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yarrystyleeza · 10 months

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In A Heartbeat (M.M)

"I loved her, father, and her heartbeat was all it took for me to fall in love with her."

Taglist: @mindidjarin @acharliecoxedfan @v4leoftears @itwasthereaminuteago @munsonownsmyass @chvoswxtch @chronicoverachiever @bellaxgiornata @netflixmatt @netflixmatt-main

[series masterlist / main masterlist]

[Prologue]

Word count: 3.8k!

warnings for this chapter: brief mentions of trauma and mental illness, usage of pills, and panic attacks.

The winter air howled through the frigid streets of Hell's Kitchen and danced around the warmth of brick buildings, little snow droplets were swinging through the chilling wild winds. Though the scene might sound crowded, but it was filled with utter silence, even the stray dogs were taking shelter from the stinging cold. That wasn't long until something broke the silence of the storm.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

A heartbeat has caught the blind vigilante's attention. Such a young pump in this cold weather, what could force it to be out at this time of the night?

That's when a sweet fragrance hit his nostrils, put him on alert. It was a scent of a woman, so floral and sugary, but definitely captivating.

A laughter tore its way out of the snowy storm, it made his heart flutter out of his chest, he thought it had skipped a beat, and a little wave of blood rushed to redden his partially hidden cheeks.

His hearing was soon met by the soft crunches of her winter boots on the thin layer of white snow, the lub-dubs against her ripcage grew louder and her breath was warming the space in front of her a little each time she expired.

"It was a hard case to be honest with you, but it actually made me realize that I can go back to where I've always belonged to," her voice went smoothly through his ears like a satin ribbon, "mom, I guess I'm ready to call myself detective Mayfield again," she swung the plastic grocery bag softly, "oh, sweetie, you finally said it! You won't believe how long I waited for this moment..." her mother said on the other side of the call, a soft sob left her mouth, "aw, mom, please don't get me started with crying now, you won't be able to shut me off," she chuckled as a stray tear went down her blushed cheeks, she rubbed her cold nose.

"But don't get too excited about it yet, I'm still hunting some offices down to hire me," she made it to her building, walking up the stairs to her apartment floor, "offices? I thought you'd be back to the department..." her mother commented, "I don't think I'm ready for that action, I just made it out alive," she sighed, bolstered the phone between her shoulder and ear to get the key inside the hole.

"Come on, sweetie, you can do it, I know my baby..." her mother begged, "mom. I know what I'm capable of doing now--" she interrupts, "--and being back to the NYPD team is just... Out of my league," she sighs, putting the keys down on the dresser and taking her purse off her shoulder, she steps out of her boots and takes her jacket off, dusting the ice off the thick fabric before hanging it on the hatstand.

"Alright, baby... But at least tell me it's on your mind?..." she sighed at her mother's quest, a tired smile grew on her face, "alright, mom... It'll be on my mind, but not for now," she promised, with a little regretful frown, "sorry but I gotta go now, mom, I'm a little tired of today's celebration at the paper," she rubbed the front of her brows, "alright, sweetie, don't forget to have a decent dinner, you deserve it, baby... Goodnight, my dear," her face stretches widely as she smiles, "goodnight, mom, I love you," she hangs up.

Her sock-covered feet make friction against the wooden floor as she lazily drags them, she takes the wool scarf rounding her neck off, throwing it to the hanger, hoping that it would land perfectly, but it doesn't, so she turns back and hangs it manually. A loud purr followed by a trail of meows is making its way to her down the living room, "aww, look who's excited for mommy being home?" she carries her cat the moment she steps in front of her, "you're hungry, baby? I brought us drumsticks for dinner! You're getting a treat for mommy's celebration!" her cat meowed louder, getting feral for the chicken smell intoxicating her nostrils.

"You like them, right?" she cooed, her voice interrupted with her loud chewing, humming at how happy her cat is. They finish their meal and both of them get ready to go to bed, she changes into her cozy sleepwear and goes right under the heavy blankets, her cats snuggles next to her beneath them not long after.

A smile stretches his rosy lips as he supports his body to stand up off the emergency stairs attached to her building, taking the way up to the roof to jump off one rooftop after the other, taking the safest way home, though he realizes they are a street crossing from each other.

Keeping focus on her calming heartbeat, he climbs up to his apartment, he opens the emergency door and walks down the stairs to the main area. Removing his black mask off of his head, a smile unconsciously grows on his face, as he felt his heart pumping loud in his chest, like a drum solo in an orchestra performance, the blood rushed to his cheeks to redden them louder, more vibrant.

He stepped out of his dark leather boots and took his tight black shirt off, dragging his feet down to his bedroom, he threw his tired weight onto the mattress, face imprinted in the fabric of his silk sheets.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The vigorous heartbeat is pumping gently in his ears, combined with the soft crunches of the falling snowflakes, and her soft huffs of air as she breathes. Probably she's having a nice dream, he thinks. A sudden wave of guilt washes over him. He knows he shouldn't eavesdrop someone, specially in the safety of their home with no danger surrounding them. But he can't help it. As if the tick-tocks of her heart were the last thread he's hanging on, and he's holding on for life.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

It's almost two in the morning, his tired eyes kept focused on the ceiling, his lids were so desperate for a few hours of sleep. But oh poor they are, his heart was forcing him to stay awake, following his ears' orders to keep on listening to her heartbeat. He feels like he's drugged, he can't drag himself out of this, he's intoxicated by the simple sound of thumping in this cold night.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He finally gives in, he lets his eyelids fall into rest after hours of fighting back. His own heartbeat settles in, and his body feels like falling through the mattress to another level of existence. The ticks of her heart created a soft lullaby for him.

Peep. Peep. Peep.

His very annoying alarm goes off, he grunts as he lifts his heavy head off the pillow, he feels hammers pounding on his skull, he fell asleep at almost 5 am, and now that it's already six in the morning, he can't fall asleep back again, he has to get his ass off the bed and go to work.

He searches for the vigorous sound again, the loud pumps catch his ears again, this time more active, more excited. "good morning, my love," he heard her cooing at her cat, a smile stretches across his face, "mommy's gonna start searching for some offices... From the safety of our home," he loves how her tone shifts when she speaks to her cat, "yes, I know, I know, but we have to," he hears the little purrs in response to her, "don't worry about that part, you'll get fed with the same amount," her feet shuffle against the wooden floor, her cat follows her around with little tabby waddles. The strong aroma of hot espresso hit his nose, as she started to prepare her morning coffee.

He removes the sheets off of his body and takes a deep breath, inhaling the air that surrounded him, taking whatever littlest scent of hers, the feminine pheromones of her freshly washed body, the soft lavender shampoo fragrance that stuck onto her locks, the floral essence of her body lotions, the stiff aroma of her morning coffee, the funny odor of her cat's dried food, and the delicious smell of her sizzling hot breakfast.

Every scent he inhaled wasn't the first he'd ever encountered but, somehow, the combination of all of them was very unique, even new to his olfactory senses.

He got into his morning routine, barely pushing her presence to the back of his head. He took his morning shower, and put on his gray suit. He tied the thin black tie firmly around his thick neck and combed the chocolaty waves on his head. He wraps the watch around his wrist and wears his crimson red blinds. He puts his dark coat on, takes his briefcase, along with his sight aid cane and keys, and leaves the house.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

As stable as it can possibly be, he can hear it through the titanium walls of the elevator, louder than the buzzing electricity aroung him. The elevator lands down and he makes his way out of the building.

"What took you so long, Matt?" his blonde friend greeted him the moment he came into sight, "your night wasn't rough, buddy?" his friend asks gently, he shakes his head softly, "it was the best night," he answers with a slight smile, as softly as he moves with his friend along the sidewalk, "wait, you hooked up with some girl last night?" his friend stops walking, turning to face him.

He shakes his head with a chuckle, "no, at all," he shrugs, "if so, then what got you so worked up like that? Your face is red, bud," his friend digs down deeper, but he knows he can't get a word out of Matt's mouth if he doesn't want it to get out.

Matt smiles, the blush on his face grows louder and more vibrant, as he heard her faint giggles as she plays with her cat.

"Come on Ivy, catch it! " she snickers, "you're such a good girl! "

"Jesus, my man, you don't seem fine at all, are you sure you can make it to the court today?" his friend tilted his head a bit to the right, he's worried now. "I'll be okay, Foggy, don't worry about it," he shrugged with a slight chuckle in his voice, "c'mon, we got a trial to catch," he grabbed his friend by the arm.

Usually, Foggy is the one who leads the way, but today, Matt wanted to force himself away from keeping on listening to her heart, as he couldn't shut his ears off, the only option he had was to get away from the sound as far as possible.

"How can you actually catch a certain girl's attention?" Matt blurted out, Foggy stops, tilting his body to face his friend's. He keeps staring at him for a moment before actually speaking, brows shooting up his forehead, almost reaching his hairline. "You are not okay, buddy! You, Matt Murdock, asking me, Foggy Nelson, to teach you how to catch a girl's attention when you're some women magnet on feet?" Foggy spoke, Matt shrugged, "I'm just..." his brain circuit cuts again, the memory of her laughter rings in his head like a scream in an empty hall, "there's definitely something wrong with you, bud, who's that girl that's keeping you like this?" Foggy's expression softens, "like what?" Matt's brain is refusing the fact that it stopped functioning properly ever since last night, "like this! All red and blurting and probably daydreaming! Who is this lucky girl?" he doesn't even know the answer yet.

Who was that lady? Detective Mayfield? The name somehow rings a bell in his head, he's not sure when he'd heard it, but he's sure it was long ago.

"Never mind it, just a thought," he's sure it wasn't, but even if he told the truth, he doesn't even know what to say or how to say it. He's confused, garbled, and his thoughts are scattered. Foggy surrenders before they continue their way to the office — to gather a couple files before heading to court, meeting Karen, their third friend.

Hours of arguments and stress pushed the memory of her thumping muscle to the back of his head. But soon it was back into view, intertwined with the oh-sweet memory of her chuckles.

They left the courtroom after what felt like eternity, promising to catch some cups of coffee together to discuss the latest elements of the case, and maybe to get their shit back together. The office has been a total mess for a while.

Karen's phone buzzed with a message, she took her phone out of her purse to check it. "Boys can you wait for me? Just ten minutes, I'll be back," she says, gathering her sunny silky locks behind her ear, "just ten, my head is gonna explode if I don't get coffee soon!" Foggy jokes, to which she gives him a thumb up, spins and goes on her way.

"You've been silent since we got out, you okay?" Foggy starts, Matt turns at him with a slight confused smile on his face, imprinted the lone dimple on his right cheek. "We've been talking for hours, I'm barely standing now, Fog," he jokes, throwing his shoulders down.

He was keeping track of Karen meanwhile, the place was so crowded this morning after all, he wouldn't like her to get lost in the sea of people and spend time trying to find each other.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He thought he imagined it, it's faint, he's not sure if it was even real. But the more Karen moves, the louder this heartbeat got, as if she's walking towards it.

His blood raced up to heat his cheeks, making them grow all red. His dark thick brows shoot up his forehead, and a little side smile stretches on his lips.

It's her.

Again.

Her laughter cleaves the air and through his ears goes. It's her again. Was her presence a miracle? Well, he didn't believe in those but, he sure thinks this is one.

"Matt?... Matt? Matt!!" Foggy shakes his shoulder, gently but enough to snap him back to his senses, "Matt, I was talking to you! You okay, buddy? It's happening again, are you ill? Do you need to see a doctor?" Foggy was worried, his brows knitted together, he didn't know what was wrong with his friend, and surely he wouldn't ever know if Matt doesn't tell him.

His lips parted and closed multiple times. He doesn't have an answer. That's not even love if that what they call it, right? But it surely moved something inside him, it changed the chemistry of his brain. She flipped the light switch of a dark room he kept closed for a long time.

"Sorry I was late, guys," Karen breaks through the crowd and makes her way to them, and breaks the uneasy situation Matt got into. "No, don't mind it," Foggy speaks, trying to get his mind off of how weird Matt was acting the whole morning, "what was that thing that made you leave so quickly?"

"Oh," she exclaims with a shiny smile, "it was my friend from the bulletin, she wants to go back to her old job and she's here finishing some legal papers."

So she's Karen's friend? Matt knew he had to take advantage of this.

"What was her old job?" Matt asked with innocence in his tone, "like... we can help her on it," he corrects himself, readjusting the red blinds. "She was a detective back in the NYPD, the youngest in her team--" Karen answers, "--wait this rings a bell--" Foggy interrupts her, snapping his fingers, "--yeah, detective Mayfield, right?" Karen blinks and nods, "yeah, yeah... That's her, Madilyn Mayfield!"

Detective Madilyn Mayfield... He knew something was so familiar about her.

"Matt, you remember the cop who returned that whole school bus back to their families years ago?" Foggy pokes his bicep. He does remember now. She was the talk of the town back when he used to work with Foggy at Landman and Zack's.

"Yeah, I-- she was amazing," he tried to play it cool, but he couldn't help the smile that tore his face into two halves. "Well, she still is," she nodded animatedly, "she wrote amazing articles at the bulletin boards as well as reporting some of the massive events in the past couple years, I think you might've came across one of her articles before. Frank's case? She was supporting him a ton!"

It was under his nose this whole time.

"So what is she looking for?" Matt stirred his cane as he spoke, "Maybe we can help her."

He has to take his chance.

"Well, she's looking for private investigation offices to hire her," Karen answers, "she's still not ready to be back in the NYPD yet," she shrugged, curling her lips downward a bit.

"Maybe we can link her to Jessica Jon--" Foggy suggested, "--maybe she can join our team," Matt interrupts him with a higher tone, laying his winning card, his last card, hoping it actually wins. "Maybe it's time for us to expand our services a bit," he smirks oh-sure.

Foggy raises his brows, throwing eyes between Matt and Karen, who is eyeing Matt with surprise. Karen blinks multiple times, mouth gaping and closing. "You know what, you're right!" she nods.

Exhale.

Foggy shoots his brows higher, still looking back and forth between Matt and Karen. The idea looks fine to him, he doesn't even disagree, but Matt doesn't look fine at all. His smile grew wider and his cheeks are redder than ever. But still, he has no idea what got his friend so worked up like that.

Her heartbeat fades slowly out of the place. She must be leaving now.

"You can talk to her and offer this new job," Matt speaks, "if that wouldn't be a problem," he smiles sheepishly, "no, don't worry about that, I'll talk to her about it," she smiles back.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going to send Ellison my resignation letter tomorrow, I'll talk to him about it, I know he'd understand, he should," her voice rang softly in her warm apartment after the night has fell. "I've been struggling with working at the paper lately, and I think he already knew something was wrong so I think it would be a win for both of us," she caresses her cat's white fur.

"But d'you really think he'd understand and wouldn't be so pissed off about your leave?" her mother asks. Madilyn sighs. She's not so sure about it, but he can't force her on the job, can he? "I dunno, but I hope his mood is good tomorrow morning... But I just checked my inbox, he sent me an email asking why I didn't come over this morning, and my phone... Well, it has about twenty missed calls from him and other paper staff... Did I take this decision at the worst timing?" she rubs her forehead until it's reddened, standing off her seat to aim for the window.

She knows it's a very frigid night and that she'd catch a rough cold. But she needed to breathe, she felt the air being squeezed out of her lungs. Her panic attacks were less frequent lately, but it happened twice this week.

And this is the third.

She slides the glass up and sits by the frame, heart beating faster than a racer on the run, sweat hurling down her skin like the British showers despite the coldness of the air streaming through the window.

"Maddie?... Maddie, are you still on the line, baby?" her mother calls out from the other end. Her vision gets blurry. Her mouth is dry. The sound in her ears feels numb. She slides against the wall finding shelter on the ground.

One. Two. Three...

The salty sweat travels along her forehead, passing over her trembling lips, her teeth grinding onto each other.

The thought of things going bad after years of waiting and trying to go back is definitely worse than a nightmare.

Her shaking fingers fidgit as the world spins around her head, lights and shadows twirl against her eyes. She's scared, as if death is coming for her head. She's groping for anything around her as if she's drowning in the middle of the ocean, feeling her lungs suffocating as if the water rises to her neck.

Those eight minutes felt like a lifetime.

"Mo-- mom?... Mom, are-- you here?" she finally speaks, throat feels like bounded in thorns, dry and scratched. Her eyes shakily travel down to find her phone lying on the wooden floor. "are you okay, baby?... Was that an episode?... Are you still on the pills?..." her mother watered her with questions, voice cracking a sob.

She stopped taking the pills as she thought it made her feel worse. It did. She's been consuming a lot of medical substances for the last couple years, trying to find something to help her recover and forget about all the traumatic events she's gone through.

Nothing was working, eventually. Therapy helped a little, yes, with time and practice, but she knew she couldn't tell her mother she stopped the meds. She'd be even more worried.

"I'm-- I'm okay now, mom..." she rubbed the front of her head multiple times, sighing after what felt like eternity of holding breath, "I'll be okay..."

A swift movement caught the corner of her eye, a soft shuffle in the thick snow piling over the metal emergency stairs.

"you're still there, Maddie?..." her mother asked, "did something happen to you again, baby?..."

She peeped her head out of the window but couldn't see anything out of place, things were... Strangely calm tonight. Ground is painted with white, while the sky is pitch black, clouds are crowding over her head.

"hello?..." her mother calls on the other end. "yeah, sorry, mom, I...--" she answers, her honey irises are roaming right and left, "--I thought I heard something outside my window..." she takes a final look before sliding the window back down. The room no longer frigid. Neither is his heart.

He might've went too far tonight, he knows it. He went to bed with thoughts storming his head, he didn't expect things to go this way or, to his surprise, witness her going through a solid panic attack.

He knows he can't help it, and he knows it's so wrong to eavesdrop someone in the first place, but... Something about her drew him in closer and,

He couldn't get away anymore.

END NOTES:

Our blind vigilante caught a heartbeat that changes everything for him. Well, he's well aware of how wrong eavesdropping sounds, but he simply just couldn't help it, he's getting addicted to her.

Basically, Madilyn leaves the bulletin paper and makes the decision to go back to the battlefield. But still, she is afraid of her decision, actually she is terrified, which leads her to this panic episode. She's not taking medication for her condition on a regular basis which makes her situation falter. And Daredevil, he witnessed all of this.

[next]

#yarrystyleeza #daredevil #matt murdock #Madilyn Mayfield #mattmurdock #madilynmayfield #Mattilyn #in a heartbeat #iahb #Matt Murdock x oc #matt murdock x female!oc #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil fanfic

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bellaxgiornata · 1 year

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Bella's Masterlist of Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Michael Kinsella, & Daryl Dixon Series & One Shots

I am currently working on multiple series and fics for Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Michael Kinsella, and Daryl Dixon. I've updated my Masterlist so that each link will bring you to a separate, organized Masterlist for each specific character because there are just so many now! There's also some "bonus" characters I write for listed at the bottom of this Masterlist (Henry from Eat Locals, Owen Sleater in the future maybe). Always feel free to chat with me about any of the fics or characters I'm writing for. Y'all know I'm chatty!

I post new fics/updates multiple times a week and all of my stories are available fully on tumblr and AO3. If you'd like information on my tag lists you can find that here.

Masterlist of Matt Murdock Fics and Series

Masterlist of Frank Castle Fics and Series

Masterlist of Michael Kinsella Fics and Series

Masterlist of Daryl Dixon Fics

Additional Characters:

Henry x Fem!Werewolf!Reader Mini Series

Forbidden Love [Installment List]

Pairing: Vampire Henry x Fem!Werewolf!Reader

Warnings/tags: Smut, blood, biting (I mean...that's a given), bit of enemies to lovers, maybe some angst and fluff

After awhile you'd grown used to the vampire who often lurked around the woods you hunted in. Though that didn't mean his irritating presence didn't bother you, or that you didn't wonder why he often seemed to be waiting for you–especially since your kinds weren't meant to intermingle.

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gracethyomen · 4 months

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Don’t ask me how or why but this is what my brain has decided:

Matthew Michael Murdock is a Tuxedo Cat:

Bucky Barnes is an orange cat who hurts itself in his own confusion:

@sunflowersandsapphires you already know babe

#daredevil #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x oc #daredevil x ofc #marvel #matt murdock #matt murdock x ofc #matt murdock x you #bucky barnes #buckybarnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #james barnes

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cellophaine · 7 months

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Sad Girl (Part II)

Read Part I

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, not a happy ending.

Author's Note: Sooo, I severely overestimated how much free time I would have, and as it turns out, I have had not a lot and will have none free time for the next three weeks. My irl project is quite literally consuming me on top of the packing for an across the globe trip, so I won't be able to work actively on any writing project at all 🥲 I will be back to writing and posting in late fall/early winter! (hopefully)

P/S: I might write a part 3 to make up for the angst but uhm ... please don't come for me over the ending 🫣

GIF Credit

Judging by the sound of people and traffic outside, Matt knew he had slept in. Not that it mattered since it was a Saturday, and he had nowhere to be, especially after a night of going all out on a celebration with Foggy and Karen on the occasion of winning a big case for their client. With the new bonus lined in their pockets, Foggy gave a passionate speech about the grand plan of upgrading the office; Karen daydreamed about a proper heater for the upcoming winter while Matt zoned out, occasionally chiming in with a witty remark. He didn't enjoy his win as much as he should, as a part of him wished he could see you and tell you about it instead. He knew you would be happy for him and listen to every detail, just like you did whenever he told you about his day, when he wasn't in a hurry to leave.

The talking clock announced the time and date, and as Matt shifted back to the bed, a thought struck him. It had been three months since his last illicit affair with you. Matt sighed, pressing his face into the pillow at the thought of you. He had been thinking about you more and more every day. Matt blamed it on his coming to the acceptance that what you and he shared had long dissolved into thin air, becoming something that never was before you met. But the history was still there, at least for him. It didn't get to disappear. It stayed in his head, haunting him like a shadow at the edge of his conscience, waiting for a chance to occupy his thoughts whenever he found his mind strayed, and if he had to admit it, he didn't want to let it go. Matt replayed the last night he spent with you over and over, prying for little details of what had gone wrong, only to come up with none. You were curt with him, and the rebuttal he came up with was you were tired. You even said it yourself. Matt left you alone that night after that, and he even made sure that the two of you were okay. But he guessed it wasn't enough, as you completely shut him out afterward.

From time to time, Matt would stop by your place to check on you, to see if the wind chime returned, only to be disappointed by its absence. He would perch on the rooftop of your building, listening to the sound of your soft laugh alongside your favourite show. Matt was so close, yet so far away from you. He had gotten used to the silence, but he hadn't used to not seeing you, being around you. Even though a small part of him was crestfallen that you didn't seem to miss his presence, it made him happy to see you were still doing well. Even if it was without him.

Turning on his back, with his hand stretched over the empty space beside him, Matt couldn't help but wonder why you cut all contact with him, and why he had been so bothered by the fact. He could take the hint and accept a rejection, but he couldn't understand why your silence hurt him the most of all. Something was missing; Matt could feel it so clearly when he returned to his apartment at night after your arrangement was abruptly over. His place didn't have your scent, your candles, or even the overpowering aroma of the ointment you applied on him when he needed it. He even missed the coarseness of your fine cotton sheets on his too-sensitive skin. Yet, none of these little things could even begin to compare to how often he found himself missing your presence most of all. Your steady heartbeat and the way it quickened when he touched you. Your comforting scent when he buried his nose into your neck. The way your thighs found their home around his waist when he fucked you into the mattress, your bodies moving together in a desperate attempt at getting closer and closer until you were joined in one body made of flesh and bones. It wasn't just the sex that he missed. His heart involuntarily yearned for your laugh, your presence, being around you. He remembered how your apartment smelled like the tea you drink and how it would be cold by the end of his visits. He missed the way you seemed to know what he needed by paying attention to his body language and the way he conveyed his needs without words.

Matt ran a hand over his face and sighed heavily. He needed to take a walk, to allow his mind to be uninhabited by you.

As Matt padded barefoot through the apartment, he was reminded once again of you by the soft floral fragrance in the sweater you left at his place. It was you he smelled, a warm and sheer powdery iris that he could never mistake for someone else, and a mix of his own scent, too. When he first noticed it in his closet, his heart fluttered when he realized what it was. Now, with its new place on the top of a dining chair, the faint floral was a reminder of what you were to him. He wished he could restore it to your scent and your scent only so he could hold onto you a little longer. Matt caught his stray thought and steered himself away from reminiscing. It was dangerously close to the territory he couldn't afford to enter. So he shut it out.

He really needed that walk.

The air was crisp and clear, which made everything around him stand out more. Matt took a moment to take in his surroundings. The neighbourhood felt lively amongst the aroma of coffee, steaming broth, greasy food and freshly baked pastries. The revving of a motorcycle passed by him, making his brows furrow over the loud noise and the waft of smoke it brought. He smelled more food, more body odour, but amidst all that chaos, something familiar arose. The scent reminded him of you. And once again, his thoughts strayed as if he couldn't help himself.

How could he have predicted the way things ended with you? Even if he knew beforehand, he couldn't prevent it from happening. It simply wasn't meant to be. You and him both knew what you were getting into, and it was nothing more than a casual exchange. And if his exclusion from your life was what you wanted, he would respect that. Still, Matt couldn't make sense of his desolation. It confused him, all the thoughts running through his head, all the ache wrapping around his heart like cellophane, circling around the truth buried so deep that he couldn't feel it for what it truly was. It was almost as if his heart already knew, but his mind refused to acknowledge it.

The iris scent got stronger, and Matt directed his attention toward it. His heart seemed to recognize it before his senses caught onto it, beating faster as it came closer, accompanied by the rhythm of a heartbeat he knew so well. It was unmistakenly you, your scent, your voice, as all the tangible signals drifted to him. He was aware that you hadn't seen him yet; his feet involuntarily picked up the pace, closing the distance between you. You were closer to him now, the closest in months. He listened to your voice as you chatted with your companion, unaware of him. And when you finally saw him, Matt could tell as the breath in your throat hitched. He took a deep breath, bracing himself to say hi, a soft smile on his face.

It was only seconds, yet it felt so long as your jacket brushed over his on the busy pavement; the brief contact ended before it even began. You kept walking further away from him as Matt's heart dropped in the realization that you didn't stop to acknowledge him. The familiar ache took hold of his heart and squeezed again. Matt brushed the feeling off by taking his own steps forward and away from you, only with less certainty and excitement. He was still close by when he heard it. The conversation you had with your companion.

"Hey. You okay?"

The woman's voice was full of concern.

"Uh, yeah, I'm … I'm fine."

There was a touch of hesitation in your voice.

"Are you sure? You look like you saw a ghost."

A small chuckle.

"I feel like I did."

A brief pause and a small yet determined exhale later.

"Don't worry. It's nothing."

His heart dropped even further at your words; the pain grabbed and pulled at his heartstrings violently. What you said to your friend manifested a bitter taste on his tongue, making his stomach churn. You pretending not to know him and ignoring him hurt him more than he realized. How could you? How could you act like the ink on the pages of your story had washed away so completely that the history you shared became a blank book? Why did he become nothing to you?

Matt wanted to know the unbridled truth and get the closure he was owed. He deserved that much.

–

About a week later, Matt waited for you to return home at the front of your building instead of the usual spot at your fire escape. It was late, almost time for him to go back to his apartment so he could start the patrol for the night. But that could wait.

Matt buried his hands into his pockets to shield them from the wind nipping at his skin. Leaning onto the brick pillar at the bottom of the steps, he closed his eyes, trying to calm his heart rate, reminding himself that it was just you, the woman he had known so well. But his logic persisted. Maybe he didn't know you at all. He could barely understand himself these days. Who was he to say that he knew you for who you really were?

His heart picked up its pace again once he heard the sound of your voice neared. You were laughing alongside the familiar voice from last week; the slightest slur in your words was enough for him to know that you were tipsy. The uneven clicks of your heels on the ground became steadier as you made your way toward the entrance and stopped when you approached him.

Matt stood up straight, clearing his throat softly.

"Hi."

"What are you doing here?"

You wasted no time. Your voice was cold, and your demeanour was curt.

"I need to talk to you."

Your companion's voice interrupted him.

"Who are you?"

You pulled at your friend's sleeve, and after a brief pause, she released a small gasp and a soft "Oh". She then turned to him, her voice stern, leaving no room for any other interpretation.

"My friend doesn't have anything to say to you. So you can–"

"Mindy. I got this."

"Are you sure?"

Matt listened as the conversation wrapped up, with Mindy getting into a cab and you promising to call her if you wanted to talk. You closed the door, waiting until the taxi pulled away before returning to him, still keeping your distance.

"What do you want to talk to me about?"

Matt took a small step forward.

"About what happened between us."

"There is nothing to talk about. Nothing happened."

The blankness in your voice made him feel like his skin was pricked with needles. He scoffed, bewildered with disbelief at your outright denial.

"I wouldn't call cutting off all contact, out of the blue, without an explanation, nothing."

When you didn't say anything, he continued.

"Why did you shut me out? It's like our relationship meant nothing to you."

His words seemed to get to you as you snapped back at him.

"There was nothing between us. There was no relationship."

You enunciated your words, making your intention clear.

"I cared for you the same way you cared for me. Isn't that something?"

The harsh puff of air escaped from you was scornful, and Matt knew he was getting somewhere.

"No. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course I do. What do you mean by that?"

You stepped closer until you were inches away from him. You were so close that Matt could feel the tension in your body, the way your fists clenched into themselves, the way your heart pounded in your chest.

"You want the truth, Matt? The truth is I didn't want to set myself up for more disappointment, so I did what I thought was best for myself."

His brows scrunched together at the meaning behind your words.

"What kind of disappointment?"

You sighed heavily.

"The kind that came from knowing I could never be more to you. I thought you cared for me, Matt."

Your voice had gone quieter, so small that he felt like it took all of your strength to physically say it. He softened at that, and his hand reached out to find your cheek.

"I did. I still do."

But before the contact happened, you took a step back, avoiding his hand.

"No. You don't care about me like the way I cared for you. I was just your side piece that you could fuck whenever you–"

Matt was so taken aback by your firm conviction that he didn't register the latter part. He didn't care about the way you seemed to shy away from him and grasped your arms, pulling you close.

"You're more than that to me! You're my friend."

His chest heaved in exertion. He didn't know what else he could do to convince you. When you spoke, it was the way your voice shook that broke him.

"That wasn't enough for me, Matt."

Your hands came up to hold onto his arms, your grasp weak, but it gave Matt some hope. You swallowed hard.

"I lov– I liked you, so much that my heart hurts whenever you didn't stop by."

His heart rattled in its cage, wanting to break free at your confession. Your voice was so small, yet your words carried so much weight.

"I thought we could be more, but you confirmed that it wasn't in the cards for you, so … I did the best thing for both of us. I didn't want to waste anymore of your and my time."

Matt loosened his hold, his head dipped as he hoped you were looking at him.

"You knew what it would be like to be with me. I would go out and I might get hurt, and I didn't want to leave you by yourself worrying about me in case something happened."

You tore yourself away from his grasp, your voice raised in what felt like exasperation.

"You don't get it! I already went through those worries when we were still sleeping together. I was always worried about you when you got injured, when you came to my place just a little later than you said you would. I would be worried sick. So don't feed me that bull shit. I knew what I was getting myself into."

Matt fell silent, and for the first time, he lost his defence. So he returned to the start of it all.

"We agreed to be casual."

"Then why did you act like my boyfriend? Cuddling me to sleep? Making sure I was okay after a shitty day at work? I thought it was you showing that you cared about me more than just a fuck-buddy."

Your anger only intensified at his attempt at calmness.

"You're worth caring for. I didn't regret anything I did for you."

You chuckled, the sound bitter to his ears.

"Right. It doesn't matter anyway. You already have someone else waiting for you at home."

Confusion clouded his thoughts.

"What are you talking about?"

You scoffed in disbelief.

"I'm talking about Karen Page."

"What about her?"

"Don't pull that shit with me. I know you're together. I could tell by the way you acted throughout the interview and the photoshoot."

"You got it wrong. We used to date, but not anymore. We're only friends. Please, you have to trust me."

He could hear you moving toward him before feeling a jab of your finger at his chest; your face was closer to his for the first time in months.

"I don't care what the two of you are anymore, okay? It looked like that from my end. Do you know what it feels like knowing that you were made the other woman? I even defended you before my friend, saying that you actually loved me. I was so fucking stupid."

Your last words were dripped in a teary tone. Matt was speechless as you sobbed; the sound made his body throb with pain as if he was dealt with a thousand cuts. He noticed the way your heart thundered in your chest, but it wasn't out of dishonesty. It was out of the hate and love you had for him, both surging at once. Your heart thumped vigorously for him; your body burned with fervour because of him. He was too stubborn to see the signs for what they were: the affection and devotion you saved for him, reflected through the little things you did for him. You didn't have to say it. Your feeling for him was tangible and real, like the feel of your finger prodding at his chest. Real like the tears on your face at the expense of his unintentional ignorance.

Your hand fell to your side. Your anger subsided; now you were depleted, and Matt hated that he was the source of your distress.

"Please, understand where I came from. I didn't want to be a home wrecker. I just couldn't do it anymore."

He nodded. The silence stretched as the two of you let the confession infuse the air between you. Matt had asked for the truth, and he got it. Yet it was so suffocating that he felt like he couldn't breathe. All of your cards were laid on the table, and it was his turn to reveal his.

You sniffled, and your voice sobered up. But Matt could still hear the shakiness in it.

"Anything else you want to tell me?"

The words were at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to say them. He held his cards close, afraid to confront the aftermath. After all, he had so much to lose.

You took his silence for your answer. You trained your voice to be cold again.

"Right. I hope you got what you came here for."

You brushed past him and ascended the steps, leaving Matt where he was: at the front of your door, in the cold autumn wind, alone. Like he always had been.

*Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!* Follow my side blog to receive notifications whenever I post! @cellophaine-archives

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undercoverpena · 2 years

Text

ten times better

matt murdock x fem!reader

an: newly pregnant reader, HEA, but read with caution. wordcount: 1.3k. for @mrsstrugglebarnes who requested matt being told about a new little one.

He knows you've not been feeling well. Either your head down the toilet or lying horizontally in bed or on his sofa. So drained, you don't even fight him when it comes to staying at his.

Even as Matt comes through the door, he waits.

The last few days, an overpowering scent of bleach and perfume hit him, something which would give someone without his particular skill a headache. It does make him smile, though.

Because you didn't need to mask how ill you were. He could tell. Each time you tried to stomach something, you found yourself either curling up or in his bathroom. Tiredness having swept over you, and an irritation you put down to being run-down.

He knows it's bad because you miss work. And, you never miss work.

The phone call at lunch had almost persuaded him you'd been feeling better, your tone more chipper. So, as he waits at the door, he's pleased to know it's not a lie. No strong vanilla scent hitting him, no bleach, and more importantly no overzealous amount of perfume.

He calls out for you, a short answer coming from the bathroom as he loosens his tie and places his bag on the armchair.

He'd be suspicious, but you hated talking to anyone (never mind him) when you were in the bathroom. An uncomfortableness you'd rather avoid, even going as far as to text him a reply to a question if you were being held in there too long.

Opening the fridge, the leftovers from last night remained in there, untouched. You'd assured him you'd eat before you nipped out, needing some things his place no longer had. He ponders mentioning it, instead choosing to grab a beer.

“So, Foggy’s asked if we fancy going to the bar tonight—and I did tell him, you weren’t feeling great," Matt says, uncapping the bottle, pausing to take a sip. "So we can stay in, order something?"

He hears the toilet flushing, turning to face you, removing his glasses from his face as the door opens, wearing a smile, thankful you don't smell like vomit or a recent shower.

"He does want a rematch on the pool table, I think he's still…”

His voice fades out, head tilting as he listens to how your heartbeat increases. Able to tell you’re suddenly stressing, the perspiration from your skin meeting the air, the sound of your teeth nipping at your bottom lip.

Sometimes, sensing everything felt overwhelming. He wished he had sight, even just on occasion to help him fill in the gaps.

Placing the bottle down, he moves closer, finding his throat has gone dry. A lump suddenly appearing, one which doesn’t settle the closer he gets. Not even as he begins to feel you shake, a slight tremble to your form that’s never there.

“Sweetheart?”

“I’m... I'm okay…”

He half-smiles, because of course you’re making him feel better. Of course you’re trying to assure him, when you’re not feeling yourself.

Placing his hand on your cheek, he feels the warmth from your skin. Noticing how you do a little inhale, a little jump at his touch. As though you didn’t expect it, didn’t know it was happen.

He whispers your name, feeling your eyes lift from whatever is in your hand to him. Just as his other hand cups over your hands, half-expecting paper or your phone, instead finding a stick. Two sticks. Three.

“I’ve been so careful…”

Frowning, he runs his fingers along them, trying to place them, trying to drown out your panicked heart rate and noticeable shake to your voice. Just so he can concentrate, just so he can get to the bottom of it and begin making you feel better.

Because he’s only ever seen you like this once before.

When you were at his front door, rain falling from your nose, fingers and clothes. Your voice all shaky, heartbeat all irregular; the scent of smoky New York on your clothes, and the horrid downpour.

It’s the night after he told you what he does when he goes out. Why he's coated in bruises and scars. Why he's hard to reach. A horrid 24-hours later where you told him you couldn’t be his friend anymore.

Instead, wanting to be something more.

Because you loved him. You’d loved him for years. The struggle of holding it all in; of containing it all. As if he’s not been doing the same—not suspecting he’s been wrestling with it too. His truth set your feelings free, him letting you in proving it was all worth it.

“…and I get it, your life is complicated enough,” you begin, and he realises you're crying. Tears falling heavy, body shaking more and more. “And I know your religion c-compels you against one option, but you don’t h-have to be here… I won’t h-hold you to it.”

Matt says your name. Sharper. More confused than anything. But it comes out sharp all the same. His other hand moves to your shoulder, leaning closer as if it'll do anything to help him work it out.

His hand clutching yours tighter, feeling you tighten your hold on the sticks. And as your mouth parts, it hits him.

Dawns on him. Reminds him how much of a fucking idiot he is. Because he knows what they are now. He’s placed them.

All of the sounds, scents and worries making sense to him.

“I’m pregnant…”

“We’re.”

He says it too quickly. Almost like a correction.

He groans, mainly at himself. It’s stupid. No real need to correct you. But he’s done it, only realising a moment later why.

Because it’s true.

And it takes a second, his mind whirring before he feels a smile begin to ebb. He feels the worry slide from his shoulders, joy beginning to grow in its place.

Smiling, he strokes his fingers against your cheek, wiping the tears he can from your skin. “We are pregnant, sweetheart. You’re not… you’re not doing this alone,” he soothes.

“Your life—“

“Is ten times better with you in it,” he interrupts, nodding if only for himself. “I want this. You. Me.” His hand clutching your other hand tighter, letting a smile blossom out over his features, hearing you see it.

You swallow, moving closer, his hand moving from your fist to your waist, thumb drawing circles over your clothes.

“I want this too,” you whisper, sniffling as he smiles wider.

“Me too.”

You snort, before sniffling, “But, I’m going to get so grumpy.”

“We’ll be okay.”

“And needy, I’ll be so needy.”

He smirks. “I think I can live.”

“And, I’ll eat so much.”

He laughs, kissing your forehead. “Maybe, you won’t skip meal times then.”

“You’re really not mad?”

Frowning, he pulls you flush against him, licking his lips as he tilts your face up to meet his. “How could I be mad, when the love of my life is making me become something I only ever dreamed about.”

“You sure?”

“Of course,” he smiles, feeling your hand brush against his cheek, suddenly realising he’s crying too. “I never… I never thought I’d even find happiness, sweetheart. Never mind this. Never… you’re making me a dad!”

You laugh, all tears spluttering as you curl into him. The scent of your shampoo meeting his nose, a sudden need to have you this close all the time—a protectiveness rushing through him.

Only broken from doubling when you speak again.

“Do… do you think in a few weeks you’ll be able to hear them?”

He frowns, just for a second. And then he realises what it is you mean. He grins wider, a smile so large it began to hurt.

“I hope so,” he says, kissing your hair.

“Me too.”

The two of you rock on the spot, taking a moment in the joy for it to sink in. Him waiting to feel nervous, panicked, but thankful it never comes. Not even as you begin to move, mumbling about putting your pee sticks down and washing your hands.

It’s only as his skin gets cooler without you next to him, that the scent of the beer he's opened meets his nose. Hearing your feet head to the bedroom as you call out you'll get changed before suddenly pausing.

“And, Matt?”

He smiles, turning his head somewhat in the direction.

“Shotgun not telling Foggy he’s becoming a Godfather.”

And he smiles before it drops. Only half-imagining how unbearable, but brilliant, Foggy will be. All the lines he’s going to hear, and the horrid Italian accent.

all a part of this challenge, inbox still open.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x y/n #daredevil #daredevil x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil x fem!reader #daredevil x y/n #matt murdock x female reader

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punchdrunkdoc · 7 days

Text

Part 3, Chapter 17

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 4 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

————–

PART 3

Chapter 17

Over the next few weeks, they found their groove as a couple, their lives settling into a more predictable routine. Matt would go to work during the day, while Calina spent her time either at the library researching the pheromone case, or going to dance classes, baking with Mrs Schneider, or wandering the city trying to find inspiration for what she was meant to do with her life.

In the evenings, they would have dinner - usually in Matt’s apartment, although Calina was often the one cooking. Then they would just…be together. She would read to him. They’d play chess or listen to music. Occasionally they went to Fogwells to spar, or to the bar around the corner to play pool and have a quiet drink together.

And when the sky darkened to pitch black, Matt would become Daredevil. The lawyerly suit would switch to red leather, and his kind, beautiful eyes would disappear behind the menacing mask. Calina would kiss her vigilant goodbye on the rooftop and watch him disappear into the depths of the capricious city he loved.

She would wait up for him - either in her bed or his. They still kept separate apartments, though that was the only separate thing about their relationship. She would pass the time reading a book or talking to one of the other Widows on the phone, all the while trying not to think about the danger Matt might be facing.

In the small hours of the morning, he would return to her. Sometimes too exhausted to do more than collapse on the mattress beside her. When that happened, she would help him undress, pulling the tight fitting suit from his body, and guiding him under the covers of the bed. She would stroke her fingers through his mussed hair, the soothing motion causing him to hum with pleasure under his breath. Then she’d give him a soft, lingering kiss to his lips and whisper ‘Goodnight, my love’.

Sometimes he would return injured, and as much as she hated seeing the damage to his body, the alternative was him never returning at all.

And that was an unbearable thought.

So she would tend to his wounds with loving care. Cuts and scrapes would be cleaned and bandaged. Pulled muscles would be iced and massaged. Deeper wounds would be sutured and dressed. And afterwards, they would make love. A slow, tender, gentle kind of lovemaking that wouldn’t pull on stitches or cause him to re-open wounds. She would always protest - not wanting to hurt him any further - but then she would always relent. She needed the intimacy as much as he seemed to crave it. She needed that life-affirming act of connection. The tangible proof that he’d made it back home to her - alive, if not always in one piece.

Some nights, though…

Some nights he would come to her still riding high on adrenaline. He’d stalk through the bedroom door like a predator, his every sense locked on her, chest heaving with deep breaths as if he’d run straight to her side. He’d kick off his boots, wrench the mask from his face and grab her in a bruising kiss.

They didn’t make love on those nights.

He fucked her instead.

Fast and hard.

And she loved every exhilarating second.

At the end of the night - whether he came to her tired, or hurt or aroused - they always fell asleep together. Deeply and peacefully, entwined in each others’ arms, looking forward to the moment they’d wake and get to do it all over again.

It was a routine. Mundane even, if viewed from the outside. But it was something neither of them had ever experienced before. It was special. Precious and exciting.

And every week - at least once, sometimes twice - they would go on a date.

They took turns to organise the outing, and it became another game between them: who could plan the more interesting date.

For Calina’s first time, she went the opposite route from the Rainbow Room. Elegance and opulence was traded for a more visceral experience. No fancy suits or velvet dresses. No crisp linen table cloths and crystal wine glasses. Instead, the two of them wore denim and sneakers, and sat on pillows strewn on the floor around a low table. They drank bottles of beer and ate with their hands.

“How did you hear about this place?” Matt asked, scooping up some spicy chickpea stew with a piece of injera - a thin flatbread that seemed to serve as both the plate and the cutlery for the meal.

The first few minutes in this place had been an assault on his senses. The strong, heady scents of ginger, cinnamon, cardamon and multiple other spices that he couldn’t even recognise swirled around him. The chatter of the other customers resonated in the small, hidden-away restaurant, and the very air was moist and heavy from the heat of the kitchen. But once they were settled at their table - and the delicious food started arriving - he forgot all of that.

“To be honest, Google.” Calina replied, “I just searched for the most authentic Ethiopian restaurant in New York, and this one came up top of all the lists.”

“Why Ethiopian?”

She shrugged. “The food in the Rainbow Room was amazing - but so much of it was about the presentation. Each dish was a work of art - which you weren’t able to fully experience. This food is different. It’s not about the looks or how its plated, its all about the feel and the taste and how you experience it with others.”

Matt smiled at her reasoning. She always made an effort to play to his senses - whether it be the choice of a restaurant, or the fabric of a dress - and he loved her for it. “So you’ve eaten somewhere like this before,” he guessed.

“You could say that,” she said. “I had a mission in northern Ethiopia several years ago.”

“In Africa?”

She laughed at the disbelief in his voice. “Yes. That’s where Ethiopia is.”

Matt chuckled and ducked his head. “Sorry. Yeah, I know. I just…I’ve never even left the east coast, let alone this continent.”

There was so much that Calina had never experienced - simple things that most other people on the planet took for granted - which sometimes made her seem naive and unworldly. But, in other ways, she was so much more worldly than him. She’d traveled the globe, and encountered so many other cultures and lived so many different lives. And even though none of it had been through her own choice or free will, she’d still lived those lives. “Tell me about it,” he urged, continuing his quest to complete the picture of her past. “If you’re comfortable with sharing,” he added, not wanting to sound pushy.

Perhaps it was the alcohol that gave her the courage; or maybe she’d come to terms more with her past and her lack of culpability for what she’d done. Or maybe the ‘mission’ wasn’t as heinous as some of the others she’d been forced to carry out. Whatever the reason, Calina surprised him by actually opening up. “I was there for a few weeks with another Widow. We were posing as volunteers with Médecins Sans Frontières. There was a doctor - an immunologist - heading up a vaccination project in the northern rural villages near the border with Eritrea. Well, that’s what he claimed, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was illegally experimenting on the villagers - injecting them with a manufactured strain of anthrax, trying to perfect a bioweapon which he planned to sell to the highest bidder.”

“Jesus. And I suppose your bosses in the Red Room wanted to be the highest bidder?”

Calina laughed, the sound bitter and hollow. “No. Dreykov never paid for something he could just take instead. That’s why we were sent in. My job was to gain the Doctor’s trust and steal his research, and my partner’s job was to kill him.” She paused and looked away. “We both succeeded.”

The weight of those three words hung over the table, but Matt found himself unable to care too deeply about the fate of a man who harmed some of the most vulnerable people on the planet - people he was tasked to protect and care for.

Calina cleared her throat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to dwell on that side of the story. I actually have a good memory associated with that mission - I think it was part of the reason I chose to bring you here.”

“Tell me,” he repeated.

“There was a nurse who worked on the project. She was a good person - she had no idea what the doctor was doing. She was Ethiopian herself, and was just trying to help the people of her country. She took me under her wing - I was only 20 at the time, and was playing the role of a guileless gap-year student, so I guess she felt protective of me. She used to take me out to her favourite restaurants for dinner and teach me all about her culture - like gursha.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s the act of feeding someone - a big thing in Ethiopia. It’s a sign of respect and friendship. She told me a fable about it - how there was once a cruel king who came up with a new method of starving his people. He would put them in an arena around a huge table of food, but give them only long silver spoons to eat it with. The people would try and try, but they could never get the spoons to their mouths.”

As Calina recounted the tale, her voice became soft and low, a lilting, melodic tone similar to the one she used when reading to him at night. She was a natural storyteller, and she held him captive with her words, the food forgotten in front of him.

“One day, one of the peasants had an idea: ‘Me to you, and you to me,’ he said to the others. And so they began feeding each other across the table using the long spoons. The king, angry at his failure, stormed out of the arena. But the people who had witnessed the spectacle returned home and tried it themselves, feeding each other at dinner that evening. But they had to do it by hand because they didn’t have long spoons.” Calina shrugged as the tale ended. “Whether its true or not, I like the message: that if we don’t feed each other, we all go hungry.”

“If we don’t work together, we all suffer.”

“Basically.”

“You do love a good proverb.”

She laughed, the mood successfully lightened from earlier. “Yeah, maybe that’s where I got it from. I couldn’t appreciate what the nurse said at the time - I couldn’t even appreciate the taste of the food that she fed me - but it stuck with me all these years.”

“And now you can appreciate it.”

“Yeah. Now I can. And now I get to share it with you.” She reached across the table to him, a piece of injera in her hand. He opened his mouth and she placed the food inside, brushing her thumb against his lower lip to catch a stray morsel of food.

He swallowed and caught her hand, kissing the tips of her fingers. “Thank you for sharing,” he said, both of them catching the double meaning of his words.

She smiled. “You’re welcome.”

———

When Matt planned a date, he used it as a chance to fill in some missing part of Calina’s adolescence. To let her ‘catch up’ some more.

One night he took her to see a movie, in a tiny independent cinema that had traditional red velvet seats and popcorn slathered in butter. He chose a showing of an old 80s action flick that he remembered seeing as a kid - which meant he could enjoy it along with her - although he ended up paying more attention to Calina than the movie. He smiled as she gasped at the plot twist, as she flinched at a sudden burst of gun fire, as she scoffed at the unrealistic martial arts scenes.

It was so much more entertaining than the film.

On a different date, he took her to the amusement park in Coney Island - the quintessential teenage hangout. As they strolled along the boardwalk hand in hand, Calina’s excitement was palpable. She kept squeezing his hand and exclaiming every time she spotted something new and interesting.

“Look,” she said, pointing to something in the distance. “There’s a rollercoaster!”

Matt laughed. “I can hear it, even if I can’t see it.”

“Sorry,” she said, and he heard the wince in her voice. “It’s just so…overwhelming. I’ve never been anywhere like this!”

He smiled, glad that he’d made the right choice. By the time they reached the entrance to Luna Park they were both chilled from the salt-laden breeze coming off the sea, the day overcast and slightly cooler than usual for early April. But Calina didn’t seem to mind. She was practically jogging by that point, dragging him with her as she headed for the first booth - an old-fashioned shooting game, where players were tasked with hitting a series of targets with an air rifle.

For someone with Calina’s training, hitting all the bullseyes would have been a piece of cake - and perhaps a little conspicuous. Matt knew she was used to hiding her skills, and hated to attract attention, so he wasn't surprised when she opted to play the part of a novice instead. The first time she fired off a shot, it went very wide of the mark. “Oops,” she laughed. “Guess it’s not as easy as it looks.”

Matt shook his head in amusement - until the man waiting in line behind them decided to voice his opinion. “See, this is what I always say, son,” he said to the young boy next to him. He spoke in a mock-whisper, clearly intending for his insults to be overheard. “Men just have better hand-eye co-ordination. Shooting comes more natural to us. Its evolution - we were out doing the hunting, while the women tended the fire in the cave.”

Matt raised an eyebrow at the misogynistic comment. But before he could interject, a quick series of ‘pings’, rang out - the sound of multiple targets being shot dead centre.

“We have a winner!” the attendant announced to the crowd. “Pick your prize, Miss,” he said to Calina.

She placed the rifle back down on the counter, chose an obnoxiously large stuffed bear, and walked off, pointedly ignoring the sexist asshole behind her.

“That was a thing of beauty,” Matt whispered to her as they moved away from the game. He draped his arm over her shoulder and kissed her cheek. “But I hope he didn’t spoil your fun.”

She laughed. “Hardly. The look on his face was the highlight of the day so far.”

“Well, lets see if we can top it. How about a ride on that rollercoaster?” He pointed to his right, where the sounds of mechanical whirring and terrified screaming were coming from.

She looked up at the tall structure. “Hmmm, I don’t know. It’s gotta be at least 120 feet high. With a 90 degree sheer drop, and all those loops…it looks far too tame and boring for someone who somersaults off skyscrapers every night.”

Matt shrugged, playing along. “It’ll be nice and relaxing. Maybe I’ll take a nap during the ride.”

She giggled in response, the sound so light and breezy. He’d noticed such a change in her over the past month. Gaining her freedom from Volkov had lifted a weight from her that he hadn’t even noticed before. She seemed younger, more relaxed. And he didn’t want anything to ever ruin that. He wanted to protect her from all the ugliness of the world - even the parts she'd already seen.

She deserved to be happy. To live her life like any other carefree woman in her 20s.

Which probably explained why he made such a stupid mistake six days later.

They were on another date, this time strolling along the High Line - a public park built on top of an old elevated freight train track. They’d just finished dinner in a nearby restaurant and were enjoying a stroll along the 30-feet high garden. The night sky was clear and dry, but the warmth of spring still hadn’t quite kicked in yet. Matt tucked Calina into his side, one arm wrapped around her shoulders to help her keep warm. “Should we just head home,” he suggested. “It’s colder than I thought it’d be.”

“I don’t mind. This is nice.” She burrowed a bit closer to him, her arm around his waist beneath his jacket, and they continued walking. They didn’t speak much, just content to enjoy the atmosphere and their time together.

Until a sudden breeze brought the scent of trouble.

Matt’s steps faltered ever so slightly as he picked up the familiar acrid smell of the fear pheromone.

Someone nearby was carrying a canister of it.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he lied. Then he lied some more. “I’m gonna grab us some hot chocolate.”

“Hot chocolate?”

“Yeah. I can smell a vendor’s cart underneath us. You wait here - go sit on that bench over there. I know your knee is hurting you.”

The last part was the truth, at least. Whenever Calina was on her feet for more than a few hours, it would start to twinge. He could always tell by the subtle change in her gait, the way she would favour her right leg a little more.

And he convinced himself that her injury was the reason he kept the truth from her. The reason he snuck away from her to follow the smell of the pheromone.

The reason he lied.

It was all to protect her.

But that rationale didn’t alleviate his guilt. His stomach churned with it as he jogged down the stairs to street level, folding away his cane and pulling the brim of his ball cap low to hide his dark glasses. His conscience nagged him as he tracked the scent trail along the block to his right.

But then he sighted his prey, and everything else fell away.

The man was loitering across the road, near the entrance to the 23rd street station. He was dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase - very different from the thugs Matt had previously encountered with the pheromone spray. But the scent was unmistakeable. It clung to the man’s clothes, and was concentrated in his right pant’s pocket, which was distorted by a slight bulge.

As the man waited for…something…he kept reaching his hand into that pocket, as if to reassure himself that the canister was still present.

Matt’s phone vibrated in his own pocket - probably Calina wondering what was taking so long. He ignored it, causing his guilt to spike, but he couldn’t afford to lose this guy. They hadn’t had a decent lead in this case for months - they were still sifting through their list of suspects, and there’d been no recent attacks in Hell’s Kitchen to follow up on.

Which made sense, if the operation had moved here, to Chelsea.

The man across the street checked his watch - whoever he was waiting for was late. Matt checked his own watch and cursed - he’d been gone too long. He needed to tell Calina what was going on. He took out his phone to call her and noticed her message.

And his blood ran cold.

Man on the High Line carrying a briefcase full of pheromone canisters. I’m tracking him. Call me.

Matt quickly dialled her number but it rang out.

Shit.

He lifted his head and listened for the sounds coming from the direction of the park, but there was nothing to indicate where Calina was...

Then the screeching of tires.

Screams…

And the crunch of metal hitting flesh.

Matt ran. He ignored the man waiting by the station, his mission abandoned without second thought. He just turned on his heels and barrelled back down the street, somehow knowing - sensing in his gut - that the car accident had something to do with Calina.

He arrived at the scene in minutes. An abandoned saloon car, the hood caved in, sat in the middle of the junction. The sounds of distant sirens filled his ears as the first responders closed in…and a body lay on the road in a crumpled heap, several people crowded around it.

Heart in his throat, the organ pounding with fear, Matt muscled his way through the crowd to get closer. He took in the size of the body, the scent…

Then stumbled back, relief crashing over him.

It wasn’t her.

It wasn’t Calina.

But he could scent her on the air. She’d been here - just moments ago.

He grabbed the arm of a bystander. “What happened?”

“It- it was all so fast,” the woman stuttered, sounding shocked. “A man staggered into the street, he looked drunk. Then a car came out of nowhere - speeding, I think - and hit him.”

“He wasn’t drunk,” another voice chimed in. It came from the man in the news kiosk behind them. “He looked scared to death. A woman approached him - tried to help. But he just sprayed something in her face, then ran away from her, into the oncoming traffic.”

“The woman, what did she look like?”

“Young. Tall, beautiful. Jesus, I hope it wasn’t acid that he sprayed.”

Matt ignored him, his fear back with a vengeance. Calina had been hit with the pheromone.

Fuck!

“What happened to her?” Matt barked. “Where did she go?”

The man in the kiosk shook his head. “Dunno, man. I lost track. Like the lady said, it all happened so fast.”

“Where did he spray her?”

The man pointed further down the street. Matt ran, barging through the growing throng of gawking pedestrians. He tried to shut out the sounds of the chaos around him - the sirens getting louder, the car horns blasting in chorus, the mutterings and murmurs of the onlookers - he needed to blot out everything but Calina, and find her.

The pheromone scent grew stronger as he ran, until it concentrated at the front entrance of a high rise building. Calina’s scent was here too - as well as a hefty dose of adrenaline - and both disappeared into the building.

Matt shoved through the glass doors and into the foyer, and followed the trail to the bank of elevators. He slammed the button to call the elevator and started pacing the tiled floor in front of it, his heart thudding with terror as he waited, every second feeling like a lifetime.

He knew exactly where Calina had gone.

His mind kept replaying the memory from last year, of another terrified young woman dosed on pheromones that he’d failed to save.

The one who’d found the highest roof possible…and leapt to her death.

————–

Chapter 18 coming soon...

Remember to check out the references page!

Tag list: @hollandorks @stilldreaming666 @sio-ina-bottle @tearoseart-blog @acharliecoxedfan @freckledbabyyy @chezagnes

If you’d like to be added - let me know!

#daredevil #daredevil fic #tabula rasa #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil x original female character #matt murdock #marvel's daredevil #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x oc #daredevil fandom

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memphisnovels · 2 years

Text

Mem’s masterlist

Welcome friend, come on in, take a load off and hang out with me!

Thanks for your support

AO3

Matt Murdock (On hiatus)

Fade into you: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Allison Blake and Matthew Murdock started on a tenuous foot, well rather, they started on a hate-filled, bitter, incredibly petty foot. Academic rivals in college turned unlikely friends, turned far more. Allison worked her ass off to become assistant district attorney of the Manhattan DA's office, she has a seemingly perfect life, everything she's ever wanted, until an old unfairly attractive foe, walks back into her life and breaks her heart all over again. Matt and Allison navigate a messy tangled web of lies and undeclared love with witty repartee and never-ending rivalry.

Pietro Maximoff

Evermore: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27

Nadia was raised in the Red Room, raised to be a weapon; a killer. From five years old this is all she knew, until a near-death experience and a chance meeting turned her world upside down. Hardened by her troubling past, can she learn to trust the foes turned friends or will she always keep her distance? What is the root of the strange visions that have plagued her for as long as she can remember?

Nathan Drake (On hiatus)

Small beginnings: 1, 2, 3

Xanthe Hayes has been stealing for as long as she can remember. The daughter of exceptionally wealthy archeologists who've never been particularly doting, she found herself ousted into the world as a young girl, forced to find her own way and come to her own conclusions about the world. As a result, Xanthe became closed off and distrustful of those who she meets, a deep-cutting betrayal and a string of precarious alliances only worsen Xanthe's deep-seated cynicism and push her further into her instinctual lone wolf lifestyle. Determined to discover what the specific allure of treasure hunting is for her parents, a young Xanthe entered the world of artifact hunting, inevitably falling so ardently in love with the history and the art she encounters, that nothing could get in her way.

Jonathan Crane

A night without stars: 1, 2

Eve Gordon: doctor, niece of the renowned GCPD officer Jim Gordon, best friend of playboy, billionaire Bruce Wayne and fierce ADA Rachel Dawes, the perfect girl with the perfect life; from the outside.

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hollandorks · 10 months

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saved

matt murdock x original female character

chapter twenty

Summary: Fleeing from an abusive relationship, Grace St. James goes to the only place she still has a friend: Hell’s Kitchen. She’s forced to live in her car and beg for a job from the law firm Nelson, Murdock, and Page all the while making sure her past doesn’t catch up to her. Enter Matt Murdock: cocky, handsome, and willing to let her live with him for free until she can afford to get a place of her own. Grace is drawn to Matt in a way she’s never been drawn to anyone, causing sparks to fly as they inevitably grow closer and closer.

a/n: look I'm back! Yes it has been six months. No I don't have an excuse. Just an ADHD brain that lost all semblance of any hyperfixations I ever had, for no reason. Anyways, I have no clue when I'll continue this fic--I'm only posting now because I forgot I had this chapter already done oops! I'm sorry for the angst, I'll fix it...eventually. Mwah!

Series Masterlist

word count: 4663

Grace slowly looked up at Matt, fear and anger warring for space in her gut. “It’s Dean.”

“It’s Dean,” Grace said again, a familiar fear rising up in her. “I–have no idea how he got this number.”

Matt was in front of her in an instant. “Are you okay?” he asked softly. “Did he threaten you?”

“No. Well, not really.” She read the texts out loud to Matt, whose expression darkened more and more with every word.

“That’s–” Matt paused. His head tilted to the side, listening to something she couldn’t hear.

“What is it?” she asked, remembering the men Dean had sent to break into the apartment.

Matt cursed softly. “I need to go,” he said, expression torn. She could see him warring with himself. “I know I promised you this date–”

“Matt, it’s okay,” she said. She meant it. She wasn’t really in the mood for sex anymore, anyways. “What’s going on?”

He was already unlocking the closet where the Daredevil armor was. The key had apparently been hidden in the firehouse next to it this whole time. “A child abduction.”

Every line of him was tense, alert. She knew he was still listening to whatever was happening in the city that she couldn’t hear. After a moment, she heard sirens going by, there and gone as the police sped through the streets.

Grace cursed as Matt turned, yanking his date clothes off and the armor on.

He paused as he zipped up the back. “I–”

“It’s okay,” she repeated. “This is important. Go.”

He kissed her quickly before pulling his boots on. “I really am sorry.”

“I’m not. Get that kid home safe.” She meant it, too. The thought of a child out there somewhere scared to death–not to mention the parents–made her stomach clench painfully.

Matt kissed her again. This time he lingered, albeit briefly. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

“Be careful,” she said as he strode up the stairs to the roof door. He paused at the top. Then, without another word, he slipped on the devil mask and disappeared into the night.

–

The bed dipping woke Grace from a light sleep hours later.

“Matt?” she whispered groggily, unsure why she’d woken. Usually she slept through everything. Maybe she’d only just drifted off, though. It felt like it, her eyes crusted with sleep, her entire body heavy.

“Shh, go back to sleep,” he murmured as he burrowed under the covers. She fumbled for her phone and squinted at the time. It was almost four in the morning.

“Did you find the kid?” Her hands sought him in the darkness. It was so late that even the neon sign that usually brightened the apartment had been turned off. Matt’s skin was cool to the touch. She wondered how warm his armor was. Did it keep him warm enough? Was it insulated? Did he have different ones for summer or winter?

“Yeah, we got her.” His voice was tight, low. With pain? Emotion?

“Alive?” Matt’s lips brushed the top of her head, the word breathed into the scant space between them.

“Yeah. She’s home safe.”

Grace relaxed and snuggled up against him. Matt flinched and grunted. She immediately sat up and fumbled for the lamp.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, eyes squinting against the sudden brightness. Matt not-so-subtly pulled the silk sheets up over his bare chest. She reached over and yanked them away. He sighed but let her look. “You have stitches!” They were in a neat row along one side of his hip rib cage.

“I’m fine, I promise,” he said. He gently tugged on her arm to get her to lay back down.

“It looks like you were stabbed,” she said. Which was so much worse than the bruised ribs or bloodied mouth. She’d seen the scars all over his body–he had definitely been stabbed before. Several times. But something about knowing it had happened in the past and seeing the direct aftermath was completely different.

For the first time, Grace was hit with the realization that what Matt did was dangerous.

But he’d also gotten an abducted kid home safe.

Those two opposing thoughts warred for her attention.

“It’s fine,” Matt said again. His cold fingers gently rubbed the skin of her arm in soothing circles. “Go back to sleep.”

She stared down at him for a moment, propped up on her elbow, before turning off the light again and snuggling carefully against his side. “Did you just get back?” she asked, the words punctuated by a yawn.

“Yeah, I stitched myself up then showered.” His voice was slow, sleepy.

She was impressed that he’d stitched himself, and so neatly, too. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she murmured into the dark. “And the little girl, too.”

“Mm.” Matt shifted and his breathing deepened. He was asleep.

Grace couldn’t see him in the darkness, only his outline, but she stared at him anyway. She was in awe of him. Of what he did. Of how strong he was, in so many ways. He protected the city literally twenty-four-seven. During the day as an attorney and at night as a vigilante.

Her eyes slid closed. She searched within herself for any resentment that Matt’s nightly activities had shortened their promising evening. But all she found was a steady warmth when she thought of how he’d saved a little girl, even at the expense of getting laid by an eager girlfriend. She was scared, yes, since he had gotten hurt, but he was helping people despite it.

Matt Murdock was way too good for her, she decided as she finally fell asleep again.

–

The next day dawned too early. She tried to convince Matt to sleep in with no luck. He had argued, very calmly, that he couldn’t go skipping work every time he had a crazy night as Daredevil. Then he’d argued that he’d slept great next to her, throwing in a charming smile that had melted away her reservations.

“You’re too fucking charming,” she grumbled as they stepped into the office building.

“Poor little blind man, remember?” Matt said with a laugh. Her heart warmed all over again at the sound. She loved seeing how carefree he was with her, even after a night chasing down a child that had been abducted.

“That is the biggest bullshit,” she said, but she laughed too.

Their good moods were very quickly dashed to pieces when they entered the office.

Something came flying straight at Matt’s head. Grace ducked with a gasp.

“You asshole!” Foggy shouted.

Matt held a stapler in one hand, a curious frown on his face as he tilted his head first one way and then the next. “A stapler?”

“My stapler!” Grace interjected, more concerned with that fact than why, exactly, Foggy had thrown it in the first place. Foggy put his hands on his hips where he stood menacingly in front of Grace’s desk.

“Why am I an asshole, again?” Matt asked as he carefully sidestepped Foggy and somehow managed to place the stapler in the exact spot Grace always kept it.

“You didn’t text me back, you dick. I thought you were in a dumpster somewhere, bleeding out! Again!” Foggy stomped a foot for good measure. “Last I hear, you’re off trying to rescue a kid and–”

“Oh,” Grace said as it dawned on her. “Sorry, Foggy, I didn’t realize you knew about that or I would have texted you when Matt got back.”

Foggy turned to face her and seemed to deflate. “See?” he said to Matt. “A reasonable response. I think I’ll text you from now on to make sure Mr. Horns here doesn’t get stabbed to death. Again.”

“Probably a good idea,” Grace said with a shrug. Matt was staring at her almost dumbfounded. “I also am very curious to hear about these dying-in-a-dumpster and stabbed-to-death escapades.” She raised an eyebrow at Matt.

“I like her, Matt,” Foggy said as he and Matt both stared at her. Or as much as Matt could stare, anyway.

“Me too,” Matt agreed and Grace grinned. “And I’m sorry, Fog. I had to stitch a cut and passed out pretty much as soon as I got back.”

Foggy humphed and crossed his arms. “I forgive you…I guess.” He slumped all of a sudden and rubbed his face.

“I could hear you yelling from outside,” Karen said as she stepped into the office and gracefully shed her jacket. “Glad you’re okay, Matt.”

Matt nodded at her and disappeared into his office.

“I’m too tired for this shit,” Foggy muttered, but it was half hearted.

“Me too, honestly,” Grace said. “And Matt got less sleep than all of us. And got stabbed, apparently.”

“I wasn’t stabbed,” Matt called from his office. “It was just a cut.”

“I think we all need some extra caffeine,” Karen said. Grace wondered how many times the other woman had carefully brokered peace between the two best friends. She remembered Matt telling her that Foggy hadn’t taken his Daredevil secret well, and wondered if there was still tension there. It definitely seemed like it, if the thrown stapler was any indication.

Grace eyed Karen and grabbed her jacket and purse.

“Then I’ll be back with caffeine And maybe some pastries.”

“Grace St. James, you saint,” Foggy said with his hands pressed together as if in prayer.

“I’ll be back soon,” she promised, crossing her heart for good measure.

Outside, fall had settled fully over the city. Grace didn’t mind the chill. Everything seemed better these days, newer, fresher. Or maybe that was simply because she was…happy.

Even though their date hadn’t ended like they had hoped and even with the restraining order stuff, Grace was happy. Things were good.

And maybe there was a bit of a spring in her step as she thought about sitting on the edge of Matt’s desk and handing him a coffee in a short while. As she thought about the jokes Foggy would make as his form of thanks for the coffee.

A car pulled up beside her and slowed. She quickened her pace so that the person exiting wouldn’t knock her with the door. All that did was put her in the path of a man in a suit, who collided with her head-on.

She cursed softly and tried to step around him but the man grabbed the tops of her arms.

The car next to her hadn’t stopped, not fully–it had pulled up, inching forward to follow her closely.

Grace trusted her instincts, and at that moment they were screaming at her to run.

She used one of the tricks from her self defense classes to get the man’s hands off of her and started to dart away, only for him to grab her around the waist before she made it so much as two steps.

Her heart faltered even as her mind went into overdrive. She was only a block from the office, maybe two blocks at most. And if Matt was still inside, and if his abilities were as good as he said, he might hear her.

So Grace screamed. The sound tore up from her belly and out of her throat. It was wordless at first, but then as she thrashed against the man holding her the scream turned into words. “Help! Help me! Someone help me! Help!”

The man holding her cursed and tried to cover her mouth. She reared her head back. It connected with his nose with a crunch. In the same moment, she stomped as hard as she could on the arch of his foot.

The man shouted obscenities at her but let her go. She tried to run again, back of her head aching from hitting the man, but a second man stepped out of the passenger seat of the car. He blocked her path. This man simply pulled out a gun and aimed it at her.

Grace stopped.

Please let Matt have heard, she pleaded to anyone who would listen, God or otherwise.

“Get in,” the man with the gun said as the other one cursed and tried to staunch the blood pouring from his nose.

Grace held up her trembling hands in surrender. Panic was eating its way like acid through her gut. “Look, I don’t–”

“Get in,” the man said, indicating with the gun that she should move. She flinched at the motion, then complied.

The backseat of the luxurious car held her worst nightmare.

Dean.

Grace screamed again, begging for help, praying that Matt would hear, that Matt would come.

Pain exploded across her face as Dean slapped her.

“Shut up!” he snapped. The partition between the front seat and the back went up. The car pulled away from the curb, inching slowly along the road as if they had all the time in the world.

Grace bared her teeth at him. All that pent up rage that she’d been nurturing for weeks crested on a wave. She drew her fist back and snapped it forward in one perfect motion. Dark blood trickled from his nose.

Quick as a flash, Dean’s hands were around her throat, squeezing off her air, pinching the skin so painfully that tears welled in her eyes.

She didn’t back down, simply stared at him as she choked, as darkness appeared at the edges of her vision.

“I just want to talk, dammit!” Dean said in a snarl. He shoved her away from him like she was a disgusting piece of filth. She hit the partition between the front and back and winced. “Will you please just be quiet?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his angular features suddenly drawn and tired.

Grace’s chest heaved as she sucked down air. The darkness ebbed though the pain lingered in her throat. She coughed and glared at him.

“You can’t just kidnap me,” she said, her voice barely a rasp.

“Grace, we need to talk,” Dean said as if she hadn’t spoken. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, every inch the suave businessman save for the blood coming from his nose. “I want to be sure you aren’t going to…tell people things you shouldn’t be telling them.”

Grace worked her jaw for a moment and looked away. Out of the window, they were still crawling down the street at a snail’s pace. “I’m not an idiot,” she finally said, every word a chore with her sore throat.

Dean’s eyebrows quirked. “I never said you were.”

“Besides,” she said, lacing her words with every amount of venom she could muster, “I don’t need to talk about your criminal activities to get a restraining order against you. You beating me will be enough.”

Something quick and deadly flashed in his eyes, there and gone before she could really note it. Dean leaned further forward. And despite everything, Grace flinched. He seemed satisfied by the reaction and gave her a smile that would make him president one day.

“But just in case, we need to talk about what would happen if you did start getting ideas.” Dean sat back, legs sprawled, completely at ease as if he hadn’t kidnapped her and then choked her nearly to unconsciousness. “You like your new job, yes? Nelson, Murdock, and Page? Should you…tell them anything you shouldn’t, well. Things happen. A robbery gone wrong. A hit and run. A suicide. Spread out just enough that no one links them. One for each.” Dean shrugged.

Grace couldn’t breathe all of a sudden and it had nothing to do with the imprints of his hands around her neck. “You wouldn’t–” she said, but she knew in her heart that he would. She had seen up close what Dean was capable of. I want you to use that bleeding heart of yours, Grace. Show him some kindness so he’s more…open to my questions.

“What do you think happened to your father?” Dean said.

But the words were lost in the jolt of the car stopping suddenly, a thunk coming from somewhere in the direction of the hood.

The partition lowered.

“Sir?” the driver said uncertainly. “We just…hit a man.”

“What?” Dean said.

Grace used the distraction and scrambled for the door handle. Dean shouted after her as she lurched from the car, barely more than a block from where they’d started.

Her mouth opened in surprise as the driver got out, too, along with the security guard with the gun and Dean too.

“I am so sorry,” the driver was saying, eyes cutting to Dean as if looking for permission to even say those words. “Are you alright?”

“I’m alright,” Matt said with a wave of his hand. To anyone else, he looked the part of an innocent blind man. But Grace saw the tension in his jaw, in the hand that clutched his cane like he was about to use it as a weapon.

“Matt?” she said, not needing to fake her surprise. Or her relief. He’d heard her. He’d come.

“Grace?” Matt said. His shock was so believable she almost bought it. He tilted his head to the side, red glasses flashing in the light. “Wh–I thought you were going to the coffee shop?”

“Dean, you just hit my boyfriend,” she said as she whirled on him. She took some small satisfaction at the surprise on Dean’s face before he schooled his features. “Matt, do you want to press charges?” she asked, hoping for a moment that he’d say yes, even though she knew this was merely a distraction to get her away.

Matt laughed and it sounded fake. “No, no, my fault. Should have waited for the crosswalk but, ah, I got cocky. Are you alright?” And she heard the unspoken message in those words. Had Dean hurt her? What was going on?

“I’m okay,” she said with another glare towards Dean. “Dean was just leaving. Let’s get back to the office.”

She grabbed Matt’s elbow and started to edge around Dean and his guard.

“Remember what I said, Grace,” Dean said softly.

Her hand trembled where it rested on Matt’s bicep.

“Don’t worry,” she said to Dean. “I won’t. See you in court.”

The guard held the door open for Dean and then the car was pulling away as if nothing had happened.

Grace was shaking.

“It’s alright,” Matt said in a low, deep voice that hummed with suppressed anger. “It’s okay.”

They walked in silence for a moment before Matt abruptly tugged her into an alleyway.

“He hurt you,” he said as she leaned against the brick wall. The words were all gravel and broken glass and smoke. The devil in Matt’s body, barely hidden underneath the skin in his anger.

“I–” Grace started to say that she was okay, but she wasn’t. It wasn’t that Dean had hurt her, it’s that he had threatened the people she cared about. It was that, in her distracted and happy bubble, he’d snuck up on her.

Matt was hovering close to her without touching.

“What are you doing?” she asked softly. “You’re hovering.”

Matt clenched and unclenched his fists. “I don’t–I don’t want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable.”

She felt like laughing and crying all at once. “I know you won’t hurt me, Matt,” she said. She knew he could hear the truth in her heartbeat because he surged forward as soon as the words were out. He was still careful though, his hands gentle at her throat, at the corner of her mouth were blood welled from the slap across her mouth.

“Talk to me,” Matt said, a tremble in his voice. His hands were steady, though, and he pressed his forehead to hers as he gently gripped her shoulders. “Because I am so close to following him and blowing my cover,” he said with a humorless laugh. She could see the devil in every tense line of him–his taut shoulders, his wide stance, the way his jaw worked and twitched, the slow tremble up his spine as he fought for control.

“I–I have no idea what to say,” she said. She clutched at the lapels of his jacket. “Elephants. Coffee. Marmalade. I don’t know.” Matt huffed another laugh. “Shit, I didn’t get the coffee.”

“Forget the coffee,” Matt said. “Let’s just–let’s go home.”

“Okay,” she said around the sudden lump in her throat. Home. Home with Matt. Home, where she would be safe. Home, where Dean couldn’t get to her, because she had the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen at her side. “Tell Foggy we’re having crazy sex and can’t come back.”

Matt snorted and some of the tension in his shoulders eased. “I think I’ll just tell him the truth. I–We need to–” He stopped and stepped back. His hands clenched and unclenched again. Like he wanted to hit something. And despite her past, Grace didn’t fear for a second that he would hit her. The thought didn’t even cross her mind. “We need to document this, for the case.”

Grace blew out a breath. “Okay. Yeah.”

She realized she must be in shock, because she felt relatively calm. Or maybe it was the man with her, a man who she knew would keep her safe even at his own expense.

“Oh my god, you got hit by his car,” she said after a beat of silence. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

He brushed the back of one hand up her arm like he couldn’t bear to stop touching her for even a moment. “I didn’t have time to go get the suit,” he said and the end of the sentence turned into another growl. “I had to–I didn’t know what was happening and it was the best I could–”

His words cut off with a grunt as she kissed him. It hurt her split lip but she didn’t care.

“Thank you,” she breathed as she pulled away. She buried her face into the space where his neck met his shoulder and inhaled the comforting scent of him. “God–Thank you.”

Matt’s arms tightened around her. He pressed his lips to the top of her hair then inhaled, breathing her in. “I smelled blood on him,” Matt said after a moment. “Him and another. Your handiwork?”

Grace laughed. “Yeah, actually. Headbutted the guy who grabbed me then punched Dean in the face.”

“Good,” Matt said fiercely.

“Let’s go home. I need a long shower after…that.” Grace shuddered. Sometimes she wondered how she had ever loved Dean after seeing his true face. But he was so adept at hiding the monster underneath that of course she’d fallen for the facade time and time again.

Matt called Foggy on the way back to the apartment, outlining what was going on. She could hear the outrage in Foggy’s voice over the speaker even though she couldn’t make out the exact words. Matt’s voice was deadly calm. She knew he was pushing that rage down for her. That he was leashing the devil once more so he wouldn’t snap in her presence. She longed to let him loose on Dean, to let Dean feel the same fear she’d felt for so long.

Matt promised Foggy that Grace was okay but that they were going to take the rest of the afternoon. He promised to have her send time stamped pictures of the new injuries along with a statement so they had something to add to their case.

Grace thought about Dean threatening Matt, Foggy, and Karen as they stepped into the apartment. Her blood boiled all over again. Hurting her wasn’t enough–he had to threaten to hurt her new friends, the people she had come to care about the most.

Things happen. A robbery gone wrong. A hit and run. A suicide.

“–shower first?” Matt was saying, interrupting her dark thoughts.

But her mind kept going, running the scene back for her now that she was home, now that she was safe.

What do you think happened to your father?

All of Grace’s breath left her in a rush. Her legs went out from underneath her. She hit the floor on her knees with a hard thud that she barely felt.

The pain in her chest was instant. She was being ripped in two, the edges frayed and blazing with fire even as the hole gaped open wider and wider and wider, revealing her bloody insides, the scars in her heart that she’d thought had healed.

She couldn’t breathe. One hand scrabbled for purchase on the hardwood while the other clutched at the wound in her chest that no one could see.

No, she thought. It couldn’t be true.

But–

What do you think happened to your father?

Dean had killed her father.

Matt’s POV

Everything changed in an instant.

Matt was loosening his tie, asking Grace if she wanted coffee or to shower first, when her heart stopped and her breath left her in a rush. Before he could react, she was going down, her knees hitting the ground so hard he thought something had broken.

He was at her side in an instant, senses on high alert, listening for an intruder or a gunshot or some indication of an internal wound he couldn’t see. Her breath wheezed out of her, her body not getting enough oxygen, even as her heart tripled its usual steady pace.

“Grace?” Matt said, every cell in his body focusing on her. Fear clawed up his throat as she clutched at her chest, the other clawing across the floor. She was still wheezing, still barely breathing. “Grace, what’s wrong? What hurts?”

Had that bastard done something to her? Was she bleeding somewhere inside, hemorrhaging where he couldn’t see?

Matt’s fingers fluttered over her body, searching for any sign of injuries or internal wounds. But everything seemed to be working fine. Her heart was beating fast, panicked, but it was working the way it should. And she was wheezing still, but her lungs were clear of any obstructions. He gently touched around her skull next but everything there was in place, too, not even a hint of swelling in her brain.

Then she started sobbing.

The sound pierced him like an arrow. It stole his breath.

“Grace,” he said, tears coming unbidden to his eyes at the sound of her agony. “Sweetheart, what is it? What’s wrong?”

She was in pain, so clearly in pain, but there was nothing discernibly wrong with her.

Matt gathered her into his arms. He rocked her gently while one hand continued searching for injuries. “Tell me what hurts, Grace,” he begged around the fear that was choking him. “Tell me how I can help because I don’t know what to do.”

The sounds coming from her could only be described as anguish. Matt couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong or how. One moment she was fine–as fine as she could be, that is–and the next she had been on her knees crying out in pain

“Please, Grace,” he said into her hair as she clutched him like a lifeline while she sobbed. “Tell me what to do. Please. Grace, please.”

“He–” The word choked her as it came out like it was tangible, like it had edges. “He–” Another anguished cry tore from her throat. “He killed him, Matt.”

Matt froze. “Killed who?”

Grace cried out again. Her whole body shuddered and it was all he could do to clutch her, to hold her together, to try and keep her safe from some unknown foe.

“He killed my dad, Matt,” she said and broke down sobbing again. “Dean killed my dad, he told me–he killed him, Matt, and it’s my fault and I–” She choked again and another tremble rocked her frame.

Matt stroked her hair even as he fought the turmoil within him.

“When?” he finally said. His heart broke for her even as the rage resurfaced, hotter and brighter than before.

Grace sobbed out the answer. “Years. Years ago.”

And all Matt could do was hold her as she cried, as her world came apart around her, not realizing that he was the sole thing holding her together.

taglist:

@zaminoo @yanna-banana @bellal1 @thetrinity @lorosette @harry-bowie-mercury @feliciab1990 @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters

#daredevil x original character #matt murdock x ofc #daredevil fic #daredevil x ofc #daredevil x oc #daredevil #netflix daredevil #matthew murdock #matt murdock x original character #matt murdock x original female character #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock

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madschiavelique · 3 months

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did an edit for bestie @gracethyomen of her cutsie fic Arm’s Length Away !! go check their stuff out ✨

i am still very new to editing but hopefully it’s okiii

#mads rambles ⟢ ݁ ˖‧˚₊ ☁︎#matt murdock #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x original female character #daredevil #daredevil edit #daredevil x oc #daredevil x original female character #matt murdock edit #oc edit

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samantha-rae-velcher · 2 years

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Me and the devil, walking side by side.

Matt Murdock x Fem reader

Requested by: none

Warnings: mentions of blood, swearing, fluff.

A/n: I've never written for Matt before so I'm sorry if it's shit. (Matt isn't blind in this story)

Summary: Matt and Y/n have been dating for six years, They both hold a secret that is about to be uncovered. Y/n knows of Matt, but what she doesn't know, is of his nights as the vigilante Daredevil. Matt sees Y/n but what he doesn't see is Cadaver. A silent (The city assumed it was a man) person who went about the joint kicking ass and taking names.

________________

Y/n crashed through a window and rolled onto a roof, four men surrounded her and held up knives.

"Well Cadaver, looks like you're just as dead as your fuckin name!"

She turned to him, voice changer turned on..

"Was that supposed to be clever? You just sounded like an idiot."

Daredevil stood on top of the service shed, staring down at what was going on below him.

"Well come on then, what are you waiting for? Oh! You want me to make the first move!? Okay!"

Y/n grabbed one of the men by the front of his shirt and punched him, spinning around she smacked the knife out of the other man's hand and pushed him into the other.

She dodged a swing from the man with a scar, Daredevil jumped down and began taking on the two she pushed. The man she punched stood up and grabbed the knife, sinking it deep into her side.

She cried out in pain and flipped the guy over her shoulder, kicking him in the head to knock him out. The other she pushed off the roof and he landed on the top of a car.

Y/n turned around to see Daredevil standing over the unconscious bodies of the other two men. She slowly walked a tad closer, Y/n picked up the knife and slipped it into her boot.

Matt took note of how her black mask shined in the moonlight, he tilted his head and asked...

"Who are you?"

"I'm Cadaver, and you're in my district." A warped low voice replied from the person in front of him.

"Strange way of saying thank you."

"Who are you?"

"Daredevil, but...my true name...I'll leave you guessing."

Y/n smiled, she liked this guy's attitude. He reminded her of Matt.

They moved closer, circling each other. Y/n gasped when she felt a hot sting come from her side, her adrenaline was wearing off and she was starting to feel the pain from being stabbed.

"Fuckin hell!" She cursed.

Matt looked at her side and stepped closer, she held up her hand for him to stop. He did and watched as blood started running down the black leather suit she was wearing.

"Hey, thank you for helping me...imma go...you do you...I hope I see you again." She said.

He nodded and watched as she jumped off the side of the building.

_________________

Matt got home to Y/n making dinner, he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Matt pressed gentle kisses to her neck and shoulder and turned her to him.

"You smell amazing." He whispered.

She smiled. "And you, my love. Smell like sweat and dirt. What the hell have you been doing?"

"Nothing important."

She shrugged and pointed to the bathroom.

"Go take a shower, then come eat dinner."

"Yes, ma'am." He dipped his head and captured her lips and a deep loving kiss, the headed off to the bathroom.

_______________________

Cadaver sat on the edge of a tall building with Daredevil, they looked out onto the city and just took it all in.

"Do you have anyone special?" He asked.

She looked at him confused..

"We just fucked up around 20 people and that's what you ask me?"

"It was a simple question."

She nodded, and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm currently in a relationship, me and him-" she cut herself off.

He looked over at her and chuckled..

"I had a feeling you were a woman, your personality and the style in which you fight. Please continue."

She took a deep breath.

"Me and him have been together for a long time, he handsome and tall. Funny and sometimes stupid, he's really good at his job."

Y/n looked over at him.

"Do you have anyone?" She asked.

"Oh yes." Matt replied with the biggest smile on his face. "Y/n is the sweetest little thing you could ever lay eyes on. She's young beautiful, kind. She'd never hurt a fly."

"Y/n, huh?" That's a beautiful name.

He smiled. "She is my everything."

Y/n was sitting there eyes wide, he couldn't see. She had her mask on, she couldn't believe it was Matt sitting in front of her. Anyone could have the same name as her, but NO ONE! Could have the same voice as Matt. He said she wouldn't hurt a fly, but here she was kicking the ever loving shit out.of criminals.

"I gotta go." She said. "He's probably expecting me."

He smiled and nodded.

"Ill make one last round of your district then I think I'll head home too."

"Goodnight." Cadaver whispered.

________________

Y/n came crashing through the front door ripping the leather suit off of herself. kicking the door shut, y/n took a mad dash to the stairs and bolted to the bedroom.

"Holy fuck! Holy fuck! Holy fuck!" She yelled.

Y/n pulled on a t-shirt and sweat pants, she rolled up her suit and tossed it into the back of the closet, she popped the trim of the wall and pushed her mask into the square cut out she made in the wall.

"Sweet heart, I'm home." Matt yelled from downstairs.

Y/n slowly made her way to him, wrapping him in a warm hug and gently kissing his neck.

"Oh, is that what you want tonight?" He asked in a sly tone.

Capturing his lips in a searing kiss she agreed with herself. Yep, Matt was definitely Daredevil.

He dragged his hands down her sides, but stopped when she let out a sharp gasp.

"What's wrong?" Matt asked.

Then he felt the hot liquid seeping into her shirt, he looked at her side and saw the blood.

Matt picked her up and laid her on the couch, he lifted her shirt just enough to inspect the wound. Matt winced when she cried out in pain, it reminded him of the night he helped Cadaver. He looked at Y/n and lowered his brows, he then went to the bathroom and grabbed a towel and the med kit.

Matt stitched her up pretty nicely, he was bandaging her up when he asked. "How did you get stabbed?"

Y/n was quite, she knew he was onto her. Best not to lie, why would she lie? He wouldn't be mad at her, would he? Even if he was she could have his ass in a vice for the Daredevil shit. Finally she had the courage to speak.

"Do you have anyone special?"

He stopped what he was doing and looked at her, he moved closer and gently tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Oh yes, she is the sweetest little thing you could ever lay eyes on. She's young, beautiful, kind. And she can kick some serious ass."

THE END❤️

#Matt Murdock x reader #fyp #fanfic #foryou #foryoupage #x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x y/n #daredevil #daredevil x female reader #daredevil x oc #daredevil x y/n #daredevil x f!reader

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farfromstrange · 1 year

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Pointless | m.m

A Foreigner's God One-shot.

[BUT IT CAN BE READ SEPERATELY SO I TAGGED IR MATTXREADER]

no name used.

FG masterlist

Summary: A glimpse into how much she truly means to him.

Warnings: none, fluff

a/n: I was listening to Pointless by Lewis Capaldi (because I'm gonna see him in concert in March and I love the song) and I instantly thought of them. I only did it with the first part of the thing because there are details I’ve already written about. Maybe I’ll do the second part at a later time. Who knows. Do with this as you will.

I bring her coffee in the morning.

Love is one of the strongest emotions the human soul is capable of concocting. Sometimes, we fall in love fast and hard and often without warning, and that love goes over just as fast. And then there are times when we fall in love so deeply, chances are we will never fall out of love with that person again.

Matt could count down the times he’s been in love on one hand. The first time was the worst one because he fell in love with the wrong person. He fell in love for the first time with someone who was sent to turn him into something he was not, and while she fell for him too, loving her made him feel the most worthless he ever had.

There was Elektra and then there was her.

The woman he met that one summer night on the roof of one of Hell’s Kitchen’s most organic butcher shops. Even throughout the stench of death, pearled meat, and blood, all he could smell was her. She put him under a spell the second he first picked up on her heartbeat, the vanilla and unique scent of her sensitive body wash going with the wind and brushing through the tiny hairs in his nose where the receptors responsible for his sense of smell lay.

He had only sneered at her attempts to attack him, but she was stronger than he anticipated and he got his ass handed to him for the first time since college. At that moment he knew that he needed to see her again. He fell in love without knowing right away. The more time he spent with her, the clearer the fact got and when he finally acknowledged it, she was too deep in her own state of denial to return his feelings.

It took far too long for them to find together, too many tears shed and too many sleepless nights spent next to each other before she left and took his heart with her. And then she almost died and he felt empty all over again. She pushed him away with the cruelest things to say and that should have been the last straw. It should have been the last straw with Elektra, so it should have been with her as well. He should have listened to his common sense. He deserved better. She was toxic for him, as were all the people he had ever felt anything resembling love toward - except Foggy because in that case, Matt was the toxic one. His relationship were doomed to fail, he realized that, so his twisted, conscious response was to hold on tighter before she forced him to let go.

And even then he came climbing back up the ragged edges of the cliff to crawl back home to her on bloodied knees, more than willing to do whatever she told him it would take to make her love him. He didn’t need much, he only wanted her, no matter the capacity.

But all of his kneeling at God’s feet proved fruitful. She came back. Against all odds, she fell in love with him too, and not because she lost at a game or failed the mission. She fell in love with him because of him. There was no catch, although he feared that every time he woke up next to her in bed, listening to her even breathing heartbeat and he struggled to fall asleep again.

What if she slipped away again? He asked himself the same question over and over again, and over and over again he woke up with her still beside him, either curled into his chest or tangled in his sheets and pillow, sleeping like a princess. She was the most innocent like that, and nothing could hurt her when he was next to her. Perhaps if he kept reminding himself that she was still alive and right next to him by running his hand down her bare back, he could start telling himself that his love no longer remained unrequited. He could tell himself that war was over, finally, and that he had nothing more to worry about. She was his and she swore she wouldn’t leave. That had to count for something because her heartbeat told the truth, and he knew she would never lie to him. She hadn’t done so before, so she surely wouldn’t start now that they were both recovering and starting to fall into a rhythm that fit for the both of them.

Matt was so in love with her that it hurt. But it wasn’t bad pain, realized. The pain reminded him that their love was real, at least, and he wasn’t imagining or dreaming.

The world around him was so loud all the time, though the streets suddenly went quiet every time he woke up in her arms. He made it a tradition to bring her coffee for breakfast because he was often the first one awake, especially with her nightmares lulling her mind into an exhausted fog only early in the morning.

“Why do you keep doing that?” She asked him out of the blue one morning and he frowned, not quite sure what she meant, and his heart jumped at the uncertainty – maybe he had done something, messed up, and didn’t realize it because he had been told the same thing many times before.

She was something he didn’t want to screw up. Her love was too valuable to lose, and she was by far the greatest and most understanding person he had ever met who was more than okay with who he was.

Peaceful, he believed, was the word he searched for. She was peaceful and it made him feel more at ease with who he was, the noise and the smell of the world mattered less. They were never fully gone, but with her around he had something else to focus on, and she was patient enough to take her time and take care of him when he needed it.

Fiddling with the mug, his eyebrows furrowed and unclenched, his lip tilting into an awkward smile as he tried his best to point his sightless gaze in her direction. He was getting better every day, anticipating the position of her eyes and her face just by listening to her breath, but his eyes more often than not missed the mark because he couldn’t tell where exactly he was pointing them. She often turned his head, knowing he wanted nothing more than to give her a sense of normality, even though she told him countless times that she didn’t even notice – this was something that couldn’t go unnoticed, and yet to her, it was normal. She didn’t care, but he still felt the need to adjust just a little, even if it was just for his personal satisfaction.

“Do what?” he asked right back.

Her finger traced the brim of the mug, playing with the condensed air from the hot coffee. The water slid over her fingertips and into the lines on her palm, soaking into the skin.

“Make me coffee every morning,” she said. “You do that every day, but you never let me do it. Why?”

The answer sounded quite simple. “Because I love you,” he stated. But it wasn’t exactly simple.

Love means different things to different people. For Matt, the word had a deeper meaning, and the way he felt about her ran even further than that. He made her coffee because she brought him peace and loving her made him feel the desperate need to serve. His love language was touch paired with acts of service, especially those he wanted to make seem as casual as possible – their relationship was far from normal, their lives even more so; doing something as domestic as making his girlfriend coffee in the morning offered a certain escape from the world of pain they resided in. Together, the weight of the world became more bearable. He needed the peace as much as she did, and if brewing a kettle of coffee before breakfast and waking her up with gentle kisses could offer some of that, he would do just that. It was the least he could do and the least she deserved.

Matt noticed a lot about her throughout their relationship. Every little thing, he noted. Every little thing made him fall only deeper in love with her.

She brings me inner peace.

I take her to fancy restaurants. She takes the sadness out of me.

If there was one thing she hated it had to be those expensive restaurants on the upper east side that Tony often took her to. It reminded her of different times, times before her life went to hell, and she didn’t want to go back there ever again.

She was happy with what little money they had, and if going on a dinner date at a cheap diner was what it took, then she would gladly do it.

Though every once in a while, Matt liked to treat his girl. He wanted to treat her right. So he grabbed whatever gift he had picked up and took her to one of the restaurants in Manhattan that he could barely afford, but saved up to make her feel special. She put on a fancy dress and he put on a tuxedo and together, they ate the most expensive food known to man, but it was good and it felt normal.

They laughed all evening, spending the entire walk home just chatting and laughing and he could be carefree, finally, because there was not a city that needed him but the love of his life by his side, removing all the terrible thoughts from his mind and filling him with the utmost joy. He couldn’t ask for anything better.

I love it when her mind wanders,

And she loves it when I stay at home.

I know when she's lost and she knows when I feel alone.

And whenever he cried, she would be there to hold him. Always. She would ask him to dance or sing to him and the world would feel a little less terrible. In exchange, he did the same for her. But the nights they spent tangled in the kitchen, cookies in the oven and dancing to some song she found on Spotify that was not meant for slow dancing, but they did it anyway because they belonged together and everything could be what they wanted it to. There were not limits as long as they were together.

I make her cards on her birthday,

She makes me a better man.

Matt loved her. He loved her so much, it hurt. For her, he wanted to try all the things good boyfriends to - make breakfast in bed, take her out to dinner or lunch, buy her flowers every day, make random gifts or cook, and she ate it up every time. Every little thing he did, she was thankful for, he could tell, and she gave back just as generously. She read him like an open book. Nothing went past her. She would do whatever it took to make him feel better than he did, and in exchange, he turned from the selfish man he thought he was into someone else. The catholic guilt barely mattered anymore. He found his faith again because he found her and their lives were better together. It was normal, domestic, and he wanted to marry her so desperately, he wasn’t sure how long he could hold it off.

I take her water when she's thirsty,

She takes me as I am.

There was nothing that could have possibly separated them.

Without her, nothing was the name, and his life seemed a little less worth it. He needed her like he needed air. He prayed for her to stay, that she would never leave him. There was no point to living if she wasn’t with him. He needed to hold onto that, the little sliver of happiness, no more fear or pushing away, just them for all eternity.

He needed her and she needed him and together, they could survive anything that life might throw their way.

From all my airs and graces,

To the little things I do;

Everything is pointless without you.

#matt murdock x female!oc #foreigner's god #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock fluff #song fic #pointless by lewis capaldi #matt murdock imagines #human disaster matt murdock #matt murdock angst #marvel #matt murdock fic #daredevil fic

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yarrystyleeza · 9 months

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Spiderlyn, to the rescue!

Because Daredevil always needs his Spidey girl, Madilyn took it as a duty. (not canon)

"wanna go for a walk?"

13. 08. 23

#yarrystyleeza #daredevil #matt murdock #art #madilyn mayfield #madilynmayfield #mattilyn #matt murdock x female!oc #matt murdock x ofc #matt murdock x original character #artists on tumblr #daredevil art #daredevil fanart #matt murdock art #matt murdock fanart #spidersona art #spidersona

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petertingle-yipyip · 1 year

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MAD AT GOD - MATT MURDOCK

Season Three - Lover of Mine

tags: @mayasaurus--rex @americaarse @dusstory @johnmurphys-sass @ironprincessstranger @astrobees @woowwwee // five // seven // masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 9,732

Summary: The constant circles and playing different parts grows more and more dizzying as events continue to unfold. Alliances tested and lives endangered, Ex and The Man in the Mask take a stand against the new Daredevil.

“How? Y/N, calm down and talk to me. What happened?”

“I can’t calm down!” You snapped and he stepped in front of you, hands landing on either arm to stop you.

“You’re burning up.”

“Yeah, no shit.” You almost yelled. “This puts everything at risk!”

“Slow down, Y/N/N.” He said carefully. “Tell me what happened.”

“He cut my mask. I grabbed it and he saw me. He saw my face.”

“But he has no proof.” Matt offered calmly, though you knew your frazzled state was radiating and vibrating through him. He stood before you as solid as ever. “He can’t throw around an accusation like that without proof.”

“You can’t accuse him of being the knock-off Daredevil without proof either.” You deadpanned.

“I have proof.” He let go of one arm and held out Dex’s tape player.

“That doesn’t connect him to Fisk. And that doesn’t change the fact that he knows who I am. And- And Ray. Oh my god, Ray. We have to find him.”

“Don’t worry, okay? I’m gonna take care of it.” He promised.

“He’s gonna try to blackmail me. He’s- He’s gonna expect me to go along with it. He’s going-“

“So go along with it.” Matt nodded and your jaw went slack. “Your mask records, doesn’t it? You can get proof.”

“This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. I didn’t want to have to use this for a double agent. The whole point of her is to do things on my terms. Besides, in case you forgot-“ You thumped your fingers against his forehead. ”- I’m a federal agent. I can’t exactly walk around my office in a bulletproof body suit.”

“Nothing bad is gonna happen to you.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one in the middle of a shit show.”

“He won’t hurt you.”

“Stop acting like you know him! You don’t!”

“Why are you acting like you care about him? You didn’t want anything to do with me when you said I betrayed you back in that alley. But he chooses to work for Fisk and you don’t care?”

“He’s gonna see this as a betrayal.” You gestured wildly towards the apartment below you. “It makes me look like the untrustworthy one.”

“Since when do you care what others think of you?” He scoffed lightly.

“Matthew, you are not listening to me.” You spoke slowly, emphasizing each word. “That man will not hesitate if he gets a chance to kill me.”

“He won’t.” He shook his head firmly.

“Yeah, cause you’ll be there to protect me, right?” You mocked. “You can’t even come to the goddamn apartment. You expect me to believe that you’ll be around now?”

He sighed and nodded in resignation. “Are you gonna hold that against me forever?”

“Are you gonna give me a reason to believe you? C’mon, I mean… You act like you love me and then you ask if I ever manipulated you.”

Your implant pinging caught your attention so you stepped away from Matt to answer it.

“You need to find Ray.” You said over your shoulder as you put distance between you two.

“Yeah?” You said simply, hearing the shuffle of Matt’s boots as he left.

“Have you talked to Karen?” Foggy asked on the other end.

“Not since the questioning. Why?”

“I invited her to this thing and she said she’d come but she hasn’t shown up. I’m a little worried. Did you know she lost her job?”

“Ellison fired her?”

“Cause she wouldn’t give up his real name.”

“Shit.” You sighed, though you appreciated the loyalty. “Uh, yeah. I can track her phone, hang on.”

“You can do that?”

“Yeah, I’ve saved all of your numbers to a program that can locate your phones by SIM card. Back when we thought Matt was just a dumbass, I wanted to make sure he didn’t fall in down a manhole whenever he didn’t answer the phone.” You explained while you slid your finger across the mask. You held it in place with the other hand while you looked around the city. “Okay, I found her. Looks like she’s just driving around. I’ve gotta get back to work so I’ll text you if I get a hold of her.”

“Thanks, Y/N/N.”

“It’s what I do.” You shrugged and tapped the implant off.

You snuck off the roof and to your car, parked at the empty structure a few blocks over. You changed back into work clothes and headed to the Presidential. You got to the media room and took a seat at the monitors,

though your mind was still buzzing.

You wondered how long it would take until Dex opened his mouth. Would he tell Fisk and let the big man try to play you? Would he go after you the way he went after Jasper? Or would he sit in silence? Let you drive yourself mad with the possibility that he could out you at any second. That he could make you the fugitive instead of him. You didn’t like the leverage he had over you and you needed a way to take it away.

You needed to get the advantage. And what better way to do that than to put yourself in a position above him to boot him out.

When you finally managed to focus on work, you realized who Fisk was talking to.

“Hey.” You waved one of the other agents down without taking your eyes off the screen. “Who let her in?”

“Page?” The agent asked and you nodded. “His lawyers okay’d it. She said she’s writing a story about his mother. Who gives a shit?”

“Are you guys stupid?” You urged. “She worked at the firm that got him locked up. Why would you let her in?”

“Lawyers said it was fine.” One of them shrugged. “Besides, it’s not like we can go in with her.. We got the cameras on so she’ll be fine. Didn’t that firm shut down anyway?”

Either your colleagues were complete idiots or they were absolutely clueless.

You disguised the use of your implant as a scratch to your head, tuning into their conversation as you watched it unfold on the screens in front of you. You heard what she said as she leaned in close and your hand tightened into a fist. She was egging Fisk on by claiming to have killed Wesley. She wanted Fisk to put hands on her, but you knew that for Wesley, he’d kill her.

“Come with me.” You stood quickly and gestured to both agents. “Now!”

“What?” One of them asked, though he stood.

“Why?” The other said and followed suit. As you were stepping into the hall, you ran into Foggy.

“You’ve gotta get her out of there.” Foggy said and you nodded, hurrying past him. There was a hushed conversation between the men behind you but you ignored it.

You kicked the door open and raised your gun, pointing it at Fisk. You yelled for him to get back, to keep hands where you could see them and to get away from her. Your coworker escorted Karen out but you stayed to make sure Fisk didn’t try anything while you guided him to his room with a gun at his back.

“Did you know?” He asked tightly and you knew what he meant.

“I know she was lying.” You answered quietly. “And I know the truth. I’ve always known.”

“And you hid it from me?”

“I thought you would’ve been perceptive enough to put it together on your own. The burn on his chest… was an electrical burn. The bullets were just an extra.” You said with a small smile.

“You?” He turned with a sneer, taking a step closer.

“Careful.” You said confidently as you put your gun away, flaunting that you were untouchable at that moment as you lifted a finger in the general direction of one of the cameras. “You’re gonna need me if you wanna keep your newest toy. You didn’t need me to break him because you were already plotting to take everything from him. Imagine how he’ll react once he knows.”

His brows furrowed as you backed away.

“Maybe you’ve gone too far… I’d love to test that theory. This is gonna be fun.” You smiled and his eyes went wide for a moment when he realized.

You hopped down the steps and back out, finding your friends in the hall. The doors closed behind you and the agents posted tried to talk to you, to apologize and ask how you knew something was wrong, but you ignored them.

“Page.” You called and she rolled her eyes before looking at you. “Are you insane? I mean, honestly, have you lost it?”

“I had him.” She said angrily before turning to the elevator. “And you ruined it. You both ruined it.”

“Ruined it?” You laughed. “I just saved your ass. He would’ve killed you. Are you really that desperate?”

“At least it would’ve been on video.”

“Goddammit, Karen. Don’t turn into Matt on me.” Foggy said with a small stomp.

“Hey.” You reached foward and grabbed her arm to spin her so she would face you fully. “You really wanna try and get yourself killed? Because guess what, if you weren’t on his shit list before, you are now. I can’t protect everyone when you’re all running off in different directions like toddlers.”

“Then don’t.” She snapped. “And I didn’t want him to kill me.. Just to come after me.”

“Yeah, that’s so much better.” Foggy rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, well I got the idea from you. Talking about getting Tower worked up. I thought I just had to get him to stop thinking, to react emotionally.”

“Last time he did that, he decapitated one of the Russian brothers with an SUV door.” You said simply. “You think he wouldn’t have done something like that to you?”

“It’s not a bad plan, except for the part where you have to hope the FBI comes in before he beats you to death.”

“Let’s be honest. If I wasn’t here, those ball scratchers wouldn’t have gotten in there in time. Half the people here don’t want to be here so they don’t give a shit.”

“Doesn’t matter now, does it?” She snapped and pushed into the elevator.

“Neither does you throwing that name around.” You said quickly.

“What?”

“He knows it was me. Probably won’t save you from retaliation but it can keep him on me a little longer.”

“Why would you-“ Foggy tried but the door shut before his sentence could finish.

Later that night, you were sitting in the media room at the closing hour of your shift. You were waiting for one of the others to come take over when you felt it, so saturated it almost knocked you out of your chair. It was a burst of rage, white hot and pulsing. You felt it seer through you, hotter than anything you felt from yourself or Matt. It was like it had been brewing for a long time, building and burning and festering until it broke its way out.

And it was coming from a few floors below. It was coming from Dex.

Your apparent betrayal broke him and you weren’t completely sure it was a good thing.

Meanwhile, back in his secluded underground part of the church, Matt was looking for something else to think of. All his mind kept coming back to, other than letting Dex get away, was her. He could understand why she didn’t want to believe her partner was working for Fisk. He believed that she did what she could to keep him away, but she was right. She couldn’t control everyone all the time so it wasn’t fair for Matt to throw that at her. And Fisk was smart. He had to have known Y/N was trying to keep Dex away from him. So he found ways to break him that not even Y/N could stop. Things Y/N probably didn’t

even know about, not until it was done.

He was listening to the tape with Maggie when his mind finally let her go, just for a minute.

“He didn’t have any parents. Spent a lot of time fighting. Angry.” He said simply, just stating what he had learned, when Maggie hummed in response. “Go ahead and say it.”

“I promised to keep my mouth shut.” She answered.

“But you wanna say it sounds familiar.”

“More ways than one.”

“I didn’t have anyone either but I’m nothing like him.” Matt shook his head. “The tapes make it sound like he was a killer at a young age.”

“That bit sounds familiar, too.” Maggie said to herself, but they both knew Matt would hear it.

Was that why Y/N protected him? She saw herself in him?

“Y/N’s nothing like this guy, okay?” He decided. “She actually cares about people and has a heart. The guy’s a psychopath… And I had a chance today. A shot to catch him off guard and I blew it.”

“You did what you thought was right. You kept your word to Agent Nadeem.”

“Yeah. And how many people are gonna die because of it? Not to mention that he knows about Y/N. Now she’s in the middle of it and either has to go along with this or go on the run. He could throw her under the bus, same way Fisk did to me, just to save his own ass. He doesn’t care about her.”

“Do you think Y/N can keep herself alive? Or does she need you to be her knight in shining armor all the time?”

“I just want her to be safe. After everything I’ve done, I owe her that.”

“I think you owe her more than that.”

He sighed heavily and nodded. He knew he couldn’t run from her questions forever. It wasn’t fair to leave her so deep in the dark. And it was killing him all the same.

“She’s gonna get herself killed trying to save this guy.” Matt spoke with a certain bitterness. Bitter towards Y/N’s sudden adherence to morals that he once claimed, towards her sudden belief that people could change.

It made him wonder what had changed so drastically in the time he was gone that she would stand so adamantly in a losing fight.

“You said this man is her partner at the FBI?” Maggie changed the subject.

Matt reluctantly nodded. He hated the idea that she would have to go back and be around him, to essentially be at his mercy. At the same time he knew if there was one person in Hell’s Kitchen that wasn’t helpless, it was Y/N.

“Then she knows his tendencies better than you do. She’s a very strong, very smart girl. I’m sure she’s endured worse so she can take care of herself until you two have a plan.”

“I don’t think she wants to do this with me anymore.”

“This?” She gestured to Matt. “Or this?” She tapped her chest where her heart was.

“Both.”

“Just give her time, Matthew. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, like you hung the stars. That’s not something that can be thrown away. You both will always be there for the other when they call.”

She left after that, allowing Matt to punch his pain away. He was angry. At himself, at Dex, at Fisk. He even wanted to be angry at Y/N, but all she had done was refuse to leave him. How could he be angry at that? As he worked on the punching bag he could hear Sister Maggie’s prayer in the church above. He was listening but also not, using it as a sort of background noise. It wasn’t until the end that it mattered.

“Our son is too much like you, Jack.”

Our son … Jack.

“Mom?” Matt muttered as he fell to his knees.

He was in complete disbelief but suddenly, it all made sense. That’s why she made sure he was okay. That’s why she made sure he had a place to stay. That’s why she refused to give up on him. He didn’t know what to do, what to think.

But he knew his heart was calling for Y/N, in a way only she would know. In a way that he wasn’t sure he deserved anymore.

You couldn’t call him. You doubted the man had a phone anymore. You had just gotten home when you felt that crushing feeling, that world shattering uncertainty. It made you dizzy when you walked through the door and you nearly fell to the floor.

You made it to your couch and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be absorbed by that heavy feeling. You pushed back, following that line back to Matt. You were hoping he wouldn’t ignore you. You were hoping he would understand, but with the intensity he was putting out, you didn’t know what would get through to him.

Come home, Matt. Let me help you.

Damn it all if you didn’t forget that you were angry when he really needed you.

You fell asleep on the couch waiting for a response. You waited for a change in feeling or to feel it growing closer. You waited to hear him calling your name or touch your shoulder. You waited for the door or some sign that he was there. You didn’t know how late it was when he finally showed up.

He sat beside you on the couch and gave your leg a gentle shake, but you still jumped up in a hurry. Unsure if it was Matt or Dex or someone else to kill you, your hands raised reflexively into fists while your eyes tried to adjust to the neon shining in. Matt chuckled and put his hands over yours, gently pushing them down and assuring you it was just him.

“Matt.” You sighed and relaxed next to him. “What happened?”

“Sister Maggie, she was upstairs praying.” He said carefully, but you could tell there was a waver in his voice, threatening to break. “She was asking my dad for guidance and said ‘our son’.”

“Talking about you?”

“Why else would she talk to him?”

“Took a while for you to get here… Where’d you go?”

“Father Lantom.”

“Was it any help?”

“No.”

“How can I help? Tell me what you need.”

“I don’t know.” He nearly whispered. “It was right there, the whole time. Y/N, everything could’ve been different.”

“Yeah, but then who knows if it would’ve been good or bad different.” You tried gently. You reached forward carefully to remove the familiar glasses and he didn’t stop you. Instead, he gave you a small smile and turned his head towards you. “Maybe we don’t meet. Maybe I end up with a different vigilante boyfriend. Maybe you end up as a priest, too. Who knows what would’ve changed?”

“I could’ve had my mom.” He spoke softly.

“I know.” You nodded and gently ran fingers through the sides of his hair. “Did I ever tell you about my dad?”

“I thought you didn’t know him.” He shifted his body towards you.

“I don’t, but I did meet him once, before I met you.” Your hand fell to his shoulder. “My aunt, Melina, would talk about them when I was a kid. I looked up their names when I got out, found some leads and kept tugging strings till I found him living in a small town in California. He had a new wife and a son… I remember when I left him, I kept thinking that I could’ve had a brother. I could’ve had siblings and a real family if he was willing to run just a little while longer.”

“What happened when you met him?”

“He said my mother was dead and so was her daughter, Alexa. He was talking about me.”

“Your name is Alexa?”

“To my parents, yes. Once I wasn’t theirs, that little girl did die and Y/N was born, which is fine. Alexa’s someone else completely as far as I care. Listen, my point is that I could’ve had a different life, too. But you can’t sit here and think about ‘what if’. What if I was never in the Red Room or if I never got out? What if I never came to Hell’s Kitchen? What if I never went to Columbia?”

“So you think I shouldn’t do anything?”

“I think you shouldn’t let it change too much now. I know you want to figure things out, but I’m sure she was just young and scared. People don’t always do the smartest thing when they’re scared.”

“You ever make a bad decision cause you were scared?”

“Leaving you the first time.” You confessed, though that event felt so far away given everything that had happened since. “I didn’t want to scare you and Foggy away with the truth so I left. I left you alone, Matt, and I never wanted to.”

“I left you too so I’d say we’re even.” He offered a small smile and you chuckled. “But I never wanna leave you again.”

“So don’t.” You offered, leaning your head against the back of the couch. “When I look at my life, and all of my crimes, you’re the only thing that I think I got right… I want you to stay, at least for tonight, but I won’t make you.”

“All my regrets, things that you can’t forget.. You still want me with all of those?”

“I can’t really give you away.” You shrugged slightly. “I already made that mistake a long time ago…”

“I want us to be okay, sweetheart.” He reached out and out a hand on your folded leg, thumb rubbing gentle lines.

“We can figure it out later. Right now, you’re in a crisis.”

He offered a weak smile as he nodded.

“I’m not saying to forgive Maggie, but I’d say hear her out, when you’re ready. Maybe she had her reasons.”

“What if she didn’t? What if she was just… ashamed?”

“Who would be ashamed of you?” Your fingers danced around on his shoulder, skimming across the crook of his neck. “You took off the crucifix? I liked it.”

“It was my mother’s.”

“Ah.” You nodded.

“I thought you hated me after what happened at Midland Circle”

“Yeah, I kinda did. But I also understand that it was your stupid way of protecting me because you loved me and I loved you, so that ended up beating out any other feeling. I haven’t forgiven you for it yet, though.”

“Clearly.” He gave a small chuckle. “Do you still?”

“Love you? Or hate you?”

“Both.”

“Yeah, to both. I’m still hurt by what you said to me. But I’m guessing you being here means you realized you can trust me?”

“Sweetheart, I always have.” His hand came to your cheek and you leaned into his touch, earning a smile from him. “I’m sorry I acted like I didn’t.”

“Maybe there’s still a chance to fix us when all this dies down.” You smiled softly, turning your head to place a kiss to his palm. “After that, you can fix things with Maggie. When you’re ready.”

“I love you.” He said softly.

“I love you, too.”

That night, wrapped in Matt’s arms, you had the first full night’s sleep since Midland Circle.

The next morning, you were getting ready for work when you got a message from Dex. It said that he was picking you up and you knew it wasn’t up for debate. You told Matt what was going on and he told you to be careful. He told you he wouldn’t be there when you got home, and he wasn’t sure where he’d be, but he would let you know somehow. Despite your protests, he promised it’d be for the best.

The ride with Dex was silent. There was a thick tension in the air and your skin was buzzing with anticipation. You kept thinking of scenarios where he would make a move on you, but in close quarters, it was an easy win for you. You could crash the car and run. You could use the backseat to get away. You could kick out the windows and tuck and roll. But there was no action, hardly any words. Instead, you pulled up to Ray’s as if everything was normal.

“Ray doesn’t know.” You said simply as you got out. “He doesn’t know about her and he doesn’t know that I know about you.”

“This’ll be fun then.” He smiled before grabbing your arm and practically pulling you to the front door.

Dex greeted Seema and gave you two a proper introduction. You let him do most of the talking, only offering a polite smile and an answer when necessary. Seema didn’t seem to notice, and you were thankful for that.

“And that makes it curve?” The boy’s voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Like crazy.” Dex smiled.

“It’s the circle change that gets ‘em though.” You cut in, kneeling to his height and stealing his attention away from Dex. You ignored your partner’s glare and focused on the boy. “A curve is great, don’t get me wrong. But a good hitter can see it coming. The real fun is when you can speed them up with the fast ball and then sneak the change up. If you want a strikeout pitch, the circle change is what you need.”

“Can you show me?” He asked excitedly.

“Yeah, it’s super easy. The ball sits here.” You moved the back to rest at the back of his palm. “These two fingers make a circle like this.” You slid his thumb and forefinger to make a circle on the side of the ball. “And these fingers just kinda spread out.” You fanned his other three fingers. “And then you just throw it normally.”

“So… Wait, how does it slow down?”

“When it rolls off your fingers, the backspin makes it look like it’s coming faster than it is.”

“Ooh.” He laughed and looked at his fingers on the ball.

Ray came down and gave his son - Sami - a reason to leave the room. When he made eye contact with you, you gave a shrug and nodded to Dex to show it was his idea. Ray brought you and Dex outside to keep his family

out of it.

“What are you doing here, Dex? Your issue is with me, not my family.” Ray asked tightly.

“My issue is definitely with you.” Dex agreed. “That stunt with the lawyer, Ray? That was cold. You convinced me that you had my back.” He turned towards you. “You both did.”

“I did until you chose Fisk.” You admitted. “I tried to help you but you wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Well Fisk wants you two alive.”

“Lucky me.” You mumbled.

“What does he want from me? Or her?” Ray nodded to you.

“Your little friends. The ones you brought into my home.” He took a step closer to Ray and your hand shot out to his chest, pushing him back with a warning glare.

“I don’t know who he is, or where he is. I know even less about the girl.”

“Nah, you know.” Dex countered. “But it can wait. You’re bleeding, Ray.”

“Cause you shot him, jackass.” You mumbled, making Dex chuckle.

“I’ll cover with Seema while you change. Let’s go. We’re all spending the day together.”

“Why'd he bring you?” Ray asked when Dex went back inside. “What does he know?”

“Too much.” You admitted. “That I know Exodus. I know Daredevil. I know what happened at his apartment, what really happened at the Bulletin.”

“How?”

“Как ты думаешь, с кем ты разговариваешь?” You asked with a small shrug before following Dex in and leaving Ray in confusion. (Who do you think you’re talking to?)

You didn’t stay at Ray’s much longer. Seema gave you a plate to take with you and you thanked her. Sami thanked you again for the change-up and you offered to show him a knuckleball next time. Ray rushed you guys out of the house and when you got to the bureau, Dex told Ray to call Matt. You tapped your implant and listened in on their call while you waited with Dex. Though if anyone asked what was actually said, you wouldn’t be able to tell them.

“How long do you think you can keep it a secret?” He asked simply, turning to face you.

“Longer than you did. I didn’t need to see any of it to know what you were. One look told me everything I needed to know. Wanna know how?” You tilted your head back to face him. His brows raised and he offered you an amused smile. “Because you’re weak. Your old therapist was wrong about you. Your internal compass is broken, Dex. And no one can save you. You’ll follow anyone that uses the right words.”

He grabbed you by your face and pushed you against the wall behind you, making you laugh.

“Get your hand off me or I scream. Remember, not every agent in the room works for him.” You warned and you watched his eyes dart between yours and try to figure out if you were joking. “Go ahead… Try me.”

He pushed off you when Hattley came in for an announcement. You pulled off the wall and moved to stand with Ray, hearing your SAC declare Dex reinstated. You were hidden behind him so rolled your eyes and feigned a gag. But when he stepped aside to thank you and Ray specifically, you put your hands behind your back and offered a proud smile.

“Someday I’ll pay you guys back for everything you did.” He said, though you heard the threat in his words.

“We’re partners.” You said with fake sincerity and reached for his hand, which he hesitantly gave you. “You’d do the same for me.”

After a few moments of congratulations and praise for Dex, the three of you were taken to a conference room where a handful of agents sat around the table. You scoffed in disbelief as Dex headed to sit at the head, Hattley at his side. You stood at the other end, leaning

onto flattened palms against the table.

“Fisk has something on all of you?” Ray asked in disbelief.

“It’s better we don’t talk about it.” One of the other agents in the room said. He may be stuck under Fisk’s thumb, but it didn’t seem like he wanted to be. “And in here, we don’t even say his name.”

“That’s one of the rules, Ray.” Dex explained. “We only refer to him by his codename… Kingpin.”

You had to drop your eyes to hide your quiet laugh.

“Something funny, Y/L/N?” Hattley asked and you picked your head up with your smile still present.

“This whole thing, actually.” You shrugged and pushed yourself off to stand tall. “An office of dedicated federal agents falls victim to a big bald guy who doesn’t even do his own dirty work half the time? Y’know when Fisk was around the first time, people only would call him ‘their employer’ and it was embarrassing then too. I’m sorry but… it’s all a little pathetic.”

“You’re here too, Y/N. So what does that say about you?”

“Oh man.” You exaggerated a sigh. “I should’ve talked

to Madani about transferring to Homeland. At least then I could’ve had a partner who stood for something-“ You made eye contact with Dex. “-instead of kneeling to a little bit of pressure.”

“Real cocky when you’re the one with the most to lose, Y/L/N.” Dex said with a smooth smirk.

“At least I know who I am. Can you say the same?”

“Anyways.” Hattley cut in firmly. “Another round-up today. We hit them fast and hard. Kingpin wants this one to make a point.”

You felt grimy by the time the assignment was done. You hung back for most of it, hardly even raising your gun. Instead, you just kept the people around the marks calm. Even at the public groundbreaking for something seemingly religious, you ensured no one made a scene. Later that day, you sat with Dex in the media room.

“You seem tense. What’s eating at you?” Dex asked with a sly smile.

“Thinkin’ about how I’m gonna put a bullet in you.” You said calmly. “Y’know what an old friend told me? You don’t hear the ones that get you.”

“Pretty confident.” He nodded with that same smile, one that made you want to slam his face down on the desk. “But I remember the last time we went at it. I put in a knife in you. How’s that healing, by the way?” He snuck his hand to the joint of your leg and gave your leg a slight squeeze.

Your body jumped at the unwanted contact and you reached for his hand quickly. You gripped tightly, feeling the long bones of his hand shift slightly, and moved his hand forcefully.

“And how many times did I knock you on your ass? All it takes is two seconds where Ole Red isn’t looking.” You leaned in closer so you could speak quietly, hands folded beneath the table. “You keep this up, Dex, and you’ll be the one who pays a price. Not me.”

The day shift went on relatively quickly but then you two were called for an additional night shift. Ray left with Hattley to get Fisk while you and Dex finished up upstairs. You saw a message from Foggy as you headed to the car and saw that Fisk had his hooks in his family. The deli had embellished a loan application from Red Lion Bank, and someone was threatening to pull it. It was now a growing priority for you to get your hands on Felix Manning. You had seen the man in the hotel a few times but never with enough clearance to get to him.

You drove with Ray in the front while Fisk and Dex rode in the back. You followed Dex’s directions, intentionally slamming the brakes harder than necessary. When you parked, Ray called Matt.

“If you can hear me…” You spoke quietly, putting a hand over your mouth so the men in the back wouldn’t see. “Fisk is using all of us, just be careful.”

Fisk sent Ray out while he kept you and Dex in the car.

“What do you need us to do?” Dex asked and your other hand gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“Exodus.” Fisk said calmly and your eyes darted to the rear view mirror. “Where is your suit?”

He didn’t need to know that you were wearing your suit beneath your work clothes. You wore a sweater over it instead of a button up with simple black pants that were easy to ditch, along with your usual jacket. Your Bites, and mask were all tucked between the material of your suit and the top, blending with the extra fabric of your loose sweater. Your shoes were your usual vigilante boots. So really, the only thing you were missing were your staffs, and that was only because the pack would’ve been too bulky to hide. You had returned all of your equipment to the closet back home, knowing it’d be too risky to just leave in your trunk now that you were caught in the middle of everything.

“Parti. Et vous le serez aussi, assez tôt.” You said tightly. (Gone. And you will be too, soon enough.)

Dex reached around and locked his arm around your throat. He yanked back and forced you against the headrest, increasing the pressure on your windpipe. You coughed roughly and reached down, finding the side lever for the back of the seat. You pulled up on it and threw your weight back, hearing the thud when it slammed into Dex.

“Enough.” Fisk announced, but you jammed an elbow against Dex’s jaw to prove a point before shifting in your seat to face Fisk.

“Allow me to clarify something. I do not work for you. I’ve stood my ground before and I’m not afraid to do it again.” You said firmly, knowing the anger sparked in your eyes. “Daredevil and I will finish this, the real Daredevil. No one can save you.”

He turned towards Dex with a smirk before facing you again.

“Y’know…” You turned towards Dex with an innocently curious expression. “I haven’t seen Julie around since your little chat at the cafe. How is she?”

His brows furrowed as you tugged that concern closer to the surface. His eyes went big when he either remembered or realized something so you gave Fisk a smirk before heading inside to meet with Ray.

“The Feds want something.” The woman you took from the groundbreaking said and looked around your small group of agents.

“Not the Feds.” You sighed and drew head turns just as Fisk walked in.

You had to bite your tongue to keep your comments to yourself. You watched as Fisk tried to barter FBI protection for twenty percent. The woman was interested, and truthfully, she interested you. Calm and comfortable in her power, but willing to work with others. If you weren’t so inclined to stay on the right-ish side of the law, maybe you would’ve been like her.

What really kept your attention was the man you only heard addressed as Mr. Starr. The old man was set in his ways, refusing to budge. He refused to kneel to Fisk’s pressure and while you commended him for his conviction, you knew what was coming.

Dex’s baton came flying in before you could react and the man slumped forward against the table in a puddle

of his own blood. Dex came to stand at Fisk’s side and you moved to the other side of the now dead body, picking up the club. You flipped it in your hands, earning uncertain looks from the other crime bosses. You tapped the other end against your empty palm before stealing a move from Dex, throwing it against the table so it’d bounce. The bounce led one end to jam into Dex’s chest, making him stagger back a few steps and you smiled.

You may not be able to take him on in broad daylight, not with the handful of agents in Fisk’s pocket. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t take smaller jabs at him. After the deals were said and done, when Matt didn’t show, Dex moved across the table and stood close to you.

“If you tipped him.” He said lowly, attempting to threaten you.

You calmly titled your head back to meet his burning glare with a small shrug. “When would I have done that? You’ve been watching me the whole time.”

His jaw clenched as he stared you down, growing uncertain as you refused to falter. Your chin lifted slightly in a soft challenge as Fisk called him back.

“What a good lap dog.” You mocked softly as he followed Fisk without question.

You only followed when Ray nudged you. You ignored the lingering looks from the various criminals at the table as you left, but you couldn’t ignore their fear. It spiked when you threw the baton at Dex and it was clear that while they did fear Dex, you terrified them. And not because you were Exodus. They couldn’t know that. What scared them about you was the way you carried yourself. Your total confidence in challenging Fisk and his faux Daredevil. It left them to wonder what you could do on your own.

You realized that part of you missed the fear your presence used to cause, but the reality was that you didn’t need to be a looming force. Fear was fun when it was only you. Respect was better when others were at stake.

The car ride was quiet, but the tension was building quickly. It soon felt like your suit was suffocating you, like the high collar was digging into your throat even though you didn’t have it zipped all the way. The collar was folded under your sweater, but that didn’t mean your skin wasn’t stained with the ghost of the material. You called your jitters to your hand, creating a small collection of bouncing wisps in your palm. The silver streaks danced around and weaved through your fingers, shaking and ricocheting off your skin as you flicked them away and called them back like a yo-yo.

But when the announcement sounded in your implant, the string snapped and the wisps instantly disappeared.

Karen Page is located at the Clinton Church. Keep all NYPD units clear until otherwise advised. Copy.

You spun in your seat with wide eyes, a panic settling deep in your stomach when the SUV stopped and he sent Ray out.

Would Matt get there in time? Would you? How would you get away? Would Matt even know what was happening? Even if you were still upset, you knew you needed his help. You didn’t even know if he had heard you earlier. If he came up and saw you there, would he think you sided with Fisk out of spite?

While Fisk and Dex talked about what they needed to do next, you took a glance around the street. There was no one around, so you running out of a blacked out SUV wouldn’t raise any questions.

“He was murdered!” Fisk shouted and slammed a fist against the door,

“And I’d do it again.” You said firmly, drawing an angry glare from him and a quizzical one from Dex. “He deserved it for threatening people I cared about. When I walked out of that warehouse, his blood splattered on my suit, I damn near celebrated.”

“When I sent you to the Bulletin, it was to discredit Daredevil and his partner-“ He gestured to you before turning to face Dex again. “-and the reporter that helped make them into heroes. At the time, I didn’t know that she had assisted in his murder.”

“If there’s something you want me to do, just ask.” Dex added smoothly.

“I want you to kill Karen Page.”

Your former friend made a point to meet your eyes. “Consider it done.”

“Good luck.” You scoffed before reaching across the gap and slamming Dex’s head against the window.

You hurried out the door after that but you felt a hand on your arm. You turned to see Dex and he yanked you back, pushing you towards the other SUV. You pulled free and threw a roundhouse against his jaw that threw him into the nearest wall. He got up quickly and threw a right hook against your jaw before grabbing the back of your neck. His fingers pressed into the sides of your neck and he slammed your head against the window of the SUV. You felt the skin at your hairline split so you stuck a foot against the car and kicked off, pushing you both backwards so Dex would hit his back on a nearby dumpster.

You took the chance to climb to your feet and took off sprinting down the streets until you got to the church. You got inside just as mass was starting so you snuck up the stairs that led to the balcony. You stripped out of your work clothes and tucked them under one of the pews before fixing the final details of your suit.

You listened to Father Lantom’s speech, thanking everyone for coming to mass. You tapped your mask and looked between the priest and the doors as the tension buzzed through your body. You felt electrified by the looming threat but the gentle, honest words from Father Lantom seemed to serve as a buffer to break some

of that buzzing. If you could count on nothing from the ideas of religion or from any church, you could always count on Father Lantom to be genuine with whoever he was talking to. You smiled softly towards the altar where Father Lantom was, and he had offered you the same sentiment, when a voice cut through everything.

“Karen Page!” Dex called out as he entered the church, dragging the club against the side of the pews as he stepped further inside. “Where is… Karen Page?”

You hopped over the railing and landed behind him. By the time your feet hit the ground, he had already beat on three patrons. You shot a wire at his throat and once it wrapped, you yanked hard to pull him back a few feet. He yanked the wire off and turned on you, both clubs in hand before Karen announced herself.

You felt your heart drop to your feet when he smirked, turning to face her. She was quick to put herself in front of the people and you felt helpless, for only a moment.

“Hello, Karen. It’s nice to see you again.” Dex said simply.

You took that chance to get in front of him, hands quick to reach behind and find your knives. You brandished them quickly and Dex tilted his head slightly.

“You don’t have to listen to him.” You tried, pushing out a subtle desperation.

It would be the last chance. Standing against Dex, against your partner, you couldn’t protect him and defend against him at the same time. So in that church, with all the lives that hid behind you on the line, you forced Dex to make a choice.

You. Or the man who only saw Dex as a weapon.

“Pick your side.” You warned. “You won’t get another chance to change your mind.”

He gave you a wicked smile and you knew that the man you knew before was gone. His mind had snapped and he was now a fractured, broken version of the person you once called a partner. His lack of empathy had never been so clear, like a vacuum that sucked in and destroyed any sense of emotion around him. It began to drag on you as well, but Matt made it just in time.

He landed contact with Dex from behind so you turned and gathered the people who had attended mass. You pushed Karen to join the crowd while Matt handled the fight. You shoved the knife away and reached into a different pocket for your communications case, you shoved it into her hands and turned in time to see Dex standing before you. Your eyes darted to the side and all you could see behind the small altar of candles were Matt’s feet.

You turned back to Dex just time to see the knife coming. Instantly, you moved to the side to put yourself in front of the people but two hands came to your arms and threw you to the side. You looked back and saw the knife buried in Father Lantom’s chest.

“No.” You said quickly, eyes brimming with sudden tears. “No!”

Matt ran back into the fight screaming, the anger radiating off him. Lantom spoke quietly to Matt as he laid in Karen’s arms, her own hands trembling around the knife. You reached for the case you gave her, opening it and pulling one of the ear pieces. Shakily, she put it in her ear and gave you a quick nod. You tapped your scar before finding Matt. When he floored Dex, you practically ran across the short distance.

You clipped the microphone to the collar of his shirt, throwing a hard sidekick when Dex tried to get to his feet.

“Karen? Can you hear me?” You spoke quietly.

“Yeah… I can get everyone out.” She answered, her voice echoing around your skull. “But you guys have to get him away from the nave.”

You offered a sharp nod and focused back on Dex. You ran towards him and slammed your knee into his chest. He rolled through the impact and kicked himself down one of the aisles. From there, he began throwing small candles at the two of you. The wax splattered across your face as they shattered against your arms after you raised them, causing you to wince slightly as you turned your head. Keeping one arm up, you stuck your Bite between the small gap at the bend of your arm and fired. The electricity landed at the base of his throat and his movements became tight convulsions.

You took advantage and moved closer, slamming a kick to the back of his knee. When he fell to a kneel, you used the opposite foot you kicked and threw a roundhouse to the side of his head that forced him to the floor. You turned to find Matt, seeing Karen moving people on the other side instead. You heard movement from behind you and turned to see Dex standing with a piece of marble in hand.

When he pulled back to throw it, Matt came and drew his attention away. You let out a small sigh and glanced back at Karen, hearing her talking to one of the patrons about getting out.

“Make sure they stay low to the ground.” You instructed as you watched Dex and Matt exchange blows. “Keep out of his line of sight and move fast.”

When the boys came back into the main area of the church, you jumped back into the fight. Matt threw Dex into a pew so you moved to the side and grabbed hold of the edge as Dex kicked out at Matt’s chest. You threw your legs forward to slam into his chest and flip him over. Your feet landed on the seat so you crouched on the wood and waved the group of churchgoers forward after you noticed they had paused to watch the fight.

The small crowd was huddled low as they crept across the floor. You made a small noise to yourself when you thought they weren’t going fast enough but the sound was cut short when Dex yanked you down by your arm, a hand gripping aggressively around your wrist. You yelped slightly when you landed on your shoulder and Dex stood over you, rolling you to your back with his foot before he pressed it at the base of your shoulder as he searched the group. You craned your neck as you tried to force Dex off and you saw Karen running down the center aisle.

“Don’t.” You tried as his arm pulled back and he forced you back to the floor. The force of his foot combined with the way your arm was twisted was enough to pop the bone out of its socket and you couldn’t keep the sound of pain from happening.

Luckily, Matt knocked Dex off balance just in time to send his throw off course. Using your other hand, you jabbed two knuckles into a pressure point at the back of Dex’s leg and he fell against the pew. With Matt’s help, you wiggled out from underneath his weight and got to your feet.

“How are we gonna beat him?” Matt asked through heavy breaths.

Your mind raced and the only things that kept repeating were three things you learned from Melina. She taught you those things not to help as a Widow, but to protect you.

What I’m going to teach you isn’t for anyone but yourself. Remember these rules and no one can beat you, little Y/N.

Looking around, you realized you already used one.

“A man can’t stand, he can’t fight.” You spoke quietly, reaching out to find Matt’s hands. You guided them up to your shoulder and he moved closer, allowing you to close a fist around the material of his shirt. His fingers traced the joint before his palms found their positions and he pressed hard, a sharp exclamation falling from your lips as you felt the bone fit back into place. You bit your lip as you let out a small whimper while you heard Melina’s voice repeating those same words. With a. deep breath, you took a step away and collected yourself.

“If we can keep him off balance, we-“

Your sentence was cut short by a heavy fist at your jaw. You staggered back against the main row of pews and once your back hit the wood, you were bombarded with more hits. Your arms came up quickly, batting away his hits but every fist seemed to come heavier and heavier.

“Hey! I’m the one you want, right?” Karen yelled from the door, stealing his attention.

You took advantage of his hesitation and slammed both fists against his chest. He staggered away and coughed heavily, giving you space to stand tall and wipe the blood off your nose.

“A man can’t breathe, he can’t fight.” You spoke to yourself and turned to Karen. You were tackled to the ground and his foot pressed down on the center of your chest.

You squirmed beneath him and Dex leaned his weight against you and you could feel the cartilage in your chest cracking. He snapped a rosary and pulled back to throw the beads. You lifted a wrist and shot a wire towards Karen’s ankle. It wrapped around your target and you yanked back to pull Karen to the floor just in time.

You popped the wire off and felt the weight disappear from your chest after Matt knocked him off. You took deep, gasping breaths while you looked back as you got to your feet and saw Karen was gone. You tapped your mask and saw her heading up the stairs to the top deck. You checked over your shoulder and saw Matt locked in with Dex. You thought of joining in but you chose to follow Karen up the steps instead. You found her crouched in the darkest corner and she covered her

mouth with her hand when she saw you.

“Oh God.” She whispered, likely horrified by the blood you were covered in.

“You okay?” You asked quietly and all she could do was nod.

You heard footsteps coming so you used your mask to see it was Dex. Instantly, you wondered where Matt was but you didn’t have time to figure it out. You stepped out and pulled a knife from the back of your belt. You made a grand gesture as you moved closer to Dex.

“Is this what you wanted?” You asked simply. “You killed an innocent man.”

“You know what I want.” He answered flatly. “Why do you keep getting in my way?”

“Because at least I’m fighting for something. What do you fight for, hmm? What do you stand for? You’re a joke. You’re pathetic. You’re nothing. When Fisk is done with you, he’ll throw you away. You’re not special to him. The only thing you’ve done is destroy what that suit used to stand for around here. You can’t compare to Daredevil.”

Dex simply growled as he charged you. You braced yourself just as his shoulder slammed into your stomach. He lifted you off the ground and slammed your back into the marble pillar in the center of the deck. You coughed roughly and flipped the knife so you could swipe it across his back. You dropped the blade and locked your fingers behind his neck. Tucking your knees against his chest, you threw yourself to the ground so when you landed, your knees slammed against him. You rolled you two so you could be on top and you kept a grip on his suit front, slamming down hit after hit and watching his head bounce off the ground.

You pulled your arm back and armed your Bite, seeing the bright red glow shine in your peripherals. You were angling the shot when his forehead slammed up into your nose and knocked your teeth together. You fell to the side and Dex pushed you the rest of the way off. A pair of hands came under your arms and hauled you up. You looked quickly and saw it was Matt.

Together, you two took your stances across from Dex. The man across from you let out an annoyed sigh and moved at you two again. He shoved you towards the railing and you teetered over it. Your hands were tightly holding the top as your upper body tilted over and your feet lifted from the ground. You had to let one hand go for a second to hook the wire from your belt around the posts.

Once that was secure, you turned to your back and pushed yourself to be seated on the wood. You focused in on the scene in front of you and found Matt on the floor and Dex with a small, familiar blade in his hand. Your blade. You were quick to shoot the other end of your wire around his neck.

When the material whipped around, you yanked him back so he stood flush against you.

“You won’t win.” He choked out as you replaced the wire with your arm around his neck.

“I don’t have to.” You said into his ear, the other hand pressing the Bite against his throat. “We just both have to lose.”

You fired the weapon and locked your ankles together around his waist. He yelled in pain before you threw yourself backwards, launching you both over the edge. Your own body slammed against the heavy wood posts as your wire held you in place, dangling you over the drop like a piñata. In any other circumstance, the display probably would’ve made you laugh.

You pulled yourself back over the railing and undid the clasp at your belt. You motioned to Karen to check on Matt while you took heavy breaths and collapsed to your knees, pressing gently on your loose sternum to figure out the extent of the cracks. She hurried over, hesitating by your side. You waved her off before hauling yourself up to peer over the edge.

As soon as your chest leaned over, all of the air was sucked out of you as the sharp object pierced your solar plex. You were breathless as your hands hovered over the penetration and Dex was gone. You looked down with shaky breaths and you saw the familiar handle sticking out.

He threw your own knife at you. Again.

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bellaxgiornata · 11 months

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I finally have banners for all of my MANY Matt Murdock stories! Most of you probably only know me for my Falling For the Devil Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader series of one-shots, but I have a lot of Matt stories! So if you're unfamiliar and enjoy my writing, please check them out while I steadily work on writing more for FFTD and we have a little gap between updates! All of these stories and their summaries can be found in my Masterlist, but the two Matt x OFC stories below are currently only linked to my AO3 account. I'm just over halfway through transferring all of FFTD to tumblr, but all of my other Reader inserts are on tumblr! The OFCs will soon hopefully transfer to tumblr next! Hopefully y'all enjoy my obsession with Matt (I've written just over 800k words on AO3 in less than a year, 90% of that is Matt Murdock fics...)

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock series #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil x female reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x fem reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x ofc #matt murdock x oc

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cellophaine · 9 months

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Lingered Affection (Chapter XV)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Word Count: 4865.

Series Summary: You thought breaking up with Matt was the right thing to do. For his sake and yours. Life went on as you navigated through it with the lingered love and affection you still had for each other, neither of you could let go.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Fluff. A little angst.

Author's Note: I'm finally back to this wasteland that I call home. I've missed this, but it's hard to get back to it since I put too much pressure on myself to make it good when I could've had a silly good time with a silly goofy plot. But no, I had to suffer instead 🥲

I hope you will enjoy this chapter :)

GIF is not mine

The car ride home was cast in a glowering silence with your unwillingness to talk as the instigator. It wasn't that you didn't want to. You didn't know how to explain yourself, where to start. An apology was redundant if not too little too late, and what was the point of apologizing if you kept committing the offence over and over again?

After the swift escape, you made your way to the alley behind the building to retrieve the sealed document lying on the empty spot, usually occupied by an industrial waste container. Once it was secured in your hands, you jogged to the main street with Matt's sullen silence glued to your side, uncomfortable like the lump in your throat you couldn't get rid of, and wordlessly flagged down a cab.

And now, in the suffocating, borderline blistering warmth of the taxi and the moody crooning of an old jazz classic crackled through the old radio, you found yourself unable to open the conversation. It was like an old diary of your worst mistakes sealed shut, and you knew once you pried it open, nothing good would come out. Still, the anticipation of the inevitable confrontation felt worse, somehow. It seemed harmless at first, like a small but smouldering flame that built up until every inch of you was covered in the tiny blazes, pricking at you from the inside. Your body knew the price of keeping secrets, and you were reminded every time.

You glanced at Matt, who angled his face toward the window as if his city, which always moved in blurry shapes and danced in transient flames, suddenly came to him in every little detail so sharp that he could touch it with his unsighted eyes, and he couldn't help but marvel.

You took a steady inhale, then exhaled softly through your lips. The easiest thing you could do for yourself right now was to say what was perching on your lips the moment Matt pulled you to the side at the fundraiser.

"I wanted to tell you. I really wanted to."

But you couldn't, not after everything that happened between the two of you. If your self-sabotage tendencies were like headaches, your family and everything that came with them were like migraines that only intensified, never relented. You thought you could spare Matt from descending downward into the neverending pit. It was a gateway that, once you opened, would never shut.

Your parents' maltreatment was like a program ingrained in your mind, impossible to unlearn, much less remove entirely. But it seemed like no matter what you did, Matt would end up in the midst of it. The only thing you could do was to be honest. But it was hard, and you couldn't help the way you were. The way you had always been. Your secrecy was your way of protecting yourself, looking out for your sanity because who else would?

"I'm really sorry. The last thing I want for you is to be involved with my family's… drama."

Such a trivial word for an intricate situation. It couldn't encapsulate the scope of virulency your parents were capable of. You knew that, and Matt had started to grasp the weight of your situation, too. It wasn't a walk in the park. It was a run for your life through the woods on injured ankles with bloodhounds chasing after you, their mouths foaming, their teeth snapping at your heels. And you couldn't outrun them.

Matt sighed and turned to your side of the cab. You couldn't gauge his emotions in the dark of the taxi. His face was cut with sharp angles by the shadows, but there was a softened edge of defeat in his voice.

"All I ask is for you to be honest with me."

When you were lost in your own turmoil with your parents, you neglected Matt. You forgot that he, just like you, also had a hard time getting close to others, especially when it came to his Daredevil identity. It took time, patience, and so much commitment for the two of you to reach this point where you could trust each other completely and wholly. You messed it up more than once, but here he was, still giving you his all. For as long as you thought you were protecting him by keeping him at arm's length, it only hurt both of you in the long run. You had to learn how to balance. Allowing Matt to know more about what was going on between you and your parents seemed like a fair trade for the time being.

"I know."

You allowed the rumble of the car and the low jazz to take over again. In the back of the cab, your hand found Matt's on the worn-out leather seat. At first, it was a barely-there contact; your skin grazed his. You drew on your courage to move atop his hand, feeling the small raises of his scars underneath your palm. For a moment, he didn't move. You breathed a relieved sigh as Matt responded to your touch, turning his palm upward to enclose your hand, your fingers wove tightly. Those were the last words exchanged for the rest of the ride.

–

Matt's home granted you great relief from the outside world, but his persistent silence did not. After closing the door behind you, he walked ahead while you lingered at the console table. You understood the gust of indifference he left behind was for you. Like a moth to the flame, he could never truly stay away, yet, for tonight, it didn't keep him from trying.

You followed Matt into the living room, where he had stopped to tug on his tie. He pulled it loose, draping it over the back of the sofa before working to discard his suit jacket. You tossed your purse along with the sealed file on the dining table, allowing the important document to be nothing but a scrap of paper and made your way to him, stepping into his space with so much uncertainty.

You reached out to him with your hands curled on his wrists, silently asking. After a moment, Matt let his arms fall to the sides, allowing you to help him. You felt the tension in your body wane with every button unfastened, slowly and languidly, until you reached the bottom that disappeared into the waist of his pressed slacks. You tugged slightly on the soft material, freeing the rest of the white shirt. Once all the buttons were undone, Matt's chest was bare to you, naked and moving steadily with every breath he took.

You couldn't help but risk a touch below his belly button, feeling the faint dust of fine hair tickle your fingertips. Your brief contact raised goosebumps on his skin, and Matt drew in a soft breath, held it there and waited for your next move. He looked beautiful like this, patient, yet his longing was palpable to your eyes, and you wanted nothing more than indulge. You missed this, the intimacy you shared, the deliberateness as you really took your time with each other until the need you built was so unbearable that you gave in. You dragged your fingers up, barely touching him, and the hitch in his throat was so quiet that you almost missed it. It gave you a small boost forward as you grew bolder; your hand ghosted over his abs, the hard planes on his chest, and only stopped to stroke teasingly at the column of his throat, feeling him swallow hard. You dared a look at his face to see his unsighted eyes settled on you, his lips parted and quivered in soft, careful exhales. Your eyes fluttered, and your heart skipped a beat as you took his slightly dishevelled self in, reading the barely hidden yet, still restrained desire written all over his glossy eyes, his parted lips and the way his breaths seemed to grow even quieter at his control.

You leaned in, only paused when there was barely any distance in between so he could end this if he wished to. But Matt made no move to push you away. So you followed the natural course laid out before you; your fingers were replaced with your lips on the delicate flesh with a light-as-feather touch. The small caresses were careful, experimental as you were unsure of your place until they became insistent as you pressed harder, wanting to feel more of him. Your lips parted to suck on his skin; your tongue darted out to taste it. You felt Matt's arm close around the small of your back, pulling you closer like an invitation for you to continue. Your teeth closed around his skin and tugged, drawing a deep groan from his throat. Matt's hands grasped you through the material of your dress; the low resonant of his whine urged you to continue. Your arms wrapped around his neck, one hand found its home in his hair, carding through the soft strands and tugging as your mouth moved to nip at his jaw. Matt liked that, his grunt of approval and the tightening of his arms around you, pressing you against him even more, was an obvious indication.

His hand grasped your chin and tilted your face to meet his. He caught your lips with such urgency as if he couldn't do it soon enough. A dam broke inside you when your lips connected; a swirl of relief and exhilaration winded deep in the pit of your stomach. His hand banded around your throat, his fingers brushed against your pounding pulse, holding you still but not restricting your movement. Your kiss was unrestrained and desperate, releasing all the bottled frustration from your earlier exchange in the closet. It was also a physical proof made of skin, bones, and the thundering of your hearts that you were here together, that this was real. Matt had longed to hold you like this, to have you like this, and you had yearned to feel once again the home you made in his arms. In this sacred moment, you didn't need words. You had already said so much in so little time and trusted that your action was enough to show him how much you wanted him. Matt crushed you to him, making your dress bunch and wrinkle, and you groaned at the barrier in between. You pushed at the shirt on his shoulders with impatience, and Matt helped you get rid of it. You sighed as your hands met his bare skin, warm, alive, and taut over the expanse of muscles.

You barely parted. You couldn't, even when the air in your lungs wane. When you were desperate for it, you would pull back slightly only to gravitate toward Matt again. Your teeth clashed, your tongues intertwined. You needed the lack of distance, the growing intensity, and the impatience you shared. Matt found the zipper of your dress and tugged on it harshly, eager to free you of your confinement. He pulled on it several times, but the creased garment refused to give. You felt his grunt of frustration before his withdrawal from your lips, felt his hands hold the fabric in place so he could slide the zipper down while you peppered kisses all over his neck and collarbone, licking and nipping at his skin like it was a drug.

After a final decisive pull and a satisfied groan, your dress came loose and pooled at your feet. Matt's warm hands raised goosebumps on your skin as he caressed your body, worshipping with every fervent touch. His hands moved and kneaded and groped as if you were to disappear any moment, and he needed to seize every moment, every second. Your bodies fused as one as you moved backward and bumped into the back of the couch. You felt his erection straining against his dress pants, pressing into your thighs. You felt lightheaded, not only from the onslaught of kisses, of the intoxicating air you breathed in but from the dizzying need to shed his clothes, to get him naked, to have nothing else in the way.

With shaky but determined hands, you reached for his belt, tugging it loose with Matt's help. You sighed breathily into his mouth as his pants fell, and the hard outline of his erection felt more noticeable now. You palmed it, and Matt moaned softly, his face contorted as if your touch was enough to make him lose it. He made his way to your throat, making you gasp and moan as you could tell his bites were hard enough to leave marks. You couldn't care less about how you would be perceived with Matt's love bites on your neck the next morning. You could only focus on how good he made you feel, how he lavished his attention on you. He settled on the point between your neck and shoulder, sucking on the delicate flesh. One hand guided your neck to arch into his mouth while the other reached for your bra and unfastened the hook. You tossed the garment over your shoulders, and Matt wasted no time attaching his skilled mouth to your breast. You felt your legs weakened as he worked you over relentlessly; his tongue swirled over your sensitive nipple, his teeth dug softly into the supple flesh, sucking and nipping and licking while his other tended to the other, groping and rolling your hardened nub between his forefingers. You threw your head back, letting your moans of ecstasy bounce freely off of the brick walls. Your hands grasped his shoulders; your nails dug into his skin to warn him of your urgency.

"Take me to bed, please. I need you."

Matt came back to you, so breathless and speechless that all he could do was nod, his breathing laboured. You were picked up in one swift movement; Matt's hands dug into your thighs. He laid you onto the bed gently, a contrary to the way he had been handling you. You crawled backward on your arms, watching as he followed. Your gaze roamed over the mushed-up hair on his head, his glossy unsighted eyes trained on you. You eyed the faint smear of your lipstick all over his lips; the clumsy imprint was blurry and only enhanced the irresistible dishevelled look on Matt's face. You caught a brief glimpse of the pigment before Matt brought you back to him by capturing your lips in a searing kiss, by the feel of his hand on your hip bone, his thumb delved under the lace of your underwear. You lifted your hips, and he worked quickly to rid of them. You went for his boxers, pulling the waistband down the globes of his ass until he was free from the containment. His cock was hot and heavy on your thigh, and you couldn't help but moan softly at the sheer anticipation.

Matt touched you where you needed him most, and you couldn't help the moan that escaped. His skilled fingers ran along your wet folds, grazing your sensitive clit. Your back arched off the silk sheet as his movement grew persistent, drawing needy whimpers from you as if he could feast on your pretty sound of pleasure. Your hips chased after his hand even after he pulled it away to retrieve a condom from the bedside table. A wave of relief washed over you as Matt returned. He braced himself above you, close enough for you to feel his warmth, yet not enough that he could crush you. You involuntarily tensed as he poised at your entrance; the tip of his aching cock caught on your folds. You hadn't been intimated with anyone else since your breakup, and you had the feeling that it was the same for him. Matt sensed your uneasiness and drew his hips back, giving you some space. His hands found yours; his thumbs drew soothing patterns on your palm. Even though there hadn't been a single word exchanged between you ever since you got back, you understood everything Matt had been telling you with his actions. His face softened, and his unseeing eyes settled on you with affection and love as he waited for your permission.

Your heart swelled in your chest at the tenderness evident in every fibre of Matt's being. You knew you were safe here and how much you had desperately wanted that safety net to catch you. All you had to do was to let yourself fall into his arms.

Your hand travelled along the side of his firm body to reach his back, relishing in the coiled muscles, feeling the divots of his waist, and urged him to move with a slight nudge. The other came to rest on the side of his face, softly caressing the stubble that tickled your fingertips. Matt understood your cues, pressing his lips into your palm before pushing in. You felt the slow and delicious stretch of his cock, your mouth fell open, and a moan parted your throat in a way that drove him mad. He took his time and moved slowly, and as impatient as you both were, you understood that Matt was careful not to break you. The world and your worries ceased to exist as you were wrapped in the enrapture of one another, lost at being so physically connected that the only person you knew of was him. The only thing you felt was him.

Matt increased the pace, jolting you with each hard thrust as he pulled out just to slam back in again. Euphoria filled your body and mind, inspiring your thought to spiral into something deeper you weren't even aware of. You missed this. You missed sex, but not as much in the act itself. You missed being intimate with Matt. The way he understood you, the way he knew what you needed in the heated moments. He listened, he obliged, and he cared more about your pleasure than his. Finally having him here, like this, despite the rift you caused just months ago, made your nose sting. You thought you had lost him for good, and that alone gave a final push to the salted tears gathered in your eyes. Matt's pace faltered, yet, he still kept a steady rhythm, only slower than before. He touched your cheek, feeling the wetness at the corner of your eye, his brows furrowed in concern.

"Am I hurting you? Should I stop?"

You shook your head and pulled him down to kiss you; your lips moved together in urgency. He felt your plea to be consumed wholly, so he kissed you just like how you needed. Deeply, thoroughly, wholeheartedly. Your mouth eagerly opened to his demanding tongue. Your hips arched to meet his, silently asking him to pick up the pace. And he did. You let go; your fervent moans materialized and molten together in a melody. A song of lovers found, of lost souls touched and intertwined. Your hands grasped his sweat-dotted skin; your thighs banded around his hips like a mark. You tried to hold on as you didn't want this to end already, but Matt gave your wrist a squeeze, promising you it was okay. The frantic drive of his hips made it harder and harder for you to hold off, so you conceded. You came with a loud cry, and Matt held you through the intense wave of ecstasy. You moved your hips to meet his stuttering thrusts before Matt came too. A broken moan enveloped your hearing and pounding heart in a warm embrace. You held him close as he lay on top of you, welcoming his weight like an anchor, binding you to him, to where you had always belonged.

Time slipped by your woven hands much too fast to your liking as you nestled in Matt's arms, with his hand covering yours on your chest. He lavished you with attention, adorning you with kisses to dry up the tears that poured moments before until the inevitable happened. When it did, Matt left the bed with much reluctance, leaving you in the remnant of his warmth on the sheet. You heard him putting on his Daredevil suit and watched as he made his way to you, giving you one last lingering kiss. He smoothed a hand over your hair before putting his gloves on, and then he was gone with a promise of returning soon.

You flopped back to the bed and sighed, relishing in the afterglow. A tiredness settled in your bones, a result of all the exhilaration and anxiety that happened in the span of one night. You buried your face in the pillow that smelled like Matt, wishing he was here with you.

You could feel the pull of fatigue in your body, but your mind insisted on staying awake no matter how much you willed yourself to fall asleep. You tossed and turned and eventually gave up when it was clear you were only wasting time.

You leaned against the kitchen counter while waiting for the water to boil. The aroma of dry tea leaves soothed your nerves as you zoned out, trying to clear your head. Your eyes roamed the room aimlessly until they fell on the sealed file perched atop the dining room table alongside your purse. Its whispered promises of secrets revealed drew on your interest, and you allowed your curiosity to win after debating whether you should open it. After all, you had time to spare. For once, maybe you could stay ahead of your father's game.

You sat down and flipped through the file; your eyes read and examined every word written on the pages. Your eyes read the names next to their black-and-white photos. Ethan F., Theodore K., Terry M., Minh T., Rob H. No last names. Nothing else that might give away too much, only short descriptions of their blood types, medical summaries and respective recordings of what you couldn't fully understand. Stabilized with Aconitine. Responded well to the insertion process. Metal compounds with complicated names were assigned to each man. In Terry M.'s report, the recording was only half as long. His page was crossed out in a red X. You skimmed through the paragraph, noting the small differences compared to other men, and at the very end of it: Subject responded negatively to graphene. Increased dose. Subject unresponsive. Your brows scrunched together, and your stomach churned at what you were reading. You shut the file and leaned back in the seat, taking a moment to process.

Just because you hated your father didn't mean whatever he was planning was illegal. Maybe your source was wrong. Perhaps you were the bad person in this situation. You were so desperately hoping for your father's life-long project to be malfeasance that you overlooked the good things that did come out of it. He saved a life. He might have hit you, injured you for a long stretch of your life, but he saved someone. That must make the scale balanced.

The thought grew ugly and vile as it twisted at your insides, knowing it had the upper hand already. Your eyes were pricked with fresh, frustrating tears, and you blinked slowly, willing them to not fall.

No matter how you looked at it, abuse was still abuse. You had to remind yourself. It was hard to remember and believe it on most days because who were you to say that you were innocent, that you didn't deserve your father's beatings? If only you were a better daughter, a better person–

You stood up abruptly, cutting off your train of thought forcefully. The chair scraped the hardwood floor, making an unpleasant sound that made you wince. You hunched over, forcing yourself to inhale and exhale slowly in an attempt to slow your heart rate and the growing anxiety. You did it until your pulse returned to normal, until the dread in your stomach wasn't as intimidating as before.

You eyed your purse on the table and realized you might have a better understanding if you knew at least some of the extent of your father's project. You reached for your phone and quickly looked up your father's name. You watched as the results showed within seconds and scrolled through the headlines. They were all praises dedicated to "the most innovative doctor of our time". You clicked on the link written by a reputable scientist who worked closely with your father throughout the early stages of development, the article cited. The details they shared were generic enough to give a normal person a good understanding but not in-depth enough to give away their life's work. You read on as they sang your father's praises on how he reconstructed Aaron's broken spine by providing support with an unnamed material that was flexible yet durable. The procedure was described as "delicate, one-of-a-kind, state-of-the-art that will change the world for the better."

Before you could read further, the door to the roof opened, signalling Matt's return. You placed your phone on the table and watched him descend the stairs, gauging for any sign of injuries. He appeared unharmed, his steps light and quick as he approached you. You greeted him in the middle, your arms opened with a hug, and Matt returned your gesture of affection. You let him lift you off the ground, his face tilted up to find yours; his lips captured yours with urgency with his cowl still on. The hard material dug into your face, but you couldn't care less as you melted in his arms, grateful for his presence.

When you finally pulled away, Matt spoke, his voice deep and drunk from the kiss.

"What are you doing up?"

"I'm just looking over some stuff we took earlier tonight. I couldn't sleep."

You took hold of the helmet with one hand and tried to free Matt from it.

"Anything important?"

His hand moved to help you with the cowl as you responded distractedly at the sight of his face revealed.

"Oh, I'm sure everything in that file is important. I haven't figured it out yet though."

He went in for a peck, and your nose scrunched as it landed.

"I know you will. I'm here to help you as well."

"Thank you. I appreciate you."

You stroked the back of his neck, feeling the slightly damped hair there. Matt cleared his throat softly; a touch of tease edged in his voice.

"If you're still up, that means … I didn't do my job right."

Your smile widened at his meaning.

"You'll have to try harder then."

"Is that a challenge?"

He arched a brow, and you couldn't help but chuckle.

"It is if you want it to be. Do you … want it to be?"

"I think you know the answer to that already."

You threw your head back and laughed softly, exposing your throat to him. Matt caught the chance, dipping his head to kiss the sensitive skin. You squirmed in his hold and gasped softly when his grip on your thighs tightened as he carried you to the bedroom.

–

You pulled your bag closer to yourself as you stepped off of the subway, navigating the flow of pavement traffic. The weather had warmed up so much that you could ditch the scarf and heavy coat and opt for a light jacket instead. You checked your phone again to be safe and continued your route. Eventually, you stopped before your destination. The building looked decent from the outside as you took it in before checking the address one more time. Figuring you shouldn't stand in the middle of the sidewalk any longer, you walked in through the door. It opened even though it looked like you needed a key. You didn't question it as you took the elevator going up. The number ticked up slowly, and you felt your anxiety rise with it.

The elevator's doors opened, and you stepped out. At the end of the hall was where you saw it: the writing on the frosted glass pulled at your attention, indicating your stop. You closed the distance with assured steps and took a deep breath before you knocked. You waited patiently, listening as some dull sounds made it to your ears: a dull thud, a chair push, boots steps on the floor, and finally, the wooden door with glass pane revealed the person on the other side.

"You."

The woman levelled you with a cool gaze and an even colder tone, almost as if she was bored by your mere appearance.

"Me?"

"Yeah, you. The one with mommy and daddy issues."

You gave her a tight-lipped smile.

"It's nice to finally meet you in person, Detective Jones."

She rolled her eyes; her annoyance was clear at the formal and false title.

"I'm not a detective."

She turned on her heels and walked over to her desk, not bothering to see if you would follow her.

"Come in. Whatever you found for me better be good."

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