Chapter Text
New York City is quite the place. Concrete Jungle where dreams are made of... yeah I know, somebody didn't proof read those lyrics. Not sure if Alicia Keyes wrote that part or not and I don't really care either way, nothing to sweat over. If anything it's kinda funny.
I don't necessarily care for concrete jungles, but living here was something my long time girlfriend, Cindy Moreau, wanted to do. An aspiring actress, intent on being a broad way star, though not limiting herself to only broad way. She didn't care about fame, fortune would be a secondary thing if she could make it big, but mostly she just wanted to tell stories or be apart of said stories, and entertain people. Honestly, she had the look, and the talent. All she needed was some luck.
Funny thing that. I'm not superstitious, or at least not really, but my friends have always told me I break probability. Games of chance? A lot of the time when I guess the outcome it happens. I wouldn't say nine out of ten times, but probably six or seven out of ten. Not even one-hundred percent on that myself, since we don't really keep track. Really, it's probably just some form of math that my brain is capable of doing subconsciously, because I am not that big of a math guy. I'm not terrible, I know how to do math, I'm just not an advanced math type of person. For example, give me something like one-hundred and fifty-seven times thirty, it'll probably take me thirty seconds to figure it out if I just focus on it. Actually might take less time, really depends on if I can concentrate. My friend Dave however, is a human calculator. I mean he isn't a super genius or anything but he is capable of doing it a lot faster than me. Probably only needing ten seconds.
I'm rambling. Okay so basically, that phrase where you “find god” when you're faced with certain death? I find the belief in the “luck of the Irish” when I'm faced with trouble. Also, I like to try and help people where I can, and Cindy has worked hard to get to where she's at now.
“My lucky charm.” You know, I never thought those would be the three words I'd love to hear more than anything else from a girlfriend. Well, probably mainly because she's special to me, and the way she says it... that smile, the look of adoration in her eyes. I honestly don't know how I pulled that off, but I'm a lucky man.
Luck however isn't always on your side.
I hear the door to our apartment in Hell's Kitchen open and close as Cindy gets home from an audition she's been stressing about for ages. I hear her stop at the door to take off her heels, before she continues through to the kitchen, plopping her purse down on the counter and I can hear her heading towards the couch where I'm sitting currently, watching a UFC match. I can hear a sigh as she stops at the edge of the couch before walking around to sit next to me. The minute she sits down I mute the fight, it's looking like an easy win for the challenger anyway.
Placing the remote down on the coffee table I look over to the love of my life. She is blonde, with grey eyes. She has an even tan all over her body and she is thic, curvy, you name it, she's got it. She's about five-foot-six, making her shorter then me by five inches, and she has a beauty mark high up on her right cheek. She was wearing a pair of flattering jeans and black pumps. Her blouse is a maroon, buttoned long-sleeve, that leaves most of her shoulders and collarbone exposed with just enough cleavage that it's left classy, rather then having her breasts spilling out. She never wanted to get a role because of her looks, though I imagine anybody with eyes would be hard pressed not to notice how gorgeous she is without her wearing some Amish number to hide it all. I'm serious, she couldn't be more beautiful. She's pretty sharp to.
Yep. Looks, intelligence, hell she's pretty wise as well, and most of all, optimistic. I wouldn't say she's delusional in her positivity, if anything she has a realistic look on the world, but hope in her heart that things will get better. I love her for that. Well I love her for a lot of things, but she has definitely taught me to not be so gloomy all the time.
Which is why it alarms me whenever she looks like she's on the verge of tears and or getting down on herself. Picking up the remote again I turned off the TV completely and turned back to my girl with open arms and words of comfort.
“Hey, Cindy-Cane. You alright?” Cindy-Cane was a stupid play on words that I came up with on our fifth date. She told me she loved candy canes, one of her favourite treats as a kid. I don't get it myself, but that's probably because I'm also more of a chocolate fiend when it comes to my sweet tooth.
Cindy's eyes were a bit puffy, which clearly indicated she had already been crying a little on the way home. Since we normally take buses, trains, and cabs, not owning a car of our own, I can imagine how difficult it was to deal with that turmoil of emotion in public.
My girl immediately places herself in my arms, and in the process, we reposition ourselves so I'm laying against the arm rest with a pillow under me and she's on top of me with her face buried into my chest.
“I've been having an awful day ever since I left this morning...” She tells me about her day. She left for work, shortly after me, but she forgot her wallet so she had to come back, and then from there every little thing that could make her late happened. Late bus, accident causing a back up of traffic, you name it. Her boss at the restaurant giving her a hard time about it. Said restaurant getting slammed during the brunch rush and being short staffed due to walk outs and call ins. Difficult customers, bad tippers, that alone would be reason enough to be overwhelmed.
“To top it all off, I show up for my audition two minutes late, and proceed to fuck up my lines three times. Then when I performed part of the dance they wanted us to add into our audition, I break a heel and fall on my ass.” At this point I was stroking her hair and rubbing circles on her back, trying to help sooth her a bit. She was letting tears flow freely though she was attempting to keep herself from sobbing out right, a quiver in her voice as she spoke.
“People make mistakes all the time, even seasoned actors. I don't think they'll fault you for messing up your lines a few times. I also know you. You tend to fail with grace, and you are able to recover quickly when you flub or get tripped up. I imagine you got right up after falling, maybe even making it apart of your act?” There was a bit of silence for a moment, a sniffle and than a deep breath.
“Y-yeah. I didn't stop and get upset or anything.” Okay so I know that there's something more going on than. My lady doesn't get down on herself or upset like this when her day is hard.
“Right, you soldiered through. You're so much stronger than this. Not to say you aren't allowed to feel these feelings babe, but I gotta say you aren't normally like this. If it's been building up, than don't let me stop you from letting it out, but if you've got something else on your mind that's pushing you over the edge, I'm here to help.” I feel her grip on my shirt tighten, and the feeling of her trying to basically merge with me tells me whatever this is, it's going to be hard.
“There is something else... did I... did I make you abandon your life for my dream.” Oh... shit.
“What? I thought we talked about this already.” I was confused. We didn't just upend our lives and move here on a whim. We discussed it for a year, and than spent another year talking about it as we saved for the ability to move here.
“We did, I know, this seems like it's out of nowhere... but I feel like we aren't getting anywhere. The more time we spend here, the less I feel like we made the right decision. Half the bastards I've auditioned for have hinted at wanting more from me than just my skills on stage... It's starting to wear on me. I feel like if I don't quit this dream now, I'll end up being one of those girls coming out of the wood work telling anybody that will listen that I was only ever able to get roles by sucking dick or eating pussy of whatever scumbag producer is in charge of my big break. And then what? You feel betrayed, after everything you've done to help me get here, to support my dream. Jesus, Tommy, I asked you to give up your dream for me. You up ended your life and for what? So I can be hit on and touched and solicited for sex? It may not happen every time, but still...” This is what I was afraid of. Cindy's self-esteem taking haymakers from this despicable business. I think it's more rare than people realize, but being as good a soul as my girlfriend is and still wanting to be apart of this industry and remaining good seems nearly impossible.
Two weeks ago she had an audition for a TV series, small part, and the two fuckers, married couple man and woman, that she was auditioning for made passes at her the entire time. Well, I went with her, trying to be her lucky charm, so when she yelled for me, I knew that luck wasn't on her side that day. But I was. That day, we left, her in tears, and me finding their cars so I can find them later. Still have yet to do that.
“Cindy, you aren't to blame for any of this.” She lifted her head to look at me. Her eyes were watery pools of guilt and frustration. It was breaking my heart to see her this distraught. To see the doubt in her eyes.
“If I hadn't been so adamant about this stupid dream, we'd be safe at home. Instead, we live in a city, Hell's Kitchen especially, where the Devil and a Spider trounce around fighting crime and putting criminals like Wilson Fisk and Adrian Tombs in prison. Not to mention The Punisher's killing spree last year, and all the other vigilantes that run around, and to top it all off, two years ago we had an alien invasion that...” She stops herself. We lost some loved ones during Loki's invasion. The fact that I'm saying those words is pretty unbelievable, but when Thor made himself known a year or so before that, it shouldn't have been a surprise that Loki, Odin, and any other god was in all likelihood, real. Even if the explanation for their existence could be chalked up to magical aliens. Not sure if that makes more sense than not but that's not important right now.
“None of this is your fault. It's more likely that I'll be hit by a bus than have the Hulk throw one at me. Also, your dream isn't stupid. The Entertainment Business is disgusting in my opinion, but you aren't. You are really good at what you do, and I think you love telling stories and entertaining people too much to let these douche canoes ruin it for you.” A shadow of a smile crept in at my terminology. She enjoyed my... colourful language. Whatever smile could have been had was replaced with a frown pretty quickly though.
“You were good at fighting. Really good, and you gave that up.” I felt such confusion at this point. She never liked violence, but for whatever reason was supportive of my dream to be a prize fighter. Regardless, how that path ended for me wasn't her decision.
“Baby girl, you know that I don't love fighting the way you love performing. My 'dream' was a different kind of beast. Also, your career choice most likely won't end in brain damage or death. Well... constant exposure to the dense cabbages of the industry along side the gutter dwellers that dress fancy to pretend like their shit doesn't stink might, but that can be more easily regulated.” She laughs at my less than favourable remarks about the 'artists' that entertainment tends to draw, wiping her tears away, careful not to smudge her make up.
“Yeah... you're right about that... I just don't know where to go from here.” Placing my hand on her face, I stroke the last tear away, before sliding my fingers behind her ear and place my thumb against her earlobe, massaging her a little. She closes her eyes and relaxes into my hold on her, starting to recover from her mental breakdown.
“I should have recorded you saying that, but than I'd cheapen the moment, so I'll just cherish it as is. As for what's next? Well, maybe 'following our dreams' was never the answer. Maybe making the most of our opportunities to make our dreams is. Maybe the opportunity isn't here, or we need to find a new one. Either way, I don't think this is over for you yet. There's always the chance of starting something on YouTube or any other internet platform that you can use for your goals. I know it's not broadway, but maybe it can be a stepping stone, and if not, you might find you enjoy it more, or discover something you never knew you loved or wanted until you pursue that path.” She opened her eyes, a look of contemplation as she smiled at me.
“I suppose... I never really considered that before. You mean like skits, or sketch comedy stuff?”
“Yeah, or indie productions funded by Youtube content creators, or you know, whatever you can sink your teeth into. There are web series that have been going on since 2002, 2003? Before the platforms existed to make them massively popular like today. Some of which are even streamed on websites like Netflix now, so you never know what you can find there.” I can see her struggle with the concept. It's very different from what she wanted, but it's still a way to make money.
“Is it really that viable though? I don't really know anything about that side of entertainment.” She seemed a little nervous. She spent a lot of her youth studying acting and legacy media. So naturally she was more comfortable in that realm, despite the hardship.
“Depends, for awhile you may not get a following, but you are a unique person. You've got a lot to offer, and I think that with time, and understanding, we can figure out how to make it work. Think about it this way. If you started a channel, I can help you run it. I've got steady hands so I can operate your camera for you at first. If you have any friends from the business that would be interested, you can ask them to be apart of whatever projects we come up with. Best part about it is you get to control every aspect, and you don't have to answer to naysayers or the perverted dick-holes that want to treat you like a sex doll all the time. I'm sure there are those that are like that even in that industry, actually I know there is, but you're success will never be dependant on them. As for making money, that can be tricky. Can't rely on just ad-sense from what I've heard, but you can sell merch and have a patreon or something else that can help with the money making.” I wasn't an expert on this stuff, but I did have a few creators I was a fan of so I'd heard them talking in some videos about how they make money. Figured it was worth a shot if it meant Cindy could still walk the path of entertainment if she really wanted to.
“Sounds like a lot... but I'm willing to try, if it means finally getting somewhere. I just don't...” She paused, unsure about whether she wanted to say it out loud.
“You don't want it to go to waste. Your time spent on this career choice.” She nodded.
“Yeah... I know how hard it was for you, even though you rationalized quitting professional fighting pretty quickly. I know why it was different for you baby. What it meant. So... I understand.” At this point I pulled her up to my face and planted a kiss on her lips. It lingered for a moment before we pulled away, the two of us grinning from ear to ear.
“There was no way I was choosing a short-term career that could end my life over you. I know you never gave me that ultimatum, but I feel like it probably would have come down to me having to make a choice. When one of those choices involved hurting you, I decided for the other option. I don't regret it.” She leaned in to kiss me again, lasting a bit longer this time.
After a few moments of our hands roaming each other, and our lips being locked, she started to lick me, hoping to gain access. I pulled away, which left her disappointed, but I needed to address one more thing.
“Hey, I want to get naked and play as much as you do but, first I should ask... what you said about the vigilante's, the invasion, and I suppose by extension, living so close to the Avengers... are you scared of living here? Do you feel unsafe?” Her bright smile and the lust in her eyes fades a bit as she averts her gaze.
“I knew that living here could be risky but... all that's happened in the last three years... Don't get me wrong, I understand Daredevil, Jones, Cage, Rand, and Spider-Man mean well, and I can even understand why somebody like Frank Castle does what he does, the poor man, but it's only a small comfort. The Avengers? Well they are more a global thing. Iron Man and Captain America don't go around the city fighting armed robbers, they go after arms dealers and other criminal masterminds. The last thing we want is Hulk fighting another abomination. Last time he broke Harlem. I imagine Thor has other things to do off world and I don't know what Hawkeye and Black Widow do when they aren't Avenging... I just know that I can't rely on them to keep me or anybody safe because they can't be everywhere at once. That isn't their fault, it just leaves room for concern.” She was scared. I could see it in her eyes. The Invasion, and on top of that when Castle started murdering people he suspected of being involved with his families murder, this place truly was a mess.
She was right about Hulk as well. I'm sure Banner means well, but how in control is he? The Avengers made a statement that Hulk is one of them, that he's here to help, but the problem isn't the Hulk wanting to help, it's the idea that he's good for what seems to be one thing... smashing. A destructive force like that is terrifying, and I'm sure the Avengers know it. Thor is probably the guy they rely on if he ever does lose control, but who's to say that's a better plan. The guy throws a hammer around and shoots lightning. If they duke it out destruction would be on a massive scale.
Despite these people being heroes, we were afraid of them. Think about being a person in this world without powers. At the snap of your fingers, things can end terribly for you. Building getting dropped on your head, explosions, what seems to be unbreakable people getting thrown around, inevitably crushing bystanders with their power, even if they didn't mean to. This is what I meant earlier when I mentioned New York City. Manhattan Island especially seems to have a concentration of super powered people here. At least half of them are originally from New York, or at least that's what I've gathered so far. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen had to have been born here. The fervent persistence in protecting this city, especially the Kitchen, I can't imagine he's a foreigner or from out of state.
It doesn't matter. What matter's is I need to keep Cindy safe. Us safe. How I was going to do that when I was just a regular guy with a penchant for violent reaction to threats and far above average skill in fist fighting, I don't know. At first I thought Rand and The Devil himself were just regular dudes who were really good at martial arts. Instead, Rand has some glowing fist thing and calls himself The Immortal Iron Fist, whatever the hell that means, and I'm pretty sure the Devil is blind. I once saw him fighting somebody bigger than him on my way home from work. I was in a cab, and he got tossed onto the hood of said vehicle. He looked right at us... or I thought he did. His mask has no eye sockets. I mean it's shaped to look like he has eyes, but the sockets are covered, and unless that material is thinner than it looks, there is no way he can see. The fucker is a blind ninja, which probably means he has super powers that aid him as well. The only person that barely passes for a human being in that group of street heroes is Frank Castle, and there is almost nothing human about the way that guy goes after the scum of the Earth. Not to mention his a Marine, so he's trained for more than just squaring up against one opponent in a ring with a referee. He's been to war and back, and than hell and back, and he's still walking, even after taking a bullet to the head. The Punisher is not to be fucked with.
And I am no Punisher.
“Hey, Earth to Thomas Doyle. You read me?” I shake my head as I come back from my spiral and lock eyes with my love again. She smiles at me and takes my hand in hers as she stands from the couch.
“Okay, I've had my breakdown, let out my feelings, been a little gloomier than is normal for me. As the great and loving boyfriend that you are, you helped me through it, and gave me some ideas on how to move forward. We can't do anything about the last bit other than keeping our eyes open and being as safe as possible. So, let me get naked. After the day I've had I could use a good fuck. And besides, you made me feel better. Gotta show you how much. I. Appreciate. You.” She emphasized every word with a kiss as I'm getting to my feet. She briefly pulls my hand before letting go an taking a few steps ahead of me, swaying her hips and using that magnificent booty of hers to hypnotize me.
“Sounds good. Heading to the bedroom?” She shakes her head as she starts taking off her clothes. She's making her way toward the balcony door, the night sky being illuminated by the city lights behind her. She turns towards me, and slowly slides her blouse in a sensual manner over her head, her D-Cup titties bounce as they are released from their container.
“I love it when you don't wear a bra.” Cindy gives me a playful smile as she uses her hands to briefly massage and play with her boobs. She then turns back around as she heads to the door.
I can hear her undo the button on her jeans, followed by the zipper. She places her thumbs in the waist band of her pants, which I can now see are barely containing the strings of her panties. Turning her head, she looks over her shoulder at me, giving me this look of pure lust.
“If you like that, than you'll be happy to see what I have under this.” I was getting excited quickly, an effect she had over me like nobody else.
Biting her lip to add to the effect, my hot as fuck girlfriend begins to slide her jeans down her voluptuous ass and down the thighs that can save lives, until they eventually come off her feet. The whole time she is bent over, pushing her ass out towards me, and I'm holding off from stripping down and taking her right here, because I know she likes putting on a show for me.
“You are the hottest fucking woman in the world. Beautiful. Gorgeous. I'm going to eat you up. Shit that ass drives me crazy.” She giggles and her lustful look briefly changes to genuine joy, before quickly returning to her fuck me eyes and dick sucking pout. She runs her hands up her legs, slowly, up the calves, past the thighs, and back to her ass where she spreads her cheeks and shows me her G-String... and her butt-plug. If she put that on this morning than she's been wanting this all day, and after the day she's had... well the release of tension will be spectacular.
My thoughts and the show were interrupted when my phone goes off. Normally, I'd just ignore it, but I was waiting on a call all night. Pulling out my phone, I check to see who it is, and sure enough it's my contact.
You have a fight tomorrow night. If you win, you get 20Gs. If you make it look good, or you are ruthlessly efficient, than you have a likelihood of getting work with the guy running the show. If you're not interested in the work, possibly more fights but you know how they are about having freelancers constantly winning their money off their champions. In or out?
In. Also, this text is so fucking incriminating, you should know better, Pat. Be covert next time. What the hell is the matter with you.
Right, sorry. Kind of hammered.
Of course you are. Stop texting me when your smashed. Unless you're having a mental breakdown or have work for me, I don't want to hear from you.
You're a dick, Doyle.
Been called worse cu-
“Really?” My attention snapped up to Cindy. She had a look of displeasure and she was holding her clothes in her arms. Pat, I'm going to fucking kill you.
“I'm sorry Cindy-Cane. Should have said something. It's work.” She huffed and turned her head away from me, looking at the wall.
“I'm over here getting ready to suck you dry and take you in the ass and you're not even paying attention to me.” I sigh as I drop my phone on the table and put my hands up in surrender.
“Only because we are behind on bills darlin. They asked if I can take a shift tomorrow. It was harder to look away than you might think.” Now she looked pissed.
“Uh-huh. Tomorrow is date night.”
“I know.”
“You getting overtime?”
“Probably not.”
“Fucking dickheads.” Her frustration was palpable. I could see her gripping her arm harder than she was her ass cheeks a few seconds ago and it wasn't for pleasure purposes. I slowly make my way towards her and put on my best smouldering face with my slightly deeper sex voice that I sometimes use when we role play.
“Mm, baby no matter what mood you're in you look like a main course meal and desert all in one. I want to bury my face in your cake and latch on to the titties that give me life. I want to lick your body up and down before massaging you, making you putty in my hands...” at this point I've reached her, she's looking at me with a half pout half frown. I was already getting her back in the mood, she just needed a little more coaxing. Well, I snatched the clothes out of her hands and tossed them behind me. She gasped a bit and I could see her mood lighting up a bit. Her look of surprise quickly made way for the excitement of what I was going to do to her.
I continued my spiel about how I was going to ravage her, and how she had my undivided attention for the night and all the way through morning, which earned me an excited cheer before watching her on her knees, and then that leading us to having sex on our balcony for longer than we should have been exposed for... probably. We live in a dinky little apartment, but we've made it our home and balcony actually has enough space for a small patio couch thing and a BBQ, but that's it. Neither of us are really plant people, so we don't have any of the space taken up with pots.
Anyway, if any of our neighbours decided to come outside, or even anybody in the building across from us deciding to look out their window, they probably would have seen a silhouette of two people fucking in the dark outside of their apartment. We loved it though. The thrill, the excitement. It didn't end there either. We continued on back into the living room, the kitchen, than the bathroom to clean up a bit, which we ended up using for more love making, just with soap suds everywhere, and than in the bed before passing out.
The shit luck of the day was redeemed through our night of passion and lust. It ended with us falling asleep in the nude, wrapped around each other, waiting to see what the future brings us.
And me, praying that the lying I've been doing will pay off, so that she doesn't have to be scared anymore.
Yeah, I'm an idiot.