2write-or-not2write

[2write-or-not2write]

Dark Nights and Big Fights

Part 2 to White Lies and Pretty Skies

Summary: Matt decides to keep his distance to keep the reader safe. But does his strategy work? 

Pairing: Matt Murdock x psychic!reader

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who read part 1! I hope this delivers!

Warnings: violence, kidnapping, drugging, mention of guns, mention of smoking, religious themes, mild cursing, blood, wounds, angst into fluff.

Word Count: 3321

Matt had started avoiding you just as you had been avoiding him except he does avoidance at an olympic level. That man can be ice cold. The few times you ran into each other these past few months he’d act more distant than usual, strictly professional and when no one else is around he’d give you an expression that you can’t quite decipher, but the closest you can place it was pity.

As much as it hurt you, you got the message that he did not reciprocate your feelings and was sparing you the pain and embarrassment by keeping his distance. The thought itself pissed you off. You didn’t want his pity. And you certainly can handle yourself without him protecting your fragile little heart. So you just walked away, and started fading from his life, as you let him fade from yours. 

You decided to bury yourself in your work as usual. Life moves on and criminals won’t slow down to let you have a heartbreak leave of absence, as they’re usually not so considerate. You’d been chasing tail on this case for weeks and it’s driving you insane. You knew this man was hiding something. You heard him. Sure it wasn’t out loud but you’ll be damned if you let him get off the hook for insufficient evidence. You were going to take this into your own hands. 

As night came around, you visualized the image of the warehouse you saw when you looked in his mind. With a little research you figured out its location and got on your way to check it out for yourself. 

You parked a few blocks away, made sure your phone was on silent and your radio was off. You got on the premises and started looking around for an entrance which you found pretty easily as you could see an armed man walk inside. You took a second to gather your thoughts and plan your next move. You took out your gun and started walking towards the entrance with caution.

As you neared the entrance you reached to your radio to switch it on and call for backup, but before your hand could get to it, you felt a prick in your neck and suddenly the world went dark.

You came to gradually, like a curtain lifting ever so slowly. You take in your surroundings, retracing your steps to remember how you ended up here. You could feel numbness in your wrists, so that must be a zip tie cutting off your circulation. You were struggling to keep your eyes open and worst of all was the headache. It was the most intense you’d ever felt. It was stopping you from hearing anyone’s thoughts, barely even your own.

“You prying bitch just couldn’t let it go, could you?” you hear a familiar voice say. You knew who it belonged to so you smiled to yourself, feeling a bit of mistimed pride that you were right about him. You were trying to collect yourself and figure out a way out of this. You were thinking of help, backup, and you were thinking it loud. Transmitting it like a satellite as a psychic message in hopes of anyone getting it and feeling the urge to come find you. 

You hear commotion outside the warehouse, the footmen sound like they’re fighting a ghost out there. You try to focus up and see who they’re fighting but you can’t. Then as the mysterious figure makes his way into the place your eyes jolt open when you realize who got your message.

It was Matt. You see him walk in, wearing a black fighting getup that emphasizes muscles you never knew he had, with a bandana tied around the top half of his head. He didn’t look like himself, like the Matt you knew. But you were certain it’s him. Even if you can’t hear his thoughts or see his face, you could never mistake his presence for someone else. You had never been so pleased to see anyone. You had an infinite list of questions for him of course, but this wasn’t the time. 

You force your body into action and reach into your back pocket for your lighter, you use it to melt the zip tie open. Mentally thanking yourself you still kept the habit of having a lighter on your person even after kicking smoking. You keep your hands behind your back as some of the guards inside the warehouse are preoccupied with Matt, until one of them moves towards you with a gun, fully intending to shoot.

You pounce and take the gun from him, knocking him out with a blow to the head. You run over to Matt to help him fight off the remaining guys. The two of you manage to put everyone under. 

It was suddenly quiet and you stood there, heavy breathing, looking around with no idea how to process the situation at hand. Your lawyer co-worker/friend/love was standing in front of you bleeding from various locations on his body after fighting off your kidnappers alone.

You were gonna need a good night’s sleep before you could even begin to unpack that. So you just announce “I’m going to call in backup from the station. You should not be here.” He tilts his head at you, as if to silently ask if you’re sure. “I’ll make up something about being passed out and waking up to find this. Then later you and I are going to have a very long conversation that’s gonna make confession sound like small talk.” 

You hand over the crime scene to your colleague, and excuse yourself to go home. Which you honestly intended to do, but your body disobeyed you, demanding answers before allowing you to rest. Your feet carry you over to Hell’s Kitchen for some.

Even half drugged out of your mind, and months since your last visit, you knew your way around his building. You make it up to his apartment with ease, and you don’t even need to knock. You know he heard you coming up, and as you expected, the front door was already open. 

You tread inside carefully. Memories rush back to you. Assaulting you with emotions that are coming too fast for you to control. You make it to your regular sofa, to find the pillows laid out in the same way you used to set them up. A flicker of hope goes off in your heart, and you allow yourself to indulge in the delusion that he intentionally arranged them like that, not that he simply couldn’t be bothered to put them back since he barely uses this couch anyway.

You sit down, and start taking off your shoes and jacket as Matt walks into the living room, having now changed into more casual sweatpants and tshirt and holding a cup of your favorite tea. The domestic sight warmed your heart. Almost made it feel like nothing’s changed, but you unfortunately knew that everything did. You take the tea from him, and make space for him to sit next to you.

He slowly lowers himself grimacing and taking in a sharp breath from the bruises and wounds he accumulated tonight. A pang of guilt stirred in you that he’s hurting so you do a little trick you learned a while back, you put your hand over his, and trick his brain into ignoring the pain signals. You can’t block them for long, but for the duration of this already difficult conversation should be enough. He sighs with relief and thanks you. You acknowledge him with a little “Mhm” as you wait for him to start presenting his case. 

A minute passes. Then another. You’re almost halfway done with your tea so you look up from your cup to Matt, “Surely you’re not expecting me to start talking? you ask rhetorically with bitterness in your tone. A slightly surprised look washes over his face as he’s never heard you speak to him with such a snappy tone before. “I’m trying to think of where to start,” he defends himself.

He knew you must be truly angry because even on your worst days, you always made sure to soften your voice for him to make sure he understands your frustration is not with him. He loved that about you. You always knew how to perfectly communicate with him. You always made him feel seen. Just being reminded of that gave him the push he needed to tell you the truth. You haven’t been anything but honest with him, and he owes you the same.

He starts to tell you everything from the beginning. He tells you about his accident, his dad, how he started. Everything you ever wanted to know. Except for the one thing you kept hoping to hear.

As he’s talking you move your hand away from his, cutting off his supply of psychic painkillers because you can’t sustain it anymore. He groans in shock at the sudden rush of pain and you apologize softly. “It’s okay,” he says with strain. Sitting next to you and breathing in your scent, being sure that you’re now safe and in his arms was enough to numb any pain he was feeling in the moment.

Oh, how he’d missed you. How many times he’d almost called you when he got too drunk. How many times he’d dreamt about that night on the roof. How warm your hands were on his face, and how easy it would have been to just pull you in and kiss you. He almost lost you tonight because he was being too distant. Had he been more honest with you, he would have gone with you on that little excursion. He would have made sure you were safe. He knew you were perfectly capable, yet he couldn’t help but feel protective over the person who managed to settle down the devil inside this particular Murdock man. 

After hours of narrating his life story, you both feel the exhaustion from the day come crashing down on you like a mountain. It hits you first, Matt notices your breathing has quieted down and heart rate is slower. He smiles in relief that you’re finally getting your much needed rest.

He carries you into his bed, lays you down gently, tucking you in and fighting the urge to give you a kiss goodnight. He debates getting into bed with you, cuddling you to sleep. But he decides against it. He doesn’t know if you still feel the same way about him, and he wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He heads out to the couch and calls it a night, thinking about how he’s going to tell you that he feels like his soul leaves his body whenever you leave the room. He’ll find the words tomorrow, but for tonight he’ll just crash. 

You wake up to a ray of sunshine warming you up through the curtainless window. You reach your hand out next to you, hoping to find Matt in the bed but you find it cold. You feel a hint of disappointment as you get up to look for him. You find him sleeping on the couch, hugging the same pillow you always hug. The scene makes you smile thinking about how this soft teddy bear took on 10 armed men last night and won. You were glad he was resting. He needed it. 

You walk into the kitchen to prepare some breakfast only to find his fridge void of anything but a half drunk bottle of beer. “Men,” you say under your breath, rolling your eyes. You slip on your shoes and head down to the nearest grocery store.

Could you have just gotten bagels and coffee from the coffeeshop down the street? Yes, but you wanted to make him a nice breakfast. Only because he was in a big fight of course that’s all. Not because you loved him or anything. Just watching out for his nutrition. 

By the time you got back Matt was awake, moving with difficulty. You walk into the apartment and set your things down to run and help him. You’re only now seeing how badly injured he is in the sunlight. And in all honesty, it’s not like you could even look at him yesterday. You instruct him to sit down, and fish out a cold bottle of milk you got from the store and give it to him to use as a cold press. He laughs and asks “What the hell is this?”.

“Since you don’t keep any frozen vegetables or even ice cubes, a milk bottle is all I can help you with.” you retort as you make your way back to the kitchen. 

You stock the fridge with your purchases and start looking for a pan and plates or anything that resembles actual kitchen appliances. You find a scratched up pan that will probably give you lead poisoning so you make a mental note to replace it later, if you ever come back here that is.

You ignore the thickness in the air and focus on making breakfast for now. As you’re plating up the food you sense Matt walking closer to you, “That smells really good.” he says in a small voice, trying to get a sense of how you’re taking it all in. 

Hearing you around his kitchen, breathing life into it and taking care of him touches him in a way he never felt before. Matt is very independent, he rarely accepts help from anyone because he doesn’t like pity but this doesn’t feel like that. This is tenderness, this is you caring for him out of love and compassion, the same compassion you show everyone and everything in your life. You may come off as aggressive at times, you’re not always sticky sweet but you are always kind. 

He finds himself in awe of these little human moments he gets to witness you in. When you lower your voice and offer reassurance to an innocent suspect who’s too scared. When you excuse yourself for a moment on the street to go buy a meal for someone less fortunate. The fact that you always keep a bag of candy in your purse to hand out to little kids on the subway who look like they’ve had a rough day. You were always so sensitive to everyone’s pain and you helped them with a straight face and a “no big deal” attitude because you don’t like to look soft. “That was nice of you,” he’d always say. To which you’d snap back “False, I’m not nice. Not in any way that can be proven in a court of law.” He remembered that and smiled to himself. 

You both sat down to eat, and you hated to admit it but you were waiting for his reaction to make sure he liked your food. You give him an expecting look and he feels it, “This is the best food I’ve had in 5 months”. You smile sadly, an unkind reminder that this is the last time you came here. You bask in the very much missed familiarity for a while. Then you decide to take the jump. You’re done waiting, and you’ll never know if you never try. 

“Matt there’s something I need to tell you,” you spit out, committing yourself to the truth so you have no way of backing out. “I think that burden should fall onto me,” he cuts you off, and you give him a puzzled look, egging him on to continue.

“y/n, in the time we’ve spent together, I’ve started feeling things I promised myself to not feel. But I couldn’t help it. Everything about you has invited me, no, forced me to care for you. To…love you. I tried to keep you away for your safety and look how that turned out. I don’t know what to do with these feelings. But what I do know is that every day I wasn’t with you it was hell. A day that goes by without hearing your voice and feeling your presence is pointless, tasteless and wasted. I don’t know if you feel the same way. I don’t know if you even want to wager on a relationship with me. But I had to speak up, or I will live my whole life regretting not doing it. And I already have enough regrets.” 

You can’t believe yourself. The stoic Matt Murdock, always ready with witty comments and evasive answers was laying his soul bare in front of you. Telling you everything you ever wanted to hear. You see a worried look on his face.

He can’t see your expression and can’t get a read on you from your heart rate which seemed to speed up and he doesn’t know if it’s just anxiety from having to break his heart or something else. His heartbeat is so loud it’s almost hurting his ears. Then in the middle of the storm in his mind you reach out your hand to hold his cheek, anchoring him. He freezes for a second then melts into your touch. 

Before either of you can think, you press your lips to his. Kissing him with the thirst of someone who’s been lost in the desert and just found an oasis. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you in his lap without breaking the kiss.

His hands wander all over your body, trying to feel every inch of you, memorizing it perfectly, painting a full image of you in his mind. And by god, was it gorgeous. He found himself thanking God for making such a beautiful creature, your existence only strengthened his faith that not only was God real, but he was an artist who really took his time making you. You were his biggest blessing and he made a note to go to church more because keeping you warrants a lot of prayer. 

Both of you are running out of breath but neither of you cared. You were too scared this is a dream. That if you let go he’d fade away like a mirage. You pull back to look at him, touch his face and make sure he’s here. And in all his glory, he is.

He’s wearing the brightest smile you’ve ever seen on him since the day you met him. Your heart is about to break out of your ribcage and start dancing. His warmth around you engulfs you and it feels like home. You hang onto him, almost gripping his shoulders to ground yourself because otherwise you might start floating away.

You leave a light trail of kisses along his shoulder before settling your face in the nook of his neck, breathing him in and resting your hand on his chest, tracing over the shape of his silver cross with your fingertips. Closing your eyes and letting him occupy your senses. 

“So, I’m assuming that’s a yes?” he asks, feigning ignorance in part, but also seeking final confirmation that this will not go away. “Yes. Just never make decisions for me again, and for god’s sake learn to use your words.” you reply with a smile of bliss on your face, which he feels as your cheeks rise against his shoulder.

He hugs you tighter as if that were possible and almost crushes you, he’s too overwhelmed by his happiness to be aware of his strength. All he can think about is keeping you as close as possible for as long as possible, and you weren’t objecting.

For the first time in years, you felt at peace. 

[2write-or-not2write]

White Lies and Pretty Skies

Summary: Reader is a detective who has psychic powers that allow her to read and influence minds. She decides to use her powers to bond with one secretive lawyer. 

Pairing: Matt Murdock x psychic!reader

Author’s Note: This whole thing was inspired by the line Matt says in S01E01 “I’d give anything to see the sky again.” This is my first attempt at writing a story ever so forgive me if it sucks. 

Part 2 is out now here.

Warnings: honestly idk. Slow burn. Yearning. 

Word Count: 2218

You first met Matt and Foggy working as a detective on one of their cases, you may have cheated a little by using your powers to stress out the perp pushing him to a confession. You’d already sensed his guilt and knew Matt’s client was framed but you can’t exactly cite “psychic probing” as evidence in court. So you worked it from a different angle using your gift. The lawyers were astonished by how you did it. They’ve been working the case for months and they couldn’t prove their client’s innocence until you came along and decided to help them. First through honest detective work, then when that didn’t work you upped your game slightly. Still, it’s all for the greater good. 

Matt, being as sharp as he is, knew something was up about the way you got that confession. It was almost too easy, but you still somehow did it. He kept a close eye on you after that, trying to understand your technique. Which you noticed, but knew he could never guess anyway so you didn’t worry. Instead, you grew close with him. You found yourself escaping to his dark apartment at the end of particularly rough days. The calm and quiet environment with his comforting presence offered you an asylum from the chaos and overwhelming buzz of New York. He slowly started to trust you, and enjoy your presence, yet neither of you knew each other’s secret. 

You made a vow to yourself to not abuse your abilities, never read the minds of unwilling people unless absolutely necessary for a greater cause, and definitely never use them on people close to you out of respect for their autonomy and privacy. So you extended that same grace to Matt. Letting yourself know about him only as much as he allows you to.

However, you couldn’t help notice a few anomalies about him. He was very fit for someone who has a desk job and sits down all day. His posture and reflexes are very sharp, almost like a soldier, someone who’s intimately familiar with a fight. You assumed it’s leftover mannerisms he picked up from his father before losing his sight, or at least that’s what you told yourself to satiate your curiosity and silence the urge to just sneak into his mind and answer the million questions you have about him. 

You kept up appearances well, until one night you slipped. You were sitting across from him in his living room, sprawled across the couch, looking outside the window at the bright LED sign, getting lost in the light and letting your mind wander. You’re halfway out of this world and in a bubble of your own thinking about the case you’re working, playing it over and over in your head trying to tie up the loose ends. You feel Matt’s presence near you in the dark, just out of your sight, but it’s familiar enough that it feels welcome rather than invasive to this moment of serenity you’re in.

You were both very quiet tonight. You hadn’t said anything beyond the little hello you gave as you walked in and settled in your usual spot. Until you heard him question “Why would a professional killer make such a sloppy mistake? How could he forget to destroy her phone?”. You started to think of an answer, replying without moving your eyes away from the billboard that feels like it’s put you in a hypnotic state, “Maybe he didn’t. Maybe she planted it on him. Maybe she was so clever that she knew something was up, she knew she was going to die anyway so she decided to leave us a clue.” 

Matt chimes up in surprise “What?” You finally turn to look at him, seeing a very perplexed look on his face. “What? It’s not such a stupid theory is it?” you ask. “Not at all. I’m just confused as to how you’ve answered a question I was only thinking.” Matt says. “What do you mean? You just asked me why he’d mess up.”, you said, genuinely confused at his reaction. 

“No, y/n. I only asked that question in my head. I never said it out loud.” Matt says with a low, almost accusatory tone. You stare at him wide-eyed for a second, realizing the mistake you just made. You accidentally heard his thoughts, and answered them. He could hear your breathing get erratic and your heart speeding up while you tried to think of a good lie to cover this up. He comes to sit down next to you slowly, and you almost forget to breathe when you feel his warmth next to you.

Your mind races, thinking of what to do. Should you keep lying to him? The man you’ve started to harbor some very strong sentiments towards? What would happen if he knew the truth? Would he ever trust you again? Would he believe you never intentionally used your gift on him? Your mind calculates all possible scenarios, and after a minute of silence that felt to you like an hour, you decided to go with your gut. You were going to tell him, and maybe if you open up to him, he will let you in too. 

“I guess it’s about time I tell you how I got that guy to confess on our first case” you say letting out a nervous chuckle. He listens intently as you explain to him how your gift works. You assure him that you’d never violate his privacy or poke around in his mind, he gives you a knowing smirk and says “I know.” Which aggravates your curiosity tenfold. How does he know? What does he mean by that? One day you’ll find out what’s underneath the mysterious front he keeps up, but you weren’t trying to rush anything. 

Life continued as usual, you carried on working with the unprofitable lawyers, helping out whenever you could. Matt kept it mostly under wraps except for teasing you with a few cryptic jokes here and there that leave you staring daggers at him so intensely he could feel it, while Foggy looks between you like a lost puppy trying to figure out what the hell you were talking about.

Although you act mad, you feel a sense of relief, comfort that someone you care so deeply about knows such an intimate thing about you. Glad that you never have to keep a mask on around him, thankful you can just be yourself. 

Another quiet night like the fateful one you came clean. This time you find him up on the roof. He smells your perfume as soon as you walk onto the roof and smiles to himself, welcoming you. You walk over and sit next to him, taking in the view. You’re so comfortable you find yourself leaning towards him you almost end up with your head on his shoulder until you notice and straighten yourself.

“What do you wish you could see again?” you speak up, cutting through the silence with a genuine inquiry that popped into your head. You want to learn whatever you can about him. He gives you a nostalgic smile, reminiscing, trying to fetch a far memory. “The sky. I’d give anything to see the sky one more time.” Then it hits you. You can project the image into his mind. Give him a fresher memory of the sight he’s missed. “I think I can help with that, if you allow me.”

He turns to face you with knitted brows, bewildered at what you could mean. “You can cure blindness? Have I been worshipping the wrong god?” he asks sarcastically. You let out a dry laugh and retort, “Not yet but I can do the next best thing. Do you trust me?” He nods, and you reach out your hands to his temples while letting out a deep sigh trying not to get distracted by how close you feel his breath on your face.

You focus as hard as you can to paint him the picture exactly as you see it. You close your eyes, capturing all the details you can, careful to make sure it feels as alive as possible. The distant stars, fighting a battle to shine and losing it to the aggressive New York lights that drown them out. The silhouette of the city’s iconic skyline. The moon, full and bright, guiding lost souls through the night. You hold the image as long as you can, with vibrant colors and impeccable accuracy. He slowly raises his hand to set it over yours. You feel an electric shock go through your body at the gentle touch.

You open your eyes to look at him, studying his face to see how it affected him. You see an expression that makes your heart swell up to 10 times its size with happiness, a genuine smile on his face filled with joy and gratitude. You feel his eyes on you almost like he can see you, looking straight into your soul. You feel bare and vulnerable yet so safe.

“Thank you.” he says with sincerity. You stay quiet for a while, soaking in the connection you just had until he breaks the silence, “Has the moon always been that bright or do you just have a bias?” You give a short laugh and look at the moon to check. Because you could swear it only looks this bright when you’re with him. You’d never felt this close to him before. Sure you’d gotten used to each other, but a mental link is a different kind of intimacy that you weren’t aware would affect you so much until you did it.

Days pass and you start regretting what you did. Not because you didn’t love making him happy, not because you didn’t love seeing him smile, not because you didn’t enjoy being so close to him. Quite the opposite, it’s because you loved it too much. Because you have no idea how to act normally around him after that night.

Every time you see him you get flustered, your usually confident and sharp tongue gets twisted when you try to talk to him. Your heart races when he sits close to you because your mind goes back to the moment. It’s very bad for business and you’re growing tired of avoiding him to not spill the one secret he must never know. That you love him. 

Matt’s not stupid, and he’s incredibly perceptive, so he immediately caught on to the changes in your attitude, and the way your body reacts to him when he’s around. He wished he could tell you that he felt the same.

That whenever you visit him he sleeps on the couch after you leave so he could fall asleep to your lingering body scent mixed with your perfume, that he perks up when he hears the click of your heels walking down the hallway to his office, that hearing a hint of distress in your voice makes his mind run wild wishing to stop whatever dares to upset you, that it’s not a coincidence he always chooses your favorite spots for lunch, that he sometimes watches over you when you’re going home late to make sure you got there safely.

He wished he could tell you how you make his heart beat in a new rhythm he’s never heard before. He wished to allow himself that vulnerability. But he knew if he were to do that, he had to expose you to a part of his life that might put you at risk. He pushed the thought aside, preferring to agonize over his feelings for you in secret than ever put you in harm’s way. 

Little did he know trouble has a way of finding you anyway.