#fuck daredevil when i can have vigilante

[catholic-character-tournament]

Round 1 - Side B

Propaganda below ⬇️

Matt

Matt's faith in the show is really important and well explored; one of the first scenes of the show is Matt going to confession (or, well, talking to his priest since he's not really confessing at that point). Matt struggles a lot with what he's supposed to do; everyone's telling him to kill the villain and he kinda wants to, but he literally says: "I know my soul is damned if I take his life". He struggles with his faith and goes with his doubts to his priest, and it's beautiful—also when he finally gets a costume for his vigilanteing he chooses to dress as the devil, lol. (His priest tells him that nothing makes people run to Church faster than the feeling of having the devil on their heels.)

a lot of the show is about how he justifies his vigilante actions with his faith, and whether he's doing the right thing in trying to help people or just using it as an outlet for his anger. the literal first scene of the show has him in a confession booth talking to his priest (who is a really interesting character too). this is not the scene I was talking about but it's such an excellent scene with matt talking to his priest: https://youtu.be/XHZ3NbEIDdw

canonically catholic but dresses like a demon to be quirky

honestly i dont wanna type too much but i feel that matt is a great example of someone who battles with his faith because he rarely loses his faith but rather fights with why he was made the way he was and put through what he was. He believes himself to have the devil inside him but believes that God put him there

ok in the comics barring the most current run matt has Mostly been a non-practicing Catholic that very rarely actually does any catholic Activities but ends up falling back into the Mindset and very occasionally dramatically taking confession (ex. in that one issue where he takes confession, basically tells the father that he is uniquely terrible and is thinking about violently murdering someone and when the father says "you can be forgiven" hes like "AUGFH-- NO!!!!!!!!!!" and runs out) when he's gone through some shit. and i love that its so relatable

hello its me cct organizer. i have to come clean, i made this tournament because i need matt to win something. i dont think hell win the sadboy and he lost the ginger tournament and >:( hes my favoritest guy ever. Also @ who said he has religious trauma is wrong and i will fight u about it (nicely) on my main @usaigi

This guy so catholic he spends an ungodly amount of time just chilling in the church. And goes there whenever there is a moral conundrum about killing people being Bad even though it would solve a lot of problems and stop said people from killing other people. This happens every other episode. Matt is the Catholic Guilt Guy. There's actually a lot of catholic stuff in the show as a whole. Just a compilation would be like three whole episodes long.

Hes great hes catholic enough to not outrught murder people but not catholic enough to not fuck before marriage hes a bisexual disaster at all times hes besties with a priest might i add hes great hes my special little guy

his catholicism is a huge piece of his characterisation he was raised by nuns in a catholic orphanage, the first scene we ever see him (as an adult and not a flashback) is him going to confession, he is good friend with his priest and has regular debates with him, etc also in s3 he has a huge crisis of faith after he lost A Lot where he stops believing for a while and it's linked to his identity crisis where he actually wants to kill another person (a hard line he previously chose never to cross) and wants to be only daredevil and not matt murdock, when he is both and needs both to exist also when he was a kid his grandmother used to say "watch out for the murdock boys, they've got the devil in them" and it created a surprising lot of his issues

So he's both catholic in the comics and the show but he's More Catholic in the show. Like, raised in a catholic orphanage by nuns (ONE OF WHICH IS HIS *MOTHER*), second scene in the show has him in a confession box kind. Matt Murdock goes out and gets the shit beaten out of him nightly and also beats the shit out of other people and purposefully leaned into devil iconography as his theme. When his nurse friend says, he takes a lot of punishment without one complaint he says "That part's the Catholicism." It is a Core Aspect of his character (at least in the show). He makes me insane. Also the same chemicals that blinded him created the teenage mutant ninja turtles and everyone should know that.

They went to confession to a priest who they had saved as their costumed counterpart and the guy recognized them by the voice, proving that it's possible and everyone else is just dumb

he takes "i wanna fight god" to new and incredibly violent levels, while also being a sweetheart and a goofball

Actually strictly WILL NOT kill criminals. Goes wayyy out of his way to avoid it. Fights with the Punisher about it. Goes to confession booth after nightly vigilante excursions. Feels so much guilt. "How have you been holding up?" "Like a good Caltholic boy" "that bad huh" - actual conversation with his priest

So Daredevil struggles with his mission as a crime fighter because killing criminals goes against his faith. He makes it a point to not kill criminals, believing that even bad people deserve a second chance. This philosophy puts him at odds against The Punisher, who is a relentless killer. As a Catholic myself, while I love the concept of a morally conflicted superhero, I think the worldbuilding around Daredevil is lacking. If he struggles with violence and killing, why doesn't he pray to warrior saints like Saint Michael, Saint Ignatius of Loyola (a former knight), or Saint Joan of Arc? Why isn't there a community of other Catholics he can turn to for guidance, considering New York City has a sizeable population of Catholics? And why are the churches he goes to always empty? Doesn't he know that the Catholic Church supports the just war theory? I think that would have made his burden more bearable.

He goes to church and confesses to punching people and says "imma do it again can i apologize in advance" and the father dude says "no you're meant to stop now" and Matt says "no" and they do this everyday. I'm not remembering it properly but this is a canon interaction i swear

HELLO HI YES I LOVE HIM AND WILL INFOR DUMP ok so. he is a vigalantty and he got named daredevil and he is an orphan and after the age of 12 was raised in an orphanage at a Catholic church and his therapist is his priest via confession abd. also his mother is a nun he has a whole mental breakdown over god and called Job a pussy because he liked god until he got better and liked god again he said "I'm dearedrvil and not even god can stop that now" and he's so cool

matt is a freakish little babygirl who was raised by nuns and definitely has religious trauma. i hate him so much (affectionately)

he’s literally fucking insane about it i don’t know what to say here. he thinks he’s chosen by god to go on some sort of holy quest to save hell’s kitchen. joan of arc ass.

i already know hes in by default j just wanted to give him a personal shout out i love this angsty catholic dweeb

how practicing he is depends on the run, but in my favorite he is quite literally confessing to a member of the last extant order millitant who happens to be a priest at a church in hells kitchen.

i love him for having the funniest version of a trope i usually hate (person gets into confession booth and asks forgiveness not for what they've done, but for what they're about to do). usually this trope just looks silly to me bc like. the priest would just say "i can't do that" and you would have to either awkwardly explain yourself or just Leave. it's funny when matt does it because fr. lantom is probably like "what are you gonna do???" and matt's like "lol. lmao. 😊 hehehe." anyway we love this angry catholic man who dresses up like the devil to beat people up in hell's kitchen

Harrowhark

I'm pretty sure you've already got plenty of submissions for her so I'll just say she was raised in what is basically a cult (technically a nunnery but let's be real) dedicated to keeping the body of the thing that will kill God behind the rock. One of their prayers is actually "I pray the rock is never rolled away". Harrow is extremely devout as penance for her earlier heretical actions in the tomb as a child (spoiler!) so the Catholic guilt really comes through

imagine being a catholic nun and you meet god, but it turns out he’s a twitch streamer from new zealand who became god because everything got a little bit out of hand. and just before you met him you gave yourself a diy grief-fuelled lobotomy with the help of your best frenemy. imagine how insane you’d be. now multiply that insanity by nine. that’s the fictional love of my life right there.

she meets god. she’s not inspired

she’s number one practitioner of space Catholicism. The locked tomb is chock full of Christian (catholic) imagery themes metaphors etc. just look at her she’s got a bone rosary

They're Catholicism with extra bones. Everyone is a nun. They have what is basically a rosary made from knuckle bones. They technically worship the same God as everyone else, but they're waaaay more focused on The Body in the Tomb (Mary) and we get a moment where we find out that while everyone else prays the equivilent of The Lords Prayer, they're doing the equivilent of Hail Mary. And they paint their faces with skulls.

She thinks leaving dry bread in a drawer is taking care of someone. She's in love with a 10,000 year old corpse (the same one they worship). She spent ALL NIGHT digging with her bare hands to make sure a field had bones every 5 feet so she could fight her girlfriend - I mean, greatest enemy. Spoiler territory: She's been puppeting her parents corpses since she was 8 years old. Instead of grieving her dead girlfriend, she gives herself a lobotomy. She makes soup with bone in it so she can use the bone IN THEIR STOMACH to try and kill them.

The author is/was Catholic and the entire series had heavy Catholic overtones. https://www.tor.com/2020/08/19/gideon-the-ninth-young-pope-and-the-new-pope-are-building-a-queer-catholic-speculative-fiction-canon/ A good breakdown of how it's Catholic

#matt murdock #daredevil #marvel #Harrowhark Nonagesimus #The Locked Tomb #cct polls #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls

[ittybluebell]

Roommate | Daredevil G/T | Chapter 1

AO3

Next

Matt Murdock didn't have anything against mice. He'd never been personally harrassed by one, but he understood the need to get rid of them. One easily turned into a dozen and with all the mess and digging into food, eviction was necessary. Despite how many rodents he heard daily, it wasn't something he thought about. The only reason mice were on his mind now was because one had moved into the floor, and he could hear it moving around as he laid in bed.

Now, like he said, Matt didn't have anything against mice.

Scrtch-scrtch-tick.

This one, however, was pushing its luck.

It showed up one night, moving in when he was out vigilante-ing and he only noticed the next day. At first, he didn't care. It was alone and hadn't yet realized there was food in his apartment. He had other, more pressing issues than a single mouse. It was a benign little thing - hardly a problem. Most nights, he could ignore the pitter-pattering and scraping or put in his noise-canceling earbuds.

Tonight, the mouse was too loud for earbuds. As he tossed and turned, Matt fumed, wondering what that rodent could possibly be up to. Rearranging furniture? Fuck, it sounded like it. Little mouse furniture.

Enough was enough. Matt threw a pillow at the floor and told the thing to shut up. To his surprise, it did. Matt sighed and finally went to sleep.

From that night on, he noticed a drastic decline in his downstairs neighbor's noise pollution.

How silly it was, Matt thought during a good mood, holding a grudge toward an animal. Especially one that was polite enough to let him sleep in peace.

Oh, how naïve he was.

The mouse quickly reinstated its grudge status when Matt noticed things going missing. It started with the bagels - a hole in the bag he noticed because the scent of bagel was particularly strong. Upon investigation, he discovered there was a complete lack of crumbs. And a chunk discreetly chewed from the middle. From there, things escalated. He smelled the shift in the air, smelled the remnants of another living being in his apartment. Little objects went missing - things even a seeing person might miss. But not Matt Murdock.

The sock was the last straw.

"What's the best bait for mouse traps?" Matt asked as soon as he entered the office.

"Cheese?" Foggy answered, confused. "Why? Do you have mice?"

"One. One mouse."

"How d- nevermind. Let me guess - you can't sleep."

"It's taking my stuff."

Foggy laughed. Karen huffed.

"At least tell me you're using non-lethal," said Karen. Upon his silence, she aww'd sadly. "Matt, no. It's just a mouse. You can't kill it."

"They're pests," said Foggy.

"But they're so cute. It just wants a place to live."

"Karen-" started Matt.

"No, no, she's got a point." Foggy spun his chair around. "Matt, you can't kill it! So cute and fuzzy!"

The lawyer-by-day, vigilante-by-night groaned. "Fine, I won't. Just stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Foggy, I can feel your eyes fake-tearing up."

Matt bought some glue traps and baited them with peanut butter. When Karen told him glue traps were worse - "They're so inhumane, Matt!" - he assured her that he'd know when the mouse got stuck; it wouldn't suffer. As much as the thing annoyed him, Karen was right: he wasn't going to abandon his no-killing rule for one mouse. (One mouse that must have a vendetta against him. He would not stoop to its level.) What kind of hypocrite would he be, huh?

The traps were set. Now to wait.

And wait.

A week passed. No mouse was caught. When he listened to its movement, he realized it was avoiding the spots he'd trapped. Avoiding the usual routes.

Smart. For a rodent. But Matt was smarter.

More traps, different bait. Traps disguised as the food and objects he'd noticed go missing, even the mate to his missing sock. It couldn't resist now.

Days passed.

Evidently, it could resist.

Foggy teased him about being outsmarted by an animal. Karen was on the mouse's side. Somebody must've told Jessica because he got a condescending text offering her services. Traitors, every one of them.

It all came to a head one terrible Friday night. Matt was already in a bad mood when he got home from work but going out, hearing and feeling New York City, pushed him over the edge. He was annoyed, his brain was overstimulated, and he just wanted to rest. The rooftop access door shut behind him and he threw his helmet into its trunk, about to shed the rest when the distinct sound of scratching and plastic crinkling in the kitchen cupboard caught his ear.

Matt stilled. It was here.

He marched with purpose toward the sounds.

That little bastard wasn't getting away this time. Catching it would be a satisfying end to a crappy day.

The mouse started fleeing before he was even close. It was headed for the other end of the cupboards - a hole in the floor Matt wasn't aware of but now could sense the air flowing from within. He'd have to seal that in the mor-

Mice didn't run on two legs.

Matt cocked his head, listening to the pattern of footfalls. He'd never cared to pay attention, but now it was impossible to miss. He knew what scurrying rodents sounded like. Whatever was in his kitchen, it was no rodent. It was bipedal. A bird? No, not with that speed. Not with that gait. He needed a closer examination.

Matt threw open the cupboard door. The first thing to hit his senses was the scent of corn chips.

The second was the heartbeat.

The creature's heart pounded swiftly in its chest. Air rushed from a mouth that was too upright for any kind of animal, a nose too humanlike. Small shoes hit the baseboard as it ran. Fabric rustled the same way he heard every single day in the street - like clothing.

Matt got lower, needing to be closer, needing to examine this little anomaly. How it moved, how it sounded, how uncannily familiar it was.

The living shape that his senses created was so alike to people that he was too shocked to outwardly react.

The little thing escaped into the floor, and Matt Murdock was left crouching there. Slowly, he shut the door. He took off the suit, dressed his wounds, and went to bed, his mind racing.

His body was exhausted, but he couldn't sleep. Not when he was tracking the creature's movements. Every scrape, every soft thud of a step, the whisper-

Whispering?

"You're fine. He didn't see you. There's no way…"

Whispering. Okay.

Matt pretended he didn't hear anything and put in his earbuds. That was a tomorrow-Matt problem.

Unfortunately for tomorrow-Matt, another problem knocked on his door first. That problem rhymed with Stank Hassle and didn't like to be ignored. Frank did offer coffee when they left so at least it wasn't a total bust. It was a good opportunity to get Matt out of his head; to get a clear perspective of the night before. Matt decided he was exhausted and hallucinating. The alternative was a tiny person living in the walls of his apartment. Delusion was easier.

Delusion was also what kept the borrower from abandoning the apartment altogether.

Call them stubborn, or stupid, but Finch didn't want to leave. Borrowers could only get so lucky. Landing a decent apartment with an oblivious bean was a rare opportunity, and Finch had no intention of giving it up. They would use this good fortune. Even if they didn't deserve it.

Finch shook off the guilt following that thought.

They spent the first week setting up: finding a place to sleep and tidying it up, living off the rations they packed. They got a lay of the land, surveying the apartment and its infrastructure. The excessively bright billboard directly in front of the living room window, the kitchen, and - most importantly - the bean. Light - or lack thereof - was never an issue for him. Not once did he flip a switch or so much as use his phone, which read texts aloud to him. He hardly looked at whatever claimed his attention. Everything added up to limited vision, but they couldn't be sure. It was safest not to risk any assumptions.

Evidence pointed to some damn good hearing when Finch was carving planks of wood out of the floor's innards. They were minding their own business, content with their repetitive, calming task, when something large and loud impacted the ceiling a dozen paces away.

The borrower nearly jumped out of their overalls, giving a startled squeak.

"Shut up," yelled the muffled voice above.

Pretending their soul wasn't just violently expelled from their body, Finch smoothed down their curly brown hair and exhaled shakily, making a mental note to postpone noisy work till the bean was away.

And they did good on that: when the bean was home, Finch completed the quieter, slower tasks. They thought they'd discovered the formula for living under the radar, satisfied to have found a routine that worked.

Then the traps appeared. Finch cursed their luck. The jig was up. The bean set up gross glue traps in outer access points, a couple even getting to the paths Finch took. Finch avoided them and laid low for a bit, hoping the lack of activity would convince the bean they'd skipped town. But more traps appeared. Smart ones, too - they almost fell for a couple. Now, Finch knew a thing or two about a thing or two. They made new routes and took extra care when borrowing. They even started mapping paths to the apartments below. Despite their small stature, Finch had a lot of room for determination. After a life of sticking their hand in the fire, they learned to take the heat. If the bean wanted them gone, he'd have to try a lot harder.

Night fell. The bean was gone. He followed routines - ones he scarcely strayed from. It would be hours before his return.

Finch made their way to the kitchen. They pushed up the trapdoor and strolled through the cupboard. They still had to be careful: just because the human wasn't home didn't mean they could throw all caution to the wind. Leaving evidence was a massive negatory. Finch didn't care for stupid rules, but the rules of borrowing were locked in their brain. They were already careless with the bagels, something they couldn't afford again. Desperation wasn't an excuse for sloppy borrowing - not when it exposed them.

Finch observed the boxes and containers around them, reading labels and calculating risk and reward. There was no chance of getting into that cereal box, but the nutrition bars would be a good grab. The box was short and already open. Finch pushed a can of tuna against it and hopped on. They began extracting a bar only to realize they had no way of getting something so large home without a sled.

"No, that'd be too easy." With a huff, Finch dropped it and shoved the can back into place. "'cause food can never be-" plastic crinkled under their foot "-easy?" Finch inspected the blue packaging. It was an open bag of tortilla chips. They grinned.

The scent of corn chips filled the space as Finch unfurled the bag. They dropped their backpack and started breaking the triangular chips into smaller pieces. Salt-free, too? Hell, yes. They tested the backpack's weight, put a bit more inside, then pulled the strings tight. They slung the strap across their chest. Oh, yeah, this would last them a good while. Finch fought with the chip bag, trying to roll the top underneath like it was before.

"Come on. Stupid fuckin'-" They tried to simultaneously lift the heavy bag and pull the other end.

Over the sounds of plastic popping and crackling in their ears, Finch didn't hear a door open and shut.

DOOM.

They did, however…

DOOM.

…feel the approaching footsteps of the human bean.

Finch froze. Blue eyes snapped wide open, their head flinching away from the plastic. It couldn't be...

Finch bolted.

He's supposed to be out why is he back-

DOOM.

They didn't need to know why he was back - just that he was and he was approaching at an alarming rate.

DOOM.

Oh, fuck, that's actually really close-

The doors ripped open. The hinges didn't even get a chance to squeak.

Finch stumbled. Air caught in their throat. For a moment, Finch was rooted to the floor. Just a moment. Long enough to see the human's form towering beyond the counter, covered in some kind of dark red leather. Long enough to see boots more than capable of squishing the life out of them.

Legs like fenceposts bent as the human came unbelievably closer. Closer than Finch had ever been to a bean. A giant face suspended above them, features blank and expressionless. Not once did the bean look at them.

Finch ran. They didn't look back. When they reached the hole in the floor, they plugged it up and kept going. Keep running.

Only when they reached the safety of their shelter did they falter.

"Oh, shit," they gasped, resting their weight on a nearby post. If their heart didn't outright stop, they were sure it might burst from their ribcage. Finch felt that exploding was a reasonable response. "He didn't see me." The scene replayed in their mind, over and over like a glitched tape. "I'm fine. You're fine. He didn't see you. There's no way he saw you. Just breathe."

Delusion, like they said. It was a powerful thing. It pulled many tricks on the mind. Like convincing oneself that they weren't discovered.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet, one might even say, if they weren't one Matt Murdock. He never got that phrase. Nothing was 'too quiet'. In his - correct - opinion, nothing was quiet enough. There was always something creaking, breathing, or thumping, even in the smallest hours of the night. But on some front he had to agree: there was a suspicious lack of activity from the critter in the floor lately. Reluctant as he was to admit it, he couldn't deny that it wasn't an animal. Animals didn't mutter to themselves, in full sentences, in English. He wasn't mentally, emotionally, or spiritually prepared to assess beyond whatever that meant. In the moments his mind wandered, however - such as now, sitting and listening to a recording for his current case - he found himself pondering the tiny being regardless.

The peace wasn't an accident. Finch had been avoiding that place, giving themself and the air time to settle. They continued work on their residence, slotting together panels of wood and cardboard to form walls. One room would do for now - they just needed protection from the elements and potential scavengers slinking around. Skies above, if a cockroach tried anything, it was next on the menu. Grind up the little fucker into a smoothie. Finch wished a bug would: it'd be miles better than those godforsaken tortilla chips. Finch gave the wood posts they'd just secured a good push, nodding in satisfaction and moving on to the wall. It would be the last one to seal up their box of a house.

Four days. It'd been four days since Finch was nearly discovered; four days since they stared a bean in the face and got away unscathed. Four days since they got an answer to what they'd only suspected: the human couldn't see. That explained the brilliantly bright billboard, the sensitive hearing, the lack of lights - it explained a lot. Finch had to re-evaluate their approach to borrowing. This human would be extra careful about his possessions - the sock was proof enough - and notice what was out of place. In some ways, this both simplified and complicated things.

But borrowers were nothing if not adaptable.

Finch ventured up to a peephole in the wall and looked out. Nothing had changed except the bean now sitting at the dining table, papers and an electronic box neatly laid out on the tabletop. Casually dressed, he was listening to… a podcast? No, too personal. Finch liked podcasts. There was a crime involved, but this sounded like a conversation Finch would overhear more than something designed to entertain. So this bean worked in solving crimes. A detective?

They listened to the dry as hell audio a scant longer before growing bored and moving on. Hey, at least the bean was preoccupied.

Naturally, they found themself puttering toward the kitchen. Wielding two bent nails tied to their belt, Finch climbed up the cupboard door, using hinges and decorative bevels alike to hoist themself up. Those bagels were good. Were there any left? Nothing but corn chips really wore down a person's capacity to give a damn. They perused the counter, confident that the bean was sufficiently distracted by his work. Finch was disappointed to find the bagels sealed in an airtight container. It was their own fault, slicing up the bag so messily. They pulled a face and resumed their search.

A plate of mostly-eaten pasta sat before them. Fuck yes! Finch scuttled to it, pulling out rolls of tinfoil from their bag. Careful to avoid crinkling, they gathered up all the leftover noodles and sauce that would fit.

Finch squirreled away their haul, licking their fingers clean of evidence and ignorant of the man listening to their heist just a few metres away.

Matt stopped paying attention to the tape some time ago.

The sounds of Hell's Kitchen couldn't drown out the little inhabitant in his walls. A scent had blown into the room, vaguely familiar with hints of tortilla chip. He sat straighter and listened, idly shuffling papers and tip-tapping his fingers on the table. He found himself unable to be anything other than impressed as they scaled his counter like a mountain climber. Whatever was left from dinner became his visitor's latest plunder. That was fine; less waste, right?

He was disappointed when they returned to the walls. He wound back the recording to get some work done, but found himself consistently distracted by his small neighbour's goings-on. This discovery was just so unique, so strange - how could he not be curious? He heard them venture out again, across the apartment now. Into his bedroom. What could they be doing?

Oho, if Matt found any more socks missing-

He turned in his seat, about to rise, when he heard:

"You hafta to be shittin' me."

The voice, quiet in size only and bold beyond that, was the mildly annoyed tone of someone who'd been inconvenienced. Matt had heard it before, in the late hush of the night, when no one else would. Muttered curses and remarks that blended into the creaking and groaning of buildings and chatter and sirens of the city. One voice that Matt Murdock had tried very hard not to think too much about.

"When is enough too much, huh?" the voice griped. "Does he think I'm just gonna lay on one? 'Oh, felt silly today, stepped on the massive rug of glue.' How 'bout I drag this onto your floor, see how you feel walkin' in a minefield?" They growled. "UGH. Beans."

Well.

There was no denying it anymore, was there? A tiny person was living in the walls of Matt's apartment.

Matt leaned back, processing. He'd tried ignoring it - for the sake of his mental health and faith - because it was insane. It was impossible. It shouldn't be.

And yet…

Matt wanted - needed - to investigate further.

He got up, quietly, light on his feet. He didn't make it two steps before he heard a swear and the tiny person retreated once more. Into an electrical outlet, by the sounds of it.

Hm. He couldn't sneak up on them - not this time. They heard him- no. Matt quirked his head, considering. They felt him approaching. Like Matt, they could feel vibrations. Vibrations that alerted them of a threat. It only made sense.

Heh, 'threat'. Regular ol' Matt Murdock was the threat this time, not his alter ego. Wasn't that something?

The next time Matt encountered his new neighbour, he was trying - and failing - to fall asleep. There was too much on his mind for sleep. Frustrated, he huffed and flopped over, restless, his thoughts racing. Sounds of the city were extra distracting tonight. He considered getting up and making a cup of tea - maybe that would calm his mind.

Noises from the kitchen drew his scattered focus. He sat up, listening to the scuffing and tapping that he'd come to recognize as his uninvited houseguest. Three visits in one day. Were they always this proactive? Well, he did interrupt their attempted heist of his bedroom. Matt scooted to the edge of the bed. He would make that tea, actually. As he stood, he remembered sneaking didn't work last time. Right. Heavy-footed. However, he had a hunch that this attempt would yield a sneakier result.

Aided by socks, Matt softly padded through his apartment. Tiny - the name he assigned his little visitor - was fiddling with some kind of packaging on the top shelf. And as he got closer, lo and behold, they did not startle. His theory was correct: the further Tiny was from the floor, the weaker their pallesthesia became. Their ability to detect vibrations just wasn’t as sensitive as his own. Once he stepped foot into the kitchen, Matt dropped the Daredevil act and let himself be known. He grabbed a mug and turned on the kettle. Tiny's pulse quickened; their breath hitched. He gave them time to hide before he opened the cupboard for a tea bag. He quickly realized the box wasn't in its usual spot - his own doing, unfortunately.

"Stupid tea bags," he muttered for Tiny's sake; an 'I'm not looking for you, I swear!' assurance as he searched the cabinets. For extra sauce, he added, "Always misplacing them."

Would he forgo tea? He did start the kettle… as much as he got a kick out of playing the part of oblivious blind guy, causing Tiny undue terror wasn't his end goal. He wanted to test them, their cockiness, not scare them. Tiny may be a thief, but they were just trying to survive. Why else was food their number one haul? Matt dedicated his life to helping people in need. Wasn't Tiny part of that demographic? Weren't they someone in need? Unless small people were running drug cartels and trafficking rings, Tiny was innocent.

Doubt and guilt crept in. Maybe he was pushing the bit too far.

Matt was just about to get up and leave when something square and coarse pressed into his fingers.

He faltered, then pinched it, rubbing his thumb over the material. Its strong, earthy scent gave it away.

A tea bag.

Small shoes lightly retreated. Matt withdrew his hand. He held the sachet of dried herbs, cogs turning in his mind. He tilted his head.

Tiny handed him a tea bag. That…

Matt found himself puzzled and oddly touched. It was for their own good, to avoid getting found, but he couldn't not appreciate the nice gesture. He easily smelt where the tea was, of course. But Tiny didn't know that. Huh.

Maybe he was being too harsh about the sock.

The kettle's bubbling pitch rose to a squeal. Wincing, Matt shut it off. He dropped the tea bag into the mug and poured steaming water over it.

What a strange experience. He wondered what Tiny was thinking. Their heartbeat eased into the fluttering pace that he learned was its resting rate. It was the trait that had him most convinced his roommate was a rodent of some sort, though the way they squeaked when startled was a close second.

Matt threw out the tea bag and took the mug to his room, leaving Tiny to their task.

The next day, he casually slipped questions about tiny people into a conversation with Foggy. (It was not casual and quite random, actually.)

"You mean, like… fairies?" Foggy cautiously asked.

Sort of? Matt didn't know whether Tiny could be considered a fairy. They certainly didn't seem like the fairy type, not with the kind of language he heard them utter. Did fairies say 'fuck'? Would that break some kind of fairy law?

Karen told him about a book series that she'd been obsessed with as a kid: it contained many smaller magical beings. Brownies, for instance. Matt settled on definitely not that one. What favours was he receiving? Aside from the tea bag - an isolated incident - absolutely none.

Matt wasn't convinced they were a magical creature. Really, they just… seemed like a normal person, albeit smaller. They hummed to themself, snickered at their own dumb jokes, and swore a hot streak that would impress even Castle and Jones. Matt was pretty damn sure they'd been building a house under his floor, though he noticed all the loud busywork was put on pause when he was home, most notably when he was sleeping. Another nice gesture that was also for their own self-preservation.

Maybe they were a mutant. Or maybe they were mutated, like him.

When Matt got home, he discarded the glue traps. It felt wrong to leave them now that he knew it was a person he'd been trying to catch. Guilty, he started leaving crumbs in easy-to-reach locations. It wouldn’t hurt him any - his grocery budget wasn’t gonna tank because of some scraps. If chips and leftovers were what they were after, then they had free reign over the countertop. That didn’t stop him from being cheeky about it, though - if Tiny was getting confident, he might as well play along.

He found Tiny’s courage something to marvel at. Roaming a giant’s home? Without fear? His vigilante persona was literally named Daredevil and he was impressed.

However, bravery and foolishness were not mutually exclusive. That’s when the cockiness came in.

Matt was minding his business, washing the dishes, when Tiny wandered out. Brows hitching up, he continued sponging the plate. Surely, they wouldn't-

Oh, but they did.

Unwavering, Tiny climbed up the counter they same way as before. They walked up to the pan on the stove and hooked a leg over. Matt fought hard not to chuffle. This was getting out of hand. Matt remembered an adage about not feeding animals or else they'd grow dependent. Had Matt inadvertently done exactly that? Animals that were accustomed to people often didn't see the danger. Tiny was certainly no animal, but the absence of caution they displayed in the moment was, frankly, ridiculous. It was a massive leap from the times they would flee his presence. He was starting to think he'd played too ignorant.

A smirk tugged at his lips upon hearing the leftover eggs being pilfered. When he turned to fetch the pan, Tiny was already hopping to the floor and disappearing behind the fridge.

Stealing right behind his back. When was enough too much, indeed.

AO3

Next

#g/t #giant/tiny #goldfinch (oc) #matt murdock #daredevil g/t #giant tiny #the borrowers #borrowers #g/t community #gt #g/t writing #daredevil #marvel g/t #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #daredevil fanfiction

[spider-stark]

THE DEVIL'S GAME

MATT MURDOCK X VIGILANTE!READER

Summary - Seeking retribution, you find yourself wandering into Hell's Kitchen, only to become ensnared by the Daredevil himself.

Warnings - 18+, broken bones, blood, flirty shit, vaguely suggestive

Word Count - 2.9k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t your neighborhood.  

But you hadn’t thought twice about it before leaving the comfort of your home, abandoning Queens to fulfill a dream of paltry retribution.  

Any other night and you might have considered the consequences of crossing into the Kitchen, but tonight your judgment had been clouded by an opportunity to finally lay your hands on the slippery brute that had gotten under your skin as of late.  

And, by the time you realized that you had willingly traipsed into the Devil’s Realm, it had been far too late.  

Farlin Costain was a particularly skilled pick-pocket, renowned amongst his fellow New York gutter rats—including petty thieves, drug dealers, and the likes—for his stealth and cunning. Typically, you wouldn’t have bothered with someone so low on the food chain, leaving him for some smaller vigilante to handle.  

Unfortunately for Costain, he made a costly mistake when he had made a target of your sweet, innocent roommate last week. And while you once wouldn’t have spared Costain so much as a second glance, you now had every intention of making him regret the very day he was born.  

“C’mon Farly! Already giving up?” You sang, patronizing him as you pressed your foot down harder against his breastbone. “I thought you wanted to play! Remember?”  

Word spread like wildfire that you were looking for Costain as every back-alley criminal in New York gossiped about what he must’ve done to catch your eye. Because of this, it only took a few days for Costain to catch wind that you were on his trail—and, being an absolute moron, he spent an entire drunken night in Scruffy Duffy’s Saloon bragging to friends and strangers alike that, should you find him, he could easily take you in a fight.  

Alas, the bartender at Duffy’s—an old informant of yours—was glad to send you a text detailing Costain’s visit. The pieces fell into place quickly after that, and soon you found out that the asshole was staying in a shitty mid-rise apartment just down the street from the bar.  

He hadn’t heard you when you skillfully leapt from the neighboring building, landing atop his apartment to spy him and a few of his cut-purse buddies passing a joint. As soon as you stepped into the light, his friends scurried like roaches, darting for the door to the stairwell.  

None of them were particularly recognizable, and since your vendetta wasn’t with them, you gladly let them escape.  

But not Costain.  

“Fucking cunt!” Costain wheezed beneath your weight, writhing on the gravel that lined the rooftop and spitting blood on your shiny black boots. You grimaced—disgusting.  

“Is that the best you’ve got? Blood can be cleaned up—but it’s gonna take weeks for your nose to heal. Do you really want your friends to find out that you couldn’t take me? That you couldn’t even get a hit in?” You continued to chastise him, head cocking to the side as you examined the blood still gushing from his now crooked nose.  

To Farlin’s credit, he had tried to fight back, having pulled a switchblade out as soon as you made a move for him. Unfortunately for him, the stealth needed to swipe wallets and watches was as far as his combat skills seemed to go, and it had taken you less than a few seconds to send the blade tumbling over the edge of the rooftop, clanking on the sidewalk below.  

But what Costain lacked in skill, he certainly made up for in spirit.  

“I can’t fucking breathe!” He rasped; his throat still raw from all the screaming he’d done after the nauseating crunch of his nasal bones. Thrashing beneath you, he lifted his hands to your ankle and began clawing and hitting and scratching, desperately trying to pry your foot off of his chest. “Get off!”  

You didn’t so much as flinch as his fists whirled at your calf, nor did you relieve any of the pressure you were applying to his breast. Instead, you pressed even harder, giving him a wicked grin.  

“You’re left-handed, aren’t you?” You mused, noting the slight weakness of the punches coming from his right. “Are you ambidextrous?”  

Gasping, Costain’s eyes lit with fury as a strangled sound ripped from his throat, growling at you.  

“I’ll take that as a no,” You hummed, your cheshire grin growing wider now. “They say that anyone can learn, y’know. How to use both hands.”  

Crouching down, you forced more of your weight onto him as you leaned over his face, your loose hair grazing his cheek. The fury in his eyes had already extinguished, replaced with an icy fear. His arms began to fall limp at his sides, his body too oxygen deprived to keep fighting you.  

“If you wanna learn,” you droned, tracing a single digit along the curve of his plump, blue lips, “then I’d be glad to give you some encouragement.”  

Faster than light, you slid your weight off his chest, rising above him. Farlin heaved at the loss of pressure, miserably trying to fill his aching lungs with air.  

Too delirious to fight back, he didn’t even notice when you lunged for his wrist, grabbing hold and hastily yanking him to his feet. You pressed your other hand right above his elbow, giving it all your force as you snapped his arm at the joint, the bones splintering and giving a deeply satisfying CRUNCH!  

Farlin had filled his greedy lungs with just enough oxygen to let out a gnarly scream as the pain washed over him like a tidal wave, sending him crumbling to his knees in front of you.  

“Damn, my bad,” you huffed, frowning at the sight of him, hot tears streaming down his cheeks as he clutched his right arm. “I was supposed to break the left one, wasn’t I? I can be such a ditz sometimes, huh? But no worries—I can fix this!”  

You went to reach for his left arm, taking far too much pleasure in the terror that ignited in his glossy eyes, but the adrenaline now pumping in his veins gave him an edge. Using his newfound chemical courage to try and scramble away from your assault, he managed to just barely evade the quick swipe of your hand, only to then fall backwards onto his ass.  

You snorted a laugh at him—useless.  

Too terrified to try and make a second attempt at escape, Costain only looked up at you with pleading eyes, silently begging you to leave him alone. You considered it for a second—just one—scrounging deep within yourself for even a trace of pity for the thief.  

Unfortunately, you came up empty-handed, as you often did when dealing with trash like Costain.  

You went for his left arm a second time, but as soon as you took a single step, something stopped you.  

No—scratch that—not something, but someone.  

A muscular arm wrapped around your middle, trapping your arms at your sides. You went to make your escape, but before you could tense even a single muscle, another arm wrapped around your throat—not applying pressure, not yet, but effectively trapping you and leaving you incredibly vulnerable.  

“I think he’s had enough for one night,” a luscious voice spoke in your ear, the warmth of their breath grazing along your neck, “Don’t you?”  

You were as still as a doe in headlights, carefully flicking your gaze down to the arms wrapping around you. Noticing the all-black sleeves that covered them, you sunk your teeth into your cheek. As far as you could tell from your current position, there was nothing discernable about the mystery man holding you hostage.  

“Not at all,” you admitted to him, cunning as ever. “I was just getting started.”  

The man gave a disapproving grunt. “You’ve already terrified him. He can hardly breathe,” he pointed out as if you weren’t aware of the heaving mess lying on the ground in front of you.  

“Even better,” you quipped, trying not to flinch when the arm around your waist suddenly tightened. “I like it when they’re afraid.”  

His breath caressed your skin again as he scoffed, shaking his head. “Look, I don’t care what kind of sadistic game you like to play with these men, but keep it your own borough, got it? I’ve heard about what you’ve done in Queens—and my neighborhood isn’t open to being your new playground.”  

The declaration gave you pause. Your breath caught in your throat as you suddenly remembered where you were and whose territory you had crossed into and made a mess in. His neighborhood– 

Fuck—you swallowed, only to find that your mouth had gone dry—he’s the fucking Daredevil.  

Costain seemed to put the pieces together at the same time as you. And, while still weeping over his shattered nose and broken arm, decided to crawl towards the infamous Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, hiding behind him and deciding to take his chances with him over you.  

Fucking coward.  

“I didn’t realize the Devil kept tabs on the rest of us,” you teased, trying to settle the pounding of your heart as you grappled with the dangerous fact that the Daredevil knew who you were. “You never bother coming to the annual vigilante sleepovers.”  

He hummed, but there was no hint of amusement. “I only keep tabs on the one's worth knowing about—and you have been making quite a mess. Last I heard, you were leaving innocent men mangled and bloody on every street corner from Queens to Brooklyn.”  

Irritation warmed your veins, blood thrumming in your ears as you howled, “Innocent?!” You gave a dry laugh, “The men I deal with are far from innocent, Devil-boy! The man you just saved is a fucking thief! And last I checked, you and I are supposed to be on the same team!”  

“We aren’t even playing the same game, sweetheart.” Daredevil corrected, the endearment slipping from his tongue sounding more like an insult than anything else. “He’s a petty thief. If your only interest was in keeping the streets clean, then you could’ve easily taken him down and left him on the doorstep of the nearest police station.”  

You cut your eyes, slumping in his hold. “And where’s the fun in that?”  

“You really are hopeless,” He snorted, unimpressed. “One broken arm is more than enough retribution for a pick-pocket. Swear you won’t touch him, and I’ll let you go.”  

“Or I could break your arm instead,” you suggested coyly, either in an attempt to flirt with or distract him.  

You tried to wiggle your arms at your sides, assessing just how much you were able to move. His own muscled arm rested just above your elbows, leaving some limited motion in your wrists and forearms. You wouldn’t be able to do much with it—nothing spectacular—but maybe…  

“If you thought you were strong enough to do that then you would’ve tried it already.” He countered.  

“Well, physical strength isn’t the only way out of a sticky situation, Devil-boy,” you reminded him. “But I’m more than confident that I could kick your ass.”  

The hold around your neck suddenly grew taut, his forearm lightly pressing against your windpipe in a subtle reminder that he was much stronger than you. “With a single move,” he purred, “I could snap your neck. Your life is in my hands.”  

Your pulse throbbed, but you didn’t panic, even as every instinct you had was screaming at you to give in—to stop antagonizing him and vow to never lay another hand on Costain again.  

But you were never very good at listening to that little voice in your head that told you what to do.  

Taking a hefty bet on your life, you used what limited motion you had in your arms to wiggle them back and slide them around his hips. You felt his muscles tense, readying himself to fight you or choke you or something, but juvenile laughter was already spilling from your lips as you brazenly cupped his backside in your palms.  

“My life might be in your hands,” you declared through a fit of giggles, “but your ass is in mine!”  

Your confidence grew when you realized that he hadn’t yet choked you out for your insolence—too stunned to react at all—and so you took full advantage of his inability to move without releasing you. Using your newfound grip on him, you shoved his crotch against your ass, grinding back against him just enough to catch him further off-guard.  

An involuntary groan slipped his lips at the rough contact, his voice gloriously low and hoarse and absolutely to die for.  

Daredevil figured you would try to fight back, but he had been expecting something along the lines of hand-to-hand combat—and not once had he considered that your preferred method of fighting would be grinding your ass against his dick.  

Shocked, unprepared, and a little horny, Daredevil took a step back to try and put space between your body’s, his grip turning lax as his blood rushed south. You took advantage of his single moment of weakness, managing to slip from his grasp with some ease now.  

“See?” You boasted, holding your arms out dramatically as you stood in front of him, finally face to face. “I told you physical strength wasn’t the only way out.”  

Daredevil was quick to regain his composure, and when you noticed a muscle feather in his jaw, you had the good sense to move swiftly into a ready position—just in case the Devil wanted to dance.  

But he made no move towards you, even as your fists lifted in his direction. He stayed where he was, clicking his tongue as he said, “You fight dirty.”  

A smirk played on your lips. “You don’t know the half of it. But don’t worry, I’m just as much a masochist as I am a sadist,” you teased, blatantly admiring the appearance of his toned muscles beneath the tight-fitting black shirt he wore, “so we can take turns, if you want.”  

He laughed, actually laughed. “Never gonna happen.”  

You stuck your bottom lip out, pouting at him, but he didn’t react.  

“Why not? Looks to me like you enjoyed having me touch you,” you spared a glance to the now sizable bulge in his dark jeans. “Tell you what, Devil-boy, let me break his other arm and I’ll consider taking care of that for you.”  

Costain gave a pathetic whimper at that, as if he too could sense the growing tension in the air and worried that Daredevil might be willing to sell-out in favor of getting off.  

Ignoring his whining, Daredevil took a step closer to you, and then another. Your body reacted, muscles growing taut as you prepared yourself to strike him. But, when he halted less than a couple of inches from you, you felt as if your bones had all but turned to jelly.  

He smelled of expensive cologne and cheap coffee, and even with the black mask covering the entire upper half of his face, you had no doubt that he was impossibly handsome. Your heart thrummed wildly in your chest, and as if he could hear it, he gave you a satisfied grin.  

“Your mouth is as filthy as your techniques,” he rebuked, though a hint of amusement and intrigue laced his tone. “Tell you what,” Daredevil mimicked you, “you’re gonna get out of my neighborhood—now. And, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stick to your side of the city from now on.” His breath fanned against your cheeks, and a warmth suddenly crept up your neck. “Got it?”  

“And if I don’t?” You felt incredibly small beneath his impressive height, having bent your neck to look up at him.  

The Devil seemed to stare down at you—no, he seemed to stare through you, though his eyes remained entirely hidden beneath the mask. You wondered what color they were, if they were as pretty as the rest of him, and how they might look rolling into the back of his head as you straddled his waist—but your fantasies were cut short as he stretched an arm towards you and roughly caught your jaw in his hand.  

You grunted at the unexpected contact, the sound making his grin grow wider. His nails scraped lightly against your cheek as you tried to jerk away from the touch, but it was a futile attempt. “If you don’t,” he muttered, leaning in closer as his tongue glided across his lips, enticing you further, “then I’ll make sure that you regret it.”  

A bit breathless, you tried your best to sound unaffected, only for the slight wobble in your voice to give you away, “Sounds like a challenge.”  

His head tilted to the side, as if he were watching you, listening to the erratic pounding in your chest and the sound of blood rushing your veins. For a heartbeat you let your gaze fall to his chiseled jaw, to his mouth, calculating the risk of leaning in and catching his pouty bottom lip between your teeth.  

“It’s not,” he assured you, his voice thick and gruff. “It’s a promise.”  

You stifled a hiss as he released your jaw from his grip. He didn’t spare another word before turning away, the gravel crunching beneath his clunky combat boots as he went straight to Costain, heaving the thief off the ground by his non-broken arm.  

If it were anyone else stealing away your target, you likely would’ve cut them down right alongside Costain. 

But it hadn’t been just anyone—it was the Devil.  

Dumbstruck and more than mildly infatuated with the alluring Daredevil, you knew that tonight would be the first of many visits to Hell’s Kitchen. 

my brain is rotting because i've written 44+k words in a single month because i decided to rewrite infinitely you and while taking a small break from working on it i created this garbage fire of a matt murdock one shot.

thanks for reading

#matt murdock imagine #matt murdock #daredevil imagine #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x reader #daredevil one shot #daredevil fluff #daredevil smut #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fanfic #mcu x reader #mcu #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #marvel imagines #matt murdock x you #daredevil born again #matt murdock one shot #matthew murdock #netflix daredevil #daredevil #marvel fluff #marvel smut #marvel one shot

[allllium]

I Promise I'll Try

~ This started off as fluff. I'm not exactly sure how it turned to angst but once I started writing it I couldn't stop 😭

~ Angst, WC: 1,417

~ Reader stays up for Matt ~

Making brownies at three in the morning is rarely a good idea. Not when you have to work early in the morning and especially not when you have a super-hearing, super-smelling, vigilante boyfriend who specifically told you not to wait up for him because you have work in the morning. 

But it’s two years into your relationship, and honestly, he should know you'll never listen by now. So now you are making chocolate chunk brownies at three in the morning because Matt has infected your soul and made you unable to sleep without him. Being a cuddler and having Daredevil as a boyfriend doesn't always work out. 

You’re humming in the kitchen as you take the brownies out of the oven. The smell of chocolate drifts over the apartment, decorated in lights for the holidays. You turn around to set the freshly baked treats on the counter. “Holy fuck! Why do you do this to me?” You put the brownies on the counter before leaning over to place a hand on your heart, trying to calm down from the mini heart attack your boyfriend just gave you.

“I've been here for at least a minute.” Matt shrugs.

“And what? You were just watching me?” You look at the man in his red suit, eyes wide in confusion and slight embarrassment, while your heart continues to beat rapidly.

“It was cute.” He pulls off the helmet of his suit. “You're supposed to be sleeping.”

You begin to clean up your mess in the kitchen. “I was waiting for you.” 

“I told you not to wait for me. You have to work in the morning.”  He steps closer and pulls you out of the kitchen. 

“Hey, I was trying to clean that.” You point back towards the kitchen with your one free hand. 

“I can do that in the morning.” He drags you into the bedroom and pushes you to sit on the bed. When he makes you sit on the bed, you notice the soft grunt he lets out, clearly trying to hide it from you. 

“Matt, what's wrong? Did you get hurt?” The smile immediately leaves your face. Worry floods your body at his expression. 

“No, I’m fine, just tired.” He grabs clean clothes out of the dresser and heads to the bathroom. 

“Mhm. Why can’t you just tell me what’s wrong.” Two years, and he still refuses to talk to you about the ‘Daredevil’ side of him. It's getting tiring. 

“There's nothing wrong. I already told you I'm fine.” A thin layer of frustration covers his voice. 

As he changes into his new clothes, you can see him wiping blood off the side of his neck. “Great, so that blood I see just magically appeared?” 

“Can’t you just leave it alone? Let’s just go to bed.”

“I’m not just going to leave it alone until you tell me why you’re bleeding.”

“I can deal with it myself. You’re supposed to be going to bed.” You stand up and go into the bathroom with him. 

“Oh yeah, 'cause God forbid I care about you, right? Sit down.” You point him toward the toilet. He’s still standing when you grab the med kit from the cabinet. “Matthew, sit down.” 

“You know what I do. You know I get hurt. You said you've accepted that.” He sits down, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at him.

“No, I have accepted what you do. I have accepted that sometimes you’ll get injured, but I will never be okay with you lying to me.” You start doing your best to fix his injuries as you talk.

“If I say I'm fine, then I’m fine.” To say the feeling in the apartment has shifted from earlier in the night would be a massive understatement. It doesn't feel like the warm apartment you were baking in just a few minutes ago. Now, it’s cold and full of unnerving tension.

“No, you’re not. You can tell me you’re fine as much as you want, and I’ll never believe you. I get to spend every night knowing you're probably going to get hurt, and if you do, you are going to go to Claire first, and you're never going to tell me. I get to find out you’re hurt when I see the bruises or the stitches or whatever else shows up. You want to know why I stay up for you every night? I can't sleep until I know you're coming home. I need to see you to know you’re okay instead of hoping you’ll wake me up if you need help. Which we both know you won’t do.” You finish dressing his last wound. “I’m going to bed.” 

You put the medkit back in the cabinet far more aggressively than you meant to, but you're too annoyed to care. Just as you turn to leave the bathroom, Matt grabs your wrist and pulls you back to him. “Stop. Sweetheart, we need to talk about this.” 

“Can't. I have work in the morning.” You know you need to talk to him, but you'd rather not discuss this while you're this angry.

“Baby, c'mon.” He still has a hold on your wrist.

You pull out of his grip and head back for the bedroom. “I already said what I needed to say. We can talk tomorrow.”

You turn off the light and sink into the plush bed. Unable to fall asleep, you lay in bed staring at the wall. Matt’s in the other room, clearly trying to give you space. 

After what feels like hours, your boyfriend slips into bed behind you, his arm wrapping around your waist under the blankets. “I'm sorry.” He whispers.

“I know, but unfortunately, that's not enough to change anything.” You can't help but lean back into his touch, even with your anger.

“I don't mean to hurt you, sweetheart. I just don't want to make you worry.” You know that. Matt tends to downplay his problems because he feels he doesn't deserve the care you want to give him. 

You turn in his arms to face him. Your heartstrings pull when you see the expression on his face. Fear and sadness are deep in his eyes. “You think not telling me is going to worry less? I am always worried that you're hiding some serious injury. I would worry a lot less if I knew exactly how you are hurt and if you let me help you get better.”

“You don't need to look after me all the time. You don't deserve that.” 

“That's not for you to decide, baby. I like taking care of you. And I don't deserve to be lied to.” 

“Lying keeps you safe. The last thing I want is someone coming after you because I can't keep you safe.” With every word spoken, your anger slowly dissolves. You know why he does what he does, but sometimes the frustration builds up, and it seems the logic leaves your mind. 

“If no one knows who you are, they won't know who I am either.” You swipe a strand of loose hair off his face, his lips twitching up into a small smile at your touch.

“If anything happens to you, I don't think I'd be able to live.” His eyes show you nothing but honesty.

“Don't say things like that.” You scold him.

“It’s true. I just want to keep you away from the side of me that could put you in danger.”

“Letting me help you or telling me when you get hurt won't put me in danger.” Matt shifts his position, lying on his back and moving you to set your head on his chest. He lets out a long sigh.

“I know. But it still terrifies me.” You hook your leg over his waist and tilt your head to get a better look at him. His voice is quiet like he's having a hard time admitting it. 

“Well, we need to do something. I love you too much to let this hurt our relationship.” 

“We will. I'll fix it, I promise.” 

“Don’t make promises you can't guarantee. That'll be worse than lying.”

“I promise I'll try to fix it.”

“Thank you.” You fall into a comfortable silence before being cut off by your yawn.

“Go to sleep, baby. We can talk more tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay, I love you.” You give him a soft kiss and lean back against his chest.

“I love you too.” And you hope that'll be enough.

#matt murdock my beloved #matt murdock imagines #matt murdock one shot #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fic #matt murdock reader insert #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #matt murdock x y/n #daredevil x gn!reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you

[mattmurdocksscars]

Late Night Healing Sessions

A/N: Installment two of the Chaos Trio aka the continuation to Friends?! This chapter is kind of Frank-centric so hope yall enjoy! Sorry this took so long to get done, my muse has been dead for some time now.

Warnings: Wound tending, cursing, it’s pretty tame.

Pairing: Eventual Matt x Reader x Frank

"Red."

"Castle."

"I ain't been shooting anyone lately so what brings you here?" Frank looked Matt over and raised a brow. He was posted up on a rooftop, just watching and listening. Matt had popped up next to him though and if Frank didn't know any better, he'd say Matt was nervous.

"Can I ask you something?" Now Frank definitely knew something was strange but, figuring it was probably something vigilante related, he shrugged and nodded.

"How did you know Maria was it for you?" Frank choked and Matt had the decency to look sheepish even with his mask still on.

"You comin to me for love advice, Red?" Matt sighed and tugged his helmet off, running a hand through his hair. 

"No. Maybe." Matt growled. "I don't know, okay?"

"Is this about your friend from a couple weeks ago." Matt's sudden silence and the way he froze told Frank everything. "I don't know why you haven't gone for it. Even you, a blind man, should be able to see that she cares about you."

"Just because she cares about me, doesn't necessarily mean she wants more. I mean, she doesn't even really know who I am."

"And whose fault is that?" Matt grit his teeth. "Yeah, exactly. You closed the door, not her. From what I saw, she'd be very interested in taking things further. And you clearly are too, if the way you put her in bed says anything."

Matt huffed and started pacing.

"But what if I put her in danger?"

"Sounded like she could take care of herself. And if the way she stood up to me says anything, she definitely ain't afraid of much."

"That's what I'm afraid of. I'm half convinced she'd follow me every night but there seems like there's something holding her back. I can't place it, but there's more to her."

"And there's more to you. Maybe if you let her see that side of you, she'll show you her secrets too."

"All of this doesn't negate the fact that I don't want her in danger because of me."

"Look. I can't tell you what to do, but I can tell you this. Life is a bitch. It'll take everything from you in the blink of an eye. But I wouldn't still be here today if it weren't for the memories of the good times I carry with me. Maria, she might not have approved of what I'm doing but she would have understood it. She was there through all the tours and the night terrors and the bad days. I wouldn't be who I am if I hadn't had that support."

"... Thanks, Frank." Matt nodded his head to Frank and slipped his mask on. He headed for the edge of the rooftop and just as he was about to jump, Frank spoke again.

"Hey, Red? Don't wait too long. Someone else might come along if you do."

"Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, Castle. Stay out of trouble, will you?"

"No promises, Red."

~~~

The uneven knocking at your door woke you from an uneasy sleep. All night you'd felt that something was off and so you'd tried to stay awake to see if Daredevil needed your assistance. When he hadn't shown by his normal time, you'd laid down on the couch and passed out. Now though, you jolted awake and up, rushing towards the door.

"I'm coming, D, I'm- What the fuck?" Standing at your door was not Daredevil, but Frank Castle. "What are you doing here?"

He looked like shit. Blood wept from a cut on his forehead and down his face. Speaking of blood, you realized the rest of him was covered in it. 

Rather than answer your question, Frank swayed and hissed as his body caught the door frame. You winced at the blood he left behind but brought your eyes back to the man in front of you. 

"Castle…?" That seemed to startle him into awareness enough for him to speak.

"Didn't know where else t' go. Need help, please?" Your brows shot up and you immediately opened your door wider. 

"Come on, let's get you inside." As soon as you put your hands on him to help support his weight, he dropped. You cursed as he almost brought you down with him but you managed to keep your footing. 

"Fuck." You hissed, trying to figure out how you were supposed to get this massive man inside your house. Putting both hands under his shoulders, you pulled with all your strength. 

He barely moved. The movement also drew a moan from him and you winced in sympathy. Moving around so you could face him, you gingerly cupped his face.

"Hey. Hey, Frank, wake up. I can't get you inside without your help. Come on. You can do it."

You kept coaxing him and silently hoping none of your neighbors chose to look out their windows anytime soon. 

"Come on, Castle. Don't make me slap you."

"You wouldn' hit an injured person." He slurred and you nearly sobbed in relief.

"Don't try me. Now, come on. I need you to help me get your ass inside." You pulled on his shoulders for good measure and watched as he then forced himself up onto his feet. You stood with him and carefully began leading him inside. It took the two of you entirely too long and the way Frank got paler and paler the more the two of you moved, did not sit well with you. 

"What the hell happened to you?" You wondered aloud. 

"Mob. Irish. Motherfuckers hit hard when they want to." You sighed and rolled your eyes in frustration. 

"Of course. You and Red are gonna be the death of me."

"Mm. Red. He talk to you yet?" You furrowed your brow but figured it was good to keep him talking. You settled him on the couch and rushed to grab your first aid supplies.

"About what, Castle? Keep talking."

"Shouldn't."

"Why not?"

"He wouldn't like it." You huffed and began working on cutting Frank out of his shirt. He started to go lax on you and you quickly shook him.

"Hey, hey! Keep talking, Castle. Why wouldn't he like it?"

"'Cause he likes you and doesn't wanna admit it." Frank slurred out and you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach. You ignored them in favor of starting to stitch Frank's wounds. 

"Oh yeah? He tell you that or are you just guessing?" 

"He told me. But it's also obvious as shit. The two of you aren't subtle." Your face burned from his comment, but he was still talking and you weren't going to stop him.

"Told him to quit bein a scaredy cat. Life's too short for that shit. Also told him he better figure it out before someone else comes along."

You half listened as you worked to stitch up the worst of his wounds. He was a mess of knife slashes and stabs and you had to hope that nothing out of your limited experience was wrong. Frank was starting to fade again, so you gently shook his shoulder.

"I need you to stay awake, Frank. Keep talking to me."

"About wha?"

"Anything. Tell me… tell me about your family, Frank." It was quiet for long enough that you thought you'd overstepped but then Frank started talking. 

He told you about Maria and Lisa and Frank Jr. He told you stories and little moments and your heart ached as you realized just how much this man loved his family… and just how much he had lost. 

Frank managed to stay awake the entire time you worked on him, but just barely. You sent up a silent thank you to his family. They're memory had kept him alive another night.

Sitting back, you pulled your gloves off and patted Frank absent-mindedly on the arm. 

"Alright, I've fixed everything I can. You know the rules from last time but to be honest, you might need longer than a couple hours. So stay as long as you need." You told him, standing and wobbling because of how long you'd been kneeling. A weak hand shot out to stabilize you and you huffed a laugh. 

"Don't worry about me, Castle. Worry about yourself."

"'M fine. Just need to sleep a few hours and I'll be right as rain." You jokingly rolled your eyes and stepped away from him. Taking all the dirty materials you used, you threw it all out and then went to the sink to wash your hands.

"Sure, Castle. Whatever you say."

"Oh, so I'm Castle again, huh? Thought I was Frank now." 

"Frank is reserved for almost dying only." You teased from your spot at the sink and you heard him chuckle then hiss. "Sorry. Seriously, get some sleep. And I mean it when I say stay as long as you need.”

“Thanks.” He murmured. In the ensuing silence, you assumed he fell asleep. Keeping as quiet as possible, you cleaned up as much of the mess as you could. Finally, once your place was relatively clean, you checked on him one final time. As you had guessed, he was fast asleep. Deciding to keep an eye on him, you settled into one of the chairs you had catty corner to the couch. Pulling a blanket over yourself, you settled in to get a restless night of sleep.

Throughout what was left of the night, you checked on Frank several times. The amount of blood he’d lost was worrisome and the last thing you wanted was him dying on your couch. When you finally gave up on sleep, it had been about 5 hours since Frank had fallen asleep. Getting up and stretching, you headed to the bathroom. After brushing your teeth and running a hand over your hair to tame it some, you headed back into the living room. You froze in the hallway when you realized Frank was no longer on the couch. Instead he was standing in front of your coffee maker, sleepily pressing buttons. 

“Castle, what the actual fuck are you doing up right now?” You scolded. 

“It’s mornin’. I need to get going.” You rolled your eyes and walked over to him, gently nudging him out of the way and getting the coffee going.

“I swear, you’re just as bad as D.” Frank grunted and leaned against the counter as the two of you waited for the coffee to brew. He seemed like he wanted to say something so you kept quiet and let him get his thoughts together.

“About last night…”

“What about it?”

“What I told you. About Red. I shouldn’t have said anything. What goes on between the two of you is none of my business.” You raised an eyebrow and turned to face him fully.

“It obviously is some of your business. D trusted you enough to come to you and talk. That’s gotta mean something.”

"Yeah and then I broke that trust by telling you." Frank rubbed the back of his neck. "If it's all the same to you, can we pretend I never said anything?" 

"Of course. It doesn't matter much because I still doubt D will say anything to me. He's too guarded." You shrugged and poured yourself and Frank a cup of coffee, passing his to him before doctoring yours to your liking. 

"He's got his reasons. This life ain't easy." Frank said, a dark look on his face. You were quiet for several minutes before you spoke again.

"Did you kill them?"

"Who?"

"Everyone involved in your family's death."

"...Yeah. Yeah, I did." Frank was surprised when you smiled.

"Good."

Frank decided then that if Matt didn't make a move soon… he might be the someone else he warned Matt about.

#matt murdock x reader x frank castle #matt murdock x reader #frank castle x reader

[gxthicwxrm]

Without Him- m. murdock x reader

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader

Word Count: 784 (it's alittle drabble thing)

Warning: Angst, semi happy ending, cursing, cheating, mentions of She-Hulk(show and character)

Enjoy!!

---

You did what?" Your anger is overflowing as your eyes glare a whole into the man in front of you. "Actually, I don't care. J-Just get out of my way." Keys in hand, you swiftly move towards the door of Matt's apartment with tears burning down your face. Quickly, the vigilante intercepts your path, arms reaching out to hold you as he pleads. 

"N-No, please. Let me explain. I-I don't know why I did it. But I promise it will never happen again. You mean the-" 

"Don't. Don't stand here and lie to me, Murdock. We both know this bullshit you're spewing wouldn't hold up in court and it ain't holding up here. Let me leave." With your hands on his chest, you push him back, failing epicly as Matt uses this opportunity to grab your hands, thumbs caressing your knucks in what once was a welcomed sign of affection is now like razors dragging across your skin. 

"Please! Please don't leave. It'll never happen, I swear to God. It was an accident, it didn't mean anything." Matt drops to his knees, begging with your hands in his, still. Unable to look at your lover before you,, your eyes drift to the ceiling as the neon lights slowly paint the room in different colors. You couldn't let yourself fall into this trap. He made his choice, now you have to make yours. But can you make it?

"It meant enough for you to go back to L.A. to fuck her again. At least when she found out about us, she had the decency to tell me about you two, something that you couldn't do." Anger dries your tears with the flame that erupted in you as everything crashes into place around you, making your decision perfectly clear.

"I can change. I love you! I don't care about her. It'll never happen again, just let me prove it to you. Please, give me a second chance, please. I don't want to lose you." Tears stain his owe cheeks as he faces your direction. A smile breaks out across your face as a laugh erupts from your throat, loud and hysterical. Fear settled in Matt's heart as he watched the girl he loved, the girl he fought so hard for, shatter because of him.  

"It's so funny, Matt. You spend so much time trying to save everyone around you. Frank, Claire, Karen. Foggy, Hell's Kitchen. But you couldn't even save your own relationship. You couldn't save us. And it was never Fisk or his little copycat. It was never The Hand or Elektra or any of the other criminals you swore would harm us. It was YOU! The great hero, Daredevil." Shaking your head, you refuse to let the tears welling in your eyes fall. 

"Y/N, I love you. I'm so s-"

"No. I'm tired of your excuses. You don't get to lie about a "work trip" for a case and spend the whole time fucking She-Hulk. You can't even tell me why. What did I do wrong? Why did you have to do this to us? Fuck you! Fuck you!" Sobs crash through your body like a tsunami that leaves you broken and wanting to run. 

"Please-" Matt moved to hold you, but you flinched away, scared if he touched you that you'd fall into him and stay. You can't do that, not after this. Not now.

"We are done. I am leaving. Karen and Foggy will come by to get the rest of my things." Stunned, you dodge him making your way to the door. Before leaving, you look back at him now standing and crying coming toward you but stops when he sees calmness coming from you. 

"I hope you can save yourself, Matt. I really do. For your son's sake." With your one hand on the cool metal of the door knob and the other against your stomach. The last bit of Matthew Murdock was his shocked expression as you shut the door, stepping into the hallway. 

"You told him?" Karen asks as soon as you get into the car. Tears still flowing, you nod. Staring straight ahead she nods before pulling off towards your doctor's office. 

"Well, let's go see how healthy this little booger is." Karen giggles while doing a little wiggle dance. A smile cracks across your face as you watch your best friend be ecstatic to be an Aunt.

Maybe you can do this on your own. Maybe you can be okay without him.

Part Two

#matt murdock #matt murdock angst #matt murdock imagines #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock drabble #marvel x reader #she-hulk imagine #daredevil x reader

[multiharlot]

blind as a(n acro)bat / matt murdock x age gap!reader

summary: you simply cannot wrap your head around your boyfriend being daredevil

warnings: cursing, reader being a little bit...shocked to say the least

main masterlist || series masterlist || add yourself to my taglist!

you sighed as you tossed the key matt had given you on top of your bag that you'd haphazardly thrown onto the bench in the hallway. you were meant to stop by the lab and work on some experiments for your thesis, but something had gone wrong in the building and you weren't allowed into the lab until the day after tomorrow, so you figured you'd come to matt's because his place was closer to the lab and you had a majority of your research materials here anyways.

but you were pretty sure that no research would get done right now because you were exhausted and his soft silk sheets were calling your name. you kicked off your shoes and changed into one of matt's t-shirts before climbing into his bed, quick to bundle yourself up under the blanket and kick your socks off onto the ground next to you and drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

you'd been dreaming happily of eating endless pasta and garlic bread on a rainbow in the sky when a loud thump made your eyes shoot open. you jumped out of bed, grabbing the alarm clock next to the bed seeing as you had nothing else to defend yourself from the intruder you thought was coming. but when the intruder turned out to be matt in a black and red leather superhero suit, the daredevil helmet clutched in his hand, you reacted in the only way you could.

"what the fuck"

his eyes widened as he looked at you, the clock dropping out of your hand and clattering onto the floor.

"y/n" he gasped out, still trying to catch his breath.

you just stand there, staring at him in all his daredevil glory.

"y/n i-"

"what. the fuck?" you narrow your eyes at him as he reached out for you.

"y/n please. just let me explain." he pleads, grabbing your hands in his.

you let out a loud short laugh, taking your hands from his and running them over your face as you take in a deep breath.

"oh trust me, you're gonna explain. you're gonna explain a lot. you're gonna explain so much that you're never gonna want to explain ever again!" you yell, stomping off towards matt's bedroom.

"baby, please just-" he pleaded, following behind you before you shouted.

"STOP I DON'T HAVE PANTS ON"

he pauses, furrowing his eyebrows.

"i'm...sorry?"

you let out a frustrated huff as you put on a pair of his sweatpants, pulling the drawstrings as tight at you could.

"well i don't know if you can see!"

"i can't. but...would it matter? i've literally been insi-"

"SHUT UP MURDOCK" you shout, a yelp following the end of your sentence as you trip over one of your socks.

"yes ma'am." he says, nodding his head and closing his mouth.

once you were ready, and once matt had changed out of the suit, you sat across from each other, him on the edge of the coffee table and you on the couch in front of him. he'd spent the last maybe half hour explaining what had happened to him, how he and daredevil came to be, how he learned all these things, his heightened senses, everything. he'd finally told you everything, and as scared as he was, there had been a weight lifted off of his shoulders.

"so then...you're not blind."

"no i'm blind."

"but not like...fully."

"i mean, yes fully. but it's different. like i said it's a-"

"world on fire, right. but like...you're not that blind."

"i mean, i can't see, so. i'd say that's pretty blind."

"and you're a superhero."

"i don't really like that term-"

"but you are."

"no i-"

"vigilante then?"

"absolutely not. i just...want to do what's right for hell's kitchen and its' people. i just want to make my city a safer place."

"...superhero."

he groans, putting his head in his hands.

"i'm not a superhero. and i'm blind as a bat."

"more like an acrobat." you mumble, making him roll his eyes.

"i heard that."

"so you...can't see anything?"

"no, my love, i cannot see anything." he says, his voice falling flat.

he was grateful, of course, that you weren't angry at him. but he wasn't going to lie and say that your stubborn disbelief wasn't extremely frustrating for him.

"...nothing at all?"

"yes, nothing." he sighs, running his hands over his face.

you just nod your head, still trying to process all of the new information you were given.

"so when we first met and i said that you and foggy took down fisk, you....really to-"

"took him down. yes. i did. well, daredevil did."

you just nod your head, taking another short pause.

"and....you came up with that name?"

"no, i didn't. but i think it fits."

"okay...so you....get hurt. badly. like a lot."

matt takes in a short breath, pressing his lips together in a line.

"i do, yes. it doesn't happen all the time, but it does happen."

you let out a shaky breath, nodding your head.

"but, you're always okay, right?"

matt leans forward, placing one hand on your hip, pulling you closer, and the other hand on your cheek, stroking it softly with his thumb.

"i will always come home to you, okay? i promise you that." he says softly, leaning his forehead onto yours.

you just nod, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on his lips.

"i lo-"

foggy. foggy. foggy. fog-

matt sighs, grabbing his phone and quickly answering.

"yeah, we're on our way fog. okay, yes we will pick some up on our way. okay. bye."

you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, pulling back from matt as he puts his phone back into his pocket.

"i forgot to tell you that foggy invited us out to josie's. and we're supposed to pick up some thai on the way."

"does foggy know?"

"yes, and karen."

you just nod, staying silent as you stand up and get dressed back into your clothes.

"hey. we're okay?" he asks wrapping his arms around you as you button up your jeans, his cheek leaning on your head.

"we're okay, matty. but it...does scare me." you sigh, leaning your head into his cheek.

"i know. but i'm okay. i'm always okay. cuts and bruises heal. and i'm okay." he reassures, tightening his hold on you.

you nod, holding onto his arms and just enjoying the small moment you two had together before heading out the door.

when you and matt arrived at josies, you glared at foggy and karen as you dropped the bag of takeout onto the table.

"you guys are so fake." you say, shaking your head at them as matt chuckled, pulling out your chair.

"w-what did we do?" foggy whines.

"i can't believe you didn't tell me. i thought we were friends." you pouted, making karen's mouth fall open.

"we are!" she argues quickly.

"she knows." matt says as he folds up his cane and takes a seat.

"she know wh- oh. she knows." foggy says, nodding his head slowly.

"i mean...come on. we couldn't just tell you!" karen pleads as foggy opens up the bag of takeout.

"yeah i mean, if we tell you about the thing we have to tell you about everything! and i mean, i'm sure you didn't take it well when he told you about the time that he almost died and then faked his death."

"HE WHAT!?"

"...she didn't know that." matt groans

"well...now you do. don't say i never told you anything." foggy shrugs

"i'm sorry you faked your death!?"

"here we go." matt sighs, putting his face in his hands.

"FAKED! YOUR DEATH!"

taglist:

@luvr-bunnyy @glowstick-lesbian @anothersworld @mrbillymontgomery @inas-thing @fuck-goes-on @eddiemvnsonss @nia_um @multibishh @takeyour-pants-off

#matt murdock x reader #x reader #marvel #daredevil #daredevil x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel men #matt murdock #netflix daredevil #matt murdock imagine #matthew murdock x reader #matthew murdock #matthew murdock imagine

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

ok i just finished season 1 of daredevil and i will have articulate things to say about it at some point but for now here's the stream of consciousness notes i took while i was watching:

-I like Jack Murdock as a portrayal of a loving but flawed parent — like he clearly cares for Matt so much and he’s doing his best but there’s some parts of a “normal” childhood he just doesn’t really have the resources to provide. That being said being stupidly self-sacrificial clearly runs in the family. Just take the dive and collect your money my guy 

-“you shouldn’t be sneaking around at night you could get hurt”/ “we need to do this within the legal system” Matthew you fucking hypocrite (affectionate)

-weirdly fascinated by the way Fisk & co. translate for their sketchy group meeting that always seem to take place in abandoned parking garages, especially with how Wesley gives the general idea of what they’re saying instead of a direct translation — ok update i suspected this was because Fisk actually understood what everyone was saying and I was right!

-I like Foggy but I disagree with him about the purpose of a defense attorney — he wants to represent people who aren’t guilty/were justified in what they did but everyone deserves representation even if they 100% did the thing and were 100% wrong in doing so 

-Honestly probably worked out better for Matt that Stick was only around for a couple of years at the most. Also symbolic that he left before teaching Matt to use knives — Matt never fully goes down the road of lethal force (I mean some of the things he does definitely would kill people in real life but in real life he’d also be dead so it evens out) or fully cuts off the people he cares about. Also are they implying that the reason Matt doesn’t permanently have broken ribs and/or major blood loss that he meditates? I mean suspension of disbelief obviously but that is. very funny 

-Fisk is, on the one hand, very detail-oriented, but he’s also impulsive and emotionally reactive, so he has to come up with plans to cover for it. Also I feel like his and Wesley’s relationship is going to implode at some point. Or one of them (probably Wesley since Fisk is like. the main villain) is going to die

-are they sponsored by Dell 

-obviously I know why they do this for cinematic reasons but it’s very funny that in-universe Fisk gives his entire speech in 1x08 without actually saying his name until he dramatically announces at the end. Although maybe that’s just for dramatic effect and in-universe he's just repeating it? Also don’t throw your computer Matt you have no money 

-Matt’s smug little smile when Karen says the man in the mask looks badass flipping around :3 

-“the whole wounded, handsome duck thing” 

-i love how much they dwell on the actual implications of finding out your friend is secretly a vigilante/has had superpowers the entire time you’ve known each other, and that knowing they go out at night to beat people up, even if it’s for the “right” reasons, would still be alarming 

-actually not bad on the nighttime colour-grading front! I can see what’s happening which is better than most shows 

-I appreciate that there’s an actual plot about/explanation of how Matt gets his body armour 

-Wow who could have guessed leaving the gun in the middle of the table was a bad idea. I kind of liked Wesley but honestly what a dumbass way to die. Do admire the bluff though “you don’t really believe I’d put a loaded gun where you could reach it?” 

-love the approach to superhero realism here — not necessarily in the abilities or the way the plot is constructed (although that’s good, too) but in the characters’ reactions (Foggy finding out about Matt; Karen when she kills Wesley, Fisk when he finds out Wesley is dead) 

-“I thought your days of being relevant were past” ouch 

-reasons Wilson Fisk is evil: murder, drug dealing, doesn’t like cat videos 

-I do like that Fisk kind of gets the power of friendship thing though? But like it makes him worse 

-I’m very much not the most qualified to make this judgement and I’d want to check what people who actually *are* in a position to judge have to say about it, but I feel like this show has a bit of an… orientalism problem, I guess? But orientalism that also includes Russians, and also I know this is partly an extension of her being a very minor character but Doris (Ben Urich’s wife) is the only character who seems like she’s *only* there to like. encourage others through her wise words and doesn’t have much of an internal life of her own (besides the priest I guess but I feel like with priests that’s kind of their job) 

-Did Foggy not go to Ben’s funeral? 

-Fisk is also going to kill Leland. Maybe stop killing all your allies Fisk 

-I think it’s cute that Matt still holds onto Foggy’s arm when they’re walking even when it’s just the two of them and Foggy already knows that he doesn’t need to do it 

-Why does Marvel keep naming wise mentor figures who die Ben? Matt and Peter Parker should make a club (is Ben Urich in the comics? I haven't read the comics)

-“while actively being arrested” has got to win some sort of award for worst marriage proposal but I guess I admire that he just went for it? 

-Ominously large number of minutes left in this episode after the seeming resolution 

-Matt’s dumbass little horns <3

-Fisk: “You think one man in a silly little costume will make a difference?” bro *you* thought one man in a silly little costume would make a difference when you were the one man. Also I hope the silly little costume protects Matt from blunt force trauma 

-I’m honestly still not entirely sure how/if Nelson & Murdock actually made any money

-I feel like that bit near the beginning where Karen and Matt both have secrets and Foggy’s like “I wish I had a secret” describes their dynamic basically

#daredevil #instead of liveblogging shows i just do whatever this is #anyway enjoy #kvetch oc

[soulofapatrick]

The Taste of Your Lips - Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You and Matt have feeling for each other but it takes oh so long for you two to give into them

Words: 2.6k 

Warnings: none I think 

Notes: I just really had to write a Matt story; been on my mid for days 

Y/N’s POV

I first met Matt in college, he was studying law and I was studying creative writing. Despite our differences we bonded over our mutual love of comics; literature and music. We quickly became friends, spending countless hours talking about everything from our favourite novels to new music that we wanted the other to enjoy. It always amazed me how Matt had an uncanny ability to sense things that most people couldn’t and his reflexes were always lightning fast as if he could actually see. I never though much of it, chalking it up to his intense training as a lawyer and his dedication to his physical fitness. 

After we graduated, Matt moved into an apartment in Hell’s Kitchen and offered me a free space in there. I couldn’t take it, finding a cheap and rather shitty apartment that Matt wasn’t too happy about. One day I came home to find a set of keys on my kitchen island and a note from Matt saying I could come over whenever I wanted and it makes my heart jump. It was such a small gesture but it meant so much to me and a small part of me hoped it meant that maybe, just maybe, Matt had feeling for me too. 

I began to notice little things about him that I found rather endearing and I started looking forwards to our time together, feeling a flutter in my chest whenever I knew we were going to meet up. I would catch myself staring at him for a few seconds longer than necessary or feeling a sense of disappointment when we had to go our separate ways for that day but it wasn’t until we were spending an evening watching a movie together that I realised I was in love with him. We were sitting on the couch, him happy to listen to the movie with my head on his chest and our feel intertwined, feeling his smile into my hair. As the movie had ended I knew something had shifted between us for me, my heart racing at the realisation that I was head over heels for my best friend. 

I didn’t know how to tell him and I didn’t want to risk losing our friendship as I was scared for what his reaction would be so I left it. I pushed my feelings aside and acted like they were just a passing crush but of course they weren’t. The ore time I spend with Matt the stronger my feelings got and I was starting to daydream about what it would be like to be able to kiss him and how his face would feel in my hands until it got too much. I had been wandering through Hell’s Kitchen late at night when something snapped and I was bursting into Matt’s apartment before I knew it, ready to tell him I was in love with him when I found him standing there. The Daredevil suit on and mask in his hands. 

All I could do was stare at him as I try and process what was in front of me as Matt was the last person I expected to be Hell Kitchen’s vigilante. He’s blind for one but two the Matt I thought I knew was just too soft to be Daredevil. My shock quickly dissipated into anger as Matt had been keeping this from me, from Foggy. How could he? How could he put himself in such danger every single night? It hurt me, the thought of him getting so hurt he can’t get home and no one can help him. 

“What the actual fuck?” I’m hissing out, voice shaking with anger and fear as he looks in my direction, a guilty look on his face. 

He forced me to sit down, calmly explaining to me about his ability to ‘see’ the world around him using his other senses, how it helped him navigate the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. How he uses a form of echolocation, listening for sounds bouncing off of objects around him which he can form into mental images of his surrounding based on the way the sounds interact. He explains how it’s not perfect and has a lot of limitations and how it takes a lot of practice and concentration to ‘see’ effectively. He told me that he had gotten his hearing so precise he could hear my heart currently racing in my chest.

As Matt told me that a rush of emotions and realisation floods my mind and I flushed. Surprised at first, almost taken aback by thee sheer power of his senses and it’s almost hard to comprehend that he can hear physical manifestations of my emotions so clearly. Then the shock wears off and embarrassment takes its place as that means Matt could hear every time my heart races when I thought about kissing him, he could smell my arousal every time my mind wandered further than it should and he could feel when my cheeks flushes every time he would touch me. He would have been able to see through all the times I stared at him with heart eyes and all the times I tried to hide my feelings for him. 

I couldn’t help feel vulnerable and exposed as I processed it all. It was like all of my secrets and desires were laid bare before him but at the same time there was something strangely comforting about it. Matt could hear everything I was feeling meaning he had the ability to understand me in a way nobody else could, a strangely intimate connection that we share. In that moment, I realised that my feelings for Matt went far beyond mere friendship. It wasn’t just that I find him attractive or that we have a good rapport. It’ was something deeper, something that I couldn’t quite put into words. And as I looked into his eyes, shades of deep and rich chocolate, I wondered if he could hear my heart racing then and there too.

*

It’s been a few months since I found out Matt was Daredevil and I’ve been staying at him more often than mine that at this point I should just move in but I don’t want to deal with his smug ‘I told you so’. 

It was awkward at first as I couldn’t help the feelings of betrayal that he had kept this huge secret from me, telling Foggy and Karen before me. Matt gave me time to adjust, letting me find my own way back to him which took a week or two as I took the time to realise why he did what he did and honestly? It’s made me feel somehow closer to him than before as we’ve fallen into a routine now. He lets me clean him up when he gets hurt, it took a few days of arguing for that to happen, but he gave in knowing just how stubborn I can be. I clean up his injuries, make sure he’s fed and hydrated and make sure he gets enough sleep to work the next day. It’s not always easy but it’s become somewhat of a bonding experience for us and it puts my anxieties at easy. 

Despite all this I still haven’t given in to moving in with him. Part of me wants to but I’m not giving him that satisfaction and I know that the longer I spend at his the less I’ll be able to control my feelings for him as they grow stronger. I can’t help but wonder if there is something unspoken between us, something deeper than just friends when I’m sat practically in his lap and cleaning the cuts on his cheek or icing the bruises on his ribs. 

Today was no different, I slipped into his apartment in the dead of night to find him  half laying, half sitting on the sofa, back against the arm and one leg spread down the couch and the other handing off, foot on the floor as his eyes are pointed to the ceiling. My heart drops at the sight of him and I’m letting the door slam shut, whispering out a quiet ‘Sorry!’ when he winces. 

Without a second thought I’m rushing over to him, sliding to sit between his spread legs and pulling him into a tight embrace. He responds by his arms wrapping around me, strong and comforting, like a shield protecting me from the rest of the world. The muscles in his chest flex as he embraces me, the warms of his body enveloping me and his bare chest smooth and firm against me. I can’t help myself but bury my face in his chest, the scent of his skin mixed with a hint of sweat and his cedarwood cologne. My heart is racing and I know he can feel it too, the way his grip tightens ever so slightly and the warmth of his breath on my neck as he moves closer. I can’t help myself when I begin to wonder if he can feel the heat rising to my cheeks and the way I can’t help feeling a little turned on by him being this close. 

He’s breaking the hug, eyes moving around my face as if he can really see me and it sends a shiver down my spine. My eyes follow his fingers as the lightly ghost down my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake and a small smile on his lips leaving me feeling a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. He’s leaning closer again, breath on my face  and hands cupping my face gently in his hands, thumbs brushing my cheeks softly. He speaks, voice low and rough, “I can hear how much you want this, can smell it and fuck,” he chokes on his words a little, letting out a sound that could be a whimper, “Fuck, you don’t know how long I have wanted to do this.” 

Then his lips are on mine, a soft and sweet kiss that sends my heart racing even more. His hands are moving to my waist as he pulls me closer to him while his tongue traces over my bottom lip asking silent permission to deepen the kiss. His hands on my hips feels so strong and firm, yet gentle at the same time. It's like he's holding onto me with purpose, but not with force. The warmth from his palms seeps through the fabric of my shirt, making me feel safe and protected. I can feel his fingers slightly digging into my sides as he pulls me closer, deepening the kiss. The sensation of his touch sends shivers down my spine and I feel like I could stay in his embrace forever. 

Matt’s breaking the kiss too soon for my liking, a soft rumble in his chest of amusement as his strong hands manoeuvre me so I’m straddling his lap, thumbs moving in soothing circles where they’ve slipped under my teeshirt. He sighs softly before speaking, voice low and a tinge of pain in it, “I’ve been so scared to make a move,” His grip tightens a little more, “I don’t want to put a target on your back darling.” 

As soon as the endearment leaves his kiss swollen lips I feel my heart flutter and from the small smirk on his lips he hears it too but I can’t help it as him calling me ‘darling’ adds to the warmth spreading through me. Without any hesitation, I’m placing a gentle hand on his cheek, turning his face to mine, “I know the risks, Matt,” I speak softly, as if I’ll break the moment if I speak any louder, “I’m afraid of what I’ll do if I’m not with you now that I have a taste.” 

That draws a genuine smile from him, a soft and tender expression making me let out a soft sound. I can’t stop myself from leaning forwards and capturing his lips in another gentle and loving kiss as his hands move to my back and pull me flush against him as if I’ll disappear. The kiss deepens, passion stoking the fire in my chest. His hands moving up and down my back under my loose shirt, fingers tracing over my skin and causing shivers to run down my spine. I press myself even closer to him, feeling the hard muscles of his bare chest and the warm of his body against mine. His tongue flicks against my lower lip and I part them eagerly for him to deepen the kiss even further. 

It’s like the ward fades away and it’s just us, lost in the kiss and the feel of each other. Matt’s lips are soft and gentle yet full of so much pent up desire it’s almost overwhelming. I can feel my own desire building with every passing second and I have to pull away too soon, panting for air and my breath hitching when his lips don’t hesitate to move to my neck. 

“I’m right here,” I gasp out, hands finding his hair and a small part of me revels in how soft it is. It’s like running my fingers through fine silk, falling around his face and making it addictive to touch, my fingers curling and pulling lightly as I add, “I’m not going anywhere.” 

A low sound escapes his throat as his lips trail soft and gentle kisses down my neck, leaning a trail of warmth and desire in their wake. His lips feel soft yet firm, breath warm against my skin and his fingers are tracing any part of me he can get his hands on as he tries to memorise every dip and curve for future times. It feels like electricity, the contract of his soft and gentle fingers compared to his lips that are sucking and biting hickeys into any skin of his neck he can get them on. 

He’s kissing me once more, soft and quick before he’s manhandling me off his lap as he shifts. His strong and firm hands lift me off his lap and back to my feet, pulling himself up and then making me lay the length of the sofa. I frown at him as he walks to his room until he’s returning with two pillows which he props against the arm of the sofa before he lays down next to me. He shifts us around until we’re comfortable with his head leaning on the pillows and my head on his chest, nestled into his side with his arm around my shoulders and squeezing lightly, his moves all smooth and fluid. Settling into his side, my ear pressed against his chest, I hum softly the his fingers move to card and lightly scratch throughly scalp soothingly. He turns the TV on, the soft glow of the screen casting a warm light over us as we snuggle together, the blanket at the bottom of the sofa being wriggled up by his feet until he can reach it with his hands. The blanket is fuzzy and warm, the mixture of it, Matt’s safe and solid form surrounding me and the quiet murmurs of the TV has me drifting to sleep. The steady rhythm of Matt’s heartbeat serving as my own personal lullaby as I sleep for the first time in months, knowing Matt is here and okay. I feel safe in his arms, knowing that he'll always protect me. 

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock smut #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock fanfic #Charlie cox #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil x y/n #daredevil fluff #daredevil smut #daredevil angst #daredevil x female reader #daredevil fanfiction

[kl4us4]

KL4US’s MASTERLIST

stranger things, umbrella academy, sherlock, the 100, daredevil blog previously known as: octavia-marie-blake.

DAREDEVIL

MATTHEW MURDOCK

fear of god (x f!reader, on-going) - working as an investigative journalist, trailing a string of murders has you running to matthew murdock - and daredevil - for help

can't let you go (x f!reader) - when matty shows up beaten and bruised - again - you’re not sure how much more you can take.

STRANGER THINGS

STEVE HARRINGTON

shoot to kill (x f!reader) - my words shoot to kill when I'm mad, I have a lot of regrets about that

caught (x f!reader) * - fucking bf!steve in front of billy

morning (x f!reader) * - morning sex w bf!steve

a new hope (x reader) - forcing steve to watch star wars so that he can get a job at the video store

EDDIE MUNSON

the chain (x f!reader) - hawkins, indiana. 1986. it's your senior year at Hawkins High and everything's supposed to be easy - until a night in Eddie's trailer has you both running for your lives.

begin again (x reader) - dealing with the aftermath of eddie surviving, but not being accepted back into hawkins

everything (x f!reader) - your family don’t seem to care much about your birthday - but there’s one person willing to make it extra special for you.

light and high beauty (x f!reader) - a calm afternoon spent listening to eddie read aloud at his place.

mr. rager (x f!reader) - eddie's desire to fit in has never resurfaced as much as it does while watching you gain attention from the popular crowd. things get messy when jason targets eddie, yet again

'broken nose' kind of protective (x f!reader) - eddie loves his uncle - he's almost a father to him. he just hates when he brings his rowdy, disrespectful friends to the trailer park.

matilda (x f!harrington!reader) - you had held off from telling your parents about your metalhead boyfriend. at the cusp of your anniversary, eddie feels like your parents should know about the two of you.

UMBRELLA ACADEMY

KLAUS

churchyard (x f!reader) - he communicates with spirits, you communicate with angels

a perfect world (x reader) - reader dies suddenly but is still able to see klaus

quiet (x reader) - your power gives you the ability to create silence

caught (x reader) - being caught by klaus stealing from the happily departed reginald hargreeves

the same (x f!reader) - leaving rehab at the same time as klaus and being there for him during s1 [I II III]

close and beautiful (x reader) - being back by klaus' side through difficult and confusing times

action (x reader) - a city akin to gotham yet no vigilante to guard its citizens - until one day, there is

11 years older and 22 inches taller (x reader) - you're happily dating klaus but five seems to have a small crush on you [I II]

hold on (x reader) - as Klaus’ best friend, you had to deal with your fair share of incidents where he’s pushed himself over the edge - but none like this

BEN

landslide (x reader) - trying to live life without him

perfect (x f!plussize!reader) - ben is so certain you're perfect, he wishes you knew it too

FIVE

go best friend (x bestfriend!reader) - being friends with five is always fun

DIEGO

take care of you (x gn!reader) - after diego comes home late, you share some cuddles and love

nothing breaks like a heart (x f!reader) - you and diego are in love but it breaks his younger brothers heart

meeting grace (x reader) - you finally get to meet your boyfriend's mom

the whole truth (x lawyer!reader) - diego is on trial, you're his lawyer and he does not make it easy

beautiful boy (x m!reader) - you never miss a chance to tell diego how beautiful you think he is

alone now (x reader) - diego asking you to marry him

read all about it (x journalist!reader) - when you see a former superhero from the Umbrella Academy follow five armed robbers into a bank, you just know you have to get the full story

SHERLOCK HOLMES (BBC)

bad men (x f!reader) - sherlock needs your help - after all, you're the best assassin in london

bearer of bad news (x f!reader) - it's all too much - the cases, the heinous crimes, handling Sherlock's cold remarks - and you snap

#steve harrington x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x male!reader #diego hargreeves x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock bbc x reader #ben hargreeves x reader #matthew murdock x reader #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader

[catholic-character-tournament]

Quarter Finals - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Matt

Matt's faith in the show is really important and well explored; one of the first scenes of the show is Matt going to confession (or, well, talking to his priest since he's not really confessing at that point). Matt struggles a lot with what he's supposed to do; everyone's telling him to kill the villain and he kinda wants to, but he literally says: "I know my soul is damned if I take his life". He struggles with his faith and goes with his doubts to his priest, and it's beautiful—also when he finally gets a costume for his vigilanteing he chooses to dress as the devil, lol. (His priest tells him that nothing makes people run to Church faster than the feeling of having the devil on their heels.)

a lot of the show is about how he justifies his vigilante actions with his faith, and whether he's doing the right thing in trying to help people or just using it as an outlet for his anger. the literal first scene of the show has him in a confession booth talking to his priest (who is a really interesting character too). this is not the scene I was talking about but it's such an excellent scene with matt talking to his priest: https://youtu.be/XHZ3NbEIDdw

canonically catholic but dresses like a demon to be quirky

honestly i dont wanna type too much but i feel that matt is a great example of someone who battles with his faith because he rarely loses his faith but rather fights with why he was made the way he was and put through what he was. He believes himself to have the devil inside him but believes that God put him there

ok in the comics barring the most current run matt has Mostly been a non-practicing Catholic that very rarely actually does any catholic Activities but ends up falling back into the Mindset and very occasionally dramatically taking confession (ex. in that one issue where he takes confession, basically tells the father that he is uniquely terrible and is thinking about violently murdering someone and when the father says "you can be forgiven" hes like "AUGFH-- NO!!!!!!!!!!" and runs out) when he's gone through some shit. and i love that its so relatable

This guy so catholic he spends an ungodly amount of time just chilling in the church. And goes there whenever there is a moral conundrum about killing people being Bad even though it would solve a lot of problems and stop said people from killing other people. This happens every other episode. Matt is the Catholic Guilt Guy. There's actually a lot of catholic stuff in the show as a whole. Just a compilation would be like three whole episodes long.

Hes great hes catholic enough to not outrught murder people but not catholic enough to not fuck before marriage hes a bisexual disaster at all times hes besties with a priest might i add hes great hes my special little guy

his catholicism is a huge piece of his characterisation he was raised by nuns in a catholic orphanage, the first scene we ever see him (as an adult and not a flashback) is him going to confession, he is good friend with his priest and has regular debates with him, etc also in s3 he has a huge crisis of faith after he lost A Lot where he stops believing for a while and it's linked to his identity crisis where he actually wants to kill another person (a hard line he previously chose never to cross) and wants to be only daredevil and not matt murdock, when he is both and needs both to exist also when he was a kid his grandmother used to say "watch out for the murdock boys, they've got the devil in them" and it created a surprising lot of his issues

So he's both catholic in the comics and the show but he's More Catholic in the show. Like, raised in a catholic orphanage by nuns (ONE OF WHICH IS HIS *MOTHER*), second scene in the show has him in a confession box kind. Matt Murdock goes out and gets the shit beaten out of him nightly and also beats the shit out of other people and purposefully leaned into devil iconography as his theme. When his nurse friend says, he takes a lot of punishment without one complaint he says "That part's the Catholicism." It is a Core Aspect of his character (at least in the show). He makes me insane. Also the same chemicals that blinded him created the teenage mutant ninja turtles and everyone should know that.

They went to confession to a priest who they had saved as their costumed counterpart and the guy recognized them by the voice, proving that it's possible and everyone else is just dumb

he takes "i wanna fight god" to new and incredibly violent levels, while also being a sweetheart and a goofball

Actually strictly WILL NOT kill criminals. Goes wayyy out of his way to avoid it. Fights with the Punisher about it. Goes to confession booth after nightly vigilante excursions. Feels so much guilt. "How have you been holding up?" "Like a good Caltholic boy" "that bad huh" - actual conversation with his priest

So Daredevil struggles with his mission as a crime fighter because killing criminals goes against his faith. He makes it a point to not kill criminals, believing that even bad people deserve a second chance. This philosophy puts him at odds against The Punisher, who is a relentless killer. As a Catholic myself, while I love the concept of a morally conflicted superhero, I think the worldbuilding around Daredevil is lacking. If he struggles with violence and killing, why doesn't he pray to warrior saints like Saint Michael, Saint Ignatius of Loyola (a former knight), or Saint Joan of Arc? Why isn't there a community of other Catholics he can turn to for guidance, considering New York City has a sizeable population of Catholics? And why are the churches he goes to always empty? Doesn't he know that the Catholic Church supports the just war theory? I think that would have made his burden more bearable.

He goes to church and confesses to punching people and says "imma do it again can i apologize in advance" and the father dude says "no you're meant to stop now" and Matt says "no" and they do this everyday. I'm not remembering it properly but this is a canon interaction i swear

HELLO HI YES I LOVE HIM AND WILL INFOR DUMP ok so. he is a vigalantty and he got named daredevil and he is an orphan and after the age of 12 was raised in an orphanage at a Catholic church and his therapist is his priest via confession abd. also his mother is a nun he has a whole mental breakdown over god and called Job a pussy because he liked god until he got better and liked god again he said "I'm dearedrvil and not even god can stop that now" and he's so cool

matt is a freakish little babygirl who was raised by nuns and definitely has religious trauma. i hate him so much (affectionately)

he’s literally fucking insane about it i don’t know what to say here. he thinks he’s chosen by god to go on some sort of holy quest to save hell’s kitchen. joan of arc ass.

i already know hes in by default j just wanted to give him a personal shout out i love this angsty catholic dweeb

how practicing he is depends on the run, but in my favorite he is quite literally confessing to a member of the last extant order millitant who happens to be a priest at a church in hells kitchen.

i love him for having the funniest version of a trope i usually hate (person gets into confession booth and asks forgiveness not for what they've done, but for what they're about to do). usually this trope just looks silly to me bc like. the priest would just say "i can't do that" and you would have to either awkwardly explain yourself or just Leave. it's funny when matt does it because fr. lantom is probably like "what are you gonna do???" and matt's like "lol. lmao. 😊 hehehe." anyway we love this angry catholic man who dresses up like the devil to beat people up in hell's kitchen

I'm sure Harrow is lovely and I respect the space lesbians but listen to me. Listen.

Matt Murdock is the Catholic character of all time, and if you make him lose, I am blowing up this website and everyone in it.

He is Catholic. His mother is a nun. He grew up in a catholic orphanage. Half the episodes in the show include him going to confession. When he needs therapy, he talks to his priest. He dresses up as a devil partly because of the Catholicism.

One time he got godly powers on loan from Heimdall (see below), and he did a lot of good with it, and then the second it was over he just... well. Also see below!

This man's every coping mechanism is Catholicism.

Please vote for Matt in the @catholic-character-tournament because he's the best and most realistic representation of what it means to be Catholic. Someone who's been punched and bet and crushed by life but still gets up every day to try. No, he's not a nun like his competition but he's not less devoted because of that. Not everyone is called to service. In the day he works at a defense lawyer to help people. Not for the money but to help people not get screwed over by the law. And at night, he dons a mask and beats up assholes when the law fails them. Is he perfect? No, that's the point. Matt is a broken man who is just trying his best to do well and live like Jesus.

He fully embodies the Catholic doctrine of faith and good works. He has faith in what he's doing even if others challenge him. He believes in forgiveness and repenting even when going up against "the devil."

"The people you murder deserve another chance." ... "No, Frank. To try again, Frank. To try. And if you don't get that, there's something broken in you you can't fix, and you really are a nutjob." "You think God made you a one-man firing squad. But you're wrong. There is goodness in people, even in you. And you're gonna have to kill me, 'cause I'm never gonna stop coming for you, until I take you down."

Daredevil Season 2 Episode 3

He (tries) to love his enemy. He believes in Elektra and Frank and maybe Dex and their ability to change. To be good. And when he can't, Matt refuses to compromise on his morals. While not quite "turning his cheek" he never scoops to their level. Because they don't get to destroy who he is.

Daredevil Season 3 Episode 13

All he does is for the love he has to his neighbors, his community. He loves New York. Not for self-fulfilling needs or for the money or for the fame. He does it because he believes in justice. Because the law was created by humans and is inherently sinful.

"But his competition met God and was disappointed and blah blah"

Daredevil is more grounded (at least the show, maybe less the comics). So now, Matt doesn't met God. But he sure gets mad at him. All of season 3 he angry at God for all the trauma he expired.

"You see, that was me, Sister. I suffered willingly. I gave my, uh... sweat and blood and skin without complaint. Because I too believed I was God's soldier. ( chuckles ) Well, not anymore. I am what I do in the dark now. I bleed only for myself. ( scoffs )" ... "You might hate God right now, but the feeling is not mutual." "No, I don't hate him. I've just seen his true face, is all."

Season 3 episode 1

As a Catholic I don't really want to fight God in a parking lot. Well I do but not in the same way that I've understood (primarily Jewish people but probably other Abrahamic religions) want to fight God in a Denny's parking lot. I want to yell and scream and cry at God and for the feeling to not be mutual. For Him to never stop loving me. As long as I have faith, He will reach out his hand.

Homura

she is a catholic lesbian whose girlfriend became god. she has been through so much.

shes such a lesbian for amdoke

Catholic guilt literally turned her into a demon

she literally watches everyone she knows die over and over and over again just so she can save madoka, the one girl who showed kindness towards her. when madoka ends up basically becoming god in order to stop the cycle of death and violence, homura RIPS AWAY THE HUMAN PART OF HER SOUL so that she can create a world where she and Madoka and their friends can live happily, effectively becoming the devil to madoka’s god

She has so much religious symbolism when it comes to her relationship to Madoka. Madoka is God and Homura becomes Lucifer so that she can save Madoka and give her happiness. She literally rips God from heaven and rewrites reality though. The way she sees her self and shapes reality is through the lense of Catholicism.

most fucked up little catholic girl. we love that for her.

Okay homuras entire fuckin arc is stemmed from the fact she is Catholic. Look at her trying to save Madoka over and over again and suffering for it because she thinks if she suffers enough and works hard enough Madoka will stay. Normal people do not go into time loops willingly. Catholics will.

#tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls #polls #cct polls #marvel #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil born again #mcu #charlie cox #r6 #homura akemi #demon homura #pmmm #puella magi madoka magica #madoka magica

[briefcasejuice]

I recently saw someone say that Matt 'pretending' to be blind was unethical and while I dont agree with that, (I think it's a necessary part of staying safe as a powered individual in marvels universe, regardless of if youre using those lies to cover up being a vigilante) it got the gears going. Matt often does things he has no need to do, like: When Matt pats an area to 'find' something, bumps into something intentionally, or purposefully ignores things being handed to him. He uses these to help keep his other senses a secret. Makes you wonder how ethical it is to push a false image of yourself, no matter your reason for doing it.

Wanted to hear your thoughts: Is it okay to continuously lie to protect your image?

->[EC]

i know this isn't what you were perhaps implying but just to be clear, matt is not pretending to be blind to any extent. he still needs his cane, he still wears his glasses because his eyes don't work and that can make sighted people uncomfortable, he still needs to use braille and screen reader applications; he can't see. even with his powers quite possibly the only two reasons he's able to do what he does is because he's smart enough (smart as fuck, honestly) to fashion sensory information he receives into a mental map and because stick found him and taught him how to navigate the world as a blind person.

there are definitely more examples but this is something frequently made explicitly clear in daredevil runs, especially the more recent ones. he isn't pretending to do anything, to some extent he'll do okay without certain aids but he is still blind.

a lot of the things you've listed aren't things he does just to keep his identity secret, he genuinely needs to do so because his radar sense or mental map isn't perfect. having hyper sensitive hearing is just as much of a disability as his blindness in a lot of moments (like he'll get distance, weight, shape etc. wrong very frequently) and he does use bumping into things to orient himself and his surroundings. not to mention other habits like running his hands over walls and furniture or creating a small sound to understand his surroundings.

matt does not use his habits as a blind person to keep his secret identity. sure they work but a lot of smaller things a sighted person wouldn't notice because they're used to such habits. after regaining his secret identity in soule's run, his experiences with once again living a life where he is superpowerless to everyone in his life is very well taken account for. the only habit i remember being dramatised or 'acted' was acting unaware about his surroundings when he did indeed know what was going on (knowing what other people were doing in a room, knowing when someone was coming etc.). there were other times when his blindness was indeed an explicit disability - he fails to disarm a bomb at one point and has to ask someone about a signal blindspot is trying to send him because he can't see what is on a phone screen.

so no, to some extent the blindness of matt murdock is not faked or false for the upkeep of his secret identity so at no point can it be seen as unethical.

and to answer the question 'is it okay to continuously lie to protect your image?' matt doesn't lie about his secret identity for his own benefit. sure, it comes in handy in strange ways but he does it to keep his loved ones safe. apart from the more career and life ending threats - losing his ability to practice law, villains coming after him - waid's run is excellent about portraying the weird inconveniences of having a public identity and his loved ones being extremely vulnerable is the top storyline and matt's main worry in waid's second run.

i've just realized i've been talking about comic!matt this entire time but essentially the same goes for live action!matt. something i will never forgive marvel's daredevil for is that flashback conversation matt has with karen. matt just seems so unlike himself (i used to excuse it as it being because it's a flashback but it takes place before the defenders and matt is nothing like that at the end of s2 and the same for the beginning of the defenders) in the first part of the conversation and don't even get me started on the fact that he just up and says everything's an act. it shits on everything the past 2 seasons had established about his blindness and how it relates to his powers. my answer to your question is also doubled down for this iteration of matt, even moreso since live action!matt is a lot more protective and careful with his secret identity.

again, my apologies if you genuinely didn't mean to undermine matt's disability, his blindness but it is such a problem in this fandom right above hating matt for the way he responds to situations due to trauma.

#hopefully this doesn't sound passive aggressive but im was so annoyed when i originally read this #how can u either watch an entire show where someone is blind #dismiss the fact that they're blind just to complain about the fact that they're blind #unheard of #thanks for this ask anon im sorry if i didn't answer this generally enough but literally all that's ever in my head is matt so #gabs' asks #id in alt text

[cricket-reader]

Sticks to a Katana Fight

Masterlist | A03 | Wattpad | Recommendations | Inbox | Taglist

Summary: when ninjas show up at your job, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is there to help. What happens when it’s not enough?

Warnings: language, canon level violence, injuries, blood, ninjas

Word Count: 1059

Prompt: “What were you thinking?” I Slurred Speech | Impalement | Fight

A/N: Day 14 of June of Doom by @juneofdoom

In every sense of the word, you were a pacifist. You didn’t like fighting unless it was in movies or video games where you knew it was fake. Violence wasn’t something you were okay with.

That being said, you were completely out of your element when a bunch of fucking ninjas showed up at your work. You knew to expect weird things, living in Hell’s Kitchen where there was a masked vigilante and crime rings everywhere. Nothing, however, could have prepared you for ninjas. I mean seriously? You didn’t even think they were real at first. Maybe a cosplay or something.

But then they started taking out their very real swords, and they started slicing and dicing. It was something straight out of a movie the way they cut into those people. You were fine. Well, as fine as you could be with a group of ninjas attacking anyone that dared to move. If you just stayed under your desk and didn’t move, you’d be fine.

You were trembling, holding a hand to your mouth to try to prevent any noise from escaping. You heard your friend talking to them, begging them to let everyone go. You heard her heels click along the floor. And then the unmistakable sound of her body dropping into a heap on the floor. Tears sprung into your eyes as you heard her gurgling.

You couldn’t see what was going on, and you were grateful for that. Seeing your friend bleeding out probably wouldn’t be the best for your mental state. But then again, listening to the sounds of people close to you dying and being held hostage by ninjas wasn’t either.

You were hyperventilating under your tear and snot stained hand. It was ugly. Everything about this was ugly, though, so you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You wanted to look when you heard grunts and hits being exchanged. Someone was fighting them? Who the hell would be insane enough to go up against these psychos?

The fight continued on for quite some time and you didn’t know who was winning. You could only hope that it wasn’t the ninjas.

Two people went right past your desk as they fought. They probably didn’t even notice you were there. More people joined in and you wondered where the hell was the rest of your saviours. Surely no one would be stupid enough to do this alone.

You could hear that the man was getting his ass handed to him. You dared to peek out from under the desk and barely held in a gasp.

It was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen in the flesh. He was getting the shit kicked out of him by multiple ninjas.

Being a pacifist, you weren’t apt to fight. But when someone is getting ganged up on… well, that’s just unfair. Silently, you grabbed your purse that you always set under your desk, searching for anything that could help you in this situation. It would be stupid to help out, but you couldn’t just watch this poor man get beaten to death.

You found your keychain and took the pepper spray off of it. You didn’t want to make a lot of noise with it. You also grabbed your pocket knife that you always kept on you for emergencies. Being a woman in the city definitely taught you to be prepared. You never thought you’d be fighting off ninjas, but what the hell can you do?

You tripped a ninja that was passing you and kicked him in the face. You sprayed him with the pepper spray and left him wailing on the ground. The ninjas turned around, giving Daredevil the chance to hit each out them with his… sticks?

Was he seriously entering this katana fight with fucking sticks? You’d have to have some strong words with this man when you were done.

You slashed a few of them with your little knife and pepper sprayed them as best you could. The masked vigilante kept yelling at you to leave, to get away while you still could. You wanted to listen, but the ninjas wouldn’t let you go. They kept coming for you and you could barely dodge every katana swinging your way.

It was at that moment that you were seriously questioning your life’s choices. Was this how you died? In a ninja fight? Well, it certainly would be a cool way to go. You couldn’t complain there.

On the other hand, there were so many things you wanted to do. You hadn’t truly lived yet. Only recently had you started to make friends again. There was Karen and Foggy and Matt. They were so wonderful when they saw you sitting alone at Josie’s. They cheered you up after getting harassed by some loser. You could even dare to say that you had grown quite fond of one member of the group in particular. It was only now, in the face of great danger, that you wished you’d have told him.

You screamed when one of the katanas ripped through your torso. Daredevil froze before letting all hell loose. He would kill anyone and everyone who dared lay a hand on you. He didn’t care if he got hurt, not when you had already gotten hurt.

He could smell and taste the copper of your blood—or was it his own? It didn’t really matter. It still made him nauseous. When he got to your side, he felt the katana that had impaled you. It was still in which was good but also bad. He could hear the sirens of the ambulance from blocks away. He wished they’d come faster.

“What were you thinking,” he muttered, mostly to himself as tears welled up in his eyes.

“Was thinkin’ your ass w’s gettin’ handed t’ya,” you replied, your voice slurred and quiet.

“I could’a done it myself, sweetheart.”

“Din’t look like it,” you smiled, head drooping to the side. Terror set in his bones when he felt blood pouring from your mouth.

“No! Don’t… don’t leave me! Please, please be okay! Please, c’mon sweetheart!” He cried out. You couldn’t leave him. You were the best thing in his life. He couldn’t bear to let you go just yet. This was all his fault. Why did you have to step in? Why couldn’t you have just stayed under your desk?

Taglist: @harleycao

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[pandalandalopalis]

Devil May Cry Wolf - Matt Murdock x Mutant Reader [Chapter Thirteen]

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Story Synopsis: The first time you jumped, it was 2014 and you were nine years old. You were in the back of your parents’ car — then you were in New York, standing on the street … and it was 1992.

The second time you jumped, it was 1998 and you were fifteen years old. You were heading back home to Saint Agnes after school had ended — and then you were knee-deep in snow, in Russia, in 1970. Outside a Red Room facility.

The third time you jumped, you were twenty-five and had spent ten years training as a Red Room agent. Ten years training your body to use your mutation. Jumping in space was easy — jumping in time was not. But you did it. After ten years, you did it. Now you have to live with the trauma.

Five years later, killing is still the only thing you know how to do, and the only thing you do best. In 2016, a vigilante named Daredevil stops you from killing a man who attacked you. He tells you that you can do better. You think maybe he’s right. But in 2017, Matt Murdock is in the darkest place in his life. When you show up to save him, he’s not exactly grateful. And when he finds out that you’re the best friend he grew up with in Saint Agnes that disappeared almost 20 years ago — things get even more complicated.

You’ll have to drag Matt out of the dark while being jaw-deep in it yourself. And you’ll have to try your best to do better — when Matt is trying his best to do worse.

Chapter Synopsis: Bucky asks you to spare with him; Matt asks you to spar with him. // You get kidnapped.

A/N: This is basically two chapters in one because for some reason I didn’t want to split it and also hey, it’s been a while since I updated so you guys deserve it.

Part 2 - Chapter Thirteen: Blind Trust // Heavy Lies the Head that Knows the Avengers

Blind Trust

When they weren’t going on missions, the Avengers were usually sparing.

It kept their bodies ready; their minds sharp. At the very least, it did for Bucky, Steve, Nat, and Barton. Stark and Banner had no need to keep their bodies in peak condition, so the two of them stuck to the lab. And Thor didn’t participate on principle. Wouldn’t be a fair fight.

Although that hadn’t stopped Bucky from challenging him in the past. He always lost, though.

But in a weird way, sometimes losing . . . felt good. Sometimes he felt like he won too easily. Like maybe if he had been weaker, maybe he wouldn’t have. . . .

Won too often. Against people who didn’t deserve it.

But. He was an Avenger now. And Steve and the others needed him to fight. This time, he got to protect people instead of hurt them.

Y/N was with them as well, although she was just observing (like Thor did sometimes when he wanted to tell them all the things they were doing wrong). At the moment, she was watching Steve spar with Nat.

A curious pair, the two of them. Steve had his supersoldier strength, but Nat had Red Room training. She knew how to take down opponents twice her size with twice her strength. Bucky had seen matches like this go either way. It was a strategy game, with the two of them. Whether Steve could overpower Nat before she could find a way to turn his strength against him.

Y/N was watching intensely. Bucky wondered briefly if she was worried about Steve. Nat’s whole Black Widow thing could be intimidating and he knew that Y/N was closest to Steve out of all of them. 

A Red Room agent versus a supersoldier. That’s what you were thinking. You had watched Steve and Natasha spar before, on a few different occasions. 

You didn’t like how random it seemed. How often they both won and lost against each other. How evenly matched they were.

You were hoping Natasha knew more. You were hoping your Red Room training would be more effective.

But who the fuck were you kidding.

The Winter Soldier had beaten you many times before.

It shouldn’t matter. You weren’t planning on killing him anymore.

But a part of you could not stop the thought,

Just in case. Just in case. Just in case.

Steve won this one. Bucky looked over to Y/N — who was still staring at the two of them with unblinking, analysing eyes. It wasn’t until Steve looked over to her that she blinked and smiled at him.

Bucky wondered if she was interested in the fighting itself. Maybe she was trying to learn by watching them. 

It did not escape Bucky’s notice that Steve seemed to really like this girl. Their medic had grown on him in a way that no one really had since Peggy. And Bucky knew that, if this were to continue and they were to start dating, he would need to start making friends with her.

It’s not that they were enemies or anything like that, he just noticed that he spent the least amount of time with her outside of her medic duties. She always seemed to have some kind of excuse on hand when he expressed interest in hanging out with her. Bucky supposed he couldn’t really blame her — he did recognize that out of all of them, he was the most intimidating.

Him and Nat were the ex-villains of the group, and that was the truth. It made sense that she was the most skittish around them. 

“Hey, Y/N, do you want me to teach you a bit of self-defense?” Bucky offered. Maybe if he taught her to defend herself, she’d feel a little less scared of him.

Her smile dropped almost imperceptibly for just a second before it returned. She paused in that way she did. Y/N was always the kind of person who thought through what she was going to say. And Bucky always kind of liked that about her. That she thought before she acted. He hoped she would rub some of that off on Steve.

“I don’t know,” she said with a bit of a laugh. “I’m not really the most coordinated. I don’t think I would be very good at it.”

“Bucky’s the best fighter we have,” Steve said.

“Not true,” Thor said, always the air of sculpted confidence.

“Out of our non-immortal members,” Steve corrected himself, “Bucky’s our best. You should let him teach you.”

She seemed unconvinced. She opened her mouth again, but Bucky beat her to it.

“Everyone should learn self-defence,” he said, and she looked at him. “It’s a good skill to have. You never know when you might need it.”

You were panicking.

It had been a little while since your last dose of Oxy or alcohol and your eidetic mind was bringing old memories to the forefront—

Memories of the last time the Winter Soldier had trained you—

Memories of what happened if you slipped up, stepped wrong, made a mistake—

Memories of metal making bruises into your flesh and rings around your neck and so much blood in your mouth it made you sick—

Memories of him pinning you down to the cold, hard floor, his weight on top of you so heavy you couldn’t breath— Couldn’t escape— Couldn’t— Couldn’t—

She was staring at him. It was only for a few seconds, but in those few seconds Bucky realized his mistake.

Of course offering to teach her to fight wasn’t going to make her like him. He was asking her to step in the ring with him. The ex- Winter Soldier. She already seemed a bit intimidated by him, but of course this was going to make it worse .

What the fuck were you thinking?

After those few seconds, her expression lifted into one of realization, like she had just remembered something.

“Shoot, you know what? I completely forgot, I have to go meet my friend, Matt.” She was backing up, her eyes flicking between Bucky and Steve, and her sentences were coming out quickly. 

You couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of your mouth. You were just trying to get out

out 

out

out

OUT

“We grew up in the orphanage together, y’know, and he’s a bit suicidal —and blind— so if he falls down the stairs, could be an accident, could be on purpose, but I can’t be late to meet him, just in case. So. I’ll see you guys later.” And Y/N gave a final nod and turned when she reached the door.

The room was silent.

Steve’s eyes were still on the door, trying to process the information he’d just heard.

“Did you guys know that Y/N grew up in an orphanage?” Steve asked the group after a moment. It was the piece of information that stuck closest with him. Months of knowing her and yet . . . he’d had no idea.

When Steve looked around the room, there was more silence.

“You know, Y/N’s a really private person,” Clint was the first to say.

Natasha was on the floor, dabbing her forehead with a towel. “People are allowed to keep their secrets.”

“Yeah, I know,” Clint said like it was obvious. “But I never really . . . realized that . . . I don’t really know anything about her.” He looked to Steve. “Do you?”

And Steve realized then what he hadn’t before.

That the answer was no.

Bucky sat on one of the benches and rested his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. “I shouldn’t’ve asked to train her.”

Steve recognized that expression of his. “Buck.”

“Don’t ‘Buck’ me, Steve. C’mon. You know how people see me.”

“She’ll like you once she gets to know you,” Steve said.

His friend didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t say anything further.

“Who do you think this Matt guy is?” Clint asked the room, sitting down next to Natasha.

Natasha flicked her towel at him. “None of our business. And you,” she looked up at Steve, “don’t assume shit about her, okay? I’m sure there’s a reason Y/N is being quiet about her life.”

Steve knew Natasha was right, of course.

But it didn’t make the knowledge any easier.

That he didn’t really know her.

It was Matt’s day off today, so he made sure to do only a little bit of overtime before heading back to his apartment. 

He could already sense someone’s presence within his apartment as he walked in, along with the smell of reheated chow mein.

“Hey,” Y/N called.

“Are you eating my leftover Chinese food?”

She grinned. “I was going to say, ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ but, y’know. What does it smell like I’m doing?”

Matt set down his briefcase and began pulling off his tie. “I was going to eat that, you know.”

“You snooze, you lose, Murdock.”

“This is my apartm—” He sighed and gave up. “What are you doing here? I thought you were hanging out with the Avengers today.”

She stirred the noodles around with her chopsticks. “Eh, I was. But they wanted to teach me to spar, so.”

Matt smiles, putting his hands on his hips. “What’s wrong? Hate losing so much you can’t pretend to be bad at fighting for just a little while?”

Y/N continued to push the food around in the carton. “It was the Winter Soldier who offered.”

His smile dropped.

Now he recognized her body language for what it was — fidgeting nervousness that she was trying to downplay but she had given up eating entirely now, as if she’d lost her appetite. 

“Didn’t feel like letting him put me on my ass,” she added.

She never talked about the Winter Soldier. She had given him a quick explanation of why she had planned on killing him, but nothing more than that since.

He was a Hydra assassin. He helped train girls in the Red Room. She hated him. That was it.

It must have been bad. If she was willing to go to the lengths she did to kill him. To infiltrate the Avengers and gain their trust. 

Not for the first time, the question of why is she still there crossed Matt’s mind. Why was she still with the Avengers if she hated being around him that much? Why was she still with the Avengers if she was no longer planning on killing him?

He didn’t have an answer. 

This time, Y/N began fidgeting out of discomfort rather than nervousness. “Oh, and I, uh, accidentally mentioned you in conversation today.”

Matt never really thought about whether she ever mentioned him to the Avengers. It’s not like she was portraying her real life to them. But the ‘accidentally’ stuck out to him. “. . .What did you say about me?”

“Oh, you know,” she began nonchalantly. “That we grew up in the orphanage together. That you’re blind. . . .And suicidal.”

Matt’s eyebrows raised and his mouth dropped open. “How did that come up in conversation?”

“Look, I know I fucked up, okay?” she said, and it was one of those rare times he got to hear her serious voice. “I was looking for any excuse to leave and go see you and that just sort of . . . came out. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He’d seen Y/N work — he knew how careful she was with her words when it came to putting on a facade, playing pretend, fooling people into believing she was something else. More than once, she’d mentioned that this was something she learned in the Red Room. Matt didn’t know much about that place, but he figured it was not a place that let you make mistakes.

So as much as it bothered him, he knew that she didn’t mean to say it. And Y/N rarely apologised. He could tell she felt bad about it.

She was scared. 

And there was a very short list of things that scared her.

He took a breath and a pause. Then, “What are you doing right now?”

She paused as well, as if she wasn’t expecting the topic change. “Eating your food.”

Matt shook his head, barely suppressing his amusement.

“Nothing,” Y/N answered properly this time.

“Wanna spar with me?”

She grinned and put down the chow mein.

You let Matt change into more casual wear before teleporting the two of you to Fogwell's Gym. You were quick to crawl into the ring, watching Matt get in after you.

You hopped around on the balls of your feet. “Oh, you’re going down, Murdock.”

“I thought we could try something different today,” Matt said. He pulled a long strip of black fabric out of his pocket. It took you a second to realize it was a blindfold. “Do you know how to fight blind?”

“I think I was sick the day they taught that in the Red Room,” you quipped.

“It’s an important skill to learn,” Matt continued. “You never know when you might be in a situation where you could lose it. You can’t rely on your sight all the time.”

Some part of you knew he was probably right, but another part of you was concerned with the learning curve. Trying to fight without your sight would be like trying to learn to fight all over again. The vulnerability in that . . . made you uncomfortable.

Matt approached you, holding out the blindfold. “Do you trust me?”

Of course you did; you’d been over this already. But Matt wasn’t asking you just to ask — he was asking for your permission. He wanted your confirmation first before going ahead. And you knew that if you said ‘No’, he wouldn’t push it. 

But the fact was that you did trust him. And you trusted him with this.

You sighed. “Yes.”

Matt smiled. Instead of handing you the blindfold, he walked behind you and wrapped the blindfold around your eyes, tying it behind your head.

As soon as your sight was black, that vulnerability set in. You really couldn’t see anything, not even blurs and shapes through the fabric. 

You felt Matt’s hands slide over your arms to rest on your elbows. You gripped around his forearms.

“I’m going to lead you around the ring, first,” he said. “Give you a chance to orient yourself a bit without your sight.”

He was completely steady as he began leading you forward, slowly, so you could be careful of your steps. 

He took your hand, and put it on top of something. 

“This is the edge of the ring.” He continued to pull you forward with his hand still around your other arm. 

Matt led you around the whole ring, talking continuously as he did, always informing you of where you were and what he was going to do next. You tried your best to give yourself an idea of the ring — you counted steps to each corner, to the middle, and through some quick math you were able to figure roughly how big it was. 

It was a strange feeling. To have to completely rely on Matt’s touch and voice to lead you around the space. 

Not for the first time, you thought about the way that Matt experienced the world. You focused on his voice. The calmness of it. The almost whisper texture to his tone. The surety in it. You focused on the feel of his hands around your arms; the feel of your hands on his. His hands were calloused; his grip gentle but firm around your elbows to guide you. His arms under your hands were steady — if you were to trip, you had no doubt he would keep you from falling on your face.

Finally, Matt let go of you and took a step away. Any confidence that was built shattered instantly, and that feeling of vulnerability gripped you again. 

“We’re in the middle of the ring,” Matt informed you. “Let me know when you’re ready to start.”

Well. Fake it until you make it, I guess.

You attempted to steal your resolve. “Ready.”

Then he hit you.

“Fuck!” you shouted in surprise, completely unprepared. Your nose stung from the impact. You heard Matt chuckle. “Oh, you think hitting defenseless women is fun, do you?”

“You’re not defenseless,” came his voice. “Listen. Trust your body. Let it do the work.”

He got a few more hits in, all that you were unable to block.

“You have muscle memory,” he continued. “Use it.”

You swore at him under your breath.

“I can hear that.”

This went on for a while. Your strategy at the moment was getting close enough to grapple him — if his body was within reach, you could hit him back. 

But even when you managed to grab him, you weren’t getting anywhere with it. You were hitting him, for lack of a better term, blindly, and he was doing a good job at blocking it. The hits you did get in weren’t in places that you wanted.

“Stop fighting with your eyes and fight with your body.”

“Whatever the fuck that means.”

Matt was on you again, and this time, he knocked you to the floor of the ring. The wind got knocked out of you for a moment, and Matt pinned your wrists on either side of your body, his body a heavy weight on top of you.

(And yet, throughout all this, despite there being pain and annoyance and that uncomfortable vulnerable feeling — you never panicked. You knew Matt wouldn’t give you anything more than you could handle. You knew he wouldn’t do anything that crossed a line.

You trusted him with your body.

You trusted him blindly.)

“C’mon,” came Matt’s voice, his face was very close to yours, “I’m right where you want me.”

You couldn’t stop the reply from leaving your mouth, “Oh, you are, are you?”

You felt Matt’s hands tighten around your wrists, just a little bit painfully, and he moved them to pin them above your head.

He heard her breath hitch slightly.

“You don’t need your sight for this one,” Matt instructed her. Then he put his mouth next to her ear. Lowered his voice. “Take advantage of it before I flip you over.”

Shivers broke out over your skin, your body reacting to the combination of being without your sight, having Matt breathe a whisper into your ear — and the realization that you were completely at Matt’s mercy.

Well. Almost completely.

You stopped thinking about your sight and started thinking about your body — you let it move in the familiar way, getting your legs out from under him and wrapping them around his neck. 

You squeezed only lightly. If this had been a real fight, your enemy would be unconscious in ten seconds.

He released your wrists. You felt Matt pat your hip. “That’s it. Good.”

This continued for a while longer. And while you were getting better, you were nowhere near close to beating him. You barely got any successful hits in.

Finally, you got knocked on your ass again. And when your back was on the floor, you heard Matt say,

“Alright, we can stop now.”

Breathing heavy, you ripped the blindfold off your face and let your eyes adjust for a moment.

Matt walked over to where you were lying. “Not bad for your first time.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself.”

He grinned and held out his hand. You took it and let him pull you up.

“Wasn’t easy for me my first time, either,” Matt said.

“Yeah, but it’s different for you,” you replied, still breathing hard. “You have your extra senses. You’re not really fighting blind.”

“I still had to learn how to use it,” Matt explained. “You may not have senses like me, but like I said before, you have muscle memory. Let your body do the work instead of your eyes. You’ll get it. Same time next weekend?”

Fuck, you really did not want your ass kicked like this again. But you fucking hated losing.

With a sigh, you nodded.

Heavy Lies the Head that Knows the Avengers

Surprisingly, this was not the first time you’d been pulled off the street and into the back of a van.

You let the men take you — you were giddy to get the chance to beat the shit out of some low-lifes who picked the wrong fucking person to try and kidnap—

But the giddiness dissipated the moment one of the men asked the question.

“You’re Y/N L/N. The Avengers’ medic.”

Well, it was more of a statement than a question.

Fuck.

Well, now you really were hand-tied, and it had nothing to do with the zip-ties being slipped around your hands. If these guys were trying to get information out of you or ransom you or something to the Avengers — fighting your way out was out of the question. You had a cover to maintain.

Eh, well. Maybe this would be fun.

The pain was not fun. But it was funny to watch these men lose their patience as they got nothing out of you.

They had you in some kind of abandoned parking lot, in a chair, your feet bound to the legs and your hands tied behind your back.

It had been an hour of their sorry attempt at torture. Their tactics were obviously designed for someone with less . . . experience than you. You didn’t like thanking your Red Room training, but it did give you a high pain tolerance when it came to torture. And it didn’t hurt that you had taken a fresh dose of Oxy before leaving your apartment for a walk.

The leader of the kidnappers gave you another hard punch to the face. You’d been tasting blood in your mouth for a while now.

“Tell me what I want to know, or I’ll pull out all your teeth,” the man seethed.

You gave him a smile — a mouthful of blood staining your teeth. “Flirt~”

He backhanded you this time, and you could feel his frustration through the slap. He leaned in real close and opened his mouth to speak.

You spat blood in his face.

He roared and kicked your chair — then you were falling backwards—

Sharp pain in the back of your head had you reeling for a moment. Yep, that’d be a concussion. You could only hope the back of your head wasn’t bleeding.

You rolled on your side, still attached to the chair. The man stepped in front of you, and you only had a second to brace yourself before he began kicking you.

The kicks were sharp and well-placed — it wasn’t long before breathing suddenly became painful.

It stopped. You opened your eyes to see one of the other kidnappers pulling the leader off of you.

“Hey! One piece, remember? We’re also trying to ransom her back to them. They’ll want proof of life soon and she needs to be conscious when we film it.”

The leader shrugged off the other man, like he was pissed that he was right.

You grinned.

“Do you think they got the message?” the third man asked, sounding a bit more timid than the other two. “I mean, it’s been an hour and they haven’t asked for proof of life yet. Maybe we need to send it again?”

One of the lights went out in the parking lot.

Then another.

Then another.

And you couldn’t help but laugh, even though it pained you to do so. 

“What is that, what’s happening?” the third man asked.

The leader kneeled next to you and roughly pinched your cheeks with his hand. “Why the fuck are you laughing?”

Another light went out, and the leader was startled enough to let go of you and reach for his gun.

Your laughing continued. “You are so fucked.”

Then the parking lot was black.

You couldn’t see anything but you could hear the sounds of a scuffle and fighting — a couple gunshots went off but you weren’t too worried about that.

And then the lights were coming back on, and all three men were unconscious on the ground, with varying levels of injury. 

The pain was swimming through your body, particularly in your head and your chest, but you weren’t so out of it not to recognize Daredevil walking over to you.

“You’re late,” you said.

Matt lifted you to put the chair back on four legs, then began untying you from it.

“Well, actually,” you continued, “I guess so long as I’m still alive then you’re on time.”

As soon as you were free from your binds, Matt knelt in front of you. “Are you okay?” His voice didn’t match your joking tone.

“You know. Looks worse than it is,” you said, although you didn’t know if that was actually true.

Matt pulled his glove off with his teeth and you felt his hand gently touch your face. He was inspecting it, cataloguing injuries. His hand reached the back of your head, and you saw it come back unbloodied. Woo hoo.

He was running his thumb over your split lip when suddenly he stilled. His head tilted in that way it did when he was listening for something.

“Take a deep breath for me,” Matt said.

Breathing was already painful. “No,” you replied.

“Y/N.”

You complied — and it fucking hurt. You didn’t even know if you got to a deep breath. A medium breath, maybe. You knew what it was before he spoke.

“You have a broken rib.”

“Fun.” You could hear the pain in your voice despite your light tone.

“Can you stand?” Matt asked.

“We’ll see~”

Matt helped you up — and immediately it was like all the blood was rushing to your head (or was it from your head?) and you swayed on your feet. But Matt was there, quick to put an arm around you. You held onto him, and the two of you began walking.

“Can you teleport like this?”

“I could try but I’m not sure where I’d end up,” you told him truthfully. The pounding in your head was not great for concentration.

“That’s alright; we do this the old fashion way.”

You started trying to increase the pace, hurrying along. Not because you were scared, fuck no, you just wanted to get back to Matt’s apartment so you could fucking sleep.

“Slowly, slowly.” You felt Matt restrain you lightly, getting you to slow down. “Your rib is broken, you don’t want to puncture a lung.”

“How do I know it’s not already punctured?” you said in a half-joking tone. Although it did hurt to breathe enough that part of you was actually asking.

“I’d know,” Matt replied. “Don’t worry; I’m monitoring your breathing.”

You walked a few more paces, but then Matt stopped you.

“What?” you asked.

“I hear footsteps.”

Sure enough, up ahead, a man turned the corner to find them.

And suddenly the Winter Soldier was pointing a gun at you.

Natasha had tracked Y/N’s kidnappers to an abandoned parking lot in Hell’s Kitchen. Natasha said it wasn’t that hard — she just tracked the laptop that sent them the ransom note. They weren’t sure if they’d be stupid enough to keep Y/N in the same place as the laptop, but they had to try somewhere.

Steve had them split up to check all the levels. Bucky jogged quietly through his level, keeping his steps light.

He turned a corner. And suddenly he saw Y/N there — with someone else.

His first instinct was to point his gun up at the person next to her — of course he wasn’t going to shoot it until he could determine the danger, but that was just how he was trained to respond in situations where one needed to act fast. Gun up, finger off the trigger. Assess the situation.

All rational thought left you as soon as that gun pointed at Matt.

You threw yourself between them — between Matt and the Winter Soldier and his gun — holding Matt at your back as your first instinct was to scream, 

“NO ! NO!”

You were breathing hard, too hard, as the fear was filling you, and it fucking hurt but you were panicking—  Your hand held up as if it was the only thing that would stop the Winter Soldier from shooting the only person you really cared about— the only person you had— Visions of Matt bleeding out were swarming your head and you were seeing spots but you kept a hand on Matt behind you, kept your body in front of him, between him and him—

Matt had never observed Y/N react like this. Her fear was so immediate and intense — though she needed help to stand before, her bruised body didn’t hesitate to stand in front of him, her chest with the broken rib pulling out screaming words— She was shaking , her nails scraping the hard plane of the front of his suit, her breathing coming out in short gasps that he knew pained her.

She’d just spent he didn’t know how long being tortured, appearing completely unphased by it, still finding a way to joke with him— And yet a pointed gun was the breaking point?

The man with the gun lowered it, putting up his hands. “Y/N, it’s me,” he said. “It’s Bucky.”

Bucky.

Oh.

Even when the Winter Soldier lowered his gun, Y/N’s waves of fear didn’t stop. She still kept herself in front of Matt, still kept her hand up; her body still shook and she was still breathing too fast. 

She didn’t just hate the Winter Soldier. She was afraid of him. And afraid enough to forget that the Avengers (which included him) were coming to rescue her. Afraid enough to forget that they considered her their friend. 

Afraid enough that her first instinct was to put herself between Matt and the barrel of the Winter Soldier’s gun.

Matt put his right hand on Y/N’s waist and used his left hand to reach for her outstretched arm. Pressed into her back, he could feel her shaking reverberating into his own body. He put his mouth next to her ear and spoke quietly. “Y/N. It’s okay. He’s not going to hurt me.”

He managed to urge her outstretched arm to fall back to her side.

“You alright?” the Winter Soldier asked, his tone tentative, like he was all too aware of Y/N’s reaction to him.

“She has a broken rib,” Matt responded for her. 

“And who are you?”

“I’m Daredevil.”

“Right. And what is it that you’re doing here?” Matt supposed he couldn’t blame the Winter Soldier for being suspicious of him. The timing wasn’t great.

On the other hand, Matt could blame any one of the Avengers for the situation that Y/N was forced into.

“Your job, apparently.”

You could hear the rumble of Matt’s voice and see the Winter Soldier’s mouth moving but you couldn’t pay attention to what either of them were saying. Your focus was on every one of the Winter Soldier’s movements, as if he could twitch and that gun would be pointed up again.

You wouldn’t let him hurt Matt. You would not let him hurt Matt.

But soon the only thing holding you up were Matt’s hands on your waist, your focusing slipping, black crawling at the edges of your vision—

And the last thing you remembered was 

When Steve dug out Y/N’s emergency contact the next day, he didn’t know whether to feel surprised or unsurprised to see the name Matt Murdock with Relation: Friend underneath it. It wasn’t a parent or relative he’d have to face with this — it was her childhood best friend, the person she grew up in an orphanage with.

He didn’t know which one was worse. But Steve knew he deserved it either way. The Avengers’ inability to keep Y/N’s personal information safe was what got her into this mess. It was their fault, and Steve knew they needed to take responsibility.

So he called this Matt Murdock. Told him Y/N was recovering in their infirmary. Steve kept the details to himself for now, knowing it would be better to explain in person. Y/N’s friend told Steve he would be over right away.

Steve was with Y/N when the man he assumed to be Matt Murdock finally showed up.

He wore red glasses and walked with a white cane in his hands. That’s right, Y/N had mentioned he was blind.

“She hasn’t woken up yet,” Steve said, so the man would know that he was in the room.

Matt Murdock found the bed and the chair beside it, and sat on Y/N’s other side from Steve. He held her hand and touched her face, probably feeling for the damage there.

“What happened.” 

Steve told him as gently as he could. How Y/N’s information was stolen. How kidnappers came after her. How they … tortured her. He told him the state of her injuries, too. Concussion. Broken rib.

Matt’s mouth was set in a hard line as he listened. “Was her information public?” Steve was not fooled by the even tone of his voice — he was angry. 

“No. They managed to get past the encryption on our database.”

“Then it wasn’t a very good one.”

“No, I suppose it wasn’t.”

“She’s your medic.” Matt’s tone was becoming less even. “She has access to you, which means that anyone who wants to get to you has to get to her, first. Did you not consider that that might be a possibility? That people might try to use her to get to you?”

In all honesty, it hadn’t. And it was that naivete that was eating Steve up inside.

“You should have protected her better,” Matt continued. “You should have made sure she was protected better.”

Steve took it in. Let Y/N’s friend yell at him. And he knew he deserved it. 

Y/N got hurt and it was his fault. 

He didn’t even know if Y/N would forgive him. He honestly wouldn’t expect her to.

Steve watched Matt take Y/N’s hand in both of his and press his forehead against her fingers. He took that as his cue to leave. 

He hovered at the door, taking one last look at Y/N, bruised and battered, before leaving the room. 

The first thing you noticed was pain. The second thing you noticed was some weird beeping sound. And the third thing you noticed, when you opened your eyes, was that this was not Matt’s apartment.

You found yourself in a room that was just too white and bright instead of the comforting brick walls and natural light of Matt’s apartment and you began to panic. You started, immediately breathing in too quickly and pulling on your bruises— You hissed, frantically checking your surroundings while being unable to really take anything in—

There were hands on you then, and it took you a moment to realize it was Matt, Matt’s hands on you, gentle but firmly restraining your panic. “Easy, easy.”

“Is this a fucking hospital?” you hissed in a whisper you knew only he would hear.

“No, you’re in Avengers Tower,” he said in a low tone back to you.

You were finally able to take in your surroundings completely, and realized that you did in fact recognize it as the infirmary. “You called them?!” Again, in a low whisper.

“Of course not,” he said back. “The Avengers showed up looking for you and Daredevil had to pass you off to them. Do you remember?”

Oh. That’s right.

The Winter Soldier with his gun.

Your head was swimming but it was starting to come back to you now. But whatever, now you were just annoyed. You could have been sleeping in Matt’s apartment right now, unbothered, but the Avengers just had to be there to make sure they got you proper medical care. You couldn’t completely relax here. You knew that if Steve or any of the other Avengers came by, you’d have to play up the partly traumatized act and you really didn’t feel like it when you were injured like this.

You sighed. You knew it wasn’t Matt’s fault. He wouldn’t have had any other choice but to hand you over to them.

“So, how did Daredevil find me?” you asked.

“He got lucky,” Matt answered. His expression was serious, his mouth in a tight line.

He only found her because he happened to head that way during his patrol. If he had decided to go another way that night, if he had decided to go out for drinks with Foggy and Karen, if he had come across some crime before reaching her and went home to tend to his injuries, if if if—

He was angry with Captain America and the Avengers for not protecting her, but he should have been there, too. He should have known she was kidnapped right after it happened. He should have saved her earlier.

And all he could think about was the smell of blood in that abandoned parking lot and the sound of her breathing with a broken rib, ragged and uneven and full of pain. 

“Hey, c’mon,” you said, and you touched his arm that was still holding your hand. You could tell he was upset. And you felt a twist in your chest — you didn’t like seeing him like this. “If it had gone any further, I wouldn’t have let them kill me, you know that, right? I do value my survival more than committing to the bit, you know.” But his expression was unchanging so you continued, you tone light, “I’ve been through worse. I once went ten rounds with Genghis Khan, I can do anything.”

Matt finally smiled, if only just a little bit. “You know that I know when you’re lying, why do you even try?”

“Because one day I really do think I’m going to develop a way to get past your super senses,” you joked. “And because it makes you smile.” Your own words got a slight cringe out of you. “God, that sounded really cheesy, didn’t it?”

“Just a little,” Matt said.

“Seriously,” you said, and you dropped the joking tone for a moment. Squeezed his arm and stroked your thumb back and forth. “This isn’t a big deal. I’m okay. Okay?”

There was a knock at the door, then. You could see Steve through the glass and he opened it and walked it.

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

Fuck. Okay here we go, somebody better get me a fucking Oscar after this. Despite the exhaustion and pain in your body, you slipped into your façade. You deliberately gave a shaking inhale and paired it with a wince. “Okay, considering.”

What was that?

Matt noticed the switch in Y/N. How her demeanour changed. And something about it made him uncomfortable . She even made her voice sound different — soft and innocent and so unlike her, with a kind of forced sweetness that, to him who knew her so well, screamed fake fake fake . 

He could even hear her fluttering her eyelashes.

For the love of God.

“Do you mind if I speak to Y/N alone?” Steve was addressing him.

Matt didn’t move. He felt Y/N touch his arm again.

“It’s okay. Why don’t you go back to work? Try to get something done.”

She was using the voice on him. She was using the voice on him and he hated it. It made his skin crawl, how saccharine and simulated it was. 

Matt conceded to your words and stood — then leaned in and pressed his lips to your temple.

You tried not to let the confusion show on your face over this gesture that Matt had never done before. But the confusion didn’t last as you realized it was just a cover for Matt to dip his mouth next to your ear and whisper,

“Don’t use your fake voice on me.”

You stifled a smile as amusement bloomed in your chest. Matt leaned back and he gave your hand a final squeeze. You found yourself holding on until he was physically too far to keep his hand around yours, that half-smile staying on your face.

“I’ll be back, okay?”

You nodded and watched him leave.

It was interesting watching Y/N with her friend. She seemed different with him, almost — but he supposed that when you knew someone for as long as she knew him, things would be different than with everyone else.

He had come back to check on her earlier, but had held back when he saw her waking up. She had seemed to be startled and Matt tried to calm her down — but as Steve had watched, he could see that she wasn’t scared but angry. Angrier than he had ever seen her. And Steve had felt that guilt, like a pit in his stomach, because he had contributed to that.

But then . . . she smiled. She had looked like she was joking with him, with her friend. Matt didn’t smile. He had cracked a bit, but not really.

Steve knew how he felt. When they got that ransom note, when he knew Y/N was in danger, he couldn’t think. He just felt sick. He still felt sick about it.

Then there was a moment where neither of them spoke, and Steve figured he should try to talk with Y/N before she decided to get some more rest.

And he noticed. When he walked in, when Y/N looked up at him. There was a dampening on her demeanour. He couldn’t tell if her smile had been her trying to be brave for her friend, or. . . .

When Matt got up to leave, he pressed a kiss to the side of Y/N’s head and then whispered something in her ear. Something in Y/N’s eyes lit up at it and Steve could tell she was fighting back a smile.

She watched him leave, and that smile stayed with her, with him. There was something soft and uninhibited there. Steve didn’t know how to explain it, but it was different from any expression that he’d seen her make. He supposed that when you knew someone for that long, from that young, it was a connection like family. That was who Matt was to her. Her family.

Steve hoped that he could even reach a fraction of that expression on her face. And he knew he would have to make it right with her to do it. With her family, too, if he could.

Matt left the room and Y/N finally looked at Steve. That expression dropped, and her smile with it. She looked down.

Ah. Here we go. 

You knew what was coming. No doubt Steve felt responsible for what happened, even though it wasn’t really his fault. Shit got hacked, that happened. And if it was going to happen to anyone, it might as well happen to someone who was literally trained to withstand hours of torture.

But. He didn’t know that. And you understood his point of view. But you didn’t want him to feel guilty about it. Because it really wasn’t a big deal for you. You kind of felt bad that you had to continue to play the part, because you did care about how he was feeling. And you knew he must be feeling a massive amount of guilt when he really had no reason to.

He sat in the chair on the other side of your bed. He took a breath. “Y/N. I am so sorry.”

You made yourself breathe his name in a sigh. “Steve—”

“Your information getting out, that shouldn’t’ve happened,” he continued. “But it did. We should have been more prepared. We have a responsibility to protect you and . . . we didn’t do that.”

You were trying to find a way to toe the line between playing the part of someone who would be traumatized from being kidnapped and beaten — and trying to convince him it wasn’t their fault for what happened to you. It wasn’t an easy task. You needed to be reasonably shaken up and upset (How do people act when torture actually fucks them up, again?) while also trying to relieve him of his guilt.

You let your eyes water. That’s right, you could cry on command. Really fun party trick, super entertaining every time. You let yourself take a breath so you could wince from the pain of it, then closed your eyes to let the tears fall, and kept them closed to give yourself a minute to ‘collect yourself’. As if you were seeing the flashbacks behind your eyes.

You finally opened them. Looked at Steve. “I knew what I was signing up for.” You let your words break, to sell it. Then you reached for his hand. “I knew what could happen. I took the job knowing that.” You paused, letting the trauma settle a bit before continuing. You shook your head. “It’s not your fault, Steve .” And go on the quiet gasping sob. “I don’t want you to think that this is your fault.” Despite your fake reactions, what you were saying was actually true, and you wanted him to believe that. “Please. This horrible thing happened to me—” You made yourself stop, like the thought of it was unbearable. “. . .but I couldn’t bear it if you blamed yourself for this.”

His own eyes filled with tears and he couldn’t look at you.

Wow. That’s kind of attractive.

What, that someone cares? The bar is so low.

Whatever. He’s a man that shows emotion. It’s nice.

You squeezed his hand. Steve sniffed and a couple of tears fell.

“Please promise me you aren’t going to blame yourself.” And you really wanted him to.

He finally looked at you. His jaw worked, and he swallowed. But then he nodded.

Steve didn’t stay for much longer after that. He told you to get some more rest, and left. At some point, your stand-in medical representative (you couldn’t exactly give yourself medical attention) (well, you could, but not like this) came in and told you she was giving you some morphine to help with the pain. 

Thank God, honestly. Your last dose of Oxy and alcohol was starting to wear off and you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to get another hit being trapped in here like this. And with the incident, you could bet that the Avengers would be keeping a closer eye on you for now on. Fuck. Sneaking out was going to be harder.

Your replacement left the room — but on her way out the door, someone passed by her to come in.

Him.

“I just wanted to say . . . I’m sorry, if I scared you,” Bucky said. 

He felt fucking terrible. He felt so awful that he had frightened her like that. That she thought he was going to shoot her, or, or that Daredevil guy that had actually been the one to save her. He had seen himself reflected in her wide eyes.

A monster.

“No, I’m sorry,” you said. Every part of your fucking being was rejecting the apology — but the morphine was allowing you enough fuzziness that you could try to get this out in a sincere way. You didn’t want Bucky catching on to the fact that you hated him.

(Hate was not a strong enough word. There was not a word for how you felt about him.)

(Earlier, you couldn’t remember how traumatized people felt. 

This was how they felt.)

“I just saw the gun,” you continued, “and thought you were one of the guys that kidnapped me. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“No, of course not.” Bucky shuffled on his feet, looking at the ground. Of course: she’d just been tortured. The gun was probably a trigger for her. Didn’t make him feel any better, though.

But he was also curious. “That Daredevil guy,” he said, looking up at her. “You know him?”

You worked to think of something quickly. “Not personally, but he saved my life a few weeks before I started working with you guys.”

“He seemed really reluctant to let us take you from him.” Bucky remembered how he reached for Y/N after she fell unconscious. How Daredevil wouldn’t let him take her, no matter how much he tried to explain. How he was only convinced when the other Avengers showed up. How he still wouldn’t let any of the others carry her — How he insisted on coming with them to Avengers Tower to make sure she was okay before leaving. 

You shrugged. And internally, you were kind of pleased to hear this. Matt didn’t give you up to the Winter Soldier without a fight. “I guess he feels a sort of responsibility for me. Don’t you feel a responsibility for the people you save?”

If the morphine hadn’t been running through you, maybe you would have screamed at him,

DON’T YOU FEEL A RESPONSIBILITY FOR THE PEOPLE YOU’VE HURT?

“Right,” Bucky said. “I guess I get that. Alright, I’ll, um, let you get some rest.”

You nodded, and he left.

You let out a breath, letting your body sink into the bed. And really wished it was Matt’s couch.

Next Chapter

A/N: As always, feedback is appreciated! :)

Tag List: @stupidiout100 @coff3e-and-biscuits @caswinchester2000 @waywardsister1111 @ummvengers @asongofmarvelanddc @1971marauders @krazy-katt-lady @flowercrowns3438 @takethee @lov3vivian @burn-crash-rqmance @readers-posts

#daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock imagine #daredevil imagine #matt murdock x you #daredevil x you #devil may cry wolf

[punchdrunkdoc]

Part 2, Chapter 9

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness?

Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 3 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

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PART 2

Chapter 9

Matt tried to hold on to his positivity over the next 24 hours. But it became increasingly difficult as the doubts started to multiply inside him.

It all started with a text message.

Or rather, with an ignored text message.

I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you left. Can you let me know you arrived okay? I’ll be safe out there, if you promise to do the same. Matt.

He sent it straight after he listened to Calina’s voicemail. But he didn’t get a reply.

He figured she must be tired from her journey to…wherever it was the Widows called home. He figured she would respond in a few of hours when she’d gotten some rest. But by mid morning, there was still nothing. So he sent another message.

 Hey, please text when you get the chance, to let me know you got there okay. I’m in the office all day, so I’ll have my phone with me.

 Nothing.

And after several more hours of compulsively checking his messages, unease started to grow. Was she safe? Had she made it back to the Widow’s base? Had gotten in trouble en route?

Or was something else going on?

He replayed her voicemail again, hunting for any clues that might explain the doubts he was now experiencing. Doubts about whether she was telling the truth when she said she’d be home soon.

But her voice sounded…fine.  Completely normal. There was no hint of anger, or evidence that she was upset or hurt.

She sounded fine.

But she’d been trained her whole life to pretend, hadn’t she? She’d been trained to lie. To create a false persona, and manipulate people with words. And he’d seen first hand how easily she was able to deceive him...

So maybe he couldn’t trust her words, or the calm tone of voice she spoke them in.

He listened again, even more carefully.

“I’m sorry to leave like this, but Yelena called. The Widows found something - about what happened to me - and they need my help with it. So I’m headed back to the base for a few days.

I’ll keep in touch - as much as I can.

I…um… ….

Nevermind.

Take care, Matt. Be safe out there.” 

That pause…She'd brushed it away with a murmured ‘Nevermind’, but there'd been a distinct pause. And the more he listened, the more he convinced himself that that pause was in fact filled with everything she wanted to say, but couldn’t.

Or wouldn’t.

That pause was the real message. The rest was fake. She was just pretending that her sudden departure was all about Widows' stuff and had nothing to do with his rejection of her.

Just like he pretended last night that he hadn’t rejected her at all.

Shit!

He needed to drop his pretence, so that she’d drop hers. He needed to be honest, so that she would be honest in return.

He still didn’t know what to say about what happened between them. But it was starting to feel imperative that he say something. So after getting home from work, he dialled her number.

But it just rang and rang and rang.

His nerves taut with unease, he hung up and typed out another message:

 I’m sorry for last night. At the gym. And I’m sorry for afterwards, for pretending it didn’t happen. Please call me when you get the chance, Calina. We need to talk. I want to fix this between us. Please.

 After another few hours of silence, he sent a final message before heading out for the night as Daredevil.

 Please call. I miss you.

 It was the truth. But that fucking wall around his heart fought him on even that measly amount of honesty. His gloved finger hovered over the send button for a long time before he finally found the courage to push it.

Then he switched off his phone, unable to bear the silence emanating from it any longer.

When he turned it back on in the morning - after a brutal night on the streets and a restless night alone in their bed - he was greeted with more of that damning silence. And by the time he got to work, his unease had turned into full blown panic. He paced his office, his phone pressed against his ear as he listened to Calina’s phone ring out. 

The moment Foggy and Karen arrived, he marched into the front office and ambushed them. “Did Calina say anything the other night?”

“Good morning to you too, Matt,” Foggy teased as he shrugged out of his coat.

“This is important, Fog. Did she say anything?”

Karen answered instead. “She said she had a headache, so she left early. We never really got a chance to talk to her.”

“I offered to walk her home, but she said she was fine by herself,” Foggy added. “Why? What’s going on?”

“She left," Matt replied. "She left me."

“What? What do you mean?”

“She wasn’t there when I got home. She left me a voicemail saying the Widows had a lead on what happened to her so she needed to go back to them for a few days. But I haven’t heard from her since and I’ve been calling and texting…”

He waited for their reassurances. For an ‘I’m sure she’s okay’ or ‘its probably nothing’. But there was just a heavy silence. And he sensed the two of them looking at each other, concern radiating from them.

As well as…guilt?

“What is it?” he asked. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“When she came back from the bathroom that night, she looked upset,” Karen said. “And just before that, Foggy and I had been talking about…We were worried that she might have overheard us, because she left straight after.”

Matt got a sinking feeling in his gut. “What were you talking about?”

Karen twisted her clasped hands and Foggy shifted on his feet.

“What the hell were you talking about?” Matt repeated, his voice louder now.

“We were talking about you and Elektra,” Karen replied, her voice unsteady.

“I was talking about you and Elektra,” Foggy clarified, stepping in front of her. “Karen was just listening to my theory.”

“Your theory?” Matt bit out. “What exactly is your theory?”

“That because you’re still in love with Elektra, you’re maybe - subconsciously - using Calina as a way to make up for not saving her.”

“Jesus, Foggy! What the fuck?” Matt turned on his heel and raced back into his office.

“She might not have heard!” Foggy called from behind him.

But Matt knew the truth.

She heard.

It explained why she’d suddenly left and why she wasn’t taking his calls.

Fuck!

This was a nightmare.

He grabbed his phone off his desk and mashed the redial button. He needed to speak with her. He needed to tell her that Foggy’s theory was complete and total bullshit. He needed to beg her forgiveness and plead with her to come home.

He needed to hear her voice and know that he hadn’t lost her forever.

He listened to her phone ring and ring, but this time he didn't hang up.

He wouldn't.

He would keep calling until she finally answered.

 ———

 “Will you answer that thing, or fucking chuck it out the window or something?” Yelena growled.

Calina had already muted the ringtone, but the sound of the phone vibrating in her pocket was audible in the room. It had been ringing on and off for what felt like hours - and every time she declined the call, another one would come through minutes later.

Matt wasn’t taking the hint.

He’d texted her again a couple of hours ago, so at least she knew why he was being so insistent.

 I know you heard what Foggy said at the bar. It’s not true, Calina. Please answer the phone so I can explain. Please.

 She’d read that message a million times, but couldn’t bring herself to believe his words. He was just feeling guilty, that was all. He was a good man - a good, Catholic man - it was natural for him to feel guilty about hurting her.

“You know I can’t answer it,” Calina sighed. “And I can’t turn it off or ‘chuck it out the window’ - I’m still waiting to hear back from Melina.”

Yelena typed a quick message on her own phone then held it up. “Problem solved. Melina will text me with the dosage, so can you please do something about that phone?”

Calina nodded and powered off the device. Everyone in the room groaned in relief, causing Calina to duck her head in embarrassment.

Inessa, one of the youngest members of the group raised her hand. “I must have missed something - why exactly are you ignoring Matt?”

To Calina’s surprise - and consternation - every single Widow now knew about Matt. 

Anya couldn’t keep her mouth shut about him being Daredevil - which they all thought was pretty cool - and then Yelena told them all Calina was living with him - which they found even cooler.

She was the first of them to try to make a life for herself. The first to get a job. The first to get her own apartment.

And the first to live with a man.

They were all fascinated.

And it completely unnerved Calina. It was as if they were all looking to her to set an example. To show them the way. To show them it was possible to leave the life of a Widow behind. It was a big responsibility - with a hell of a lot of pressure attached.

And she felt like she was failing.

“Yeah,” Sofia chimed in. She was another Widow from Calina’s cohort, but they’d never spoken much growing up. Sofia came across as very…intense. “What happened between you two?

Calina looked around the room. The Widows were camped out in the main living space as they waited to hear back from Melina. The older Widow had developed her own version of a truth serum and they were going to try it out on the man downstairs. But she needed to calibrate the dosage first - apparently there was a fine line between getting answers and causing a cardiac arrest.

The mission was going smoothly so far. Calina had ridden her motorcycle through the night and had arrived at the Widow’s temporary operational base outside Washington just before sunrise. She’d managed to grab five hours of - restless - sleep on one of the empty cots, then she’d joined the other Widows for the strategy session.

That night, she’d suited up, and joined the team to infiltrate Volkov’s residence.

And it had been easy as hell. Almost too easy.

Volkov was either supremely arrogant or extremely stupid, because he was living alone, with no bodyguards or security personnel. Which meant the eight-strong Widow strike team that extracted him seemed like massive overkill.

They’d transported him blindfolded and sedated to the mansion in South Carolina, and now he was tied up in a fortified room in the basement, guarded by Anya and another Widow named Alyona. The rest of them were taking a break while they waited for the next step in the plan. 

They made a strange sight, lounging around the cream-coloured mansion in their Black Widow suits. Combat boots were resting on the antique oak coffee table in the centre of the room, and various guns and weapons were stowed on the mantle over the ornate fireplace, battling for space with chintzy knicknacks and floral-scented candles.

It was a stark juxtaposition - one the other Widows didn’t seem to find as jarring as Calina did. But she’d had the benefit of living in the ‘real’ world for the past few months, where people didn’t dress in black neoprene jumpsuits while relaxing around the house.

She looked down at her own jumpsuit, and grimaced. She’d reverted right back to the Widow’s mindset the moment she’d left New York. She even had her hair in braids.

A lifetime of habit was hard to break.

“Calina?” Inessa said, interrupting her thoughts. “Do you not want to talk about it?”

Inessa was a relatively shy girl, and so petite and slender. She must have had skills - there was no way she’d have gotten through the Red Room otherwise - but she always looked so fragile and delicate to Calina. She brought out all of Calina’s protective instincts.

And, unfortunately, Calina could never resist indulging her questions. Maybe that was Inessa’s hidden skill.

“There’s not much to tell,” Calina replied, trying to downplay the hurt and humiliation she was feeling. “I misunderstood what was between us, that’s all.”

It was the same line she’d given Yelena and Anya when they’d met her in Washington yesterday. They’d accepted it with a nod, but Inessa wasn't put off so easily. “What do you mean?”

“I…,” Calina was spared from answering when Yelena’s phone pinged and everyone sprang back into action-mode.

“It’s from Melina.” Yelena confirmed, reading the message. “Sofia and Kira, you take this and start prepping the drug, we’ll follow you down.” She handed them her phone, and they took off running for the basement. The rest of the team filtered out of the room, leaving Calina alone with Yelena and Katya. 

Yelena marched ahead, intent on starting the interrogation, but Katya stopped Calina with a gentle hand on her arm. “I know there something more going on between you and Matt than a mere misunderstanding,” Katya said softly. “You can talk to me if you want.”

She took Calina’s hand and gave it a supportive squeeze. The move took Calina by surprise - the Widows weren’t demonstrative people and usually only touched each other during sparring sessions. But she was learning that - away from the Red Room, and out from under the control of the serum - Katya was a very caring and empathetic person. The simple, kind touch made her feel like they were becoming true friends.

And it made her want to open up. She just wasn’t sure where to start. “I…we…,” she faltered.

“What is it? What happened?”

“I…I fell in love,” she whispered. “And he didn’t. He barely even saw me as a friend.” Saying the words aloud hurt. They wrenched something deep in her chest, and caused tears to gather at the back of her eyes.

“Oh, Calina. Are you sure?”

She let out a bitter laugh. “That I love him? Yes, unfortunately.”

“No, I meant that he doesn’t love you back. We saw the two of you together, remember? It was clear that he cared about you very much.”

“No offence, but what do you know about reading other people’s feelings? What do any of us know?  We never grew up seeing love and care and affection. We don’t know what it looks like. I know what it feels like, but I don’t know what it looks like. And I made the mistake with Matt of misinterpreting his basic sense of compassion and responsibility for something much more. I was a fool, Katya.”

“Don’t say that.”

Calina pulled away from the other Widow. “I know you guys want me to trail-blaze some path for you all, but I’m floundering out there. It’s so hard. Nothing in our training prepared us for it. I can play a role and pretend to be someone else in my sleep, but I have no idea how to be me. I have no idea how to deal with all these…feelings…I keep having.”

Katya frowned. “I’m so sorry. We all just assumed you were happy out there. That you were thriving away from all…this.”

“I was happy. For a while.” She crossed her arms over her chest and kicked at the ground. “You know that proverb, ‘After a storm comes fair weather; after sorrow comes joy’? I think it should be the other way around, ‘After joy comes sorrow’.”

“I’m sorry,” Katya said again. She shrugged, and gave Calina a sad smile. “I don’t know what else to say.”

“That’s okay. Thanks for listening.”

“That’s what sisters are for.” Katya hooked an arm through Calina’s and the two of them started walking towards the basement. After a few moments of silence, Katya spoke again. “What is it like?” she asked shyly.

“What?”

“Being in love?”

Calina thought back to that moment in the gym - the moment of realisation, before she’d leaned towards Matt and ruined everything - when her feelings had finally crystallised. Then she tried to put it into words.. “It’s…its like that sensation you get when you jump out of an airplane - that weightless, exhilarating, heart-pumping thrill. You feel like you’re on top of the world and can do anything. But when its unrequited love, its like your parachute never opened and you collided with the ground at a million miles an hour.”

“Oh,” Katya said quietly. “So it’s wonderful, but it also kind of sucks.”

“Yeah. It really, really sucks.”

 ———

 Never had a man suited his name better than Maxim Volkov.

In English, it translated to Great Wolf, and he embodied that moniker completely. He was a big man, with a wild, predatory look to his eyes. Even strapped to a chair, with several guns trained on him, he looked calm and in control as he sized up the Widows surrounding him.

He barely spared a glance as Sofia prepped his arm and administered the truth serum. She was the medic of the group - trained from a young age in combat surgery to assist in missions. She had a terrible bed-side manner, but a steady pair of hands and an encyclopaedic knowledge of medicine. 

“How long until it takes affect?” Yelena asked. She was sitting cross-legged on the counter that ran along the wall directly in front of Volkov. The basement had originally been used as a laundry room, but the Widows had removed all the washers and dryers, and embedded hooks for restraints in the ceiling and the tiled floor. It looked exactly like what it was - an interrogation chamber.

No, a torture chamber.

Because that’s what they were about to do - torture this man. Not using violence, but by cracking open his mind against his will. And no one knew how torturous that was than the Widows in this room.

Yelena relished the idea - she was dying to turn the tables on the men of the Red Room - but Calina felt uncomfortable.

She kept wondering what Matt would think of all this.

She knew he wasn’t averse to using brutal tactics to get answers - she’d seen him beat people for information on the streets. But there was something…honest about that method. This felt too underhanded. Too close to the Red Room tactics.

And she wanted to be better than that. 

But at heart, she was a pragmatist, and she knew that taking the high road had never gotten anyone, anywhere. The Widows needed answers. They needed to know how much of a threat they faced - their survival depended on it - and this was the best method available to them. A member of the Red Room would be able to withstand threats of violence and physical pain. But no one could withstand this serum - at least, according to its creator.

“Melina said it would be fairly instantaneous,” Sofia answered.

“Melina Vostokoff?" Volkov asked, his Russian accent thick with distain. "That traitorous bitch? I used to jerk off when I thought about her back in the day - she filled out her suit like no other Widow. Now I just want to put a bullet through her conniving brain.”

The Widows looked at each other, surprised by the candid revelation.

“I guess its working,” Katya remarked.

“Good,” Yelena said. “Let’s see what he knows.”

It turned out, he knew a lot. And none of it was good.

“How many Red Room personnel are still alive?” Yelena asked at one point.

Volkov smiled. “Enough.”

“Be more specific,” Yelena bit out.

“Dreykov had a secret faction of Red Room operatives that worked just for him - off the books and away from the prying eyes of the Kremlin. They survived your little purge after Dreykov’s fall because you had no idea they existed - very few did.”

“But you did.”

“Yes. I’ve always been privy to Dreykov’s secrets. He treated me like a younger brother. And now that he’s gone, I intend to continue the family business.”

“But you were just a handler. You weren’t upper management.”

“Just a handler? Or a man of many talents who went where Dreykov needed, and did what needed to be done?”

“So what was the plan in South Korea? Why was that mission important enough to need your oversight?”

“The Japanese Ambassador was embezzling billions of won from the South Koreans. Dreykov wanted me to steal it from him. After the Red Room fell, I continued the mission, in an attempt to get the money for myself and my faction.” He leered at Katya as he continued answering Yelena's question. “But you stole my little Widow from me, and I had to come up with a Plan B.”

“You had to come up with the plan? So you’re the man in charge of this new faction?”

“Yes. Congratulation, ladies. You won the jackpot.” He leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out as far as his restraints would allow. He looked like he was relaxing in front of the television after a hard day at work, and it started to give Calina a bad feeling. He was too at ease. He didn’t seem to care that he was revealing all this information. He didn’t seem bothered by their questions or the fact that he was answering them against his will. She wondered if there was a sedative effect to the truth serum…but even before it had been administered, he’d been eerily calm.

What did he know that made him so confident?

Yelena continued with her questioning. If she was unnerved by Volkov’s manner, she didn’t show it. “Did that ‘Plan B’ have something to do with what happened to Calina?”

Volkov sighed. “No. Aminev went rogue with that. He was nothing but a common thief. He stole some serum and some tech and decided to go it alone. He betrayed the ideology.”

“How did Aminev find her?”

Volkov’s smile turned feral. “We never lost her. We never lost any of you.”

Calina’s bad feeling exploded into outright panic. And she could feel it rippling through the other Widows in the room.

Even Yelena sounded shaken. “What do you mean?”

“Did you think those chips you dug out of your thighs was our only way of tracking you?” He shook his head, as if disappointed. “You little fools. You’ve been on the grid this entire time. You only had the illusion of freedom. And once we finish manufacturing enough serum to get you all back under control, we’re going to round you up and shatter that illusion.”

He shrugged, and spread his hands. “Or maybe it’ll happen sooner. They’ll be coming for me, you know. Once I miss my check in, the rest of my team will figure out what happened. Then they’ll come for me. And all they’ll have to do is follow the little dots on their screens…all the way to the South Carolina coast.”

———

CHAPTER 10

These next couple of chapters are for all of you who enjoy the ‘Unofficial Black Widow Sequel’ aspect of this fic...

@hollandorks @yanna-banana @stilldreaming666 @tearoseart-blog @chezagnes​ @freckledbabyyy​ @acharliecoxedfan​

#Daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #marvel's daredevil #daredevil x original female character #matt murdock fanfic #Matt Murdock #matt murdock x oc #tabula rasa #black widow

[theradioactivespidergwen]

10 Characters • 10 Fandoms • 10 Tags

Thank you so much for the tag @bellaxgiornata !!!!

These are in no particular order and I am about to absolutely GUSH about my little meow meows (some of them committed crimes so the fuck what) so, putting this under a cut.

1: Elektra Natchios

Alright, so I know most of the Daredevil fandom doesn't see eye to eye with me on this one, but HEAR ME OUT. Until I started reading the comics, I too thought she was just Matt's mean ex girlfriend that came to town to wreck shop, but she is so much more than that. She's an orphan. She's not seen as a human being, but a weapon. All she knows is to kill or be killed. She's a survivor, and she's incredibly self aware. One of my favorite arcs is when she becomes Daredevil in the Zdarsky run and she takes another orphan under her wing as a sort of apprentice, but the girl ends up running away, and Elektra thinks "maybe it's better this way because I'm poison". I didn't think I could cry at comic books, but Elektra just makes me feel all the feelings. Also, Elodie Yung is MY Elektra. I don't even recognize Jennifer Garner as Elektra.

2: Matt Murdock

My DARLING disaster Catholic lawyer vigilante. Oh, he's got a savior complex deeper than the Mariana Trench, but I just wanna cuddle him and stitch up his wounds and tell him it's gonna be okay.

3: Shiv Roy

SHIV DID NOTHING WRONG. She was never going to be given a seat at the table so she had to take it by force. She's just trying to play the game in the world her daddy created. Yeah she's a tough boss bitch on the outside, but she is deeply flawed and she feels just as deeply. I SOBBED at the scene when she reverted back to being a scared little girl when talking on the phone to her dying father. Give Sarah Snook all the Emmys.

4: Gwen Stacy

My blog handle isn't "theradioactivespidergwen" for nothing. Honestly, the Earth-65 Spider Gwen comics are my favorite. I love Gwen so much. She's a drummer, she's a superhero, she's a daddy's girl, she's deeply misunderstood, she's EVERYTHING. I could honestly talk about my dear "Gwenzelle" all day, but I shall refrain.

5: Kate Bishop

Y'all should have heard the SCREAM I scrumpt when I heard that they were bringing my girl Kate into the Hawkeye series! The Avengers' best annoying little sister. I hope to see more of her and I hope that she takes up the Hawkeye mantle from Clint in the MCU.

6: Amy Santiago

Yeah, ACAB and all that, but I have never been so seen in my life in a character. Just, the awkward nerdiness, the need to prove herself to the boys, and the absolute mega type A personality. I like to think I'm Rosa Diaz, but I'm actually Amy Santiago.

7: April Ludgate

"I only like dogs and sleeping late."

Same girl, SAME.

8: Tina Belcher

How can you not love Tina?! I will not hear any Tina slander, NONE.

9: Frank Castle

Another disaster vigilante. He's driven by revenge, but he's still got a soft side. He's a protector at heart, and he loves animals.

10: Lestat de Lioncourt

So, I fell in love with the 1994 movie adaptation, and I attempted to read the books at one point, but life happened. I recently finished the IWTV series on AMC, and Sam Reid's take is just SUPERB. I love that this version delved into the hurt he's endured over his long lifetime, and that there is a reason for his madness. There usually is, but this is nice to see.

No pressure tags and apologies if you have been tagged already: @acrossthesestars @withahappyrefrain @moongirldreamer @spiderispunk @virginiaisforvampires @chvoswxtch @castlesnchurches @peterman-spideyparker @magpie-to-the-morning

#we're really doing character assasination this early huh