpose — making her a slave to Moira, just like she had chained Reyes, Amélie and Siebren.

If Angela was a merciful Angel, Moira was a ruthless Demon, but Moira wouldn't want it any other way, after all, how else could she achieve her goals? Angela Ziegler's technology in her hands… Well, technically, Angela Ziegler herself. There was no one who could stop her now. Moira looked towards the window at the top. Maybe she would die before Angela would succumb to her pain and help Moira. But she could rest easy, knowing how close she came.

Two Sinners Can't Atone From A Lone Prayer {Reiner Braun}

Reiner Braun was a warrior, a proud man of Marley. But maybe he wasn't so proud, maybe he didn't like Marley at all. Maybe he despised his home, his family, himself. Maybe he just wanted to die, to avoid all this guilt and shame.

Content wraning: Suicidal thoughts, AoT typical violence and Trauma, Reiner Braun being Reiner Braun

He had spent his life living for anyone but himself. Reiner Braun, the son loving his mother so much he would die for her. Reiner Braun, the son who became a warrior for his mother. Reiner Braun, the child sent to war to protect his mother. It was no surprise that by the end of his 13 years he wanted to die. It was no surprise he wanted to choose how to go out, and yet, he had been denied that sweet release every single time.

He had seen wars and blood and death, had killed more people than most in the world when he was still a child. He had been tasked with genocide of an entire civilization when he was 12. Most other children would fawn over cars and races and get into fights with the neighbours kids about some girl they liked and get home to an angry mother and fresh food, and he was strategically plotting how to doom an entire nation, in the name of peace.

Of course, he didn't know then, that it wasn't peace. It was fear, it was war. He was a slave, a slave to anyone who gave him orders. It wasn't his fault, of course, it was the fault of the world, the people around him. It was the fault of Eldia, Marley, his mother, the soldiers… When Marcel died they should have returned, but he pressed on. They weren't about to throw away their chance at 'peace' just because of one death. It was his fault of course, the horror, the dread he felt when he had seen the overgrown titan leap out of the ground, seen Marcel get caught by the titan, seeing him get stuffed between his teeth, the sound of bones as they were crushed, heard his screams upon the pain Marcel felt. He was frozen. What could he have done? Marcel was the leader, he was suited far better for this entire job than him. Maybe Porco had been right, he didn't deserve the Armoured Titan. Then they broke the first wall, a team effort just for a chance to mix under the people — no — the monsters who caused all this suffering. The monsters who followed their leader, the founding Titan, who worshipped him, who praised him…

And they screamed. Ran. They behaved like… Like people. Getting eaten, crushed, trampled. They tried to save their dogs, cats, horses, their children, their wives. They didn't look so different. He enrolled in the Survey Corps with only one intention but at that point. Everything had already started to shift. He had dreams of being a warrior, dreams of being a soldier, and everything seemed to muddle up. Until, eventually, he wasn't Reiner Braun, the son living for anyone but himself anymore. He had become Reiner Braun, the friend and soldier finally making his own decisions. But it was fleeting, like a beaten dog always returning to its owner for food, he always found his way back. Escaping. Into this false reality where Eren wasn't a threat, a reality where he could just be what he was — a teenager, even if he was very mature and enrolling in yet another military. It was an escape, a dream, a wish.

And then they stood on that roof, discussing their plans, before they realized their fatal mistake: Marco. Reiner didn't think. At that moment, he was a warrior. Anything for his success. Everything was only for his success. No matter what or who he had to sacrifice. Marco was a sweet boy, nice and forthcoming, the exact opposite of these “monsters” he had been taught about. He felt with Annie when she hesitated, as he held him down. And then, he stood there, watching Marco getting gobbled down like a small snack. And he fled. How? How could he do this? Marco was his friend, no, his enemy, but what enemy that forgave him? It hurt, in his chest and in his brain, so he shut everything down. And then-

Wait, why was Marco getting eaten?

The second breaking of the wall was a plan. A return to the trauma he experienced. He knew how much damage he'd done. He'd seen the way they screamed, ran. Escaped for naught as they got caught and eaten and trampled and thrown. It was so similar. It was calculated and carefully crafted, but yet, there was a panic inside of him. He did his job, but by god, if there was one, how he just wanted to run. To die. They were just humans, just like him, his family, his mother, like all those who looked down on eldians, there was no difference. Not when they ran and screamed, terrified of the giants invading their home, their sanctuary. What was he doing, torturing, killing innocents? Children, people the farthest away from responsible for the crimes of their ancestors? People oblivious to their criminal past? Who was he, who were they to play judge?

And then, there he was — Eren, a Titan, no, not just any Titan. The Attack Titan, their goal, their mission. This was their objective, yet still his heart seemingly stopped beating. Eren was their mission. But the boy was reasonable, was he not? He was a Titan shifter, they definitely could talk to him, he hated Titans as much as they did, they could argue, he could convince him, he certainly could. So the next plan was set in motion. And from then on, everything seemed to fail miserably. The kidnapping backfired, Annie got captured, they nearly died, so then, Reiner made a decision.

Maybe his next decision already was one of tragedy, the stupid idea he had to tell Eren, tell him in front of basically everyone. The few feet of distance, what would they do? He didn't want to risk Bertholds life, yet he did, and his as well. A risk he took, a risk he nearly had to pay the price for. Precious seconds the difference between his death and survival, yet he survived. Maybe, he would ask himself later, maybe that already was the point where he wanted to die. The first attempt at a suicide, possibly. In the end, it all clumped together in his memory, a haze over his intentions and experiences, yet they still stung as clear as day. What was he doing?

Berthold died alone. And it was his fault. He couldn't protect him, he wasn't even there for him. No. He had to be saved, he had to be carried away, after loosing three titans, of which they only got back one, loosing a fourth was not an option. Reiner had failed. As a leader, a friend, a fighter, a warrior. He had failed Marley, failed to save his family, he was cursed with failure, and he was destined to forever be the symbol of incompetence. So they returned to Marley, while he grieved his only real friend. He was miserable. Reiner had failed at the easiest of tasks, he was supposed to be one of the best warriors of Marley, of the world, yet maybe they had been right. He wasn't prepared. He wasn't fit for this role. If only Marcel would have been alive. If only he would have died instead.

Marley was miserable, just like on Paradis, they lived in a cage, unlike on Paradis, he was a caged dog on a leash, a slave for war. He was home, yet he didn't feel farther away from home than he felt on Paradis. The fights, the senseless rage that Marley instilled into the next generation of warriors, it was nonsensical, complete lies fabricated in order to boost this way of thinking in black and white, their worldview. It was brainwashing at its finest. And now, as he was older, with what he saw himself, it seemed so clear, how could he have fallen for these blatant lies? The blatant propaganda? Marley was loud in such a different way to Paradis. The amount of times he wished he could just die, it was ridiculous. Yet somehow, he survived. He had been so close so often, rifle propped against the floor, the icy muzzle pressed into the wet cavern of his mouth, leftover gunpowder mixing with his saliva. Adrenaline pumped, his finger on the trigger. In less than a second, it all could be over. It would be over.

And he didn't shoot.

If only he had been strong enough to pull that trigger, he wouldn't have had to face Eren. Of all people, that boy a little bit too much like him, he may not have been a boy anymore, yes, but yet again, Reiner found himself begging for death, and again, he was not to be granted the release he so desperately sought. Again he was denied, and again he saw screaming, crying, running. Death. Another battlefield. Another detestation. Another Nightmare to add to his list.

The last mission. For one last time, an attack on Paradis. Return the Titans, stop them. That familiar haven, the familiar city and walls, years spent, wasted here, the place of his failure, the place of his sorrows. And finally, he was on the floor, he was ready to sacrifice himself, save one of the children, die at least in a meaningful way, he had surrendered. He was prepared. He had said his goodbyes, as there were none left to say. And then. Of course, even with his armour undone, his flesh nearly bitten through, there was something bound to get in his way. Another friend, another teammate lost.

Why was he surviving? Why was he the one everyone chose to safe? Why, why, why?

God, how he hated himself. How he wished he had pulled the trigger before meeting Eren again. If only he had accepted his fate. If only his mother wouldn't have pushed him. If only he wasn't born an eldian. If only he wasn't born at all.

And in the end, 80% of humanity had died. And he was still standing. So many of his friends were dead, his family was dead. Annie survived. God, how he had hated her at the start, how he had despised her way of icy rebellion. And now, they stood side by side and there was nothing he wanted to complain about. Reiner wondered if it had all played out differently, if he wouldn't hate himself so much if only he had been born on Paradis, together with his… was he allowed to calm them friends? He has betrayed them, attempted to kill them, was he really in the right to call himself a friend? The others didn't seem to mind, yet even after they decided to return to Paradis, he still couldn't shake, couldn't comprehend.

Why was he the one to survive?

Young Gods {Eustass Kid X Reader}

"Baby girl, don't get cut on my edges. I'm the king of everything and my tongue is a weapon. There's a light in the crack that's separating your thighs. And if you wanna go to heaven, you should fuck me tonight" ~ Halsey, Young Gods

NSFW below

Mentions: murder, hiding bodies, cheating, broken marriage, manipulation, unhealthy relationship, domestic violence (Kind Off), verbal abuse

NSFW mentions: Worship, rough sex (mentioned), Consenual sex at the start, Non-Con at the end (mentioned)

No NSFW cut this time, sorry pals

I do not condone Non-Con in any way, shape or form. I didn't think I'd ever write something like this. But it just kind of came to this, considering this one shot is based off the song and I always interpreted the quote above as pressuring into sex, this is kinda were it led. I originally planned to have a different outcome here, but the flow got me

Be mindful. Any comments that glorify non-con will be deleted and you will be blocked. People went through this, they experienced the pain and the suffering and the torment. I am not here to make light of what goe son behind the scenes, I'm not here to write a silly little enter tainemtn for you. Rape isn't entertainment, it should never be.

He wasn't good for you. You knew. He knew. Everyone knew. They kept telling you he wasn't for you, but you didn't want to listen. He was Kid, your Kid. Hotheaded, stubborn, aggressive but still yours. And he did keep it that way, he still remained yours, but never yours to control, to calm down. He was yours to love, but you were not his to love unconditionally.

There had been many instances, many mistakes you had caught him in, but still he kept you close. It's not like he forced you, it was simply your obsession with him, the way he made you feel, knew to play you like an instrument he had studied since childhood. He was insane, but who was to say you weren't?

There was that one time, he had been in your shared bed. Not alone, of course. You had opened the door after coming home, after eating your cold dinner he had made - it was quite terrible - and had seen him buried deep inside someone, wild blonde hair all over the bedsheets, hands grasping at Kid's and eyes closed, lowly moaning and grunting. Kid had heard the door open. Felt you enter.

You never forget that look in his eyes, as his eyes locked onto you, his hips not stilling their movements. He seemed angry, but not at the interruption.

He spent the night digging a six feet deep hole in the garden. You had spent the next morning planting flowers on the freshly re-dug dirt.

It was like this a couple times. Whenever you caught him, he would spent the night in the garden. It became a ritual of sorts, even though you were quite unsure about why decided to kill those people - men and women alike. Was it some sort of apology? Most likely not, he kept doing it over and over again.

Sometimes, when you were lying in bed alone, when you heard the shovel scrape and the dirt thump, when you heard his grunts and curses, when you heard him drag and something fall, before the dirt fell again, you asked yourself why you didn't go to the police, why you didn't rat him out, but the flashes of blue hair, blades, fishnets and a metal arm reminded you why.

Then, there were the nights he would worship you, his tongue lapping at every part of your skin, teeth working little purple bruises on your neck, on your arms and thighs, your stomach feeling warm where his flesh hand touched and cold where his prosthetic softly held you. It was sweet, loving even. You felt his mouth leave your shoulder, his tongue reappeared on your calf, he held your foot softly, before his tongue slowly made his way up. His mouth would worship your shoulders, your arms and hands, his tongue would glide from your feet up to your stomach, higher to your neck and into your face, he would lick you most private parts, making you mewl, making you moan. Making you absolutely his.

The Windows and doors would be shut, the curtains drawn closed, the noises of his wet tongue exploring your body yet again filling the room along with your moans and whimpers, your whispers for more and for him to stop already. He would make you come undone this way, absorbing whatever you gave him. His hands would continue, warm and cold a poetic play on your skin, as he expertedly played you, as he felt you shiver and heard you call out his name. Another time you would give in, and an additional one for good measure. These nights wer exhausting, pushing you to your limit again and again, making you forget what he had done again, making sure you still were his.

It worked, usually. These nights that seemed to be so full of love, if adoration and absolute infatuation from both sides, they were testaments of trust, a promise of love. Sometimes you wished it would stay like this forever, but alas. Another night, another girl. A different night, a different guy. He never changed, what would make him do that? Of course you wouldn't be reason enough.

"It's your fault I have to do this! You're just so boring, you're so strict and conforming, you always want to do the same lame things, like you want to control everything I do! Let a man have some fun if he needs to, you don't fucking provide it after all! Or what, you gonna say now, that it's not? Not your fault?! I even kill these chicks for you! I do that for you, or you'd flip! I know you people, you're all the same! What's the problem now. Then? You outraged cuz' the last dude didn't look like you enough? Does that make you cry? Should I get you to bed so you can rest? This ain't a fuckin' miracle dream, get the fuck over it!"

Of course, there were the arguments. When you had enough. When he had enough. Who was to tell? Maybe both. Screaming matches usually, resulting in broken promises, broken furniture. Broken Trust, even. You didn't listen to him. He didn't listen to you, that's how it normally went. Although, sometimes he did listen, sometimes he was quiet, death stare as you screamed your troubles. And then he followed, words twisted - or were they not? With an even louder voice, thundering through the house, no doubt your neighbours heard you, but they wouldn't snitch on the cops. Of course they wouldn't. The previous ones tried it. Their bodies weren't in your garden, but you didn't know where they were, didn't care.

"What?! That's not even what-"

"Oh, shut it with your complaining! That's all you ever do! What would you have done without me. Huh?! I could have left you alone at the altar! I should have! Would have shut you up properly! What if I snitched to the cops about the bodies, Huh? You were the one planting seeds, they saw that shit! If I would snitch, you would have absolutely no where to run to! Think you're gonna be safe in prison? Oh, snowflake, you wouldn't survive a day! You're nothing without me, you're fucking mine. So act like it! Or I'll make sure you will in the future!"

That was usually enough to shut you up. The fear of being rat out to the police, fear of being alone with actual criminals in a prison, some of which he controlled, was too much. At the start, that was always the end of it and he would go out, undoubtedly to do his own business again, while you pulled yourself together, cleaning the glass of the bottle from the floor that he had thrown in your direction. There had been no intention to hit, and he didn't, aiming farther right than he would have if he meant to hit you. You didn't want him to be mad. But after you realized, he wouldn't actually throw you to the cops, because they would find him, the threat stopped working. And it continued.

"You know damn well, that if they find the bodies you're gonna be the first they get in! I can lie myself out no problem, but what would they say, seeing a dude as tall as you with blunt force trauma, multiple stab wounds? Someone with your DNA inside and on them? No way I would go in for that! You would basically confess, and we both know that's not what you do!"

"Playing smart, Huh? Think you're better than me because you're a pretty little thing that can use their pretty little brain, Huh? Well, let me show you who that brain belongs to, I'm gonna keep my promise snowflake. I'm gonna show you that you fucking belong to me and do what I fucking say!"

He approach with loud thumps, steps heavy on the wooded floorboards, the remote you had thrown to deter him easily caught in his grip and abandoned on the floor. His eyes would shine dangerously, anger and lust filled, as he toweder over you, harshly grabbing your hair. He would tear you to the bedroom, ignoring your cries and attacks. The door would be slammed shut, key turned to lock it. The window would be wide open, curtains open as he turned on the light and pushed you towards the window.

"You gonna fucking defy me again, I'll make sure they all see you naked. And just to make it clear, if I need to go that far, Might as well carve my name into you, snowflake"

He squeezed your stomach harshly at that, empty threat hanging heavy above your head, as he pushed you towards the bed, his own clothes discarded fairly fast, and you followed suit. He sat down near the edge, yanking you to the floor and forcing your head onto his dick, making you gag as he went past your limits yet again. He pushed you up, onto the bed, hand on either side. You had stopped resisting, after all, what was it worth? Otherwise, you could be the first body in your garden without flowers. You didn't want to end like this, so you complied.

This was your life. You stayed with him, a twisted thing inside your heart telling you it was his way of loving you, his way of keeping you safe, but when he shut you off from the outside completely, no, since the first of these escalated nights, you knew he wasn't. This wasn't love, this was obsession, ownership. You were a hostage and you had no one to rescue you. You couldn't even help yourself.

So you stayed.

----

I actually originally planned this to be smut. Full on smut, but after discovering it went into a non-con direction, I felt really uncomfortable. So this is all you get. I will never, EVER write something like this again. I feel absolutely disgusting. But it's written, might as well let people read it.

This One Shot is not written for entertainment it also isn't written to inform, it's to give a sneak peak of why peole might stay with someone abusive. It's the ways manipulations can go. They might go so far, they might not. Please be aware, stay safe and keep in mind this can happen to anyone, no matter, age or gender or relationship to the abuser. Every Abuse is different and every story is unique. It's not our place to ask, but it's our place to listen when they talk.

Red Windows - Matt Murdock X Reader (Soulmate AU)

Another Day writing your Soulmate thesis for work, nothing else. That's what you thought. When the Morning dawns and a Devil ends up in your apartment, the same song stuck in both of your heads - what could go wrong? When your Soulmate ends up being a vigilante, the answer is easy to find: everything.

Set in a world, where even after Electra's Death and Daredevils partial hearing loss, Nelson & Murdock & Page are still together and never departed. This is partially due to my own stupidity and confusing the lore, but also simply because of I love the plotline but goddamn, I just want them to stay together.

Proof Read? Yeah, no.

Warnings: None. This does say Matt Murdock X Reader,can however also be seen in a platonic way. Also, maybe like Part 1? Idk, not sure tbf. Hate the ending, but here goes nothing. No use of Y/N or any placeholder

Soulmates. A thing everyone was talking about, sometimes singing so their Soulmate could hear it. Talking to someone else, one didn't know, someone far away, somewhere on this world. Or universe you guessed, considering the recent outing of a bunch of aliens, gods and more. Someone had to be their Soulmate, you guessed.

A lot of people thought Soulmates meant something romantic and were disappointed whenever they found out it was usually a platonic relationship. You should know. After all, you were studying philosophy with a focus on Soulmates. It was a topic that had interested you for a long time now and the older you had gotten, the more you had been fascinated by the mechanics of Soulmates and what the existence of these even implied. You would have preferred to go into the science field of things, however, since progress has been stagnating it was cut out of a lot of universities. So philosophy it was.

You had turned 29 a while ago, yet, had never heard your soulmate sing. Maybe whoever it was just wasn't that into it? Sometimes you sang a little tune to them, to this day to no avail. You were currently working on a thesis about Soulmates and the indications of the inevitability of future and choices and consequences, barely being able to write down all the rapidly passing thoughts on your sheet, when your best friend barged in. "It's Break Time for you and for me. Pack your things. We have an hour and I will not stand being in this office building for longer than five more minutes!"

You laughed slightly, grabbing your stuff and leaving the building right after them. They didn't wait until they started rambling to you, but you were content to listen. "So I met this girl yesterday, she was like, really cute. Short hair, ripped jeans, a flannel? Undeniably incredible taste in fashion. Also, the way she verbally decimated those guys? Absolute slay. The Guys were like trying to hit on a girl or something and wouldn't leave her alone, a real shame to be honest. She was really cute, asked her out." You smiled "That's nice, what did she say?" "That she already has a girlfriend. God, why must all the good Partners always be taken? It's so unfair!" You smiled lightly "Wouldn't know about it" Your friend gasped. "Exactly! I can't understand it, how no one sees you and wants to go out with you! Like, none of the good ones that is. I would totally try." You laughed. "Oh I would as well" "Dating yourself?" You looked at her "not my point, but totally yes."

The Break was over faster than you expected, but the work even longer. You sighed, when you looked at the clock, finally being allowed to get off. You closed your Laptop and said goodbye to the man behind the counter, who had just arrived and wished him a good and peaceful workday. Hell's Kitchen hasn't been the same for a while now, after Daredevil disappeared, the crime rate skyrocketed again, and a lot more Mutants were involved in it as well. You guessed because they didn't feel like they fit in, you couldn't blame them. The glass doors swung close behind you, the cool air of the evening of approaching fall nearly sending shivers down your spine, only nearly though. You fished out you phone and earphones out of your pocket, plugging them in and putting only one on. It was way too dangerous to walk around nearly deaf. You resumed the playlist you were listening, enjoying the song that came next, one of your all time favourites.

Take me to a light show before we go

Chemicals inside us line our bones

Your steps echoed through the street, the dark orange sky darkening slowly but surely fading into blue. The Bus station wasn't far away, and since your workplace didn't provide you with a parking spot, you took the bus. It roughly took the same time anyways.

Everybody's wasted, on their phones

Digits on the dancefloor, then our clothes

Next to the bus station there was a bakery, which you went to all the time while waiting for your bus. It wouldn't arrive for another 15 minutes, plenty enough time to buy yourself whatever you wanted. You usually opted for the same, but sometimes you felt like switching it up, like today. You asked for your order, waiting for the kind cashier to pack it.

Even if it blinds us

I'm reaching for the light within the fever

I'm reaching for your hand

You payed the cashier, taking your order and going back to the bus station.

The space between our fingers

Sparks, I feel them linger on

The bus arrived and after scanning your monthly ticket you sat down, thanking your work for not letting you get off in the middle of rush hour. The drive was quiet and you arrived home safely, deciding to get out of your work clothes and make yourself comfortable. You relaxed a bit, before deciding to head to bed, humming the melody of the song stuck in your head.

Next time let it go

Break my skin, Red Windows

So I'll know

.................…⁠ᘛ⁠⁐̤⁠ᕐ⁠ᐷ

It wasn't morning when you woke up, and it wasn't your alarm that woke you. The crashing of a window, heavy breathing and pained groans. Despite yourself, you stood up after you heard another crash - glass, maybe your table or a glass you just hadn't put in your dishwasher yet. You armed yourself with the first thing you could find - a belt - and stalked to your living room. The man had stopped trashing around, leaning heavily on a counter, shattered glass on the floor. He was still panting, but definitely trying to hide it. It was Daredevil. Daredevil stood in your apartment. Sure. yeah. Just a normal Tuesday Night. Not to mentioned he was supposedly gone.

You didn't know what came over you, but the only thing your brain was able to scamper together was a breathy "Hi" to the Vigilante. A pained smile graced his features "Hey." You stood there for a second, before remembering that he was leaning on a counter, just shattered a glass and was probably in a lot of pain. "Oh my god, wait, let me-" You vanished to get the Frist aid kit from the bathroom, returning to him in a matter of two minutes. You never thought you'd really have to use it, you didn't really expect a crime fighting Devil to appear injured in your living room. You hadn't seen any blood in the darkness, but you were sure to turn the lights on to take care of the man.

"Alright, just sit in the couch and I'll prepare... I don't know, what do you have? Bulletwounds? Were you stabbed, slashed?" The man laughed slightly but didn't move an inch. "Do you even know how to treat wounds?" "No, but that doesn't mean you can't guide me, you must me very well versed in this field." He still didn't move. "You gonna come over here?" He hesitated but pushed himself off the counter and waddled towards you, totally not noticing the couch and swaying harshly against it. He cursed under his breath and felt along the backside until he found the seating part. "Damn, you must be really out of it, not seeing the couch like that." He chuckled nervously. "Yeah, rough night" "Did you get hit in the head?" "No" Phew, thank god. One least thing to worry about. "Okay, could you like, get rid of the suit?" "Want to see a Vigilante naked so you can give it to the press?", He joked, you laughed. "No, but maybe I want to be able to keep a secret just for myself"

He got rid of the suit, wearing a thin black shirt and pants underneath, they reminded you of those that ice-skaters wore while training sometimes. His left leg was soaked, and not in sweat or water - in blood. You bunched the thin Leggings over the injury and came face to face with a red leg and a white structure, that looked way too much like a bone to be anything else, exiting his skin. "Fuck." "Yeah" "You walked with that?" "I did more with that then walk." "And you're human? Not just Thor in disguise or something?" "Pretty sur einem, yes" "That's wild. Okay, anything else?" I got shot and stabbed in the side, don't know how they got through the suit." "Alright, alright. Yeah, sure, we can.. we can work something out. I think" He laughed again, a charming laugh, you noted. "What do I do?" "Is the bullet still inside?" You pulled him forward from his leaning position, pulling up his shirt and seeing a matching hole in the back. "No" "Okay, that's good. Now you'll have to-"

You got more comfortable with him guiding you, knowing and feeling that he knew what he was doing. Sometimes he needed to help you a bit and in the end, you were done and he was still lying on your couch, his pantleg was still bunched up and his shirt was off - it had just been easier than him needing to hold it up while also guiding and helping you. While he was putting his shirt back on and sipping on some water you had brought him, you were already cleaning up the mess. You couldn't help yourself humming that song, calming yourself down why you did so, passing by Daredevil to clean the table and floor, the couch was something to worry about later. You weren't gonna throw an injured man off of your couch just to clean his blood. "My Soulmate sings that song all the time." You looked up from the puddle of blood, mixed with water and bleach you were scrubbing at and observed the man. He had a small smile on the lips that were visible. "Your Soulmate?" He nodded "Yes, she keeps singing this song, always at the same time on weekdays. I guess she gets off of work then." "Why are you telling me this? I could use this against you." "Doubt it. You would've called an ambulance or police if you would go against me" "Maybe I'm building trust to betray you."

"Why do you want me to distrust you so badly?" You stayed silent. "It's not about me", you started after a while, "it's about you. You need to be careful. Not all are as friendly as I am" "That, I only know too well." Silence. "My Soulmate doesn't sing. Never." "Never?" "No. Not even humming. Or jingles, absolutely nothing. I heard him once, back a few years ago. He was drunk, singing something very badly. He was practically screaming." "That must have been exhausting." "It wasn't. I was absolutely ecstatic. I had heard him for the first and only time that night, while he hears me on a daily basis. Sometimes I wonder if I am bothering him, because he doesn't sing at all, or if he died. I just hope he is a good man." "I am sure he is." Before Silence could settle in again, you spoke up "When your Soulmate sings Red Windows a lot, it shouldn't be hard to find them. Only round about 200 people listened to the original on YouTube, where it came from. 200 people in the entire world, shouldn't be hard to find. Not only that, but some of these probably don't even like the song." "Could you play it for me?" You were startled. "What?" "I couldn't find the song. Could you play it for me?" "Uhh" you stood up, washed your hands thoroughly with soap and got your Phone. "Sure." You typed in the name of the song, letting it play and setting the phone down on a clean surface.

In Time let it show

Feel that scarlet Undertow

As it flows

You hummed with the song, swaying a bit to the beat and going back to cleaning. The stranger on your couch watched you.

Even if our bodies start to burn

And our passion starts to turn

I don't want our night, the night, tonight to end

So

Daredevil shifted on the couch, getting up while mainly using his uninjured leg and grabbing another cloth to help you clean the blood, sitting on the floor instead of kneeling like you were.

Next time let it go,

Break my skin, Red Windows

To my soul

So I'll know.

He grabbed your wrist mid-cleaning. "You should go to bed. This is my mess, I'll clean it. You have work tomorrow, so you should definitely get enough sleep" "But you need to rest as well" "I've had worse, you should really go to sleep. I will sleep in a bit as well." "You can stay as long as you need to. And you need to rest. Leave the cleaning to me." "Of course."

After waking up, you understood that that was a stupid request from you, seeing that he cleared the shattered glass, and that every surface was clean - the Couch still had some stains but it was mostly clean. There was breakfast on the table and a man, back turned to you, helmet off, sitting and eating. "Good Morning. I see you didn't rest like I told you." "And you did" He didn't turn his head and you didn't look at his face, when he pulled his mask over his head again, hiding his black hair. "Don't you have work to attend as well?" "I.. I do." "Then you should take a cab to work and get a coworker or friend to help you." You sat down and started to eat - scrambled egg with bacon pieces mixed together with some herb you had lying around. You didn't know what it was, your mother had brought it over when you had moved - but he seemed to know. "Shame about your window" You looked at the pieces of cloth and wood (where did he get that stuff from anyways?) covering the busted window. "Yeah, that's not gonna sit well with my wallet, I'm afraid. A shame, indeed" After the Breakfast was finished, and he was back in his superhero suit, he looked back, before walking out the fire escape. "Go to a Lawyer named Matt Murdock, he will help you" "Don't think I have money, big guy" "He doesn't take money. He takes whatever you are willing to give"

And just like that, you sat at work, sitting over a half-finished sentence in your thesis and pondering about this being a dream. The Fact you had been so unfazed probably was a sign of - no. You didn't believe you'd think his, and that this was the reason that convinced you, that it had all happened. You don't even remember what you did with the belt you were holding, it seemed like a big blurr, the moment you had seen him. You clearly remembered patching him up and all that, but God damn did you want to tell someone. And tell someone you did. Your new lawyer for a case that wasn't even a case. You didn't even know why exactly you looked him up and called him, but oh well.

"Matt Murdock, Attorney at Law. What is the reason for your call?" You gave him your name, hesitating before continuing. "This may sound weird, but Daredevil crashed into my window yesterday evening and told me to call you to get that situation sorted out." The Lawyer chuckled. A familiar voice, a familiar chuckle, you realised. It was slightly different, but you couldn't shake the feeling as if you were talking to Daredevil again. Stupid Vigilante crashing into your window and your mind. You desired emotional compensation, even though he had no negative effect on you. The Lawyer chuckling was having a lot more negative impact on your mood. Of course he wouldn't take you seriously. "Do you happen to have insurance?" You nodded, then sighed, remembering you were on the phone. "Yes, but I don't think it covers crashed window because of a Vigilante type of Damage" Another laugh "Come in with your contract and I'll see what I can do" "What about Payment?" "You don't need to pay me, if you have no money. I am only here to help" Damn. So it really was whatever you were ready to give, sure.

Since a Memory is locked in tight

Even in our dreams we'd never find

Any hidden Details, not one sign

Not even your dial tone, if not mine

Making your way to the lawyer's office, your trusty Google Maps as your guide, you silently sing the song to yourself. You took off one of your earphones when you reached the building,riding the elevator a few levels up to the designated one. There was a door with a metal tag on it. In bold, pretending letters it read Nelson & Murdock & Page. You knocked beside the tag.

But I heard it in surround sound

In a private space between that only we found

Like a feeling we can't shake

They are watching through the keyholes

Wishing they could be this close

When a blonde woman opened the door, you completely took off your headphones, stopping your music effectively. She seemed surprised. "Didn't think we'd get someone today, come on in!" You entered, slightly confused. "Uhm, I called earlier, and I was told to come in whenever I can in business hours." The Woman nodded. "Who did you speak with?" "I think it was uh... A man, Murdock, I think?" She lit up. "Ah, yes, let me just check with him really quick!" She disappeared in one of the doors, the one to the left, and reappeared a few second later. "Sorry I didn't think of you, I was on break so Matt took your call, if you could wait a minute, he will call you in." You thanked her and sat down on one of the free chairs.

You were singing under your breath, just loud enough for your ears only, when you heard you name being called by a very familiar voice, a man standing in the door that was previously unoccupied, a small, smug smile on his lips. You stood up, noticing his red tainted glasses. Unusual, you noted. "Good Day, Mister Murdock, thank you for seeing me" "I just want to help, come on in." You followed him into his office, noticing how he kept one of his hands on a surface at all times, making his way to sit at his table, a bunch of thick books laying in one corner, and - you noticed - Sheets of Paper with bumps on them. Braille. You sat down at the chair in front of the desk, while he set up a recorder. "Would it be alright if I record the conversation?" "Yes, of course." "Okay good. Then, let's start." He pressed play. "Please state your name and the reason you are here." You gave him your name again, before elaborating "Yesterday night or this morning, i didn't look at the clock, but I had already gone to bed, I was woken up by a crashing sound. I went to investigate and found the Vigilante Daredevil had crashed through my window, severely injured. I helped him and just before I went to bed he told me to call this office." "About your insurance?" "Yes." "Okay, do you happen to have the contract with you?" You affirmed once again. "What kind of contract?" "It's an Appartment I had to take because of my workplace, so it's an insurance contract with them, they pay for round-about normal insurance. Don't think those cover Superhero or Vigilante Damages"

You ended up reading the entire thing to him, not even understanding half of the stuff you were reading. He did though, obviously. You ended up staying well past opening hours, tomorrow was your free day so it was fine for you - and apparently also for the lawyer. Karen Page had left around half an hour ago, so you volunteered to find the kitchen and make some coffee and a small snack, while he worked through some of his Texts in Braille, saying something to the recorder from time to time to keep it on his mind. Quietly singing the song to yourself while searching in the small kitchen for the coffee beans.

Next time, let it go,

You found the coffe beans and put them in the grinder, positioning the first cup underneath and letting the coffee run.

Break my skin, Red Windows

After that one was done, you did the same with the second cup. Bringing the two cups back, you stopped singing under your breath right in front of the office. You opened the door with your elbow and sat down the two cups p, settling back into the chair.

"You really like that song" You didn't think he'd heard you, so you were slightly surprised. "Oh, sorry if I was too loud" Matt Murdock smiled "It doesn't really matter how loud you are, it's a good song, I've heard it on loop thelastfew days" Oh, so he already knew the song, weird coincidence, considering how unknown it was. "I have been too, it's a wonderful song." "Well, I didn't really have a choice, but definitely better than other songs I had to listen to." He didn't have a choice? "Has your Soulmate been singing it?" He didn't answer, instead sipping on his coffee, giving you a fairly cheeky smile and focusing back on his work. A few Minutes passed, when you heard him hum. You heard him hum twice.

One was in you head and the other was, well, right in front of you. You were baffled. "What?" He stopped, his eyes shielded behind the red glasses, still looking straight ahead. He gave a questioning hum. "Uh... Sorry, i just had a thought" "About us being Soulmates?" You faltered. "What? How did you know?" "Because I knew since you came in. He went to take of his red glasses, unfocused eyes looking in your direction, but feeling like they still looked past you. "I didn't want to rush, but I admit, it was a pleasant discovery." "Huh".

You eyes fell to the red tainted glasses, like Red Windows.

To my soul

Some things to know about this blog of Mine:

- I do X Reader stuff, I usually try to avoid Y/N, instead opting for (in my opinion) gender neutral nicknames

- It's written in 2nd person

- Reader is ALWAYS gender neutral UNLESS specified.

- If a reader's gender is specified it is most likely a smut one shot. This is mostly due to anatomy reasons, because I don't want to be too vague. I will use they/them never the less, if needed. There will be ALWAYS an AFAB and AMAB post, UNLESS it doesn't make sense (i.e.; drunk sex, where the character is too drunk to get a boner, etc.)

- I do requests. I am genuinely not done with a list of what kind of requests I want to do, but I definitely do angst, smut and fluff. You can get a character or an A x B Kind of thing, doesn't have to be reader. I reserve myself the right to deny anything I do not want to write or feel comfortable with, just in advance: you may have to wait a few months, since it's a really stressful time if my life rn

About myself:

- I am the age of consent. I do not want to disclose my actual age here, however.

- It doesn't matter what you call me, genuinely, I couldn't care less.

- I am AFAB, but I am Genderfluid and prefer to go by they/them. I don't mind other pronouns however

- I write, work and go to school, all while also having sports and therapy sessions in my free time, so my weeks are usually scuffed. I find my writing time at night, around midnight or later, reducing my sleeping time from 7 to 4 hours or less, yk, the usual

- It's usually an uncontrolled impulse, which is why I also don't proof read any of my texts ever. The One Shots I like, I do read over from time to time, sometimes I fix mistakes, usually I don't. Live with it or proof read my texts and send the mistakes to me, I do not have the time, nor patience

- I write directly on Tumblr or in my Notes app. Don't ask me how I stay sane AND trust my fingers to not fuck up my writing, I genuinely don't know myself.

Secondary Blog for Tag Games, Art, bs and more:

andersons-bayonettes