#daredevil x vigilante!reader

[demigoddessqueens]

“I’m going to watch the new Daredevil for the plot”

The plot:

[pedrito-friskito]

cinnamon spice and everything (not so) nice - matt murdock x vigilante!reader

summary: the holiday season puts you in a baking mood before duty calls, and coming home tastes better than ever.

warnings: canon-typical violence, possessive!matt, unprotected p-in-v, shower sex, hints of what’s to come for our sweet kitten and devil

a/n: uNEDITED I’m lazy I’m sorry but this one was interesting to write!!! hints of what’s to come (not for a while but it wILL HAPPEN SOON I SWEAR) - my askbox is always open if you have theories 😏

🍂kay’s autumn adventures🍂

Matt’s pretty sure he can count on one hand the number of times he’s used his kitchen.

Since you appeared on the scene, however — swooping your way into his life and deciding to stay, despite everything you’d both been through — the apartment is a test lab of sorts. Every night you’re over at his place, you’re trying out some new recipe, greeting him at the door with a wooden spoon coated in something, pushing it towards his mouth and telling him to taste. It’s only after he gives you his honest opinion that he gets his hello kiss, a smile on your mouth more often than not.

Spaghetti is a staple and is always a hit, along with all your variations and sauces. Same goes with pad thai, broccoli cheddar soup, and a ridiculously good ravioli thing that Matt’s still not sure you made correctly, but was delicious either way. He’s joked more than once that it’s a good thing you both spend your evenings taking down criminals and running across rooftops, otherwise he’d have traded his muscles for a paunch a long time ago.

“And I’d still want to fuck your brains out,” you’d chided, poking him in the stomach before grabbing his belt and hauling him towards you for a kiss.

He can always smell your cooking before he even steps out of the elevator, even more so when he takes the stairs, the scents mingling with the building air and hitting his nose as soon as he’s inside. He’s made a game of it, trying to figure out just what you’re making for dinner before he gets to his floor. Sometimes he’ll text you his guess from inside the elevator, waiting for your triumphant no! or confused yes? how did you guess that? once he steps through the door.

But today, he’s…confused.

The smell is different today. There’s nothing savoury about it, no salt or pepper or — your favourite — garlic powder permeating the air. No, no, today is different. Today is…sweet.

Matt inhales deeply as soon as he steps into the building, and the flavours explode on the back of his tongue. Cinnamon, nutmeg, brown sugar, maple. It goes on and on, and he’s too distracted to even think about hitting the button for the elevator, keeping his cane handy in case he encounters anyone on the way up. No one crosses his path, however, and before you can even shout hello, he’s through the door and into the kitchen, sniffing the air like a hound dog, licking his lips as the flavours and smells grow more and more intense.

“You’ve been busy,” he laughs, and you just shrug.

“I had the day off,” you reply, and Matt steps up behind you, slipping his arms around your middle, setting his chin on your shoulder while you continue to roll out cookie dough. Everything just smells so good, he can feel the drool pooling on his tongue, and coupled with the familiar scent of you, he’s nearly a goner. “Foggy called earlier,” you continue, sucking a stripe off cinnamon off your knuckle before turning in Matt’s grasp, draping your arms around his shoulders. “He wants us to come over for Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Uh-huh,” Matt mumbles, leaning in to kiss you. You taste like sugar, your already sweet mouth made doubly so. It sends him reeling. “So you decided to turn my apartment into a bakery?”

“I bake when I’m nervous,” you sigh, tilting your head back, accepting the kisses he drags down your throat. “And you know what tonight is.”

Matt stops short, trying to comb through his sugar-hazed mind. Tonight? Tonight, it’s late October, it’s Wednesday, it’s not your birthday, it’s not his birthday, and you don’t necessarily have an anniversary to speak of, not yet anyway, so what is tonight…?

Oh.

“I do know what tonight is,” Matt grumbles, the words spoken directly into your jugular, followed up with a little nip that makes you whine and smack his shoulder.

You are nothing if not persistent. In everything you do; your vigilantism, your day-job, your friendships, your love for him. He’s tried his best to keep you at arm’s length with what you both do in the dark, but he knows your patience has waned thin. For a while, taking it in shifts was the easiest, swapping out each night, the other staying behind, ready to tend to wounds and kiss bruised egos back to life. It worked, for a time, but the waiting, the pacing the apartment (his or yours, it didn’t matter) and just waiting for the other half of your heart to come back through the door — or window — it became too much. It was too hard, simply waiting, praying to whoever was listening to bring them back. Whole. Unbroken. Alive.

“Remind me again why we don’t cut the bullshit and protect the Kitchen together?” you’d asked, ever so casually, over breakfast one morning. You were nursing a nasty black eye, and Matt sputtered on his cereal, his cracked rib sending a twinge of pain up his spine.

“What?”

“If we did this together,” you continued, sipping your coffee. “If we worked together, instead of just waiting up for each other, we could actually get things done. Put the bad guys in cells. Protect our city.”

His hand turned into a fist on the table. “Kitten, don’t. You know what I—”

“I know exactly what you’re going to say,” you countered, reaching over and curling a hand around his wrist. “You’ve said it a million times, Matty. So, I have a proposal. One month from now, we go out on patrol together. You watch my back, I watch yours, for one night. One night, Matthew. And if anything goes wrong, I’ll drop it forever. But if it works, if we make as good of a team as I think we will, then you stop pushing back at me.” You squeezed his arm. “Deal?”

He bit back his objection. He knew you wouldn’t drop it otherwise, knew you didn’t care what else he had to say. It was obvious in the consistently steady beat of your heart; you hadn’t let yourself think about this turning into a fight. Your mind was made up, your proposal was perfectly logical, and there was no lawyering himself out of this one — not if he didn’t want to sleep on the couch for the foreseeable future.

“Deal.”

For a beat, Matt wishes he could go back in time and punch his past self in the face. It might hurt less than the instant knot of worry and fear that makes a home in his stomach, the sugary taste on his tongue turning sickly sweet. He buries his face further into your neck, inhaling the familiar scent of you that lurks beneath the cinnamon and brown sugar.

“We had a deal, Matthew,” you murmur, lifting one hand and threading your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “You promised.”

“I did,” he replies, the words spoken into the hollow of your throat. “We go together. I promised.”

It’s late by the time you head out into the city. The kitchen is mostly clean, the scent of baked goods still drenching every inch of the apartment, and Matt can still taste the toffee from the cookies you made, the sweetness lingering on the back of his tongue. He’s stoic and silent as you prepare, suits zipped and weapons fastened, masks donned and courage mustered. He’s antsy as you head up the stairs to the roof entrance, the sounds of your footfalls echoing loud in his ears.

You reach for the door handle, and Matt grabs your wrist. “You stay close to me, understand?” he murmurs, squeezing his fingers lightly. “And if I tell you to run, you run.”

“Matt, this isn’t—”

“Kitten,” he chides, his grip growing tighter. “I promised you. Now it’s your turn.”

He hears the hard swallow you take, the huff of your breath before he feels the heat on his chin. “Fine. I promise.”

+

Everything goes fine, really.

Until it doesn’t.

Until you’re pinned down in an alleyway, both of you with your backs to bricks, multiple guns pointed in your direction, more thugs than you’ve faced alone crowding you further down the alley. You’re both worse for wear, busted knuckles and a few ribs, a steady drip of blood down the side of your face, and Matt’s lip is split in at least three places. He’s positioned himself in front of you, his body angled in such a way that he’s mostly blocking you. Your heart is in your throat, and you’re sure he can hear it. 

This is bad.

You know Matt’s faced worse, at this point. Everything that happened at Midland Circle, everything leading up to it. Your resume pales in comparison, and you’d never dream of trying to take down an operation like this on your own, but you didn’t anticipate this many men. Or this man guns.

You’re fast, but you can’t outrun a bullet. You’ve tried, and you have the scars to prove it.

“The fire escape,” Matt murmurs, so low you can barely hear him. “To the left. When I signal, you run.”

“But—”

“Kitten.”

The tone sends a shiver down your spine. It’s the same one he’d used when you started to protest back at the apartment. Everything in you is screaming not to go, but before you can, he’s sprinting towards a dumpster, using all his weight to push it towards the group of men. Bullets start to fly, ricocheting off brick and metal, and, knowing Matt is safe enough tucked behind the dumpster, you curse under your breath and sprint up the fire escape, just as he’d asked.

You don’t look back, heart in your throat and blood thundering through your ears as you sprint up the steps. Metal clangs beneath your boots, and as you near the top of the building, you have enough wherewithal to realize that there’s a second set of footsteps below you.

Please God, if you’re listening, let it be Matt. Please, please. please.

You roll onto the gravel roof as soon as you’re over the edge of the fire escape, scrambling against the brick, heaving breaths and trying to suck down more oxygen. You hear another panted breath behind you and spin to your feet, reaching for the weapon at your belt.

Before you can make another move, a large hand wraps itself around your throat, hauling you up and to your feet, boots scraping on the gravel, your back shoved hard against brick a moment later. “You think you can outrun us, little bitch?” the man spits. You’re scrabbling against his grip, trying to claw at his wrist, his arm, his face, anything you can reach. Your feet kick like mad, vision blurring at the edge as his grip goes tighter. No, no, no, no, please God, no. All you can hear is the sound of your own choked sputtering, see the gruesome face of your attacker, feel the life slowly draining from you.

This cannot be the end. Not after everything. Not like this.

The grip goes slack, and you fall to the gravel in a heap, your body immediately trying to get as much oxygen as humanly possible, the blurriness giving way to little black dots that dance across your vision. You lay there for a moment, palm pressed to your chest. You’re alive.

There’s shouting, from the other side of the roof, and you struggle to sit up, head turning in time to see Matt being shoved to his knees by your attacker, punch after punch delivered to his face, blood pouring down his cheeks, staining the front of his suit an even darker shade of red. His billy club lies on the ground a few feet from the pair of them, and you scramble forward on your knees, your body quaking in protest as you haul yourself up.

You shout loud as you crack the club across the back of the man’s head, but he barely flinches, large frame turning from Matt and back to you. You try to will the fear away, but the feeling of his hand around your throat comes back, a phantom ache that makes your breath come shorter.

“Little bitch!” he shouts, and goes to lunge for you, but before he can, Matt swoops in from the side, shoving his shoulder into the man’s middle, sending him wheeling backwards.

Right over the edge of the roof.

You both face each other as the sound echoes up from the alley below. Your chest is heaving, breaths wispy and thin. You feel lightheaded, and Matt notices, moving to step beside you as you collapse into him, curling your hand into whatever part of his suit you can. He slips an arm around your waist. “Home,” he breathes out, the word thick with blood that he spits onto the gravel. “Now.”

You can’t bring yourself to voice your agreement, nodding as you lean your head on his shoulder. He smells like copper. 

“Is he dead?” you ask as he pulls you across the roof.

A pause, head cocked to the side. “He’ll live.”

“Matt.”

“He will.”

Something feels different as you slowly make your way back to Matt’s apartment. It’s not tension between you, per se, but something different, something more tangible, something almost desperate as Matt nearly carries you through the rooftop entrance. He stops at the bottom of the steps, forces you to sit, and pulls your feet into his lap one at a time, unlacing your boots and pulling them off, setting them aside. 

Blood is still leaking from his nose, and you’re worried it might be broken, but he doesn’t flinch when you reach out to wipe the red from his cupid’s bow. “You took the brunt of it,” you say, your voice hoarse and scratchy, and he tosses your second boot to the side, reaching up and pulling his helmet off.

“I had to,” he replies, hair a mess as he lets the helmet fall to the floor. “He was trying to kill you.”

There’s a glimmer in those bottomless eyes as they move in your direction, something feral and uncanny that you’ve never seen before. His lashes flutter as he blinks slowly, gaze turning glassy as he reaches for your hand, takes it between both of his, swipes his thumb across your busted knuckles.

“I won’t let that happen.”

His voice nearly cracks on the last word, and you hook your fingers in the front of the suit, leaning up with what little strength you have left and brushing a soft kiss across his lips, careful of the splits in his skin. “I know you won’t, Matty.”

He’s quiet as he helps you to your feet, quieter as he leads you into the bathroom, turns on the shower so hot that the steam fills the room quickly. Silent as he undresses himself, bloodied suit laying in a heap on the floor, your own — dirty and dust-covered — joining it a moment later. Noiseless as you step under the spray together, take turns washing the dirt and blood from each other. The steam eases the ache in your chest, makes your breaths come a bit easier, and after you’re both clean, Matt pushes you against the tile, pushes your knees apart with his thigh, and kisses you hard.

You squeak in surprise, one hand grabbing his shoulder, the other threading in his hair as his body moulds itself against yours. You can feel every inch of him, scars and muscle and wet skin. The prod of his cock against the inside of your thigh, the gentle scratch of his body hair against you.

He kisses you hard, and his tongue tastes like toffee. It makes you laugh, the awful juxtaposition of the duelling sides of your life. The light and the dark, the normal and the uncanny. But there, no matter where you look: Matt Murdock, Daredevil, man of your dreams, owner of your heart.

“Kitten,” he whispers against your lips, hands roaming your body gently. He skims your thigh, hooks his hand around the back of your knee and hikes your leg over his hip. Pleasure spikes as he rolls his body into yours, friction in all the right places, and your head tips back against the tile. “Please, I…”

“Tell me, Matty,” you reply, breathing fast as his other hand glances down your front, tweaking your nipple before fitting into the curve of your waist. “What do you need?”

“I need you safe,” he groans, dropping his hips enough that his cock slides between your folds, the water easing his thrust, teasing and slow. “I need you beside me.” He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping lightly before releasing it, mouthing along the edge of your jaw. “I need to be inside you.”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble out, bliss climbing, replacing whatever fear you’ve encountered, whatever stress and tension you’ve accumulated dissipating as your body screams: Matt, Matt, Matt, Matt, Matt. “I want that too.”

“Such a good kitten,” he murmurs, the tip of his nose dragged along the underside of your jaw. He’s pointedly avoiding your throat, and you can tell, but you don’t mind. He squeezes your hip. “My perfect girl.” Another teasing thrust, making your breath hitch high, hand moving from his shoulder to his bicep, squeezing tight. “Let me fuck you, please.”

You just nod again, your head falling forward, jaw hinging open as he angles himself and pushes deep into you. It’s slow, like the rest of it, drawn out and almost excruciating, the drag of him inside you sending your nerves into a frenzy, rushes of pleasure just teetering on the edge of pain.

A few thrusts, and he’s reaching for your other thigh, holding one in each hand, lifting you against the tile as he starts to drive into you. You throw your arms around his neck, cheek pressed to the top of his head as his lips attach to your collarbone, teeth scraping and lips sucking.

It’s a moment before you realize he’s talking, his voice low and husky.

“Mine.”

The word, over and over and over again, your name interspersed, in perfect time with his thrusts, the sound of his skin against yours barely audible over the rush of the water. The heat is almost too much, and you can feel yourself teetering on that edge already, your exhausted body leaping towards the peak of pleasure.

A particularly deep thrust has the ridge of his stomach glancing against your clit, and you’re a goner. He’s not far behind you, growling his way through his orgasm, that familiar warmth only he can provide spreading through you. The water’s starting to go from hot to warm, cold not too far off, as you come down, Matt slipping out of you with a groan and letting you down, holding you close as you right yourself on shaky knees.

Just as the water starts to go cold, he grabs your jaw, turns your face towards him, kisses you rough.

“Mine.”

—————

matt murdock taglists will be rb’d!

[petertingle-yipyip]

MAD AT GOD - MATT MURDOCK

Season Three - Aimed To Kill

tags: @mayasaurus--rex @americaarse @dusstory @johnmurphys-sass @ironprincessstranger @astrobees @woowwwee // four // six // masterlist

Pairing: Matt x Reader

Word Count: 10,424

Summary: Pages turn and bridges burn as Ex realizes the extent that she’s behind. When sentiment thrives amongst the chaos between her and her first love, question becomes whether they can fix their hearts with the lips that have left scars on each other.

Ray sent you home after your conversation. A team remained for cleanup and analysis, and you offered to help, but you were told to go home. He said for you to take care of yourself, write down whatever important things you didn’t want to forget, and he’d see you in the office for a debrief tomorrow. You tried to wait for Karen or Foggy, but Ray said if you wouldn’t leave on your own, he would walk to your car himself.

You thought about going home, about sleeping off the whole ordeal. But your mindless driving took you to the church. Once you pulled up, your feet guided you through the rod-iron gate out front without hesitation and through the heavy wood doors with your chest growingly inexplicably tighter with each step.

Your feet seemed to know where to go more than your head because before you knew it, you were just around the corner from the gate. You took a deep breath and built the pressure in your chest to a pinnacle. You let it out as a controlled exhale and felt the thrumming of your pulse slow to its usual pace.

“You’re missing the point! He didn’t just find someone to wear my suit.” Matt argued so you stayed around the corner to listen in, hiding your presence behind a bubble of indifference. “He’s as fast and skilled as I’ve ever seen, and I couldn’t take him. He found someone to kill me.”

“Matthew.” Sister Maggie tried.

“I was stupid enough to think that I had Fisk cornered. He knew I’d find the witness and I just brought the sheep to the slaughter.”

You shook your head slightly, feeling that slap of guilt.

“Jasper Evans is dead. He’s dead and he leaves a son behind and that’s on me! … I was so sure that I was finally out in front of this bastard. God, and I was stupid enough to put Y/N in the middle of it.”

You stepped inside quietly and stood beside Maggie. Her head snapped towards your sudden presence, but she offered a small, thankful smile. You gently took the cloth from her hand and moved towards Matt. He jerked away from your touch but you grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back. He huffed in annoyance and you quietly rolled your eyes.

“Fisk knew I thought that I had him. He was waiting for me.” Matt’s rant continued, though his anger was now wavering between that heat - a heat that so familiarly blasted from him - and suffocating guilt. “Of course he was waiting for me.”

You worked calmly and quietly as you began undoing the buttons of his shirt. 

“Foggy and Karen could’ve been killed.” Matt tried.

Your movements paused at the last button when you realized he was right. But your head cocked in thought when you also realized that they weren’t killed. He hardly touched them… Why kill everyone else but them? “And there would’ve been nothing I could’ve done to stop it. Nothing.”

“You’re losing blood. Let me stitch you up!” Maggie insisted and Matt’s brows furrowed slightly, clearly having assumed the person touching him was the familiar nun.

“I listened to you. I listened to you and they almost died.” Matt continued, though one bloodied hand reached forward and found your face.

You couldn’t hide the smile as his thumb traced your features. He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh, his mouth threatening to reveal a smile. That prior tightness in your chest dissipated almost instantly when you saw that you still meant something special to him. While their conversation continued, you were thinking of an old memory from college.

————————————

“Does that even work?” You giggled and dropped on the bed beside Matt. He turned his head in your direction with a content smile. “They do it on TV but is it actually a thing?”

“It helps, yeah.” He nodded. “You don’t have to though.”

“Do you want to?”

He gave a small shrug. “Foggy’s pretty much told me what you look like. The guy couldn’t stop talking about you for a week after we first met. It was always ‘how did we not know she was in our classes?’ and ‘how is a girl like that trynna be a lawyer?’.”

“Huh.” You propped yourself up on your elbows. “I’m gonna kick Franklin’s ass.” You laughed before sitting up fully and patting Matt’s chest. “C’mon, get up.”

“Why?” He asked, though he did as he was told.

“So we can do this.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

You could tell he was trying to keep down his smile as his hand hovered near your cheek. You felt a twisting in your stomach and realized for the first time in a long time, you had butterflies. Your skin was buzzing with excitement as you waited for Matt’s gentle touch. He giggled quietly and pulled his hands away.

“What’s wrong?” You laughed.

“Nothing.” He insisted with a grin. “Nothing, I swear.”

Your brows raised expectantly and he licked his lips with a smile as he raised his hands again. You laughed to yourself and grabbed his wrists to guide his hands. You slid his fingers into your hair at your temples and his thumbs ran along your forehead, following the path of your hairline.

You watched his expression shift, though there was always a smile on his face. His brows raised and furrowed as his thumbs continued to travel your face, skimming over your eyebrows as his fingers traced the curve of your ears. You giggled slightly when he got your eyes and the touch against your lashes made your eyes close.

“Can you smile?” He asked softly when both palms slid to your cheeks.

Your eyes opened and you saw the soft expression he wore. That look alone was enough to bring out an honest smile, thinking about how sweet and honest Matt was. He gave you a chance to be soft in a way you never had before. You had always thought yourself synonymous with bloody knuckles and gun powder. You wanted to be something to fear, to make people afraid to hurt you. But when Matt was around, all your jagged edges seemed to be rounded out.

His thumbs traced your cheeks to the bridge of your nose. You bit down the smile as his pointer fingers made their way to your lips, gingerly tracing the shape. One hand fell away while the other gave your cheeks a gentle squeeze, making you laugh.

“What was that for?” You asked and he laughed with you as he pulled both hands back to his lap.

“Nothing.” He answered innocently. “You’re beautiful, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Matt.. So are you.”

“Yeah?” His brows raised as a slight pink tinted his cheeks.

“Yeah…” You smiled softly. “Y’know, I’m really glad we met.”

“Me too.”

————————————

Maggie tapped your shoulder and you pulled back into the present moment. You turned to see her handing you a bowl with the supplies to stitch him up. She offered a quick nod before disappearing and you blinked the pink tint from your vision.

“I don’t know if I can beat the man he sent to kill me, Y/N/N.” Matt confessed softly as you moved across the room to wash your hands.

“Have you forgotten everything I taught you?” You asked simply.

“I’ve thought about everything between us a lot lately.” He said softly, all anger fading to the back for a moment as he appeared at your side. “Good and bad.”

“And there’s been a lot of both.”

“Mostly my fault.”

You turned to him with a clean wet cloth in hand. You gently grabbed his jaw and turned his head down towards you. He snorted a quiet chuckle while you gently cleared the blood from his nose and mouth.

“Well I’m not exactly a cake walk to have around… Just ask Marc. Or Billy. Or Frank. Or either of my cousins.. Hell, you could ask Karen.” You laughed slightly.

“I’m serious, Y/N/N.” He offered a small, lopsided smile.

“Y’know, I thought you might've turned off your heart, cause that just wasn’t you last time I saw you, when we were at Jasper’s.. But this guilt makes more sense.”

“You don’t seem very fazed that our friends could’ve died.” He commented as your hands returned to their place in his chest and began stitching him up.

“Yeah...” Your brows furrowed as you thought back to your realization from just moments ago. “They could’ve. But they didn’t.”

“He knew from the start, since I went to the prison. He knew I’d find Jasper.”

“Shut up for a second.” You shook your head, pausing your hands to let your brain work through your thoughts. You slowly began tapping your finger against his chest and he looked down at you with raised brows. “So why didn’t he kill them?”

“What?”

“The imposter could've killed them both. You were down and I had barely gotten to my feet, which was after he had already pulled a trigger on Jasper.” You stopped and turned your head up to face Matt again. “He doesn't seem like the kind of guy to give chances. So why not kill them too? Why not kill all of us?”

“Cause that wasn’t the plan.” Matt finished.

“No… He wasn’t sent to clear the place. The journalists and whatever damage he did from that was his own idea, probably only killing people that fought back. He was sent to send a message. To me and you, to the public, and every crime syndicate in New York. If he can wreck your public image, it shows that the people can’t trust you anymore. And by making it look like you’ve snapped and you work for him now, criminal groups across the city will see him as untouchable.”

“FBI protects him inside. Daredevil protects him outside. Makes it look like not even Exodus can’t touch him.”

“Untouchable. Like she’s fighting a losing battle…” Your fingers continued the steady movements to stitch him up. “We’ve gotta find this guy sooner rather than later.”

“I couldn’t stop him, but you could.” His brows furrowed but you ignored the look he gave you and focused on finishing the stitches. “How’d you know how to beat him?”

“His first instinct was to throw the club, which told me pretty much everything I needed to know.” You explained, though it was partially a lie. “He was strong, sure. But it was easy to tell his advantage was with distance and projectiles. When you two were going at it, he had trouble blocking everything which showed a lack in hand to hand experience. I saw a fighter that relied on brute strength or distance. The way he carried himself reminded me of the military, and in my experience, military men can’t defend against me very well. He couldn’t get me until I let up or got distracted.”

“Your experience.” He chuckled. “How many military men do you have experience with?”

“I don’t owe you that answer.” You said simply.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that’s not a very discreet way to ask who I’ve been sleeping with.”

“What?” He feigned innocence.

“I know you were at the apartment. What gave it away?”

“I could smell the colognes in the bedroom.” He admitted.

You let the silence settle for a moment until he began fiddling with his fingers.

“Four.” You finally answered and his brows raised in mild shock. “Two of them would’ve been recent enough that you could tell but they were just to pass the time. Well that’s kind of a lie. I was starting to like one of them until he turned around and shot me. The other two of them actually mattered, but one of them’s like my family. They’ve never been in the bedroom like that.”

“Hmm… Couch?” He tried to joke.

You smacked his arm.

“Neither of them have been in the apartment.” You specified.

“Your math is wrong, by the way. That was five.”

“No, it’s four.. There’s some overlap.”

“Would I uh… Would I know any of them?”

“Names, yes. Actual people, some. And to answer that other burning question that’s stamped on your forehead, no. I never slept with Frank.”

“I didn’t-“

“You assumed the only military guy we had in common… You were dead. What else was I supposed to do?” You gave a small shrug and dropped the supplies to the sink.

“I know.”

“Y’know, I really thought we could make it..”

“We still can.” He said softly, as if the words would break him. As if admitting those words in your presence was the last crumble of his resolve to stay away in the name of your protection.

And maybe they did. All you knew for sure was that whatever hard casing had shattered in your chest earlier that night, it would never fully solidify again. You were each other’s greatest weakness. The clearest vulnerability, but your greatest strength came from each other. Your best feats came when you two were together. Fisk knew that, and that’s why he wanted to separate you two.

Matt waited for you to turn back towards him and when you did, he took your hand and guided you to the small bed tucked in the corner.

“The suit he was wearing...” You remembered, hoping to redirect the conversation to the fight.

“Yeah, it was perfect.” Matt agreed.

“I think we’ll need to see Melvin.” You sighed and turned to him.

His brows furrowed as his head tilted, listening in on something. Your head cocked as you watched and waited for him to talk about it.

“Are your ribs bothering you again?” He asked suddenly. “It sounds like the bones are rubbing together.”

“Probably. He slammed me a few times and I took a tumble down the stairs earlier but it doesn’t hurt.” You sat up taller to prod the area but Matt’s hand was already pressing against the bones while the other was against your back for stability. You winced sharply and grabbed his wrist. “Yeah, they’re busted. I’ll deal with it later.”

“I can’t really feel it. Can I…” He gestured to your shirt.

You shook your head softly but stripped off your jacket and button-up. You gave Matt a side eye as you undid the velcro straps on your vest but he held a look of innocent concern. You pulled the vest over your head with a wince, leaving you in the black compression top that was underneath.

“Don’t think you're gonna get me out my clothes that easy anymore, Murdock.” You teased and he smiled as you guided his hands back.

“Guess I still got it.” He answered lowly as he pressed against your rib cage. You let a sound between a whine and a groan, which made Matt quickly turn to face you. “Never heard you make that sound before.”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes in amusement.

“What about your hip? Where the knife went in?” His fingers slid down and pressed the joint of your hip.

“It’s fine, should be just a scar by now.” You looked down at his hand and saw the dark purple shapes on the back of your forearms from where you blocked the baton earlier that night. You hummed in acknowledgment and lifted your arms to better see the bruises.

Matt was quick to reach up and run his fingers along your skin, feeling the slight swelling of the discolored area. He sighed slightly and leaned forward, sliding his hands to have a better grip on your hips. He offered a quiet, pleading expression and gave your body a slight pull. You hesitantly scooted closer, lifting a leg to rest on his lap.

“My last fight was a lot worse. Still got out better than you did.” You said softly, brushing your fingers across his forehead to move his hair back. “You feeling okay?”

“Careful, Y/N.” His eyes closed and a small smile crossed his lips. “I might start to think you still love me.”

“I wouldn’t be down here if I didn’t.” You confessed quietly. “I had to make sure we didn’t lose you again.”

He shifted back on the bed slightly and pulled your hips again, this time pulling you over his lap. He draped your arms over his shoulders before his hands ran up and down the sides of your thighs. You leaned your forehead to rest on his and he tilted his head back so his lips brushed yours.

“You know there are some things we need to talk about.” You said quietly.

“I know..”

“And I can’t stay down here forever.”

“Yeah, just… Just let me hold you for a little longer.”

You nodded slightly and his arms snaked around your waist, allowing you to wrap yours around his shoulders.  You leaned forward to drop your head against his shoulder and his chin rested on top of your head. He took a deep breath and his arm held you a little closer. In turn, you felt a rattling in your chest. The sensation was true for what you and Matt felt about your current relationship. Uncertain, shaky at best with a cracked foundation. But there was a familiar tug as well, like a string tied from his heart to yours.

“I don’t want you to get hurt because of me anymore.” He mumbled against your shoulder before he pulled back. “I can’t keep you with me.”

“I can protect myself.” You answered with a small smile. “And I can feel that you want me here, Matty. You can say whatever you want but you can’t hide that longing in your chest.”

He hesitated to go any further, though his hands held you a bit tighter. You let your own hands run up the back of his neck and your fingers pushed into his hair. He let out a chuckle in relief and pressed his lips fully against yours.

Your lips moved together as if no time had passed. You let out a soft moan when he gently pulled you closer and you let all your guards crumble away.

Suddenly, Matt could feel her pulse against his skin with the small noise she made. He could hear more than just the bones rubbing together in her chest. He heard the way her heart was pounding and her breath was growing shallow. He slid his hands up to the exposed skin of her sides and he loved how he heard her heart pick up and the gasp that fell from her lips. He continued to push his hands under her shirt until his fingers found the hem of her bra.

His head was screaming for him to let her go, to force her to leave and keep her safe. He was yelling at himself to say something hurtful, to break her heart and send her off hating him. He knew she’d be safer that way, as far away from as she could get. But Matt recognized that she wouldn’t go for that. She’d never leave his side if she had a choice, and she wouldn’t let Matt take that choice from her.

She pulled her lips away just enough to offer a small, silent nod. She helped him remove her shirt and to stifle the groan. Once the fabric was gone, Matt gently switched positions so she could lay on her back. He carefully climbed on top of her and felt her hands trail down his chest. His eyes closed as her fingertips ghosted over the various scars across his abdomen, as if she wanted to see if they were still there. Maybe that was how she could convince herself it was real, that he was real. He felt her hands falter on one that she wouldn’t know, one that came from Midland Circle. But he knew she wasn’t feeling it in a bad way. She was feeling it to remember it, to add it to the memory she kept of his body.

He had added a few new scars of hers to his memory as well. The tattoos at the back of her neck. Deep lines around her wrist that were interrupted by a shallow circle on either side, a short but raised mark near her belly button. The newest one at her hip that he had yet to feel. He felt the slight divot along her jaw earlier that night. Whatever she had gone through in his absence, she’d never be able to forget it. He still wondered what happened, but in those moments where he had her hands and lips on him, he couldn't bring himself to stop and ask. He decided it would be a story for another time.

The moment only broke when Y/N gently pushed his chest away.

“Maybe this isn’t a great idea..” You said gently.

“Yeah..” He answered simply, as if that was the reaction he expected from you. “You’re probably right.”

“I still wanna stay.” You offered as he moved to lay beside you.

“I thought you couldn’t.”

“Tell me to go and I will.”

“And if I want you to stay”?

“Tell me and I will.”

You woke later that night - or maybe it was early morning - when your phone was ringing on the floor. You freed yourself from Matt’s arms and slid from the small bed to the floor. You found your phone in your jacket and leaned your back against the bed while you answered.

“Yeah?” You mumbled, eyes still closed and sleep dripping from your voice.

“Hey.” Dex’s voice answered and it felt like you were slapped awake. Every muscle in your body tensed as you expected an accusation of your alter ego. “Just callin’ to see if you’re home. I wanted to come by.”

“Isn’t it kinda late for that?”

“I was just hoping we could talk.. I heard about what happened at the Bulletin.”

“They’re talking about it already?” Your brows furrowed. 

“No, not really.” He said carefully and it was clear he was fabricating his lie as he went. “Ray told me you got a little banged up and I should check on you.”

You knew you had to redirect the conversation quickly or else he might realize that he didn’t see you there, if he hadn’t realized already.

“You don’t have to. I’ve gotten worse than a few bumps and bruises. But hey, while I got you, I wanted to ask if there was any word on your leave? I didn’t get a chance to see if Ray knew anything.”

“Uh… No. No, I haven’t heard anything. No.”

“That’s too bad.” You feigned disappointment. “Tonight probably would’ve been different if you were with me.”

“Yeah…” He paused on the other line and you knew you still had some hooks in him you could pull. “Well, I guess I’ll let you go. Sorry to wake you.”

“Don’t worry about it. Hopefully I get you back with me soon, yeah?”

“Yeah… Yeah, soon. Back with.. with you.”

When you walked into work that morning, you were immediately blasted with familiar feelings from Karen. You followed that calling and ended up in the conference room with Foggy and Karen on one side and Ray on the other. Karen let out a tense sigh and jumped to meet you in a tight embrace, so tight you had to swallow the groan when she squeezed your ribs. Foggy was next, a short embrace followed by a tap on your arm.

“Y/L/N. Glad you’re here. How do you feel?” Ray asked when you stood beside him.

“Little banged up.” You gestured to the still red cut on your forehead. “But I’m not sitting this out. I get you had to pull me from the Murdock investigation but you’re letting me stay on this thing.”

“Yeah.” He gave a small smile. “Wouldn’t do it without you.”

“Great.” You nodded and took a seat beside Ray. “Fill me in.”

“We were addressing that, according to her own paper, Ms. Page has met Daredevil at least twice.” He explained and slid a paper across the table, citing the articles Karen had written.

“That psycho’s not Daredevil.” She countered and shoved the paper back.

“I got a pretty good look at him, too. Could’ve fooled me.” Ray countered, not acknowledging that you had told him something similar the night before.

“Do you think every fat guy with a white beard and red suit is Santa Claus?” Foggy countered and you had to smile.

“If he comes down my chimney and leaves presents under the tree.”

“Devil’s in the details there, Ray.” You added carefully. “That guy would’ve acted like Santa. If he did all of that, this guy didn’t act like Daredevil.”

“Based on how many encounters?” Ray turned to you.

“Couple.” You shrugged.

“He doesn’t kill people, ever. It’s not Daredevil.” Karen insisted. “Did you ever look into Felix Manning? Red Lion Bank?”

“They’re on my to-do list.”

“This is bullshit.”

“Look, Karen, he dropped your name.” You added but you weren’t speaking to her an FBI agent. You were speaking to her as her friend, as her vigilante friend, and she knew that. “He had a chance to kill you, but he didn’t. You were the one person left untouched. I know this seems like bullshit but we need to get these pieces to line up somehow.”

“It won’t.” Foggy cut in. “Not until you two start asking the right questions.”

“And what are those, Mr. Nelson?”

“How about this? Where’s Matt Murdock?” Ray interjected, looking at Foggy and then you.

You simply shrugged.

“Yet another fine example of a question that’s besides the friggin’ point!”

“You were supposed to deliver him to us-“ He gestured between the two of you. “-but there are zero Matt Murdocks in my custody.”

“And zero Jasper Evans left alive.” Karen added. “He killed the one person who had dirt on Fisk, but you knew that already. Is that why you don’t wanna go there?”

“Ms. Page.” You warned.

“What? That nut job did Agent Nadeem a huge favor. Now there’s no one left to tell the world what a fool Fisk is making of the FBI.” Karen continued.

“Did you know Daredevil was-“ Ray began.

“Daredevil imposter.” You cut in, earning a look of disbelief from Ray. “I’ll show you later.”

“Regardless.” He turned back to Karen. “Did you know he was gonna attack the Bulletin? Is that why you brought your gun?”

“Oh, come on.” You groaned as Foggy announced “We’re done here.”

Your friends were quick to leave the room, leaving you and Ray.

“What are you doing? I thought you didn’t get a good look at him.” Ray said lowly, almost angrily.

“No but you know who did, other than Karen?” You reached into your pocket and pulled an old thumb drive. “Outside my door this morning. I already checked it and it’s clean. No malware, no viruses, no tracking. Just a comparison of this Daredevil and the real Daredevil.”

After you left Matt the morning before work, you downloaded the footage from your mask. You found a few shots of Dex in the suit and downloaded those frames as pictures. You found a few old shots of Matt in the suit that matched the same framing and downloaded those as well.

“Do I wanna know who gave this to you?” He asked as he carefully took it.

“I wouldn’t be able to tell you.” You shrugged. “Could be an amateur photographer. I know Jameson at the Bugle is always looking for freelancers. Just give me a chance to explain it all, okay? I’ll be right back.”

You hurried out of the room and found Karen and Foggy not too far across the office.

“Evans wouldn’t have come to Bulletin if I hadn’t threatened his son.” Karen said sadly.

“His son will be alright.” You said honestly as you joined them. “My cousin is gonna get in touch and let him know, give him some money and help him start over. It’s not ideal but he’ll be okay.”

“We need to find Matt and-“ Foggy tried.

“No, I’m gonna head to the hospital.” Karen cut in, her voice weak with regret and guilt.

“Call me if you need anything.” You offered on her way out and she nodded. You sighed softly before facing Foggy again and speaking quietly, pulling him a few steps to the side. “Matt’s okay. I checked on him last night.”

“You know where he is?” His brows furrowed.

“Yeah, I guess I always had a feeling. I took a chance and it worked out.. Anyway, he’s a little worse off than me but he’ll be fine.”

“You guys have anything?”

“Sort of.” Your head tilted back and forth. “I’ve got some ideas and a basic construct, but we’ve gotta go to the guy that made the suit in the first place.”

“Think he’ll talk?”

“Yeah, he’s a good enough guy. Fisk had to have twisted his arm to get him to go along with it.” You nodded. “I’m gonna look into it on my lunch, assuming he doesn’t go rogue and do it without me.”

“I’m glad you two are working together again. What does it mean for you two?.”

“I don’t know yet, but my priority is keeping you three safe. I don’t care what I have to do.”

“Y/N.” He sighed.

“Y/L/N!” Ray called from down the hall. “Back to work. Let’s go.”

You patted Foggy’s arm and headed back into the office, following Ray towards a meeting with the warden. Ray filled you in quickly on the walk that you two were going to figure out how Jasper got out in the first place.

Apparently fake books wasn’t the most obvious solution.

You sat on the edge of the desk while Ray handled most of the conversation.

“How did some just check the wrong box?” You chuckled. “If you can’t give me a legitimate path to investigate, it’s gonna fall on your head. Forging federal documents is a crime and you will be serving time if you don’t give us answers. And something tells me those prisoners would love to spend some time with you.”

He stared at you and Ray and you felt the panic. He knew he was cornered, but he was also a coward. Whatever Fisk held over him, it was worth a jail sentence.

“I want my lawyer.” He said finally.

You two were then sitting in the SAC’s office and running over what had just happened. You were quiet while Ray went over everything. He told her what happened with Karen, what Jasper was supposed to say, what happened with the warden. 

“You believe Evans?” She looked to you.

“Why would he risk his life for a lie?” You shrugged. “And if the warden had nothing to hide, why bother with lawyers?”

“Alright. We gotta kick this up the chain. I’m calling the ADIC.”

“And tell him we don’t know all the facts?” Ray questioned quickly.

“There’s a damn good chance Fisk is manipulating us.”

“I warned you guys this would happen.” You muttered and crossed your arms.

“Shut it.” She pointed firmly to you.

“We need two days. Let us get all the facts.” Ray tried and you had to admit, you admired his determination. “When we can prove Fisk had been playing us, we can bury that son of a bitch together.”

“Leave him to fend for himself against all the people he’s burned.” You agreed. 

She shooed you two away and said that you had forty eight hours. You and Ray went back to his office and were comparing the images from your thumb drive.

You pointed out the height differences. Dex had at least two inches on Matt. You showed the difference in jaw shape. Dex’s was more square compared to Matt’s rounded chin. The facial hair difference was clear. Dex stayed clean shaven while Matt opted for light scruff. Their builds were different too, slightly broader shoulders and a narrower waist on Matt. With the photos in front of him, Ray couldn’t deny that they were two different men.

Throughout the day, you learned that the FBI had raided a workshop where Melvin Potter was working, a man who had helped make suits and protection for Fisk. But that was the same man that made yours, Matt’s and now Dex’s suits. You heard talk of a second man there, but only Melvin was in custody. You felt terrible, knowing that when you went to Melvin on your own for help he was more than willing. Now, there was nothing you could do for him because Matt went without you.

You skipped going with Ray to talk to Fisk that night. You told him you didn’t want to see or hear anything from him. You didn’t feel like dealing with more lies so you just headed home. Ray asked if you wanted to come to a small promotion party, just so you didn’t have to be alone, but you politely declined.

You were just getting to your building when you got a call from Maggie asking if you knew where Matt had gone. You answered honestly, that you had no idea but you’d find him. You opened yourself to his emotions and found him, still on his way to wherever he was going. You hurried across town, stopping a few houses down from here you thought you tracked him to. You stripped off your jacket and button-up, threw on your long-sleeve top, and grabbed the mask and Bites from your glove box before hurrying to the right house.

“I’m Daredevil.. The real one.” Matt said when you got into the room. You hurried across and pulled him back by his shoulders to get him off Ray.

“Are you insane?” You asked quietly.

“You don’t look like-“ Ray began.

“I buried the red suit.” Matt cut in. “The man who attacked the Bulletin, he resurrected it.”

“You do, however, match the description of a guy who’s been tuning up FBI agents. Does Agent Y/N Y/L/N ring a bell?” Your head snapped to Ray as he continued. “Heard she kicked your ass so bad you ran off. Maybe I should call her.”

You smirked slightly and Matt threw a discreet elbow into your arm.

“It was the last thing I wanted, but you people-“ He pointed a finger in Ray’s face. You reached over and pulled his hand down, bending his finger back slightly to earn a groan. “-didn’t leave me any choice. If you’d just wake the hell up instead of playing into Fisk’s hands. He’s using you, and I think you know it.”

“You went after the guy at the Bulletin.” Ray turned to you. “You didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even look at the other agents in that stairwell. Why?”

“Because I know who my partner is.” You put a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “And I know who my enemies are. He would’ve killed you too, Agent Nadeem.”

“Who do you think the real danger is here?” Matt added. “Me or him?”

The conversation paused for a minute while Ray had to redirect his son back upstairs.

“Let’s say I believe the two that just broke into my house.” Ray said tightly. “What do you got?”

“The man who attacked the Bulletin dressed as Daredevil… He’s in the FBI.” Matt answered and you felt your blood rush down to your feet.

“What?” You asked quietly. “How do you know?” Matt looked over at you. “How do you know?”

“I found the man that made the suit. He told me that he didn’t know his name, but he knew he was in the FBI. So tell me, which of your agents has Fisk been especially interested in?”

You zoned out for the rest of the conversation. When you got a chance, you snuck out the door. You were quick to change and get back in your car. Instead of going home and ignoring it, you drove to the church. You headed downstairs and waited on the small bed until Matt got there.

“You already knew, didn’t you?” Matt challenged as he stepped inside, tossing his mask across the room while he went to wash his hands.

“You were supposed to wait for me.” You countered.

“Who is he?”

“Why would you think I know?” You stood.

“Who is he, Y/N?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.” He turned to face you.

“Am I?” You tilted your head with a slight squint. “Or is it that you can’t tell so you’re trying to trap me?”

“Why are you protecting him?” He shouted and your jaw clenched. The worst part was that you didn’t know how to answer that.

You didn’t know if you were or if it was to protect Matt. If you took down Fisk, Dex would go down too. Start at the top and the bottom crumbles. Matt couldn’t face Dex on his own. He’d already proven that. He needed your help, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“I’m trying to protect you but you won’t listen to me!”

“Listen to you? Listen to you? Y/N, you’ve been lying to me! Why should I listen?”

“Cause you already know you can’t beat him without me.” You said simply, trying to gain some composure. “Whether or not you know his name, he will beat you every time. Next time, he will probably kill you.”

“Why didn’t you stop it?”

“How was I supposed to do that?” You scoffed. 

“You know how. It gets you everything you want, doesn’t it?”

“What, this?” You raised your brows and pulled fear to Matt’s surface, watching him cough and choke slightly before clearing it away. “I can’t control everyone.”

“That’s how you knew how to beat him.” He continued and you didn’t bother arguing. “Because you know exactly who he is.”

“I have an idea.” You said carefully.

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N. You know.”

You didn’t know why you were protecting Dex, but you couldn’t bring yourself to throw his name out there. Maybe it was your own pride. You wanted to take him down yourself. Maybe it was just some loyalty to him as a partner or some pathetic hope that some sliver of a redeemable man was left.

“I don’t have any proof.” You said, which wasn’t a lie. But you did know how to get it.

“Y’know, I knew you were a good liar, but I didn’t think you’d lie to me.”

“Are you seriously talking to me about lying?” You laughed in disbelief. “You lied for how long about being dead?”

“That’s not the same!”

“No, you’re right. It’s worse!”

“My lie didn’t kill anyone!”

“It almost killed me.” You admitted. His brows furrowed as he faced you, trying to figure out what you meant. “The night after Midland, I thought about drowning myself in the tub. Almost did it, too. And the scar on my wrist that you were so interested in last night? Gunshot, nearly bled out from it. I almost died at the carousel because I didn’t care what happened to me.”

“I didn’t make you do that.” He said quietly.

“You didn't make me… You’re right. You didn’t. But you weren’t here to stop me either. And that was your choice. You always knew where to find me, Matt. But you hid out down here.”

“I’m not the one that can make people feel what she wants. You could’ve stopped them from trying to kill you. You could’ve stopped all of this!”

“You aren’t listening to me! You never listen to me!” You shouted and pushed him by his chest. “I only let my powers go so far, because if I don’t, then nothing‘s real.”

“How far did they go with me?” He asked suddenly, and the question seemed to shock him as much as it did you.

Matt realized it immediately after he said it. That was what he was looking for the night before. When he was thinking of what to say that’d be hurtful enough to break her, to push her away for good. It was the idea of challenging the validity of the relationship they had. He let out a small sigh when he realized that what he said had done more than hurt her. It shattered whatever was left of her heart, whatever had just been putting itself back together.

“What?” You asked softly.

“Was it ever real? My feelings for you.” He didn’t know why he kept going, but he did.

“Did you love me when I wasn’t around?” Your eyes fell to the floor as you backed away, a sharp pain stemming from your chest. “Did you still care about me before I came back?”

“Yeah…”

You swallowed the stinging sensation that was climbing your throat and lifted your eyes to Matt, taking careful steps forward. “Did you ever question it before you knew what I could do?”

He shook his head.

“There’s your answer… The worst part of my powers is not really knowing if I’m messing with someone or if it’s real. But I guess I know what it is with you. And I really wanted everything with us to be real. I was as honest as I knew how to be when it came to you, but you still can’t trust me.”

“Y/N, wait.” Matt realized he couldn’t go through with it. He couldn’t let her leave with that kind of hurt, not when it was his fault.

“No. No, you don’t get to try and pull a punch you’ve already thrown. You can’t backtrack this time..” You shook your head and turned to leave. 

“I didn’t mean it, Y/N, please.”

“You always say what you mean, Matt. After everything I’ve done, I thought you would’ve trusted me by now. But y’know what, fine. You wanna be alone? Be alone.”

You turned on your heels and were storming towards the stairs to leave when you felt his hand on your wrist. You reached over with your free hand and twisted his arm over as you stepped underneath and behind him. You kicked out his front knee and forced him down, quickly moving one hand to press at the base of his shoulder. You pulled your knee back and as you drove it forward, his other hand came up to block it. You pulled your foot back again but threw it for a kick this time, only to have Matt catch it by your ankle.

He yanked your forward and you went stumbling, releasing his arm so your hands could catch yourself on the nearest marble statue.

“Would you just listen to me?” He tried as he got to his feet.

“Like you’ve been listening to me?” You laughed. “Like you listened when I begged you not to stay under Midland?”

“How many times do I have to apologize for that?” He asked loudly, throwing his hands to the side.

“I don’t want your apology. I want you to admit you were wrong.”

“I did what I thought would be better for you.”

You let out a loud sound of frustration and moved at him. You threw a roundhouse that he leaned away from but your momentum carried you around so you spun and shot a back kick that landed against his chest. As he stumbled, you did a quick shuffle to replace your feet and reset yourself to face him. Left jab that he knocked away. Right hook that he ducked. A small growl sounded from deep in your throat as you walked in a small circle around him. He kept his hands up in anticipation as he spun with you, trying to keep you in front of him.

“You think all of this is easy for me?” You asked plainly, feeling every inch of your skin burning with your newly soaked anger. “Easy having you alive. Easy having to go against someone I work with, someone who helped save my life. Karen and Foggy and Lantom and Maggie, all of them wanted me to build bonds and create relationships with people so I wasn’t alone anymore. Well, look where it got me!”

“This is why I stayed away, Y/N.” He tried.

“Bullshit.” You scoffed. “You were being selfish.”

“I knew you had a good life. I knew I would only mess it up.”

“You didn’t mess up my life by coming back. You messed it up when you left, when you betrayed me.”

His hands faltered and you used it to your advantage. You moved quickly and slammed a knee against his chest. It forced him back and he grabbed both of your upper arms to keep you close.

“I couldn’t have betrayed you.” He spoke with a gentle firmness, an honest plea for you to believe him. “I never meant to-“

“What we do isn’t an accident! You don’t accidentally stay under a falling building for your ex-girlfriend. You don’t accidentally stay away from your actual girlfriend for months. You don’t accidentally tell someone that you never really trusted them!”

“You think I ever wanted to hurt you?” He countered. “After knowing where you came from, what you were supposed to be and what your mission was, I thought it was only a matter of time before you hurt me.”

“You think I never sat there and wondered if you were pretending? I never thought I was worth anything more than a bullet.”

“I’ve cared about you since we met, Y/N. You were always worth that.”

“I wasn’t!” You placed the other foot against the wall and kicked off , turning you two so you could slam him to the ground. “I loved you!”

“And I still love you! It was real. I know it was. I know it because you brought something to my life that I can’t stand the thought of losing.”

“Then why would you ask if it was real?” You asked softly, heart twisting in your chest.

“I don’t know.” He admitted with a sigh.

“Liar!” You shouted and slammed a fist down.

He moved his head so your fist hit the ground and the impact jolted up your arm. You threw the punch again and again, hitting the same spot in the concrete until Matt rolled you two up to a sitting position. He put his hands on either side of your face in an effort to force your attention to him. He made a small noise of discomfort when his palms met your skin, likely due to the heat still radiating off you.

One hand was shaking, knuckles bruised and bloody from assaulting the hard ground, while the other gingerly held your injury. Reluctantly, your eyes met Matt’s and even though it seemed like he was looking through you, you knew he was focused on you.

“I was convinced…” He began softly and the gentle tone made the heat slowly dissipate. “I thought that I had to hurt you so you would leave. But I… I couldn’t do it, Y/N. I just couldn’t.”

“But you did.” You answered, your voice small and distant. You leaned away and got to your feet, ignoring the disappointment that you could feel coming from him.

Without another word, you left him on the floor.

The next day went about as expected. Ray was looking into a few agents, but he wouldn’t tell you much. You watched from the media room as he flipped through files before pulling the camera log from the wall behind him. You knew he had to have found the time when Dex had turned the cameras off, likely finding a time when you went in after him. You waited until Ray hurried out of the room before you followed. You claimed you were feeling dizzy from the head injury you had gotten at the Bulletin incident so no one tried to stop you. Instead, you grabbed your duffle from the trunk and took off.

You changed your work shirt for your vigilante top in the closest alleyway after following Ray’s car, waiting to watch him for a minute while you fitted your mask into place. He stood in the alley by himself for a minute, but you and Matt joined him at the same time.

“What’s his name?” Matt asked simply, turning his head towards your presence but saying nothing.

“I need to be sure about you two. You guys have a history of hurting people.” Ray said firmly, looking between you both.

“I want Fisk in prison.” You said honestly. “I don’t want to kill your agent, but if he insists on being in my way, I will go through him.”

“I’m not handing you a federal agent if you’re gonna kill him.”

“I’ll get to him whether you give him to me or not.” You stepped closer to Ray but Matt grabbed your wrist. You turned to face him as your skin grew warm. “Get your hand off me.”

“What happened to partners?” Matt asked quietly.

“That would mean you trust me.”

“C’mon, Ex. If this is about last night-”

“If you’re right about him, taking Fisk down is our job.” Ray cut in.

“Oh really?” Matt said flatly so you yanked your arm back. “Because we all know where he’s sleeping these days. But I understand.. If there’s one thing we agree on, Nadeem, it’s the greater good. Like house incarceration in exchange for good intel.”

“Not everyone will like the choices we make.” You added, keeping your voice level. “But it’s up to us to make those choices.”

Matt turned to you. “Sometimes you have to hurt one person to save them, and others.”

“Oh please.” You scoffed. “Just tell us the name, Agent.”

“I need your word that you won’t touch him.” Ray tried and you felt bad.

Dex was someone that Ray had trusted, someone Ray had worked with for a long time. Dex knew Ray’s family and they were friends. They were supposed to look out for each other. But now they found themselves on opposite sides of the law with vigilantes going after them. You wished there was a better way but you had to get Dex away from Fisk, otherwise you’d never lock the bastard back up.

“Our word can’t mean anything to you.” Matt reasoned.

“But I need to hear you give it.” Ray insisted. 

“I need him to testify against Fisk, so you got it.” Matt said simply. “Her, too.”

“You don’t speak for me.” You countered. “But you won’t convince him to switch sides. Fisk has played too many games with him. One more switch and he snaps.”

“You know who he is?” Ray asked you and you gave a small shrug.

“It’s not hard to connect dots if you pay attention.”

“We’ll slip into his place, look for any evidence that ties him to the attack on the Bulletin and to Fisk.” Ray offered, clearly looking for a way to save Dex. “If we find any, we leave it where it is.”

“You can get around a search warrant if we set off the fire alarm.”

“Exactly. But if we don't find anything, the guy goes on with his life.”

“Spit it out.” Matt said plainly. “Who is he?”

You wondered if this attitude was due to your most recent conversation or if that was just who he was, and the softer night you two had was just a lapse in judgment. His accusations from the night before made you wonder if, subconsciously, you had manipulated Matt into that tender moment. Maybe the man you met in college truly was gone.

Maybe only the Devil remained.

“Special Agent Ben Poindexter.” Ray said tightly and you let out a small sigh.

Matt turned towards you and you knew there was accusation in his expression. He had to have remembered the name from when you talked about Dex before Midland Circle, when you were at Anvil and waiting to hear from the FBI. It had to have clicked in his head why you hid his identity. 

Dex was your partner, your friend. He was there for you while Matt was gone. He wanted to fault you for it, and while he didn’t appreciate you hiding that from him, he wasn’t going to bring it up then.

Later that night, you were waiting for Matt on Dex’s fire escape.

You slid open the window when he got there and he moved to let Ray in the front door. You let them wander the apartment while you moved towards the safe in the closet. If he was keeping the suit in his place, that’s where it’d be.

“I can’t call a crew to crack that.” Ray sighed.

Matt moved forward and got to work on it.

“I know the combination. You don’t have to-” You spoke loudly, but Matt ignored you. “And you’re doing it anyway, Great.”

“Wait, he can do that?” Ray asked with wide eyes.

“Not if you two keep talking.” He answered tightly.

You mocked him quietly and tapped your mask. You let it load up before leaning closer to the safe. Your eyes searched each shelf but found nothing out of the ordinary.

“It’s not there.” You said quietly as Matt got the door unlocked.

The boys looked through the safe and found nothing they could use. You were turning to leave when you heard the click of a tape player. Turning back, you saw Matt with Dex’s cassette player in hand as one of his old therapy tapes played.

You sighed slightly and felt a sudden spike of panic.

“What did you leave Poindexter doing?” You asked Ray when you realized it was coming from the direction of the bureau. Your implant pinged in your head and you had a feeling it was Dex. But you couldn’t answer it in front of Ray, so you had to leave it alone.

“Talking to an attorney about a wrongful termination suit. Why?” Ray answered as Matt went through more tapes.

“Because something is going very wrong. He’s about to break.”

As they listened to more and more tapes, you paced the apartment anxiously. The longer you were there, the closer that panic and instability got. When Matt looked towards the door, you tapped your mask and saw Dex coming down the hall.

“Убирайся.” You told them, giving Matt a shove. “Both of you. Out, now. He’s here.”(Get out.)

“You should go.” Matt told Ray.

“No, we had a deal. No evidence means you two don’t touch him!” He insisted.

“I found evidence.” Matt tried.

You groaned slightly as the two argued back and forth. You cracked the door slightly and saw Dex pulling glass adornments off the nearest light fixture. You cursed yourself quietly and shut the door again before grabbing both men by the collars and shoving them out the window.

“Go, now.” You said firmly. “I’ve got the best chance if we’ve gotta fight him.”

“What- Fight him? You said-“ Ray tried but you raised a hand and forced fear to the surface to get him to run.

“Make sure he gets out of here.” You told Matt when he hesitated. “Don’t make me make you.”

“Ex, don’t.” He tried but you did the same to him. But instead of fear, you pulled his betrayal to the surface.

Matt knew it was you. He knew what he was feeling wasn’t that serious. It wasn’t enough to make him abandon you, to leave you to stand against Poindexter on your own. But that didn’t make the urge any easier to fight. So he ran.

When you heard the door sneaking open, you moved the fire escape and pressed your back against the wall. You pulled a knife from your belt and angled it so you could watch his movements. He crept through his apartment carefully, noting the misplaced items and tapes scattered across the table.

“Show yourself.” He called out and you glanced above to find Matt and Ray, but you found no one. It made you wish you had stuck Matt with another comms piece, but blind faith would have to do for the moment. “I know you’re out there.”

One of the glass sticks came flying out and bounced off the railing in front of to knock into your blade. You gasped slightly and stuck your foot out so it landed against you rather than the metal of the fire escape.

“I can see you.” He called as you knelt to pick it up.

“How can you see me from over there?” You answered as you stood carefully. With a blade in one hand, you pulled your gun with the other.

“I was lying. Did you really fall for that?” He replied and you made a face to yourself before stepping out. 

Your gun was raised and the hand with the knife braced your wrist. He stood tense with another piece in hand and ready to throw.

“Well done. Not many people are bold enough to lie to me. What’s your name?” You asked.

“You first, then maybe I’ll do the same.” He nodded towards you.

“Nice try.” You smiled. “But two can play this game, and I have a feeling that I’m better at it than you are.”

“Don’t be so modest. I know you’re that vigilante. Let’s be honest here. You’re Exodus.” His body language relaxed a little as you stared him down, picturing the tension fall away like melted snow. “Badass out in Hell’s Kitchen. Unmatched so far, witty, and brains behind some of the best strategies he’s seen.”

“If you’re looking for a mentor, Dex, I can make sure your time is well spent. I can put you to better use than Fisk can. I’ve never been to prison so it’s not like I’ve gotten caught.”

“That’s your plan?” He chuckled in disbelief. “You and me, best friends?”

“We’ll see how it ends.” You shrugged.

“Okay.” He scoffed. “Wait.. How’d you know my name?”

“I’ve done my research. Ever since you attacked the Bulletin a few nights ago but didn’t kill me and you bragged like you knew me. Like you knew my story with the real Daredevil. I wanted to know who I would be up against. You’re good, I’ll admit it. Fisk made a good choice in picking you, an elite FBI SWAT sniper. And your partner, Y/N. She had some nice words to say, but she’s worried about you.”

“Y/N?” His brows furrowed and the tension rose again. “What did you do to her?”

“We just talked. She wants to save you from yourself.”

“That why she didn’t answer her phone? Did you hurt her?”

“No. But she is a pretty little thing, isn’t she?” You offered a wicked smile and his anger grew sharply.

“Leave her out of this.”

“Should I leave Julie out of it, too?” You mocked.

“What did you do to her?” He shouted.

“Nothing.” You answered innocently. “Yet.”

His head cocked as he silently questioned if you were serious. You took the chance to fire a bullet just over his shoulder, close enough to graze the material of his jacket. When he dropped to the floor, you rushed up the fire escape and slipped into the apartment above. You found Matt and Ray and were able to get them to the ground just as the bullets came in.

“The shot came from across the alley.” Ray said through heavy breathing. Looking over, you saw he was hit.

You were quick to kneel beside him and pull off a glove. You looked to Matt and took in his anger so you could push it to the palm of your hand. You pressed the palm against Ray’s side and he groaned loudly as the faint smell of burnt skin permeated the apartment. It wouldn’t heal the wound but it would at least slow the bleeding.

“I think it came from downstairs.” Matt countered.

“He’s ricocheting the bullets.” You confirmed, ignoring the look Ray gave you. “I’ve seen him do it a hundred times. If he can see you, he can hit you.”

Matt threw a newspaper and rolled to the other side, hiding behind a bookcase. He was talking to you about how many shots Dex had left and the fact that the cops were called when you looked around and realized something. Even from your angle behind the sofa, you could see Matt in the mirror on the door.

“The mirror.” You said to yourself and Ray noticed it at the same time.

You looked around and found a book on the coffee table. You pulled your arm back and threw it as hard as you could against the mirror, watching the reflective surface shatter when the next round of bullets came in. When Matt said to run, you helped Ray out the door before sliding to sit under the window sill. Using your mask to see the floor below, you saw Dex moving to the fire escape.

You pushed Matt out first and as you were climbing out, you saw Dex coming up the steps. You grabbed both railings and kicked both feet against his chest to send your partner tumbling back down. Matt turned around but you pushed for him to keep going. You heard the climbing stop below you just before Matt grabbed your arms and switched positions so he could block the glass sticks being thrown with a trash can lid. 

You two were reaching the roof when one piece came up and cut the strap of your mask, nicking your ear in the process. You grabbed the railing and leaned over to catch it, only to make eye contact with Dex. His arm was already drawn back to throw another one but he froze, eyes wide as he saw you.

You could see him mouth your name but you were too far away to hear it. But you weren’t far enough to miss the heavy hit of betrayal against your chest. You didn’t know what to do but when you saw Dex’s features illuminated by the police flashlights, you snapped from your daze and hurried onto the roof. You paced the area in a panic with your mask tightly in your fist.

“Hey.” Matt said when he realized what was happening. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“He knows.” You said quickly. “He knows who I am.”

[rogueonestan]

a surprise visit

pairing: matt murdock x reader

word count: 1k

summary: after not seeing each other for months, you're surprised to see matt show up in your apartment randomly one night. to your surprise, he asks you the one thing you thought he never would.

notes: this was inspired by this clip and i wanted to write for matt after being in a writer’s block for a long time. this is also loosely taken place during s3, but it’s up to your interpretation. enjoy!

main masterlist | ao3

Most people would be freaked out by the sound of their window being opened late at night. 

It was something that always made your heart race when you heard the faint click of your window being closed shut. You always would grab the nearest blunt object you could find, hoping to stop the intruder before it’s too late, but your heart rate begins to go back to normal the moment you see who the intruder is. Just like right now, you grab the closest thing you can find, which really is just a glass of water on your nightstand, but that same familiar dreadful feeling you have rises from the pit of your stomach to your throat can be felt. 

There’s complete silence in the apartment when you open your bedroom door. There’s not a single sound that echoes in your entire apartment, only your heavy breathing and the hardwood floor creaking underneath your toes can be heard.

The first thought that crosses your mind is the man you’ve longed to see for several months now. Maybe he’s finally decided to show up after all this time, you think to yourself but immediately disregard the thought. No, he would’ve shown up earlier if that were the case.

Maybe it was someone who finally discovered your secret identity or your relationship with a certain vigilante, and they want to do who knows what with you. That thought comes up in your head late at night more times than you like to admit. Being involved in the vigilante lifestyle is nothing short of being scary and risky, so maybe that thought isn’t as far-fetched as you think.

Then, when you finally come around the corner that separates your bedroom from the living room, ready to throw the cup in your head at whoever entered your apartment at this ungodly hour, instead, a scoff leaves your lips when you finally see who it is.

“Hi, little bug.” Hearing the familiar nickname from the familiar voice you’ve been longing to hear for so long now brings a feeling inside your stomach you can’t quite place. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Unlike in the past where you begin to finally calm down once you see the familiar masked man, but right now, his presence is doing the complete opposite as your heart continues to race. 

“I need your help.” Matt tells you when you saunter over to your kitchen table to place your cup down, only a few feet away from the now unmasked man.

A scoff of disbelief leaves your lips. “My help? That’s why you finally decided to show up? Because you need my help?” 

“Yes.” He simply tells you. 

You’re not sure what overcame you, maybe it’s the pent-up stress and rage that you’ve felt for months now, but your body moves on its own accord. Your hand reaches out for the cup you placed on the table only a minute or two ago and then throws it in Matt’s direction. In the back of your mind, you can barely hear Matt’s pleads for you to stop, but you don’t. 

When the glass falls in Matt’s grasp (thanks to his quick reflexes), hands grab whatever is within reach, a book you’ve been reading recently, the silverware you forgot to put away earlier, the random condiments you got with your takeout, the salt and pepper shakers that rest on your tabletop. None of the items you’ve thrown hurt him in any sort of way, mainly just catching him off guard with your sudden outburst, but the anger you’ve held towards him is finally released when he’s standing here in your living room, acting as if nothing has changed between the two of you and everything is normal. 

“You don’t- you can’t just show up here out of the blue like nothing happened and ask for my help! You lost that right when you walked out that door months ago!”  You yell at him. 

“You know why I did!”

“No, I don’t! You never told me!”

“I would’ve if you let me.”

“So, it’s my fault that you left?”

“Don’t twist my words around.”

“Then why did you leave? I’m all ears.”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Of course you can’t. You were never able to tell me anything when we were together, so why start now?” You can’t help but let the bitterness in your voice to return, matching the nauseous feeling you have in your throat. 

“I told you I was DareDevil.”

“Because you had no other choice. That doesn’t exactly count.”

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“That’s why you left?” You ask as Matt simply drops his head to the ground. “I already put myself in danger every night when I go out. How much more danger could I possibly be in?”

“The people I've been going up against, they’re a danger, even to you.”

“How dangerous are they?” You ask. 

“I can’t tell you that.”

“So, let me get this straight, you want my help but you can’t tell me who these people are?”

“If I do, then I’m-“

“‘Only putting you in danger.’” You both say simultaneously.

“I know, you’ve told me that a million times before, Matt.”

“I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important.”

Of course not, why else would you be here? You think to yourself, not wanting to argue any further with Matt. He never asks you for anything, in fact, it’s a rare occasion such as this when he would. It shows that he still trusts you, maybe the only person he would trust with something as important as this, so you don’t vocalize this. 

Seeing him here, standing in your living room just like old times, like you’re living a memory in the past. It brings back all the memories you have together, all the good and the bad, all the screaming matches and the impromptu dates you’ve had in your living room, all of it. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the very thing you’ve been longing for since the morning after he left. 

“So, what did you need help with?”

[literaila]

beauty, faith, imagine. 

matt murdock x reader 

first part.

summary: someone clears their throat next to you. and then he accuses you of being a criminal. 

warnings: just fluff (okay there’s angst but you won’t even notice) 

*

"we're not doing this," matt says. 

his voice is rough. his breath is quick. deadly. the very idea of his existence turns you inside out. 

you almost laugh but manage to form it--the very hysteria of it--into a smile, teasing. 

matt is saying one thing, but his lips speak volumes more. 

at your pulse, the tip of your chin, the edge of your ear and a place that you hadn't even known existed, and-- 

"that's what you said before," you get out, tilting your head up as matt tastes every inch of your skin. 

you're not quite sure how you've gotten here. 

it doesn't matter. 

none of it matters. 

an inch of nothing fills up at the edge of your throat. matt kisses it away with just inches of space. with his lips so close and too far all at once. 

he's irrationally addictive. 

irritatingly confident. 

"no," he whispers, and you think that maybe he doesn't know what he's saying at all. 

still, you take the opportunity of his thinking to push him off, to wrap your legs around his and do your own tasting. 

matt is pushed back against the mattress before you can even think about it. 

you smile anyway. 

kiss his lips, just once. 

"we are doing this," you say. 

matt is trying to hide his smile. but you see it. 

him. 

*

it's maybe a week later. 

it's maybe too many phone calls and too many nights of frank just "checking up on you." 

it's maybe too much. 

and it's possibly why you've ended up at this bar. why you've crossed the bridge between your own neighborhood and never being spotted again. 

shame is a funny thing. 

brothers are not. 

and this bartender, well. some part of you is absolutely in love with her. 

which, you guess, is the effect she has on everybody. 

not that she's told you that. or done anything to... indicate it. 

hysterical minds, you know, are funny little things. 

especially this late at night, when you're just avoiding calls. 

"josie," you say, giving her your best smile. your most invigorating tone. "are you hiring?" 

she gives you a look--the same look you've been getting a lot of lately--and walks away. 

so much for charity. 

you blow a breath out. contemplate the possibility of moving somewhere else and changing your name. 

but these ideas--fabulous ideas--are interrupted. 

by a quick tap on the counter next to you. a clearing of throat that can really only mean one thing. 

"job hunting?" a voice next to you asks. 

you glance over, eyes half blurry with something you would not like to mention--exhaustion, fury, embarrassment--and see a blob of a face. 

it soon clears into something much more interesting. 

"fancy seeing you here," you say, but your voice says anything but. 

matt laughs, maybe surprised. "i grew up here." 

you blink. "...in this bar?" 

he's sitting down. he's staring at you, towards you, looking at something that you wish you could see. 

"almost," matt says. "if josie would've adopted me." 

there's a laugh from the other side of the bar. 

you look over to josie, surprised. "you'll adopt him but you won't hire me?" 

you're maybe just a little bit too loud. 

josie glares at you. looks away. 

you turn back to matt, who is still smiling. still fiddling with his glasses. still tapping his fingers on the counter. 

"can i buy you a drink?" he asks. 

"you'd waste three dollars on me?" 

matt's lip twitches. 

"i wouldn't call it a waste," he says, "the drinks aren't completely terrible." 

"you said you grew up here, right?" 

matt nods. 

"so i don't need to explain how false that statement is?" 

he laughs. 

his voice is quiet, soft. you're looking around, trying to find out if he came with anyone. 

"how's the, uh," matt tilts his head. "...trespassing?" 

your brow furrows. "how'd you hear about that?" 

"people talk. foggy especially." 

"isn't there like a kind of lawyer-client confidentiality?" 

"not when you've got two lawyers. or none, in your case." 

you wince. look away for just a moment--not that matt knows that. "sorry." 

he laughs again. it's a bit pitiful. "it's okay. foggy doesn't like to associate nelson and murdock with criminals, anyway." 

"hey!" 

matt laughs again, and you find yourself following. 

you find yourself jumping off of the edge of the cliff, just cause he says so. 

you try and wipe the smile off of your face. "it wasn't exactly illegal." 

"because 'not exactly a crime' is a good excuse in court." 

you scowl. "i'm not going to court." 

"straight to jail, then?" 

you lean back in your stool. cross your arms. "don't you have a job or something, murdock? what're you doing here, spending time with us criminals?" 

"i think it's just you." his lip is quirked up. you can see the edge of his brow above his glasses. 

a couple of raindrops fall on your skin. 

matt clears his throat. sits up a little bit. "but it's good that josie hates you," he says. 

you glare at him. "she does not hate me--" 

"the last person that was employed by her mysteriously disappeared." 

"what's the implication behind that sentence?" 

matt smiles. "that you should get a different job." 

you laugh, small. look down at the bar. play with the straw of your water. "yeah, well. it's not like i've got much of a choice. have to take whatever's available." 

matt is still looking at you. he still hasn't moved an inch farther from you. 

if you reached out, just a little bit, you might be able to feel the heat of his skin. 

"if you can't find anything," he says, pleasant and controlled. "i'm sure we could find some use of you at the office." 

you blink. "are you going to hand me your business card now?" 

matt opens his mouth. closes it. "smooth." 

you laugh. "don't you already have an assistant?" 

"i didn't say that you'd be a good use." 

"so you're offering me a position as your janitor?" 

matt nods, so serious, so stern and still and completely beautiful. "like you said, not much of a choice right now." 

you look up at the clock. look at matt and try to guess the color of his eyes. 

"i have a feeling that you don't get paid much," you say. 

matt chuckles. "we do get a lot of fruit." 

"does your janitor get free lunch, too?" 

"only if said janitor has a criminal record." 

by the time you leave later that night, you've almost forgotten about the phone call with frank. 

*

matt is almost pouting at you. 

"what?" you as him, pecking the edge of his lips. 

"this is a trap." 

you smirk, let your hand go up his hair, let the other trace the line of his jaw. "you should've realized that a long time ago, murdock." 

"i was distracted." 

his voice is so soft. is so full of emotion--something that you would like not to consider. is so everything that you've ever wanted to hear all at once. 

matt is trying not to smile. he's trying not to breathe. 

you're doing the same. 

like you might get intoxicated by his very presence. 

"oh yeah?" you ask. "and why was that?" 

you kiss along his jaw. taste his feelings, his skin like you've been starving for years. 

like nothing has ever tasted so sweet. 

matt is vibrating. he is every sensation. 

"that, for one." 

he tries to move away from you, tries not to squirm as you tickle the edge of his neck. 

"i'm sorry," you say. "my fault." 

"your fault," matt confirms. 

he is smiling at you. 

he is so goddamn beautiful. 

you feel another layer shed. feel the boundaries of your skin get even thinner. 

you feel him, digging in. 

his eyes are so warm, such a perfect brown that you could've never imagined. 

"we're not doing this," he says. 

and he's lying. 

* 

my masterlist here. 

taglist:  @moonlarking @v1ci0us @hellskitchenswhore @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @amurderofcrowsinatrenchcoat

[erosso]

kill of the night — m.m

Warning: this story contains mature content, such as brief mentions of trafficking, and crime.

contents: angst, matt x fem!reader, vigilante!reader, swearing, some frank x reader time, elektra, crime, a bit of sexual tension?

word count: 2.7k

[ in which a mission plan by the devil himself causes an ‘outlandish’ response from his ally. ]

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 || 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 || 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙

“Yeah, I got your six,” you say over your earpiece. You could’ve been patrolling and doing actual work, but Matt convinced everyone else you were to stay put and be the eyes for everyone. You didn’t mind working in a team, but when it came to Matt planning these patrols, he always put you on the sidelines and it was starting to piss you off.

“Everything good over there, eagle?” Frank calls over to you through your earpiece. You liked working with him, he’d often stick up for you when Matt would target you about petty shit that would happen during your so called missions, it was nice knowing at least one person called it out.

“Lovebirds seem to be taking their sweet time,” using your scope, you eye Matt and Elektra seemingly talking to some waiter in the middle of service in a pretty pristine gala. You four were trying to figure out the target of an ongoing string of child trafficking rings and one of your leads led you to a man who might’ve been attending the event, “you got eyes on Rassler yet?”

“Nah, I don’t think he’s there,” you can hear the movement of his gun over the microphone, signaling he might’ve moved his bipod to another area, “haven’t seen him since we got here.”

—

It’s been roughly another hour, and there didn’t seem to be any movement.

“Red wants to know if there’s any updates.” Frank says calmly. You can see him on another nearby building rooftop through your scope, he’s still in a ready position, and looking at him seemed to be the only action you were getting tonight.

“What the fuck does he mean by ‘updates’, they’ve been doing the same shit for the past hour,” you shake your head in frustrating annoyance. He couldn’t have really expected you to constantly give updates when the only job he told you, you had, was to watch over them and make sure ‘nothing happened,’ - whatever that meant.

“I dunno- that’s Red’s word,” he chuckled into your ear.

“I really don’t understand why he isn’t the one to tell me this if it’s so important,” you were getting tired of the same stunt Matt would pull. Everytime you four were out on a mission Frank would be the one to relay Matt’s messages. It was Matt's way of telling you, only his word mattered and you had no say. He treated you like shit, but you stuck with this charade because you always ended up getting your guy- as a team, “I really don’t understand Frank,” you sigh. You take a short break from what you’ve been doing all night, leaning your head back and closing your eyes. You let the cool summer breeze of New York pass through your senses. What more could you do? You tried so hard to be a team player, but it was starting to become unbearable.

“Maybe you should talk to him- about how you feel,” Frank's calm voice washed over you.

You take a deep breath, exhaling all of your emotion. Your head still tilted back, you open your eyes to a polluted night sky, stars just barely visible even with other lingering lights of surrounding high rise concretes, “Frank, I think you know us talking isn’t gonna get us anywhere,” you scoff at the mere idea of trying to be vulnerable and composed with Matt.

“You don’t know that. He could surprise you.”

Still looking at the sky, you were thinking of Frank's words. Maybe there was a slight chance where you two could coexist without biting each other’s heads off.

“Fuck!” Frank’s voice blares in your earpiece, immediately snapping you out of your daze. You’re still holding your scope, but for some reason it’s difficult for you to reach, “You got eyes up there or what?!” his voice shifts, it’s agitated and sarcastic.

You were scrambling trying to see what was going on, but you felt anxious and upset at yourself for letting your guard down at such an easy task. Oh, Matt was definitely going to let you have it, “Shit sorry- I.”

“Doesn’t matter, I got it- Jesus.” He cuts you off, you hear static signifying he had changed channels, most likely to Matt’s.

All you hear is gunshots coming from Frank’s position, all you had was a pistol and your nerves were getting to you, something that never happened to you before. It felt like your heart was beating out of your chest and you didn’t understand why you couldn’t focus. You were a sought after sharp shooter, that’s why you were called into this sort of alliance, but this whole situation made you forget your reflexes and you couldn’t get outside your own head.

By the time you manage to get back to somewhat of a stable state of mind and look through your scope- silence. There was no movement from Matt and Elektra. You knew they were fine, but part of you felt worried.

You look over to Frank’s position and he’s nowhere to be seen. You can't help but feel like shit. You know you fucked up.

“Get down to base- Red’s gotta word,” you hear Frank’s words followed by static, he switched his channel off.

-

The whole walk to base you prepared yourself for the shit you were going to get into. You finally managed however, to calm yourself back to reality. You weren’t going to let Matt see you vulnerable.

“What?” You say plainly. You walked into the warehouse that was set up for base. Frank was seated on a flimsy folding chair, hands and head lowered into his lap. Matt and Elektra were talking about you. You noticed his suit jacket and tie were off, hands on his hips, looking down at his feet. Elektra had her arms crossed, sharp eyes shooting towards you as your words announced yourself.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes in exasperation, “Can’t you do anything right?”

“Excuse me?” Eyes darting towards her figure, you tilt your head taken aback because you couldn’t understand why such words filled her mouth as if she didn’t put all of you guys in danger of exposure during your last mission.

“Matthew, I don’t understand why you didn’t listen to me- I mean it's obvious she’s not good enough.” She lays a lustful hand onto the forearm of the white fabric that caressed Matt’s lonely bicep. She smirked.

“That’s enough,” you hear Frank interrupt any further comment Elektra decided to throw, “Say what you gotta say, Red.”

You weren’t really sure what to do at this point. Do you get closer to the conflict or do you stay in the spot you're in? Not sure, you decided to speak since it’s been a little too quiet after Frank’s statement, “Yeah, Red. What is it?”

He turns in your direction and starts to get closer to you. His steps are heavy and they’re intimidating. You don’t budge though.

“Your job was so easy and yet you still couldn’t do it,” he scoffs, giving you a sarcastic smirk.

You know he can’t see, but he feels you giving him that same sarcastic smirk in return, “You’re fuckin’ hilarious, aren’t you?”

“What is it sweetheart? Having trouble with big girl assignments,” he’s a bit closer now, you can smell his aroma and you can’t deny it’s lovely.

“Fuck you, Murdock,” you shake your head, still glaring into his tinted glasses.

“I’m sure you would,” he gives such a soft smile it makes you want to slap it off, “but you know- you actually have to do some work around here.”

“You give me shitty tasks and you’re upset when I don’t go above my pay grade?” it’s your turn to step a bit closer, “you’re the one who needed me Murdock, don’t you forget it. Without me we wouldn’t be where we are.”

“You’re right,” he turns away from you, hands on his hips, stepping closer to the center of the room again, “Without you, we would’ve actually had a good kill tonight,” he stops in place, facing away from the three of you, “So tell me? Do you really think you’re irreplaceable? I mean, you said it yourself, and with so much confidence- we wouldn’t be here because of you. Apparently, everyone- our sharp shooter here, thinks she’s, well…” he turns back again, facing your direction, smiling in deceit, “better than everyone here- people who I’m sure, are far more experienced. But then again what do I know? I give you shitty tasks a child could do.” He chuckles.

“Red, it was an accident. I told you. I think she’s heard enough-”

“No- Matthew say what you have to say, I quite like where this is going.” Smiling with bloodlust, Elektra looks in your direction.

Frank gives her a stern look, telling her this conversation was really just between you and Matt, and her input didn’t really matter.

“I don’t know what you want me to say Matt. Yeah, I fucked up and got distracted. But let’s be honest here, your ‘girlfriend’ over there doesn’t take too kindly to instructions.” You cock your head, “I mean, let’s not just fly by what happened during our last mission,” you start to move closer to the center of the room, your steps imprint the floor with resilience.

You hear Elektra scoff, mumbling a, “here we go.” Frank, still in his chair, gives you a glance, eyebrows furrowing in anticipation of the events that may transpire.

“Last time I checked, Elektra exposed our whereabouts, almost getting us killed. Now, I’m not one to discern whether or not something is particularly worse than the other, but for the sake of this conversation- I would assume by your standards Matty- that is far worse than what transpired tonight.” Grabbing a crate nearby, you decide to sit, giving a sarcastic smile to both of them.

“She was with me. There wouldn’t have been a chance of real danger actually happening,” he states quite confidently.

“Jesus, Red,” Frank shakes his head, looking back into his lap. He’s not buying his statement.

You laugh at Matt’s comment, you didn’t realize how delusional love could be, “God, I just love the way you stick up for her. That’s all she gets, huh? A slap on the wrist? Jesus, if I knew my faults would’ve been brushed off so easily I would’ve slept with you too,” getting up from your spot you head towards Frank, “I’m gonna need a ride, I took the train.” You say simply.

Frank looked at you almost confused, he wasn’t sure if you were serious.

“No, seriously Frank- like I’m- I’m done, I'm tired as hell and I’m honestly not in the mood anymore to talk about this shit anymore,” you assure him.

He looks over to Matt who’s shaking his head. If anything, he’s not surprised at your actions, it was just a matter of time before you got bored of him speaking. This was a common thing between you and Matt. There were no resolving issues between the two of you. You would usually carry on to the next task and bring up old shit if you two ever got into it again. It was amazing how well it seemed you guys worked well together. To outsiders, there may have been an assumption that all of you worked well together, and you always ended up getting your guy, but this time was different, and that couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

“I’ll be in the car,” Frank gets up from his seat, but before he passes you, he takes your shoulder and whispers into your ear, “you should have a quick word with Red before we go, huh?” he pats your shoulder before he goes.

You give him a slight glare as he starts to walk away from you, but he replies with a stern look of what could only be described as a father giving his child a look of ‘you better do it.’

“I’m off too, Matthew,” Elektra states grabbing her jacket, she leans in to kiss Matt’s cheek, sneakily whispering an ultimatum, “you know what to do Matthew. If she’s still here for our next mission, I’m done,” she gives him one last smile before she makes her way over to you, “You just sealed your fate. Hope you found a gorgeous place far away from here,” she brings a pinching hand to your cheek, “ok?” She smiles before finally clacking her way out of the dry rotted walls.

You just stood there. What was there to talk about? It was obvious this whole thing wasn’t going anywhere. You just sigh, waiting for him to respond. But he doesn’t. Instead, he grabs the chair Frank was on and pushes it under himself, back leaned carelessly against the metal. The way his legs spread and how the fabric of his silky slacks tightened around his sculpted thighs didn’t go unnoticed. But this was Matt, and you couldn’t let your lonely nights get to you.

“I don’t know,” you begin, running a hand through your hair, still thinking of the words that were processing through your brain, “it’s just- it’s not going to work, you two-” out of habit, you point a thumb to the back, signaling over to Elektra who just left, “obviously work well together, we don’t.”

“Yeah… you're right,” he states. You both acknowledged you had finally agreed on something, “You still have a lot to learn.”

If it was anything that Matt had, it was the audacity.

“You know what your problem is, Matt? You think you know everything. Why is it so difficult for you to just trust and believe that maybe- just maybe, there are people out in this fucking world who can actually teach you things?” you didn’t really know what else to say. you were baffled at his statement.

He laughs, adjusting his glaring glasses, “You know what your problem is? You can’t take criticism. It’s funny how you walk around here blaming everyone else for your faults, but God forbid someone tackles your pride,” he crosses his arms together, smiling such a pretty smile.

“I take criticism well,” it’s your turn to cross your arms now.

“Really?” He cocks his head a bit to the side, “then why did you get so defensive when I told you ‘you still have a lot to learn’?”

“I don’t respect you Murdock.” your feet are grounded in poise sincerity, “therefore, why would I take criticism from someone I don’t respect? I mean I think that’s pretty obvious, or are you blind to social cues too?” It was a low blow, but you were angered and couldn’t understand why you put up with this for so long.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he’s up again, this time he’s quick to grab your arm, strictly, “let’s not go there. You can say that all you want, but you know better than anyone, your heart rate says differently.” His breath is liberating and you almost want more.

“You’re so fucking full of yourself.”

“Hm,” he hums out, his face is just inches away from you, “am I, though? Maybe we don’t work well together because we both know what we want,” his fingertips start to trail the side of your rib cage. His touch is soft and you almost lose your train of thought.

“I know what you’re doing, and I know you think your close to getting what you want, but you can’t shut me up with sex, I’m not that easy.” You whisper into his ear. You caress his cheek, the stubble prickling the back of your hand, it’s something you wish you could feel for just a little longer, but this situation was rooted in anger.

He chuckles with a pretty grin, “We’ll see.”

Pushing him away, you scoff one last time before turning away, you completely forgot about Frank in the car, but he was the one that told you to talk to Matt.

He stands there, hand in his pockets smiling as he senses your figure walking away. You speak one last time before completely walking out of the building, it’s quick and unyielding, “Don’t ever call me sweetheart again.”

[undiscovered-horizon]

"The night is long and the path is dark" - Matt Murdock x vigilante!Reader

[TW: major injuries, near-death experiences, Matt is a human wreck, explicit language, praying (specifically Catholic)]

SUMMARY: It's not supposed to be like that. Matt believes it's him who should be bleeding his life out, not you - you were too deserving of a normal, peaceful life. While you're toeing the line between New York and Heaven, he has to face the restless night of premature mourning, sunless hours that seem to be endless.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.5k

"Oh, fuck me," you groaned feeling a sharp but unclear pain deep underneath your skin. The unbearable ache was completely unknown to you, never having experienced anything akin to the grave soreness of your weak, bleeding body. It felt odd to be in so much pain and so inexplicably confusing: you were freezing and hot at the same time, fully conscious and yet at your wit's end. Your brain, too sheltered to comprehend the extent of your injuries and agony, made you question whether the ache truly was there; maybe this kind of sensation could exist only in wild imagination. After all, for what horrid reason would the human mind be able to feel this type of pain?

"We'll get to that when you stop bleeding," he said. Humour was a poor attempt at hiding his paralysing fear - no matter how cheesy his line would be, his hands were shaking all the same. "Just lie back and don't move too much. Let me take care of you."

"I always wanted to be a pillow princess." Your words were becoming a bit slurred and so Matt became all the more anxious. He was battling time itself and it wasn't a merciful opponent - its perverse strength only grew with each prayer for the minutes to be a little longer than mere sixty seconds. At any other time, he would have laughed at your confession, gladly considering the enticing suggestion.

Although he knew you were very much against it, Matt ripped apart the tight material wrapped around your torso in hopes of easing your ragged breath and you would've argued against doing so if your mind wasn't drowned in a hazy flux of borderline unconsciousness. His calloused fingers brushed against your flushed skin, each touch to the swollen cuts made you slightly wince. None of them came from his hand or ill will and yet he felt guilty, responsible for your agony. It should've been me, he kept telling himself.

You felt his trembling hands as Matt did his best to dress your wounds, foolishly leaving the deep cuts to be stitched at the end as if your fleeting life could stop terrifying him at some point in time. Yes, Matt managed to fool himself into believing that the soundness of his mind was going to return in the nearest future.

"Don't worry, I'm gonna be fine," you said not without a struggle. The unbearable pain was barely noticeable anymore but so were most sensations of the outside world. "I still have like 200 bones intact."

Maybe it was another surge of adrenaline or the effect of Matt stopping some of your bleedings but for a moment you were back in touch with the present moment, skin pulsating and burning with pain. Straining, you grabbed Matt's trembling hands. He clenched his jaw feeling just how cold your touch was.

"Thank you," you whispered weakly to him. Maybe it was the broken rib or the absolutely pathetic sadness on Matt's face that made your heart ache inside your bruised chest. "For everything you did and didn't do."

"You'll thank me in the morning, alright?" Matt tried to put on a brave face and swallow his tears. He knew you hated to see him cry. Angel tears are too expensive to just pour them out, you told him many times.

However, you didn't get the time to answer him. Right around the end of his question, your world fell into a chasm of silence and darkness, a peaceful limbo for the stubborn sinners who refuse to die quietly.

For a moment, his heart stopped and maybe so did the entire universe, watching the scene in terror no smaller than his own. Matt knew he had to finish dressing and stitching fast - the little grip he had on himself was fading and his panic wouldn't be good for anyone.

When at last he threw away the needle and thread, there was no strength left inside him to keep those salty tears at bay. He fell to his knees, finding himself on eye level with your limp, bloodied body. You looked so... peaceful. Not in pain anymore.

"We fly to thy protection," he began in a shaky voice. Words, although holy and god-fearing, struggled to move past his lips. "O holy Mother of God."

Devout prayers flooded from his mouth until he finished the entire rosary. It was a Tuesday night as it befits Tuesdays, Catholics meditate on Sorrowful Mysteries: how their Lord prayed in the olive garden, how Romans decorated His head with a crown of thorns and how He carried the cross; how bitterly funny of a coincidence it was. When the last Amen left Matt's lips, the night seemed even quieter than before. Cars were no longer passing by his window and for the first time in long months, he felt truly alone in the most desperate and miserable of ways. His knees hurt from kneeling on the hardwood floor but he didn't mind that - it partially took his mind off the even worse pain wreaking havoc in his entire being. Your palm, once cold and dry, was now warm and wet from his feverish prayers and unending tears.

"Don't leave me," he whimpered pathetically against your limp hand, cradling his own face with your fingers. His trembling lips pecked your bruised skin every now and then. "What the fuck am I supposed to do without you here?"

But Matt knew what you would have said, it was as if he could hear your own voice laughing at his misery in the back of his head: You live on, Matthew Murdock! You disown fear and cruelty and you live on. To make matters worse, he knew the real meaning behind your lighthearted words - you just wanted him to be okay, to live a humble life of a loving man. Maybe his pain would have been a little lighter, a little easier to carry, had he not seen through your carefree facade. For a short moment, he swore he nearly hated you for ever telling him to be fine while you're gone; how audacious of you to even suggest that there was anything good left for him in a world you were no longer part of.

He remembered when you made him promise that, in case you die, he wouldn't mourn you. How can I move on if you can't let go?, you asked. Matt agreed, making a half-hearted oath to you that he never truly believed he would have to fulfil. But now, when the night seemed to be nothing short of endless and filled with terrors, he regretted his promise knowing that no force could ever make him complete it.

The night was going to be long; the path ahead was painted in different shades of black, hopeless doom. And he, Matthew Murdock, was just a stubborn man who wasn't exactly on good terms with his God.

Overbearing pain woke you up. Your whole body felt too heavy, too sore, to move it. Straining your neck, you looked to the side, at the all too familiar and beloved sight. Matt was awake, his face was vacant, swollen, red and somehow grey. Most probably, he hadn't slept at all as if his insomnia could be of any help to either of you.

"Hey, handsome." Your voice was raspy and words were still a little slurred.

Momentarily Matt lifted his head from your hand, his heart picking up a truly athletic pace. His breaths became ragged, shallow, painting him somehow scared and excited at the same time.

"You're alive," he said quietly, disbelief seeping from each letter he spoke. He wasn't asking - he was stating a fact. A state of affairs that the more pessimistic part of him couldn't believe at first. Maybe your words were nothing more but a feverish dream, a lover's last goodbye as people often experience in regards to death.

You gave him a weak smile, hopefully easing the burden that had been pressing down on his chest, suffocating him, throughout the whole night.

"Yeah, had a change of heart," you said caressing his tired, tear-stained face. Absentmindedly, Matt leaned into your touch, sighing when your cold fingers brushed against his hot lips. "What's gonna be left of your world if I'm not in it?"

He couldn't quite understand why shaking hands with Death wasn't enough to rid you of your humour. Before he answered, his rough hand grabbed your own and Matt placed a chaste kiss on your wrist:

"Nothing much."

The morning sun always seemed to wash away the fears of a terrible night. And Sun, to Matt's relief, was always shining somewhere - he just had to get there, even if it was half the world away or, as it was so that night, half the death away.

[peaky-shelby]

DELICATE | Frank Castle x OC

Previous Episodes: prologue, episode 1, episode 2, episode 3

Summary: Alex Walker and Frank Castle have one thing in common and that's how delicate they are. He is back but the girl he remembers is gone, could that possibly be his fault

Episode: So It Goes... : Alex has to face her demons wether she likes it or not aka the calm before the storm

Author's note: what are your theories so far? Lmk

Back against the wall. Trippin', trip-trippin' when you're gone

EXT. PIER 81 - NIGHT

The night Alex and Frank went after the blacksmith, they found themselves on the Pier 81. They hid behind a few containers while watching on the docked ship the blacksmith was supposed to be in. Alex kept looking behind her waiting for Matt to appear out of nowhere, knowing that it was just a matter of time. Frank must have noticed her anxiety but translated it wrong because he said “you don’t have to come with me. You’ve done enough.”

“No way in hell I’m letting you go in there alone.”

“I have to be the one to pull the trigger.”

“and you will. But I’m going to be there to make sure no one pulls the trigger on you.”

Frank bowed his head, biting on his bottom lip. “no. it can’t be like this.

“Frank…” she reached for his hand, he looked up at her instantly “I’m coming with you.”

He held her hand better. Her palm seemed tiny compared to his. “I want to do this alone.” She shook her head.

“I’ll tell you what though. When this is over, I’ll help you find out what the ell happened to you. Alright?”

“you forget I am as stubborn as you.”

“yeah but you are slower.” He’d taken a pair of handcuffs he had out of his pocket and tied both of her hands on one of the containers. She tried to pull her hand away but it was too late.

“Goddamn It Frank!” she hissed.

“See you when this is over. I’ll take this” he took the knife she had hidden on her boot, his hand stroking her exposed skin while he completed the movement. They looked at each other for what seemed like a second and then he left her tied up on the container. Alex kept pulling but there was no use, she wasn’t strong enough to break the cuffs or the silver pole they were strapped around. Then she saw a shadow dancing in the sky, looking like a devil. “shit.” She bowed her head and stretched her hand as much as he could to reach for the needle she always had in between her braids. She took it, twisting her hands anyway she could to mess with the keyhole and unlock the cuffs. The moments she was free, she pulled up her bandana, and grabbed one of the chains that hanged from the containers. She ran behind the shadow and when she was close enough she threw the chain on his, making jump and misstep.

When matt got his balance back, he turned to her direction. His big red eyes glowed in the dark. “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“You can’t stop him matt.”

“He’s wrong-“ Alex ran to him, jumping on him, her leg tying around his neck, she pulled his body on the floor but he pushed her of him before he reached the ground and maneuvered his body to stay standing while she rolled on the ground. “we don’t have time for this!” he started running away, to where frank was supposed to be. Alex stood up and followed him, jumping on his back, she punched him on the face and got down stretching her leg so he’d stumble and fall. While he was trying to regain his balance she held his arm, twisting it behind his back, she took his Billy club from his waist and kicked him on the knees, so he would kneel.

“You have to let him finish this-“

Matt reached for one end of the billy club and pulled it abruptly, Alex fell face forward on the ground, she did a flip to land on her knees, balancing on hand on the ground as well to keep still, she pulled on her end of the billy club and jumped around matt, twisting the chains of billy club around his neck but in quick movement he pulled the chains, twisting it so it was her on her knees with the bill club around her neck-

“LISTEN TO ME! You’re making a mistake-“

“Matt-“ she coughed.

“He’s got the wrong man-“

“You’re lying.”

“I can hear them.” He pushed her forward letting her go “it’s a trap” she tried to jump on him again but he grabbed her hand, pulled it behind her back and put his other around her chest “I can hear them. I can hear the other guy lying to him. You can help me get him out of there or we can fight for another minute while he dies because of your pride.” He let her go and she turned to look at him.

“Take of your mask.”

“We don’t have time for this.”

“Take it off!” she demanded. Matt obeyed and she went closer to him, placed her hand on his chest and looked in his black eyes “Do you promise you’re telling the truth?”

“I promise.”

Matt had taught her how to read people almost as well as he did. Something that he had regretted but at least, this time it helped him convince her. So they went inside the ship together. Frank was pointing his gun at a man, yelling in his face, to hear him say he is the blacksmith.

“DON’T SHOOT HIM FRANK!” Shouted Matt. Frank glanced behind him and cursed when he saw you next to Daredevil. “He’s not the blacksmith. I know when people are telling the truth and he isn’t!”

“YOU’RE LYING!” He growled and pushed the gun closer to the man’s head.

“FRANK!” She moved forward, standing behind him “This man is lying to you-“

“Either way-“ matt grabbed a hammer from the table while frank spoke “He’s as bas as the rest of them.”

“He’s not the blacksmith, frank! Put the gun down!”

“Get out of here Alex.”

“You kill him, we have nothing!” shouted Matt and threw the hammer on Frank’s hand. Frank’s gun dropped on the floor. Frank kicked the man he was holding and turned, facing Alex. She raised her hands to his chest, prompting him to stay calm. Frank pointed angrily at Matt.

“YOU JUST COULDN’T LET ME HAVE THIS-“ He tried to push Alex away, she held him back “YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”

“FRANK LOOK AT ME-“ she tried but he pushed her to the side and attacked matt. The two man started punching and hitting each other. Alex stood up running to them “HEY HEY!” She tried to drag frank back form his jacket, he shook her off and she moved in between them, snatching frank’s hand before It hit her face and forcing him to look at her “ENOUGH FRANK!” Frank didn’t hesitate before pushing her with all the strength he had on Matt, the two of them crashing on the door of the ship, opening it and landing on the bow of the ship.

“WHEN ARE YOU GONNA LEARN TO MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS!” Matt held her while the fell on the ground, making sure he was the one crashing first. Frank appeared again and pulled her up throwing her away. Alex flipped and landed on her knees.

“Do not touch her!” Said matt, getting up and throwing himself on frank. Frank punched him repeatedly, matt kicked him on the ankle, making kneel. “WE WANT THE SAME THING!”

Alex jumped on him, her arm choking him. He pushed his body backwards, smashing her body under him. She gasped, hitting her head but the minute he was off her she attacked him again. Punched him harder, she escaped a couple of his hits, until he pushed her with his elbow, she fell on the corner of one of the boxes, hitting her head harder and losing her consciousness for a couple of seconds.

Matt grabbed frank from his jacket forcing him to turn around hit him on his forehead with his, before throwing him across the bow. He ran to Alex, picking up her head, she flickered her eyes. Trying to focus. Frank watched, feeling some sort of guilt for the girl. He breathed loudly, lowering his head “GODDAMN IT BOTH OF YOU!”

“Alex? Lex, can you hear me?” tried matt, stroking her face. She nodded weakly. Blood was drawing a red line on the side of her head.

“YOU COULDN’T LET ME HAVE THIS ONE THING? IT WOULD BE OVER-“

“YOU WOULD HAVE STARTED A WAR FOR THE WRONG REASONS-“

“MY WAR! YOU SON OF A BITCH! IT IS MY WAR.”

Alex lifted her head a little, feeling dizzy. Matt held her shoulders, helping her sit.

“Frank..” she whispered

“ONE MOMENT OF PEACE AND YOU TOOK IT FROM ME!”

“We’ll help you find the one responsible!”

“And then what? Let the justice system take over? This people killed my family, they took m children from me- I NEED IT BE FINAL RED! I NEED IT TO BE PERMENANT!”

Matt moved closer to frank, Alex watched them as they talked.

“I understand No you’re right my system doesn’t work.” To that her eyes opened wide, she crawled closer to them “So maybe this ones- maybe we do it your way.”

Alex couldn’t believe her ears. She tried to get up but everything around her turned in circles and sat back exactly where she was. Frank noticed it, he looked away, guilty. “Just this ones?” he asked matt and stared at him “there’s no such thing Red.” He shook his head “the moment you cross over to my field there is no way back-“ he looked at Alex, in her eyes, like he was staring right into her soul “whether you remember it or not.”

Alex went to speak but she heard the sound of cars coming closer and saw matt tensing. “I count 10. Fully armed-“ matt went back to Alex to help her get behind one of the boxes with him and frank. “there’s a lot of gun powder below decks if these guys start shooting-“

“It will blow straight to hell.” Completed frank. Alex placed her hand on her wound, feeling the blood as it kept trailing her face. She looked at her hand, seeing the red, her heartbeat getting faster. Matt turned to look at her, holding her hands.

“Stay awake Alex. We have to jump before they start shooting-“

“Alex” called frank. She looked at him “you need to go.”

All three of them stood up. Matt and Alex walked ahead, when Alex saw frank pushing of matt she ducked to avoid him.

“Fucking hell Alex!”

“You’re not staying alone.”

“It’s been a long time hasn’t it frank?” one of the criminals yelled getting his attention, he looked completely distracted. When the men started shooting he ran to Alex and shortly after the explosion sent them both underwater and she got sucked in the void of the ocean, chocking by the water, fighting for a breath of air.

●●●

INT. ALEX’S HOUSE - DAY - 10 MONTHS LATER

Alex sat up on the bed, trying to catch her breath. She looked at the alarm clock to her right ringing, another morning, another troubled night. She took a few much needed breaths and got up. She headed straight for the kitchen, followed her casual morning routine which pretty much only consisted of getting her dose of caffeine. When she heard someone knocking on her door her first instinct was to freeze and curse under her breath but the familiar face that followed, calmed her nerves a bit.

“It’s me Alex.” Said Karen “I’m bringing donuts.”

She went and opened the door slightly, letting Karen enter by herself. She got the pot, filling her cup. “Do you want a cup?”

“No” Karen closed the door and walked over to her, leaving the box with the donuts on the counter “Got one from Starbucks.” She sat down on one of the stools.

“What are you doing here this early?”

“I was passing by” Alex gave her a warning look and Karen laughed “I wanted to talk to you. I barely see you anymore ever since you and matt… you know.” Alex opened the box, getting a donut for herself and practically ignoring Karen. “I know frank is back.”

She looked at her, with the donut still in between her teeth. She moved it away slowly “you and half of new York apparently. What did this guy do hang a sign on the empire state building?”

Karen kept scratching the paper on her cup, a weak smile playing on her lips “no he just went by the office.”

“What office?”

“Nelson and Murdock.”

Alex let her hand drop, her expression did the same “why on earth would he do that?”

“Foggy said he and matt were talking about you. There was yelling and cursing mostly by frank.”

“can’t wait to find out what their master plan is.” She took another bite from her donut, finishing it and rubbed her hands to get rid of the sugar.

“he heard something else too… about you.”

“this needs more milk.” Alex said, moving to her fridge to get the milk.

“Something about the killings-“

Alex slowed her movements but didn’t answer. She put milk on her coffee while feeling Karen staring. She put the milk back and closed the fridge.

“was it you?” asked Karen. Alex sipped on her coffee before leaving it on the kitchen and walking away, towards her bedroom. Karen turned her body on the stool. “Alex!” she called. Alex halted. She kept snapping her thumb with her fingers, nervously. “you’re gone. You’ve been gone for months and-“ she let put a sigh “I don’t know what happened to you and matt but nothing has been the same ever since the car crash-“

Alex faced Karen confused “the car crash?”

“that was his excuse when you were hospitalized but I know better now. About yours and Matt’s life-“

“You’ve always knows about mine Karen.”

“the point is…” she got up, went closer to her “I don’t recognize you anymore and I’m not sure I like what you’re becoming.”

Alex shrugged her shoulders “unfortunately there is nothing I can do about it.”

“you didn’t used to be that cold.”

“perhaps it’s exactly who I used to be.” She turned around to leave

“is that it?” Alex stopped again “did you remember who you were.”

She walked to her room and never answered the question.

●●●

EXT. CHILDREN’S PARK - DAY

David Lieberman was a free man, an alive man, that was finally able to enjoy time with his children, like a normal person. Watching them play on the playground and eating ice cream, running on the street and stopping on red lights.

He was currently sitting on a bench, next to his wife. She was going on about her mother and the dinner party they had planned for Saturday, David had stopped listening somewhere after the first or second sentence but she hadn’t noticed. And its not like he was ignoring her, he was just watching at the children and got carried away. Also he knew that deep down he wasn’t meant to be listening, just let her mumble. Suddenly he noticed his daughter’s expression changing, she jumped off the swing and started running, he followed her with his gaze until his girl threw herself on a tall man. David got up out of instinct, at first feeling fear and terror for who the man was but then the moon looked up and David recognized the face. Relief washed over him and he walked over to his old friend, smiling.

Leo jumped of his arms and the two man hugged and patted each other, asking ‘how are you’s’ and ‘where you’ve been’s’ at each other. Sarah came closer too, standing next to David, crossing her arms.

“Sarah” said frank, giving her a smile.

“I hope you’re here on a casual visit.”

Frank kneeled to be on the same eye level with Leo “go play, sweetheart. I need to talk with mum and dad.”

“you’re not going to take him away again, are you?”

Frank’s eyes softened and David himself felt his heart getting heavier. Frank, placed his hand on her shoulder and smiled.

“I promise. I just need dad’s help for a short thing.”

Leo nodded and left them. Frank stood up.

“I won’t allow you to get our family back in trouble again.” Said Sarah quickly. David shook hi head.

“don’t worry. No one is getting into trouble, I wouldn’t be here even if there was a small possibility of that happening.”

“there is always trouble when you’re around.”

David motioned for her to stop “what do you need?”

“just a location. I have some sort of machine back at my place. I want you to tell me if there is any sort of possibility we can trace it to the owner.”

“what kind of machine.” Frank didn’t answer. “right.” David turned and looked at Sarah “promise I’ll be back to put the kids to bed.”

●●●

INT. FRANK'S HIDING PLACE, BASEMENT - LATER

Frank led David to his new “cave” which was a basement hidden deep under hell’s kitchen’s most dangerous streets. David entered slowly, holding a bag with his most precious devices, looking around a bit disgusted by the dirt and spiders that crawled on the walls.

“this is worst than our old hiding place.”

“I’ve only been back for a couple of days.”

David turned and looked at him “and what brings the punisher back?”

“Unfinished business.” Frank handed him a tiny gadget, David noticed something that looked like a body, tied in white sheets behind him. He looked at what he was giving him and then up to his face “back at your old hobbies? I thought you were done with that shit.”

“I didn’t kill her.”

“then who did?”

Frank looked at the gadget in his hand “that was on the back of her neck.”

David took it in his hands and examined it carefully, turning it around in his fingers. The machine was smaller than his thumb. “this killed her?”

“it was quick and clean except it burned the skin of her neck where it was planted”

David shook his head. “a kill chip.”

“you seen them before?”

“I’ve seen prototypes before. It never made it out of paper where I was working in. this works as a tracking device too. See the red light? It must have been turned off when it detonated.”

“can you track it back to the owners?”

He sat on the floor and opened the computer. He started clicking and tapping on the keyboard while frank stood over him watching him.

“what kind of unfinished business is this then? Thought you took care of you list.”

“it’s not about me.”

“who is it?”

“do you remember Alex?”

Silence. David closed his eyes. Letting out a sigh. “fucking hell…”

“did you do it?”

“no.” he maneuvered his entire body, raising his head to be able to see him “are you out of your mind? Hanging around with her again. Frank I’ve met one person worst than you and that’s Alex Walker.”

“she’d take that as a compliment.”

“that’s the problem!”

“are you done with the thing?”

“no.”

“please be done with the thing.”

He bit his tongue but turned around again. Started clicking and tapping “I’m just saying she is trouble.”

An alarm started going off on his computer. “oh uh.” He mumbled. Started tapping faster. Frank looked at him confused. “what’s wrong?”

“Well since the signal has been restored in order for us to find them- they can find us too. They are tracking it back to us.”

“Leave.”

“Frank!”

“Go!” he patted him on the shoulder. David got up, looked at his old friend.

“When will you stop looking for wars?”

“When they stop looking for me. I’ll tell Alex you said hi.”

David reached for his bag from the floor and put it over his shoulder “please don’t”

He turned around to leave but to his surprise someone blocked his way. He looked up to find the girl he had been frightened of.

“No need. He can tell me himself.” Smiled Alex.

[fallsofserinity]

Guess who has started the first fanfic ever.

Ya girl

Anyways pls no hate I swear I've never legitimately wrote anything and published it, I just wrote shit in my diary so Its not the best

[whoreofdilfs]

id suck him dry idk 😞

[demigoddessqueens]

My husband has returned from the war

[petertingle-yipyip]

mad at god - Matt Murdock (Masterlist)

Pairing: Daredevil x Exodus (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Summary: (enemies to lovers) Y/N and Matt were friends since college, though they both have a secret from one another. When the sunsets and the Devil roams Hell’s Kitchen, there’s one person who seems to get in the way, Exodus.

(1) God Complex - Y/N is back in Hell’s Kitchen and is on a mission to protect girls from her same fate. But when the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen gets in her way, a rivalry blossoms. (MINI-PREVIEW)

(2) If Walls Could Talk - Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson weren’t always a duo. Back at Columbia, they were a trio that included Y/N Y/L/N. (MINI-PREVIEW)

(3) Traitor - The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had become some sort of unofficial partners with Exodus, but Fisk’s games nearly tears them apart. Does she have any loyalty to the Devil or is she willing to throw him to the wolves? (MINI-PREVIEW)

(4) Crisis - Inch by inch, Exodus creeps her way into Y/N’s everyday life. When an unexpected project throws her friends into the fire, she has to make a decision to pack up the suit or keep this secondary life alive. (MINI-PREVIEW)

(5) Till It Doesn’t Hurt - Matt tries to figure out the best way to go about the Fisk situation. But in the process, Matt realizes that it’s not as simple as he thought it was. (MINI-PREVIEW)

(6) Not Friendly - Things are revealed, but not exactly in the way Y/N expected... Now she has some serious explaining to do. (very brief SA reference. blink and you’ll miss it) (MINI-PREVIEW)

(7) What If It Doesnt End Well - Sudden changes can be oh so dangerous for the life of a vigilante. How can Y/N possibly cope when her entire world shifts beneath her feet? (MINI-PREVIEW)

(8) Mad At God - One can only take so much pressure until they pop. Exodus finally snaps and takes a chance, but what does that mean for her and The Devil Daredevil? (MINI-PREVIEW) (SUIT EXTRA)

SEASON TWO

[rogueonestan]

home

pairing: matt murdock x vigilante!reader

word count: 3k

summary: while out one evening, you find yourself in some trouble, and the stay at a friend’s place brings a feeling of comfort. the company of him gives a feeling you haven’t felt in ages- the feeling of home.  

warnings: slight mentions of violence, blood, mild language

main masterlist | ao3

“So, how did this happen again?”

A groan leaves your lips when slight pressure is applied to the high point of your cheekbone, thanks to the open wound you gave yourself when you got in a fight earlier in the evening. The harsh sensation from the rubbing alcohol stings your skin for a few seconds until you hear a murmured apology coming from the man sitting directly in front of you.

“Some asshole punched me when I wasn’t paying attention. It was my fault.” You explain.

“That’s all?” Matt asks you.

“And I may have ‘accidentally’ broken something of his in return.”

Your name leaves the man’s lips in response, his voice trailing off in the process.

“He deserved it.” You say, explaining how the man wouldn’t leave this poor woman alone, harassing her. You wouldn’t have been able to sleep knowing what that woman’s fate would have been if you hadn’t interfered.

The man then asks the one question you wished he didn’t. “And were you?” Matt asks, referring to the lower half of his face.

“I wasn’t wearing my disguise, no.”

Once again, your name leaves his lips for the second time within a minute. “You have to be more careful.” 

“Was I supposed to just ignore what was happening?”

“They saw your face. Someone could have seen you- they could identify you, or worse. They can go to the police. You can get arrested for this.” Matthew’s voice grows louder and louder with each passing sentence, his anger and frustration being evident with your careless decision.

“I know.” Unlike the voice that was bouncing off of the apartment walls just seconds ago, your voice can barely be heard inside the apartment, no louder than a whisper as you glance at your clasped hands in your lap. “I- It was a stupid mistake and I wasn’t thinking. I know, I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?” 

The anger in his voice fades away when concern takes over. A very faint ‘yeah’ falls from your lips, telling him that you’re okay, that luckily no one else saw you without your disguise besides the man and the woman who was being harassed. The feeling of his fingertips grazing your temple feels almost as soft as the tone of his voice was when he spoke moments ago. The rough pads of his fingertips barely tap the wound he just finished patching and the feeling of his skin touching your raw wound sends a jolt of pain throughout your body for a split second, much like the burning sensation you felt not too long ago when he was sterilizing said wound.

He never meant for his words to come out as aggressively as they did, Matt just doesn’t want you to be in any unnecessary danger, especially when it comes to the possibility of your vigilante life colliding with your civilian life.

“I just worry about you, is all.” He admits.

“I know.” You tell him. 

Silence falls between the two of you as the feeling of his fingertips caress the affected area for a second time. This time, however, his touch doesn’t fade away after a few seconds. The open cut is superficial at best, only a thorough cleaning was needed to disinfect the scrape, but the way Matt’s fingers expertly danced across your cheekbone with minimum pain running through your system told you this wasn’t the first time he’s patched someone up like this.

Patching each other’s wounds after a long night became a routine in your relationship- Matthew will come stumbling in your apartment one night, you patch him up, then the next time you see each other is when you arrive at Matt’s place to be patched up. It’s something the two of you got used to, knowing that you trust the other enough to know about your vigilante identities. 

The thought of that warms your heart. Neither of you have shown this secret side of your lives to anyone else before, so knowing that you can rely on one another during intimate moments like these, like patching each other up, brings a gentle smile to your face. 

It seems like every other night is spent with each other’s company, mostly spent taking care of the aftermath of spending an evening in fights, but the nights spent together always feels intimate. The extent of your relationship with Matt has never been explicitly stated. You both grew close over the past few months and most of the time has been spent in close proximity. You both have shown each other a side of yourselves you haven’t shown to anyone else. 

To anyone on the outside looking in, the bond they would see can be described as romantic- with the soft touches, the gentle and encouraging words spoken to the other, the lingering gazes given. All of that would suggest a deep and meaningful relationship, and in a way that’s true, but an outside eye would never be able to understand the unique bond you and Matthew share.

The idea of becoming more than whatever you and Matt are has come across your mind when you’re apart, more times than you care to admit, but you always brush off the silly idea. ‘Just friends’ you tell yourself.

When the feeling of Matthew’s fingertips gently grazes another sensitive wound on your face, one that rests right above your eyebrow, another groan of discomfort leaves your lips. A gentle ‘sorry’  leaves Matthew’s lips in response.

“Hold on, this may sting a bit.” He tells you.

The awful scent of rubbing alcohol stings your nose. The feeling of the sterilized liquid touching your open cut sends a flash of pain throughout your body yet again. Even when pain floods through your system, the treatment you receive from Matthew is as gentle as he can be. The gentle graze his index finger gives the skin around the affected area somehow balances it all out. The pain is only temporary but Matthew’s soft touch never fades. Even when the cut is disinfected and is taken care of, the feeling of his fingertips never disappears, almost like he’s in some sort of trance. The feeling of his fingers goes from your forehead to the high points of your cheekbones to the edge of your chin. His fingers never leave your face when you reassure him you’re fine.

“I’m fine.” You tell him, knowing that thoughts of worry immediately flood his mind. If you didn’t know him as well as you do, the look of concern spread across his features tells you exactly that. “It’s a scratch, that’s all.”

Even when it’s a mere scratch, you know Matthew fears the worst. You could accidentally stub a toe against a wall or burn yourself on the stove, and Matthew would take it upon himself to personally make sure you weren’t hurt, including right now.

“Where did you learn how to do this?” You ask.

“My dad.”

“Your dad taught you how to…”

“No. No, he- I used to patch my dad up after a boxing match. Before he, uh-“ He cuts himself off, not saying more on the matter.

“‘Used to’? What happened to him?”

The question visibly upsets Matt. His entire body tenses up, from his shoulders to his fingers (now balled up into fists.) He even picks at the skin of his thumb, clearly upset by the topic. Not a single muscle moves in his entire body for the next minute or two.

Then, he finally speaks.

“I can still remember the sense of dread I felt as soon as I heard it, how it seemed like my worst nightmare finally came true. At first, I thought it was just some bad dream, that my dad would walk through the door at any second and it would all be over, but then I could hear the screaming.” 

He then explains that he’s never really told anyone about the last time he heard his father’s voice, the night he lost his father. You tell him that it’s okay, that he doesn’t have to tell you anymore and you wouldn’t push the subject any further, but being the stubborn man he is, he doesn’t relent and continues.

“Relationships are built on trust and I trust you, more than I have with anyone else in a long time.” He admits to you.

The soft admiration warms your heart. Words like these are often exchanged between the two of you. When the other is hurt, concern always comes from the other, concern for the other’s well being is always vocalized, but admiration for the other on such a deep level is rarely spoken.

Sure, you’ve told Matt that you appreciate him and his company, you’ve admitted maybe once or twice that you too trust him more than anyone else in the entire world. It’s nice to know that Matt feels the same about you as you do about him.

More about that unfaithful night is revealed when Matthew continues- how he tried staying up late to hear his father come home, to see if his father needed any patching up after his boxing match. All he wanted was to spend some extra time with his father before he went to bed for the night, but that moment never came. 

Moments like those with his father are the moments he loved the most. Matt and his dad didn’t have a normal relationship. The two of them didn't go out to get some ice cream after school or anything like that, the only time they were able to see each other was late at night after his dad finished a boxing match or at the gym where his father trained. Everything with his dad was anything but ordinary, not that Matt would change a single thing about it.

Matt fell asleep the night his father had the biggest match of his boxing career. His dad won that match, made his son proud when he heard the results on the radio that night, but it came with a price. A price Matthew would have to pay every single day for the rest of his life- a life without his father. 

The sound of a gunshot nearby is what woke Matt up in the middle of the night.

Then rushing down to the nearby alleyway where he was met with police.

Then finding the unresponsive body of his father.

Then, everything around him stood still.

“I don’t even remember how long I was sitting there.” He explains, taking a short moment to collect himself as he retells one of the most traumatic memories of his life. “By the time I managed to get up and found out what was going on, I was too late. The police were already there.”

Opening up and being so vulnerable on such a vulnerable topic is not an easy thing to do. It doesn’t just slip off the tongue with ease. You have to relive it over and over again, thinking about the most tiny detail about the event late at night when you can’t sleep. The memory of them just… lingers.

The way Matthew told the story about his father resembled all of that. The way the words flew out of his mouth told you the death of his father has been heavy on his mind for a long time, or maybe it just never went away. One sentence kept spilling out after the other. The only time his words did falter was when a stutter of words became intertwined with the story he was telling. The story wasn’t well rehearsed, probably told to one or two other people who Matt trusts his entire life with. The idea of Matt trusting you with such an intimate memory of his warms your heart.

Hearing all of this, an apology immediately spills from your lips. “I’m so sorry, Matthew.” You tell him. 

“My father always wanted what was best for me.” He admits. “He always wanted me to use my head instead of bloodying my fists. He didn’t want me to end up like him.”

“He still would be proud of you.”

Matthew shakes his head in response. “No, he would be disappointed I turned out exactly like him. It was the exact opposite of what he wanted for me.”

“I don’t think that’s true. I don’t think he would be ashamed of who you turned out to be.”

“He did everything he could to make sure I didn’t fight like him.” He points out, describing how his father always made sure all of his schoolwork was finished even if it was well past midnight. “He would do anything to make sure I didn’t make the same mistakes as him, and I failed him.”

“You didn’t fail him.”

“I’ve done everything he warned me against.”

“But not without reason. You didn’t start this lifestyle because it was thrown at you one day, but because you chose it.” You reason. You pause momentarily to choose your next words carefully before continuing. “I may not have known him, but I think your dad would have been proud of the man you’ve grown up to be- maybe not by following similar footsteps as him and coming home with bloody fists, but by making the city a safer place. I know for a fact that I feel safer at night knowing what you do for this city.”

“Thank you.” He simply tells you.

Silence then hangs in the air. It’s not often that Matt is at a loss for words, usually because nothing else needs to be said when his touch can do the speaking for him. However, this time, Matt’s at a loss for words because of the words you spoke of his father.

It’s been such a long time since he’s heard such kind words about his father. The last time he probably heard them was when his best friend said something similar on the eve of their college graduation a few years back, and it means a lot to Matt knowing that you feel the same way about his father as his best friend did when Matt told him the same story he told you. 

It’s been such a long time since Matt has trusted someone as much as he trusts you. There’s a few things he can’t tell others, and knowing that he’s able to confide in you about such things fills the gap in his heart. Before meeting you, it always seemed like a piece of himself was missing. He was never able to describe the hollow feeling he’s felt within, but at this very moment, that gap feels complete. As cliché as it may sound, like coming straight out of a novel, the way Matt feels about your relationship is as if you were the final puzzle piece that’s been missing in his life.

Matt doesn’t vocalize these thoughts out loud, mainly because if he were to, he wouldn’t know where to start. He knows that he trusts you more than anyone else in his life and he wants the relationship you have, as weird and complicated it is, only to grow. He wants to tell you that he stays up for the rest of the night after you see each other, thinking about the short amount of time you spent together. He wants all of his thoughts to be clear and concise before he tells you any of this, so instead of mucking up the moment, he settles for your fingers to be intertwined with his. The feeling of your soft skin rubbing against the rough callus of his hand is even more tender than it was earlier on in the night.

Rather than the pads of his fingers gently grazing nearly every inch of your face and your exposed skin, the pad of his thumb that managed to escape your grip speaks the words he wasn’t able to form. His wordless action spoke of the appreciation he has for you, how even when he doubted whether his father would support him in his current endeavors, you reassured Matt that he would. You only knew bits and pieces about his dad, from the few times Matt spoke of him and the story you just heard of him, but you were still able to reassure him regardless. Even how difficult it was to talk about his father, you tried to comfort him in the best way you could. It may not be much, but the grip he has on your hand silently tells you all of this.

The physical touch his skin gives yours tells you that he appreciates the words you spoke to him not too long ago, how you carefully chose your words when it came to something as important to him as his dad, how your words reflected the same words from someone else in his life. You weren’t aware of that, but something deep within you told you those were the exact words Matt needed to hear. Speaking about his father opened a wound, one that Matt wasn’t expecting to open up tonight, but the gentle words you spoke helped heal the wound, much like he had done to you earlier in the night. 

Though he took care of your wounds physically, your words on his internal wounds had the same effect. That thought doesn’t need to be spoken out loud. You both know you help each other out that goes beyond patching up each other’s wounds after a few fights. You help the other with the feeling of comfort neither of you have felt from another person in a long time- the feeling of home. 

“You want to spend the night?” 

[skyfallslayer]

The Darkness In Me - Masterlist

-Kingpin!Matt Murdock x Vigilante!Reader-

Main Masterlist

🖤 Summary: You were shocked to find out your childhood friend turned out to be the Kingpin of the underworld, but you had to put those thoughts aside to bring him down. You were Hell’s Kitchen vigilante, its protector. There's no valid reason not to stop him. However, when your hidden feelings for him start to surface once more, how will you be able to even think about bringing him down?

🖤 Pairings: Kingpin!Matt Murdock x Vigilante!Fem.Reader

🖤 Rating: Mature - Explicit

🖤 Warnings: At the beginning of each chapter (This series will contain 18+ themes)

🖤 Word Count: 25,966

🖤 Start Date: 8/8/23

🖤 End Date: N/A

🖤A/N: For those who aren't the biggest Marvel fans, I'm going to give you a little backstory behind this fic. This story is based on the "Spider-Gwen" comics where in this universe, Earth-65, Matt's origin story is very similar to the one where we already know, except Stick was killed by the Hand and takes Matt under their wing. He's turned into an assassin, but still goes to law school and eventually becomes Wilson Fisk's defense lawyer. Somewhere along the line, Matt cuts ties with Fisk and becomes Kingpin himself. This story was kind of a 'A-ha!' moment, and I decided it would be interesting to see this take on Matt with a reader insert. Don't know how many stories I'll do, but if you readers seemed to like it I'll keep going :) Enjoy!

-INDEX-

🖤 Story 1: The (Wo)Man Without Fear

Summary: After all these years away, you’re finally relocated back to Hell’s Kitchen, the place where you were born, a place filled with happy memories. However, the city is not what you remembered, and when your job as a detective is not enough to save it, you might have to become something more.

🖤 Story 2: Auld Acquaintances

Summary: Deciding you have no choice anymore, especially how your new partner scares you half to death, and the police in this city seemed not to care, your hundred percent committed to becoming a vigilante. But before you could do this, you run into an old childhood friend and his business partner. But unknowingly to you, he’s not the same little boy you remembered hanging out with. He’s… something else entirely.

🖤 Story 3: Kingpin & Daredevil

Summary: Your night trying to save a kid takes a dangerous turn. Now fighting to stay alive after a possible life threatening injury, you soon find yourself face-to-face with the man that runs this city’s underworld: The Kingpin. Aka… your childhood friend.

🖤 Story 4: Snapdragon (Coming Soon)

Summary: Your world is officially upside down. Your small taste of nostalgia has been ruined by what you discovered. Now, you’re out on investigations with Frank, and decide to dig deeper on other cases to take your mind off things. But of course, you always had the worst luck, and nothing can make your heart stop when you find the King of Darkness in your living room.

🖤 Story 5: A Euphoric Misery (Coming Soon)

-Taglist Is Open-

@utterlynuts @etanordoesbullsh1t @mattmurdocksstarlight @l3xiluve @lunaticgurly @margoo0 @swift-enchanted @athenniene

@up-in-space-reading @itwasthereaminuteago @lazyxsquirrel @yeonalie @scoliobean @kayden666

@nkmblackhyuuga @nk1023 @queenofnigthdarkness @badbishsblog @nornawerdandi @lov3vivian

[farfromstrange]

Can I suggest something with angst (because angst with no comfort is my forte) like a daredevil x vigilante teen reader (?)  They are like siblings by blood. (The reader is treated by Matt like family, and he is so overprotective of them.) They have been together for a long time. Then something came up: the reader got caught by their enemies, and the daredevil was on the run to save the reader, or something like that. (I'm bad at explaining things, but I hope you get it.) Thank you in advance. I hope you're having a great day! love u

I am so sorry for the long wait, nonnie! I feel like I owe you for making you wait so long. Since you said angst with no comfort, I decided to completely shatter you with the angst, and I hope you're okay with that! I felt a shorter piece for this request would do better to convey the emotions. I'm nervous to post this, but I hope you like what I did with this!

Slipping Through My Fingers | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x teen!vigilante!Reader

Summary: You get hurt and Matt fails to save you.

Warnings: ANGST, TW: Death, hurt/no comfort

Word Count: 1.5k

A/n: Not tagging for this fic because the topic isn't for everyone.

He’s running. The city sounds, the noise, the sirens and the blood-curdling screams follow him everywhere. The stench in the alleyways seems to cruelly try to distract him from what he’s focused on, but he can’t give up now. He is close, so close. 

Matt Murdock lost the only family he had when he was just a boy and he believed he was alone, truly alone, for a very long time. And then, one day, you stepped into his life. He was at the police station when he ran into you. Well, you weren’t running, you were stuck in a holding cell. When he found out why – you were caught punching a guy to a puddle for attempting to hurt an elderly woman – and when he asked Brett for your file and confirmed that you were, in fact, only a teenager, he chose to help you out. It could have been him, after all. In his mask, getting caught by authorities, and he would have wished for someone to bail him out, too. Besides, your sassy nature when he told you he was your lawyer drew him in. You tried pushing him away at first, but then you went out again the next night, and there he was, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, and he taught you a lesson or two about being smart when it comes to being a vigilante. That was the day you started working together, and you have become his family. You’re like his little sibling, and he’s never had one, so it feels right. He can mentor you, protect you and make sure you don’t get yourself in too much trouble, and in return, you breathe some fresh air into his life. It works, and he doesn’t feel as alone now anymore. You even moved in with him. 

Last night, everything seemed normal. You went out on parol together, busting up a drug ring you had been investigating long before that, and you seemingly succeeded. Though when Matt came home after work a few hours ago, he found the apartment empty, your suit still at home, and he couldn’t make out your heartbeat. When he called, you didn’t answer your phone. You didn’t text back. And you made a deal at the beginning of this that you would always call back. If you don’t, you told him, not even after five tries, and he can’t hear your heartbeat across the city, something isn’t right. But Matt doesn’t need to remember your deal to know that something happened; he can feel it in his bones. 

His chest contracts as his heart grows heavier. The fear is etched deep into his bones. He has gotten so used to the sound of your breathing, not being able to hear it is torture. Like minuscule needles drilling into his brain, the agony wraps its claws around his soul and drags him down into a dark hole. 

He’s running, and he won’t stop until he finds you. 

Something must have gone wrong last night. Someone must have remembered he isn’t working alone anymore and grabbed you to get to him. He has an inkling, but he can’t say for sure. He’s simply following the clues that are smaller than a grain of salt, and he’s struggling to keep up. For hours, he has been running, and you are no closer to being back home than he was before. 

At this point, you could be dead. You could be bleeding out in a ditch. These men could have shipped you off to Russia, enslaved you, used you– He can’t think about that now or he will stop and smash someone’s head into the nearest wall, maybe even his own. He swore to protect you and he failed, he always fails. If anything happened to you, he once told himself, it would be his fault, and it is. He should have been more careful the night before. He should have paid more attention to his surroundings. Things always end badly when he’s involved, and he believes he has doomed you. Yes, he must have doomed you and now you’re gone because of him, possibly even dead, and he is going to have to live with that for the rest of his miserable life. 

Then, he smells it. The wind comes in from the right direction and he catches the slightest whiff of your shampoo, your clothes, and your blood. The latter is what causes all fuses to blow in his mind. His already burning vision turns redder, his senses blaring with the alarms in his brain and he runs even faster. He jumps rooftops, chasing after your scent – and then he hears it. The faintest hint of your heartbeat is in the distance, but it is weak, and you’re losing blood at a pace that is weakening your body. 

He’s not sure for how long he runs, but eventually, his feet are sore and his muscles ache, and he can finally hear your voice calling out for him, “Matty!”

He finds you on a rooftop. Your body lies limp between two blocks of cement. The gash in your side is large, and the pool of blood that surrounds you keeps growing by the minute. Your breathing sounds labored. You reach out when you see his silhouette, barely conscious, but you have gotten used to his presence. 

“No,” he chokes out and gets on his knees beside you. He pulls off his mask, pulling your head into his lap. His hand flies to your wound, but it’s not the only spot you’re bleeding from. 

Bare fingers glide over your face, checking for more injuries. He finds a cut on your lip, your eyebrow has been cracked, as has your skull, and you look completely destroyed. Your life is in his hands, and you’re slipping through his fingers. 

“Who did this to you?” Matt growls. 

“They’re gone,” you whisper. Even though you are injured, you don’t sound scared, you’re not in pain – you have accepted your fate. A fate Matt refuses to see.

“I’ll get you out of here. You just have to hold on a little longer, and then we’ll end them together. I promise. We’ll come home tonight and we’ll have Tacos and–”

“Matthew,” you reach for his face, “It’s okay.”

But it’s not okay, he thinks. You’re bleeding out, you’re dying, and you’re too far from the nearest hospital for him to even try to make a run for it. Even an ambulance won’t make it here in time. It’s not okay, no matter how badly you want to convince him of that, and just like that another wave of blood gushes out of you and into his hand. It feels heavy, like your life’s essence is trying to escape but he doesn’t want it to. You can’t die, he promised he wouldn’t let you. 

“No,” he says again, more sternly this time. “Don’t even talk like that, okay? You’re gonna be fine, you hear me?” He calls your name.

You feel yourself getting dizzier by the minute, but you’re oddly content. “I– I won’t make it–” You’re cut off by a cough, and you taste the copper on your tongue now, too. 

“Shh, yes you are. Stay with me, sweetie, stay with me!”

He can say it all he wants, it won’t change the brutal reality of the situation. 

You’re dying, and he can’t save you. 

You pull him down by his sleeve. “Promise me,” you breathe into his ear, “That you’ll– you’ll take that trip to Eu-Europe. Promise me, Matthew. Promise me you’ll l-live.”

“Stop talking like you’re dying, I–”

“I am.”

“No. We’ll get you an ambulance and then you’ll be fine.” 

A tear slips from his cheek and onto your face. 

“Matthew, please, just…”

“No…”

“Thank you,” you whisper, “for everything. For- for being my brother.”

He calls your name, but the noise fades into the background. 

“I love you,” and these are your last words before the dark void grabs you and hands you over into the hands of the Grim Reaper. 

You look over your shoulders on your way to the light, the last thing you remember being the tears on Matt’s cheeks and the scream he lets out as you leave, your life slipping through his finger like the sand in an hourglass. 

You’re gone, and he couldn’t save you. The one thing he promised to do, he failed at. He failed, and you paid the ultimate price for it. 

He stands alone at your funeral. Just like him, you didn’t have anyone. He made the men that did this to you pay for what they did, and the bruises on his knuckles still burn as the sun shines down on him. It doesn’t rain, which he sees as a sign from you, a silent encouragement that it is okay for him to move on and find the light as you did, but he can’t accept it. He can’t accept that you’re gone. 

You were too young to get dragged into this, and now you’re gone. It’s his fault, and beating the ones responsible to the point they fell into a coma still didn’t feel enough.

He sends a silent prayer up into the sky, but God doesn’t listen, and he doubts he ever will. Mercy is something he doesn’t deserve, and he will carry the guilt with him until the day he dies. 

[amhrosina]

The Four Times Frank Almost Asks You to Marry Him, and the One Time He Does. (Frank Castle x Reader)

MASTERLIST // TAG LIST REQUEST FORM

A/N: I love Frank Castle so much, I just want to cry. I'm currently watching the Astros lose to the Mariners, so here's some soft!frank to make everyone feel better. This is just a reminder that if you get a response from @yourfriendhenrywinter, that's me on my main account! They're linked together so I can't reply to comments as amhrosina atm!

Summary: I feel like the title of this makes the summary self-explanatory. This is four times Frank almost asks you to marry him, and then the one time he actually does it.

(Warnings: vigilante!reader (similar to Black Cat, but not actually Black Cat lol), socialiate!reader, mentions of cuts/blood/bruising - the usual Frank stuff, mentions of grief/death, guns, soft!FrankCastle, a wild Matt Murdock briefly makes an appearance)

The first time Frank almost asked you to marry him was after he’d shown up on your doorstep, beaten and battered to high hell. You’d ushered him in the door, still wiping the sleep from your eyes. It was almost four in the morning, and you had to be up in two hours to get ready for a meeting with your agent, but you didn’t complain to him about it once.  

You did, however, tear him a new one for patrolling without backup. He tried to hide his grin as you stitched a particularly nasty cut up, being so gentle with your hands and so stern with your mouth.  

“Frank, it’s dangerous. I mean,” you shook your head and grabbed another piece of gauze, “you could’ve called, you know? I would’ve met you somewhere. Watched your back. Shot a few guys.” You shot him a pointed look as you focused your attention on a small cut under his jaw.  

“I didn’t want to bother you unless I had to. You have work soon, sweetheart.”  

“I don’t care. Better for me to be tired than for you to be dead in a ditch somewhere.” 

He watched you as you moved from injury to injury, cleaning, patching, and even suturing a few cuts. Your fluidity was graceful and enamoring, something Frank adored about you. How it looked like you flowed from room to room, barely placing your feet on the ground before you were already taking your next step. How you could take out a team of trained gunmen without ever having to touch the ground. And when you turned that graceful attention on him, he was a goner. He had never felt something as gentle as your hands, except maybe your love for him.  

You began to clean up your bathroom counter, scooping empty gauze packages into your trash can. He rose to help you, but your stern gaze had him promptly sitting back down. 

He murmured your name, intent on grasping your full attention so that he could tell you just how much he loved you. How his heart ached for you when you weren’t with him. How your love had burrowed its way into his soul, healing the missing piece of his heart. He would always love Maria and his kids, but he also knew he couldn’t sustain himself on anger and vengeance forever.  

A knock sounded at the door before he could figure out where to begin. You made your way to the door, grabbing your gun off your side table before looking through the peephole. Frank was right behind you, hand resting on your waist, ready to pull you aside if the person at the door meant any harm.  

You sighed, uncocking your gun and opening the door.  

“Hey Devil Man.” You smiled. Frank narrowed his eyes at the man dressed in red.  

“I smelt blood.” You nodded, like Matt’s timing wasn’t completely inconvenient, and opened the door wider, inviting him in.  

“Since the whole gang is here, I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”  

You walked into the kitchen, tinkering around for coffee mugs and creamer. Frank continued to glare at Matt, who was grinning wide like a cat.  

“Cockblock,” Frank grumbled, rolling his eyes.  

//

The second time Frank almost asked you to marry him, you were standing over an unconscious Russian mob member, panting because you had just whacked said Russian in the temple with your gun.  

“That’s what I thought you said,” you huffed, stomping away from the guy, who was tied to a chair and missing most of his clothing.  

Frank hadn’t expected you to lash out the way you did. The Russian was going on and on about Maria, Lisa, and Frank Jr., saying they deserved what they got, calling them weak. Frank was beyond letting some mobster rile him up about his past, but it apparently didn’t sit right with you.  

You had stalked towards him, predator stalking prey, and asked him to repeat himself, a little louder so you could hear him. The guy had said three words before you raised the gun and smashed it into the side of his head.  

Frank grinned, watching you stomp around and mumble to yourself. He heard parts of your rant; picked out words like “common decency” and “how dare he”.  

“What’s so funny, big bad punisher?” You raised an eyebrow at him. 

“’s nothing, sweetheart. I just love you.” He averted his eyes from yours out of habit, but you didn’t mind. Frank’s been betrayed so many times in his life that allowing himself to be vulnerable and trust anyone was a feat, let alone confessing his love for you so openly. You returned his smile, leaning over to poor a bucket of water on the Russian, who came to kicking and sputtering.  

‘Right,’ Frank thought, ‘back to work.”  

//

The third time Frank almost asked you to marry him, he was sitting on the floor of your apartment, watching you answer questions on the morning news. You were pretty well known around New York. Your parents, who were wealthy real estate investors, had left you everything they owned in their will, which skyrocketed your status among New York socialites. If only they knew what you got up to once the sun went down.   

A photo of the two of you holding hands outside of a bar was leaked online, causing all kinds of controversy among the elites. Your relationship with Frank had been kept from the public, which served both of you guys well, but when the photo had been released, your agent demanded that you make a statement, denying any type of relationship with him.  

Frank had walked you to the door that morning, kissing you on your forehead and telling you to do whatever you needed to do. He wouldn’t let elite assholes hurt his feelings or his relationship with you. 

You walked on set confidently; chin held high as you were bombarded with questions about your relationship with the vigilante Frank Castle. You cleared your throat, silencing the questions.  

“I know you have many questions. I wish I could say I cared enough to answer them,” you paused, “My privacy has been violated. A private moment that I was sharing with my partner has been turned into a...a shitshow, really.” Your voice was crisp as it came through the tv speakers. The corners of Frank’s lips turned up. You had just cursed on live television, and that wasn’t even the worst thing you had done yet today. 

“Frank Castle is not a bad man.” Your firm voice boomed across the silent set. “Frank Castle was abandoned by his country. The country that he served, with honor, for eight years. The country that slaughtered his family in broad daylight.” 

Frank swallowed thickly. This was not on the script your agent had sent you. 

“I think most of you don’t even care that I’m dating Frank. You just want a story that will sell papers.” You rolled your eyes. "Anyways, my point is, if any of you went through what Frank went through, you would wish you had the courage to do the same thing he did.” 

The questions started up again, and you sent a sympathetic look towards someone off camera, no doubt your agent who was likely fuming.  

“My relationship is my business, but for those who are wondering,” you slightly paused, making eye contact with the camera, “I’m in love with Frank Castle, and I don’t really care if anyone has a problem with that.” Your voice was soft, flittering through the speakers directly into Frank’s chest.  

He knew that this would likely damage your reputation with the elites, but it was clear that you didn’t care. He let out a hearty laugh, sipping his coffee and getting up to make you breakfast. If he had been able to go with you to the news station, he would probably be on his knee right now, begging for your hand.  

‘Another time, then,” Frank grinned, ‘another time.’ 

//

The fourth time Frank almost asked you to marry him, you were knelt down, knees in the soft ground, cleaning a particularly difficult glob of sap off a gravestone. He was not expecting to find you here, among his family’s graves. He certainly wasn’t expecting to find you cleaning the gravestones.  

Frank had come by to talk to Maria, which always grounded him. He wanted to apologize to his kids for not protecting them when he should have. He also wanted to ask Maria for her forgiveness for loving someone else after her passing. It wasn’t a conflict in his head; he knew that Maria would have wanted him to find happiness, but that didn’t stop him from feeling guilty about how deep his love for you ran.  

He inhaled sharply when he realized what you were doing. Your voice carried down the hill a little bit, hitting him squarely in the heart. You were talking to Maria.  

“Was he always this grumpy?” You asked her, smiling bashfully. “He likes to act tough, but I know he’s a big teddy bear inside.” You wiped the top of the gravestone off, sitting back on your heels to observe your work. Sighing, you leaned back, moving into a crisscross position. 

“I’m so sorry this happened to your family, Maria.” You paused, resting your chin on your hands. “I hope it’s okay that I love him. I really do. He’s...happier than he used to be. When I first met him, I mean.”  

Frank blinked the tears that had gathered in his eyes. Overwhelmingly, and simultaneously, grief and love passed through him like a wave, nearly knocking him over.  

You tilted your head, looking at the two graves next to Marias; Lisa and Frank Jr.’s resting places.  

“Your dad misses you. You probably know that, but I see it in him all the time. The way he lights up when he gets to talk about you guys. I hope he never stops. Weirdly, I feel like I know you, even though we never met.”  

You leaned back, searching through your bag for something. It nearly broke Frank when you pulled out a bouquet of peonies, Maria’s favorite flowers.  

“I’ll take care of him,” you promised, setting the flowers down at the base of Maria’s grave. You ran your fingers over her name, etched beautifully into the stone.  

Frank’s knees almost gave out. He fumbled with the little black box in his pocket, vowing to ask you to marry him as soon as he finished talking to Maria.  

Your phone began to ring, startling both you and Frank. You held the phone between your ear and shoulder and began to pack your things away, chattering to whoever was on the other end of the line about a contract you hadn’t signed.  

Frank was a little ashamed that he hid from you as you made your way towards the exit of the cemetery, but he figured that your conversation with Maria was something you didn’t want him to know about. He was so sure about his decision that it choked him up. He was going to ask you to marry him very soon. That he was sure about.  

When Frank asked you to marry him, you were being coaxed awake by a soft voice, hands wondering over your back and brushing the hair from your eyes.  

“Sweetheart,” Frank’s voice was like honey to your ears, “I’m sorry for waking you, but this is too important to wait until morning.”  

You rubbed your eyes and clicked the lamp closest to you on. Frank was crouched down by your bed with a small smile on his face.  

“What’s wrong, Frankie?” You asked, sitting up and checking him for cuts or bruises. 

“Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart.” He let out a soft laugh. “I just wanted to ask you to marry me, that’s all.”  

He slowly set an open ring box on your lap. Your eyes went wide, searching his face for deception.  

“What?” You gasped. This was unexpected, to say the least. 

“I don’t think I could take another day without putting a ring on your finger...” he searched for the right words, even though he had been practicing this speech for hours, “I don’t have much to offer you, but I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.”  

Your eyes grew teary as you smiled, palming his cheek.  

“Oh, Frankie,” you mumbled, “Of course I’ll marry you, you beautiful, beautiful man.”  

Frank let out a sigh of relief, tension leaving his shoulders, and smiled wide. Your grin matched his.  

He plucked the ring out of the box, grasping your left hand and pushing the ring onto your ring finger. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into you and kissing his cheek.  

“I love you so much, Frank,” you mumbled into his shoulder.  

“I love you, Sweetheart.”  

Frank’s eyebrows knit together in confusion as you jumped out of bed, hurriedly running towards the kitchen. 

“Where are you going?” He called after you. 

“I have to call Karen and tell her!” You responded, voice carrying across the apartment. 

“It’s three o’clock in the morning,” he said, laughing, “Can’t it wait until later?”

End Note: I love the idea of Frank finding someone who he can trust and fully love after Maria's death. I hope if we ever see him in the MCU again, he'll be happy and healthy :'). Thank you for reading!

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