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2write-or-not2write · 10 days ago

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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.

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