#matt murdock x black widow!reader

[chvoswxtch]

Hi! I was wondering if I could request Matt x black widow reader where they’re training together and she finally tells him where she learned to fight, but he’s surprised because she seemed like she didn’t know how to protect herself?

hi my love!

I got super carried away with this one and clearly I was in an angsty mood when I wrote it oops but it does have a nice ending I promise! thank you for the request! 🖤

warning: contains swearing, brief mentions of spiciness, mentions of violence, abuse, & implied sexual assault all in relation to the red room program (if any of these themes make you uncomfortable, please feel free to skip! you will not hurt my feelings, I promise!) word count: 3.9k

show me what you got.

Half of Fogwell’s was illuminated by the sunlight coming through the large floor to ceiling windows at the back of the gym, casting a golden glow over the worn equipment and faded walls. The other half that was furthest away from the sun’s steady rays was lit well enough that you could see a clear path to not trip over anything, so you didn’t bother turning on the lights. Matt never did anyway. Not only because they were of no use to him, but he had also mentioned that sometimes the buzz of electricity in a building could be overwhelming to his senses. 

Matt had been adamant about teaching you self defense lately. You weren’t sure what happened that awoke this sudden need in him, but he had been bringing it up insistently for two weeks until you finally broke down and gave into him. He claimed it was purely because he wanted to know that you could defend yourself if something were to happen and he couldn’t get to you in time, but there was a feeling in the pit of your stomach that told you there was more to it. Saying no to Matthew Murdock was nearly impossible, and it wasn’t that you didn’t want to let him teach you. It made your heart swell with adoration that he genuinely just wanted to keep you as safe as possible. But there was something Matt didn’t know about your past that had you denying his argument…until he finally wore you down like he always did. 

You leaned against the edge of the ring with your back to the door, humming along to the music that was currently playing through your headphones. Matt had told you he was running late for your first little session together, so you figured you had a little time to kill. Glancing around the old gym, you smiled to yourself as you tried to picture little Matty running around as his dad trained on the mat that was in front of you. The first time he had brought you here, he told you some of his fondest memories he had of his father, and it made you feel special that he felt comfortable sharing something so intimate with you. He spoke of him so proudly, and with so much love, it made you wish you’d had a chance to meet Jack, and that he’d had a chance to see the incredible man his son had grown up to be.

A hand grabbing onto your waist quickly broke you out of your trance, and you instinctively grabbed onto the person’s wrist, swiftly spinning around and twisting their arm behind their back as you grabbed onto their shoulder to lock them in a painful position. A familiar head of brown hair doubled over before you had your eyes widening in horror, and you immediately let go of Matt’s arm as you ripped the headphones out of your ears.

“Oh my god, Matt…I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear you come in, I had my-fuck, are you okay? I’m so sorry, baby.”

Matt straightened up as he rubbed at his shoulder, turning around to face you. His eyes were blown completely wide open as he stared in your direction, a look of pure surprise etched onto his face.

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, no I’m fine. I didn’t…didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t! I just…didn’t know it was you. I mean I don’t…I’m not sure who else I thought would be…I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”

Matt was still for a moment, tilting his head slightly to the left as his blank eyes remained fixated in your direction. His lips parted slightly, tongue coming out to quickly wet them while his brows pulled together slightly in the center of his forehead in curiosity. 

“How…how did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“What you just did. How do you know how to do that?”

Fuck. 

“I…I was…taught.”

“By?”

Please let this go, Matt. 

“It…it was a long time ago. I’m out of practice anyway.”

“Not that much.”

The look on Matt’s face caused your anxiety to spike, sending your blood rushing through your heart at an unforgiving pace. He must have heard the uptick in your rhythm, because he immediately squinted his eyes. 

“Why are you so nervous right now?”

“I’m not.”

“Why are you lying to me.”

Matt’s plump lips were settled in a tight, disapproving line. There was a hardness to his voice that had guilt flooding the pit of your stomach. You hated lying to Matt. It wasn’t that you wanted to, you were just absolutely terrified of losing him.

“You said you wanted to teach me, and you were so excited when I finally said yes…I didn’t wanna take that away from you. I’d much rather learn from you than who I did anyway.”

Letting out a deep sigh, you took a step forward towards him and placed your hands on Matt’s shoulders, gently massaging the one you’d caused pain to.

“Besides, you’ve been so busy lately, this is a chance for us to spend more time together. And you can teach me everything I don’t know.”

The soft smile that graced your lips immediately disappeared when you realized the translucent level of betrayal that covered Matt’s face hadn’t faltered. 

“How am I supposed to do that when I don’t even know what you do know.”

The vexation you detected in his voice felt like a bullet ripping straight through the dense tissue of your heart. He had every right to be upset with you right now, you knew that deep down, but there was still an ache echoing in your rib cage. 

“Matt-“

“What is it? What are you hiding?”

“I’m not-“

“Don’t give me that shit. You’re lying to me, right now. Don’t lie to my face like I can’t tell. I want the truth.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Matt let out a dry laugh, his face a twisted mixture of shock and disbelief as his full brows raised several inches upwards. 

“Not that simple? Do you think telling you the truth about me was simple?” 

“In comparison, yes.”

Matt looked as though you had physically slapped him across the face, and the sight made your stomach twist with regret. His face immediately hardened, and he squared his shoulders as he stared down in your direction. 

“I want the truth. Now.”

“Matt-“

“Or we’re done.”

A quiet gasp slipped past your mouth at the conviction in his statement. He meant it. 

“I won't be with a liar. Not again.” 

There were traces of pain and treachery in the venom he tossed at you, and it had guilt seeping into the very marrow of your bones. You knew exactly what he was talking about; who he was talking about. A brief thought crossed your mind that he might be disgusted if he found out just how similar the two of you were, and the sins you shared. 

He must have taken your silence as an answer, because he was angrily grabbing his gym bag off the nearby bench and stalking towards the door to get as far away from you as he could. Panic began to rise in your throat, and you didn’t know what the fuck to do. 

You could let him go. Convince yourself it was for the best. That he was going to leave the second he found out what you were anyway, so might as well get it over with now. You could spend the rest of your life trying to erase his memory, fool yourself into believing you could find happiness after him, and die knowing the one person you had ever loved had walked away from you because being a coward was the least awful thing about you. 

Or you could tell him the truth. You could try things his way; kneel at his altar and bind your hands in his, say a prayer of his name and beg for the same mercy and forgiveness he had given her. It was a cheap shot to dare a man of faith to not practice what he preached, but it was an even bigger gamble that he might let the Devil decide on his behalf instead. 

“I was a widow.”

Matt instantly paused at the door, hand stilling over the handle for a moment. He slowly turned around to face you, a considerably softer expression on his features as he spoke quietly. 

“You had a husband?”

Clicking your tongue against the inside of your cheek, you leaned back against the ring and crossed your arms over your chest.

“No, not that kind. I meant…I was a black widow, Matt.”

You had seen more shades of revelation flash across Matt’s face today than you ever had the entire time you had known him, and that made you nervous. He was not an easy person to shock. This man had been through the goddamn ringer, had friends that had powers and abilities, had his ex-girlfriend die in his arms twice because of some supernatural shit, and yet you were still able to surprise him. That wasn’t something to be proud of. 

As he parted his lips to speak, you quickly cut him off and began to pace back and forth furiously. 

“Look before you say anything, just…let me explain. I…I didn’t tell you…it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you. Okay, it had nothing to do with that. I just…I wasn’t sure how you would react-“

“How I would react?”

“I’m not done.”

“Y/N, I told you I was Daredevil. That’s a pretty big bombshell. You didn’t think that was the time to tell me this?”

“No, I didn’t-“

“Why?”

“Matthew I am trying to explain that, but I need you to shut the fuck up first.”

Matt clenched his jaw, cocking his head to the side slightly to crack his neck as he let a deep exhale out through his nose. Carelessly tossing his gym bag onto the floor with a thud, he motioned with his hand for you to continue before settling both of his hands on his hips in a stance of annoyance. 

“I’m not like you, Matt. Okay? I’m not a hero. There are things…things that I did that I can never undo.”

“So you were a spy for a shitty government and did shitty things. You broke codes and laws. You think I don’t understand that? I may not commit espionage Y/N, but I break some of the very laws I took an oath to uphold nearly every night. You lied to me about something you knew I could’ve understood. I mean, it’s not like you killed someone.”

The carelessness of Matt’s words and the accusatory tone of his voice had you seething. He must have sensed your swift change in mood because the humorless smile on his lips quickly evaporated. You balled your hands up into tight fists to control the way they shook with rage, chest heaving slightly with jagged breaths as your voice dipped an octave lower.

“What is it you think widows do exactly, Matthew.”

Regret flashed in his eyes the moment he stumbled across his mistake, and the realization of your words settling in had his mouth hanging open in horror.

“Let me tell you exactly what we’re trained to do. It isn’t just lies and stealing. It’s also seduction, orchestrating crises, persuading wars, but most importantly, assassination.”

Anger boiled throughout your bloodstream as you spoke. You weren’t sure if you were more pissed at Matt for being an insensitive asshole, or about the life that was taken away from you, but all you could see was red. You’d never gotten a chance to be angry about it before, and now you couldn’t hold back the fire that burnt through you. 

“You think losing your father was hard? I was taken from my family. I don’t even know who the hell they are. I’ll never know if they even wanted me, or if they willingly gave me up. I’ll never know their names. I’ll never know if they’re even still alive. I will never know anything about them. You think Stick was rough on you? I grew up in the Red Room, Matt. What you had was a fucking daydream compared to the nightmare I lived.” 

“Y/N-“

“You wanna know how many girls survive the training program? One in twenty. I was the lucky one out of the twenty.”

Matt’s face immediately fell at your words, letting his head hang in shame as he swallowed thickly. 

“Was your first time nice, Matt? Was it romantic and with someone you loved? Someone you trusted?” 

Matt clenched his jaw tightly, squeezing his eyes shut as his hands trembled slightly at his sides. 

“Y/N-“

“I’ll spare you the details of mine. But I can assure you it was not nice. It was part of my training, and there was no love or trust being done to my body. It was being used as a demonstration in seduction to complete a mission.” 

A tiny piece of you knew this wasn’t fair. You shouldn’t be trying to invalidate Matt’s trauma with your own. But he wanted the truth, so you were giving him all of it. 

“I can’t tell you how many times my body was violated, inside and out. And do you wanna know what I got for being the lucky one to graduate the program? Torn open and ripped apart. I didn’t just have my life ripped away from me, I had my ability to create life ripped away from me too. You were broken down and molded into a hero by your city. I was broken down and molded into a villain by mine. You made a choice to be the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. I never got that choice, Matt. I never got a choice until the Red Room finally fucking fell, and then I ran. I ran as far away as I fucking could.”

You thought the haze of madness was what had consumed your vision, but as it finally became clear when you blinked, you realized your face was streaked in tears. Matt’s shoulders shook with remorse, quiet sobs and sniffles leaving him as you noticed the tracks of melancholia on his own face. All of that pent up rage and resentment…he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve any of it. He deserved better. 

“I have been trying…so hard to forget that part of my life…to make up for the things I’ve done. I didn’t…I didn’t want to keep it from you. I didn’t want to lie to you. I just…I was so scared…I was terrified to lose you because you are the one good thing I have ever had…I didn’t want you to hate me-”

“Hate you?”

Matt’s voice was just as broken as his face, and it only twisted the knife further. In a few short strides he was in front of you, frantically shaking his head in disbelief.

“How could I ever hate you?”

“Because I am everything you stand against, Matt.”

“That’s not true.”

“I’ve killed-“

“That wasn’t your choice. None of that was ever your choice. How could I ever hold something against you that was forced on you?”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that he still wanted you. But that tiny little voice in the back of your head kept screaming that this is where he would leave you. 

“Y/N-“

Matt brought his hands up to gently cradle your face, a look of pure agony covering his features as his sweet honey eyes dripped with sorrow. 

“You were a little girl taken from her home, abused and brainwashed, and used against your will by evil people. That does not make you evil. I know you never wanted to do any of those things they made you do. I can feel how much it hurts you, sweetheart. I do not hold any of that against you, I swear.”

“I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself, Matt.”

“Oh, honey.”

Matt immediately pulled you into him, wrapping his arms protectively around your body as he held you as close as physically possible. He gently brushed his fingers through your hair, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead while you sobbed into his chest. 

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s okay, my love. I know it hurts. I know that guilt you feel. You can make peace with it. I can’t promise you that it will be easy. There are some days…that are going to be a lot harder than others, and you’re going to feel…like you don’t deserve that peace or forgiveness at all. But you do. And I will be there with you, every step of the way.” 

You gripped onto Matt tightly like he was a lifeline keeping you afloat in the middle of a violent sea storm. He was the first person that had made you feel safe since you’d moved to New York. Finding out who he really was only made you feel safer. He was the scary thing in the dark that all the real monsters feared, and he was yours. 

“Whoever you were before…whatever you did, it doesn’t matter. I only care about who you are now. I love who you are now.”

“I love you, Matt. I love you so much.”

Love used to be a four letter word to you. An emotion you’d never felt, but feigned for personal gain. A genre of literature, film, and music. A holiday created by corporations for profit. But the second you met him, that all changed. 

Love was Matthew Murdock. It was his dazzling smile coupled with charming dimples that made your knees weak. It was the warmth of his hand on your lower back as he guided you to the side of the sidewalk furthest from the street. It was the way he always smiled when he said your name, and how it rolled off of his tongue almost in a beckoning manner. It was his jacket over your shoulders when you’d insisted it wasn’t ‘that cold’. It was the trust in sharing his troubled past, his deepest fears, his haunting insecurities, and his greatest sins. 

It was the first time he touched your body. It was the gentleness and undivided attention while he made love to you as you shared your first intimate moment together. It was the first time your body had ever been shown love and it took everything in you not to break down at how softly he caressed you and how patient he was with you. It was the space he took up in your heart and the home he made within you. 

It was the verity in his voice when he whispered those three words into your ear for the first time, and the way he made you feel worthy of them. 

“I love you, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’m not leaving you.”

“Please don’t tell Karen and Foggy. I…I don’t want them to know.”

A part of you knew they would understand. They were your chosen family as much as Matt was. But telling Matt the truth was difficult enough. You weren’t sure you could do it again. You didn’t want to risk your past life ruining your new one.

“I won’t. We can keep this between us.”

“I…I don’t think-“

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain yourself. I understand.”

Letting out a deep breath, your shoulders suddenly felt a lot lighter, and that weight that had been heavy on your chest was finally gone. For the first time in years you felt like you could actually breathe. 

“Thank you.”

Matt pulled back slightly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he gazed down at you lovingly. 

“For what, honey?”

“Still loving me.”

“You didn’t stop loving me.”

“Matt-“

“I’m not always a hero, sweetheart. I don’t always go out every night to protect people. As much as I hate to admit it out loud, sometimes I enjoy beating the shit out of people that deserve it. I’ve been driven to that edge of wanting to take someone’s life before. There’s not always purity in what I do.”

“But there’s heart, and good intentions.”

“Which is exactly what you have too.”

Matt leaned in to bump your nose with his, tracing the underside of your jaw slowly with his index finger. 

“Well, if the Devil said it, it must be true.”

The tension in Matt’s shoulders seemed to evaporate as a smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth, and your lips only split further into a grin as his mouth mirrored yours. There was a wicked glint dancing around in his eyes, and his tongue glided along his bottom lip slowly as he cocked his head to the side.

“So…did you all have like…a uniform or something?”

Puzzlement furrowed between your brows at Matt’s question as you tried to figure out where he was going with this.

“Like…a suit?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, why?��

Matt couldn’t contain the suggestive smirk that took over his entire mouth, arching one of his brows playfully as he jutted his chin in your direction.

“You still have it?”

Your mouth immediately fell open, pulling back to deliver a soft punch directly into Matt’s chest as you stared at him incredulously.

“Matthew Murdock!”

“What?”

“You can’t even see!”

“But I can feel.”

Matt wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, moving his hands down your waist slowly to grab at your hips while sinking his teeth into his bottom lip seductively. 

“You are unbelievable. Everything I just told you…and that’s where your head is at.”

“Both of them, actually.”

“You are the worst Catholic I have ever met, you know that?” 

“Why do you think my confessions take so long?”

Pursing your lips, you swatted at Matt’s chest again, pushing him away as you backed up to rest against the ring. You tried to contain your grin as he snickered, prowling towards you slowly with mischievous intent.

“Well?”

“I might have kept it, just in case.”

You could see Matt’s excitement clearly in his eyes, but he remained in his spot just a few inches in front of you as a timid smile tugged at his mouth. 

“You don’t actually have to wear it if you don’t want to. If it’s…too much for you. I know you might have certain feelings associated with it.”

“Not really. I repurposed it and made it my own when I came here. It doesn’t belong to them anymore. It’s mine.” 

Matt’s lips parted slightly, and you could see the flush of red blooming on his cheeks and coating the tops of his ears. His excitement was starting to be evident in other places, and you couldn’t help but smirk as he stepped in closer. 

“You know, I’ve heard black widows are extremely dangerous.”

“Get in the ring and I’ll show you.”

Matt’s face lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree as he placed both of his palms on the mat on either side of you to cage you in with his body.

“You gonna take it easy on me?”

“Oh I think you can handle it, Daredevil. I thought they called you the man without fear? You scared, baby?”

Matt’s eyes were wild with hunger, a ravenous grin stretching his lips open to show off his gleaming teeth as he leaned in to let his warm breath fan over your lips. 

“Show me what you got, sweetheart.”

[akariamai]

You Left

Part 2

Summary: Matt overheard his neighbor briefly speaking of a betrayal

There was a stranger situated in your living room and he couldn’t differentiate if they were a friend or an enemy. He knew you must’ve suffered a great deal of trauma. At times, your heart beat kept steady as you reassured him you were fine and the nightmares didn’t haunt you as often as they did. When he returns from his nightly activities, he can hear you still awake sipping on coffee to relieve you of the nightmarish memories he had yet to figure out. You were a complete mystery to him. A blank slate that perplexed his senses to the point where he could not deceiver lies from truths and vice versa. It was just a guessing game with you.

This stranger carried the same atmosphere as you did, his senses could not pick up any obscurities in their movement, and it only left him to wonder in the comfort of his apartment. He knew your schedule and you should be arriving soon. If he hears any discrepancies in the beat of your heart, he’ll definitely come check as Daredevil. His costume laid next to him and he slowly started to change in case he was needed urgently.

You stood right outside of your apartment, searching for your keys in the purse you’d carried everywhere, and you stopped for a brief moment. Matt wondered if you could sense something was out of place like the woman sitting on your couch. Most likely waiting for you to arrive through the front door. “Are we gonna talk like grown-ups or do you always break into people’s apartments all willy-nilly?” He sighed internally. You knew the woman who broke into your apartment and were not even surprised. Not a single elevation to your heart beat. Such intrusion didn’t even faze you. Almost like you were anticipating this happenstance to occur.

“Is it a crime to wait to visit?” The woman’s voice was silky but filled with a false cheerfulness.

“What do you want?” The lack of emotion in your voice rattled both the woman and Matt. You were often closed off to him but still managed to mask your joyful facade. However, to this person your true feelings arose. “You obviously want something, so spill. Why are you here?”

“I just wanted to see you.” Her heart sped up for a quick second, almost swift enough for his senses to miss. 

You chuckled indifferently, “Bullshit. If you wanted to talk, you could’ve done it years ago. So why now?”

“You’re my sister.”

“Don’t say that. You left me. You left me in that god awful place while you got to play with the cool kids.” Matt could feel the grief and outrage of the whole affair. He did not know what you meant by there but it must’ve been horrid enough to hold such anguish and an immense grudge. Abandonment. It was one of the causes for your distaste towards the woman. “You know once we heard of your escape we felt a sliver of hope that help would arrive. You would save from that penitentiary of hell but you never showed. You never looked back.”

“I did try to help. I thought I killed him.” The woman pleaded. Grasping at anything she could to get back into your good graces. To reconnect the bond you’d once shared but Matt could feel there was nothing left to repair. It was severed the day you realized her presence was gone for good.

“Well you should’ve fought harder.” You asserted bitterly, “You should’ve looked for us. To see if you and your new friends could have provided us with some fucking stability.” Instead she did a sloppy job with her assassination attempt and chose to run away from her past rather than confront it head on. She had the ability to aid the rest of the little girls who had and hadn’t shrouded their hands in the blood of innocence. She had the chance at preventing more little girls from being reformed into mindless weapons but refused to do so. She instead chose to turn her back on her fellow black widows and widows in training, to fool herself into thinking she could splinter from what they conditioned her to become. 

“Please.” Her voice was weak. Her heart was breaking into tiny fragments of what it used to be. Matt, with his senseless need to assist, wanted nothing more than to comfort you. The words you spouted spitefully were coming from a woman who cried for help numerous times but was never answered. A woman who yearned for the love she didn’t think she deserved. Matt cannot fathom the amount of torture you’d endured during your time in the place you and the woman referred to, but even he knew it’s ghost still haunts you.

“Leave.” Your voice turned hard. “You need to leave and never come back. It shouldn’t be too hard for you. You already did it once.” It was a cheap blow. You knew it and so did she, but nevertheless she walked towards one of the windows. Presumably the window she slithered her way into. She glanced over at the girl, now a woman, she’d once abandoned. Reaping the seeds she’d sowed all those years ago. Matt changed into his civilian clothing as this was happening. He could not stay in his apartment knowing you were suffering in silence. He wanted to become your shoulder to cry on as you had listened to him rant about his troubles beforehand. You need someone even if it is to sit in your apartment in silence knowing someone is within reach.

Masterlist

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Matt x Fem!Reader she’s an ex-black widow, they’re on their first date after admitting they have feelings for each other and she’s freaking out because she’s never been on a date or in a relationship and has never been in love until she met Matt. He can tell she’s nervous and scared so he keeps reassuring her and they have their first kiss at end.🥺🫶🏻🫶🏻

hii!! I love this sm omg, so cute ugh! thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

…

worth the wait

matt murdock x fem!reader

word count: 897

kinda imagined the location for matt and karens date, now just realised after writing that ^^ i unintentionally kinda copied a bit of the storyline (fuck?!😀)

✧.┊ MASTERLIST

As an ex-black widow, you've never had many opportunities to be human. Since the destruction of the Red Room all those years ago, you've been on a personal quest for happiness. And happiness's name just so happened to be called Matthew Murdock.

You haven't long professed your shared feelings, so things were still very new and terrifying. 

Matt's a great guy; that's not the issue. It was you. 

Since you've been a widow your whole life, you never got to experience things you should have. You've never been on an actual date or even dated someone, for that matter. 

You've never received spontaneous flowers or an 'I miss you' text that wakes you in the middle of the night. You've never had one of those cutesy dates you've always dreamed of- the kind you see in the movies, where you walk hand in hand down the beach at night. You've had no more than a few unrequited encounters, so things with Matt were a big deal to you. 

It was daunting to date someone as special as him, and you were scared of blowing it.

"Where'd you go?" Matt asks from opposite you, slipping his hand into yours above the table.

"Nowhere," you smile, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand.

"Mhm, okay," he grins, his eyes playfully squinting. He could tell something was bothering you and playing on your mind, but he didn't want to press the matter- not yet, anyway. "You're doing great," Matt reassures, squeezing your hand as if to comfort you.

He knew you were new to the dating game, so he didn't want to rush or overwhelm you. He wanted to take his time with you. To allow time for you to adjust, to get used to it. He wanted to show you your worth and how you're supposed to be treated by someone, despite your troubled past. 

You knew all about Matt's upbringing, as he did yours. You knew these somewhat violent and graphic details about each other, and in some weird miracle, it didn't make the other want to run for hills. 

"I feel like I'm messing this up," you chuckle, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"No," he shakes his head. "Absolutely not. You're doing great."

"I dunno,"

"You are sweetheart, trust me," he nods assuringly, playing with your fingers clasped around his.

As this was your first date with Matt, you were a big bundle of nerves and butterflies. It wasn't the company that scared you. It was because you were in such a fancy restaurant and constantly worried about saying the wrong thing.

"Hey, here's an idea," he starts, a soft smile lining his lips. "Let's go somewhere else."

"Why? What do you mean?" you ask, head cocking to the side.

He picks up your hand and brings it to his lips, pecking a kiss on the back of it. "I can tell this place is making you uneasy— and I don't want that," Matt shakes his head as if he's emphasising his point. "We can go someplace else, anywhere else."

"But we just got here— and you got the reservation and everything. I don't wanna be—"

"Not at all," he interrupts, smiling sweetly. "I think I'd prefer Thai food anyway."

You knew he only said that to avoid hurting your feelings, but it's a special gesture and one that didn't go unnoticed.

On the way back, you and Matt stopped by his favourite local Thai restaurant. As it was a much more casual setting, you felt like you could finally relax and enjoy your date with him. And you did.

...

After an hour or two of chatting and sharing dishes, Matt walked you back to yours. Your arm wrapped around his as you continue your juvenile conversation from earlier, heartily laughing as you make your way down the late-night street.

"This is me— that was stupid," you chuckle, shaking your head. "That's what they say in movies— it's— it's dumb."

"No, I thought it was cute," he smiles, slowly spinning you around to face him. "It was cute," he says again, reassuring you of self-deprecation.

Matt takes a small step towards you, slipping one hand to cup your cheek. "I had a good night," he grins, speaking inches away from you.

"I did, too," you smile, placing your hand over his, holding him to your face.

"I want to take you out again sometime, maybe friday?"

"I'd like that," you murmur, your eyes darting down at his lips. 

He says something incoherent before guiding your face to his, brushing over your lips. He kisses you soft and tender, sweet and loving. A grace of compassion you've never had before. He snakes his spare hand to your waist, holding you to him as he lightly works over your lips. 

He breaks the kiss first and rests his forehead against yours, soaking in the memory as he embraces your comforting aura. He kisses your cheek one last time before stepping back, opening your front door. 

"I'll stop by tomorrow during my lunch break," he grins, taking your hand and guiding you into your house. 

"I'll make us sandwiches," you smile back.

He slips his hand from yours, kissing it one last time. 

"Text me when you get home?" 

"I will, sweetheart. Goodnight,"

"Goodnight." You beam, locking the door with an excited squeal.

Maybe Matt was worth the wait. 

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

matt taglist: @hailey-murdock @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @redecoratestan @kpopgirlbtssvt @scarletsloveletter @princess-pebbles-things @messymissy @schneeflocky @readerhead @thegreengoop @charmedkim @queerponcho @selfryed

[rosegolqen]

Mors Vincit Omnia

billy russo x reader (au)

warning: none

words: 3321

ii. feigned behaviour and alias

20.160 minutes. 336 hours. 14 days. That was the last time Billy Russo laid his eyes on the woman who he only knew two facts about. Her name and that she at least knows how to speak two languages. What a fucking nightmare these last two weeks have been. He should be disappointed in himself. In not one of the databases he searched through has he found her. He even had to ask a few favours. How pathetic of him.

The more pathetic thing about him was not being able to concentrate on the woman — whose name he had already forgotten— who lay in his bed. He blamed it on the stress. He had a big client coming in that he had been sweet-talking in the last few days to sign a contract with Anvil. It was just the stress, nothing else. He was already dreading the stupid gala that he had to attend on the weekend. The positive thing though, this possible client invited him, which meant the deal was likely to be signed by next week. Which furthermore meant more money coming in and that meant he was less in debt with Rawlins.

Hands gripped his right bicep as the smell of too-sweet perfume hit his nose and a warm body draped itself over him. Anya? Alice or Amelia? He honestly couldn't remember what the woman's name beside him was. He randomly hit a number on his phone an hour ago and asked if she could come over to have fun. Anya or whatever her name was agreed and arrived in a revealing dark red dress that showed off her long legs and nice chest. Immediately Billy knew she would be a nice distraction for a few hours.

What he didn't take into account was that his mind would jump too quickly back to the mystery woman who moved like an assassin. He should concentrate on Anya beside him as she slowly caressed his sides with gentle hands. "What's on your mind, pretty boy?"

A sour taste settled in his mouth at her compliment but Billy pushed the dark thoughts away as they tried to grip his mind with slimy hands. Anya couldn't know how that compliment made his insides churn with anxiety. He stiffened his smile when he looked at her, scratching his beard as he pondered her question. The lie slipped from his tongue easily. "Work." Billy stretched his hands above his shoulders, laying them underneath his head. Anya clung to his body even more as his hands moved away. "It's been a rough couple of days."

Anya kissed his chest, slowly moving up to his neck and jawline. She moved the silk sheets away from her body, straddling his lower stomach. “I can help distract you.” She said in a husky voice, arousal deepening the timbers in her vocal cords.

Billy welcomed her distraction, savouring the moments when his mind didn’t stray to anything else other than Anya and her body. He lost himself in her movements as he flipped them over and seated himself deep inside her warmth. His brain shut out any thought of boring paperwork, wasted flatter on rich men and hazel eyes that seemed to accompany him even in his dreams.

—

Billy already hated this. The stuffy room with artificial light made his eyes burn a bit as he blinked the uncomfortable feeling away and his eyes adjusted to the light. The people around him mingled in groups in their lavish suits and dresses. Expensive watches adorned the men's wrists in the room and ladies wore their most luxurious necklaces and earrings. Billy should be used to this. To people floundering their wealth and money— hell, he even did it— but it was still strange sometimes. Now and then he's just the same young boy who jumped from foster home to foster home.

Pushing those grey deliberations away from his mind, Billy tried to mingle with the people who first called his name when he stepped into the room half an hour ago. He tried to focus on the conversation going on around him but he should find the potential client who invited him to this dull fundraiser with even more duller and uninteresting people. Though some of the nonprofits who were trying to raise money and build relationships with their donors tonight seemed rather compelling. Just the suck-up rich and unstimulating people seemed to tire Billy's mind.

He adjusted the cuffs of his impeccable suit, taking a subtle look at his watch. 20:48. At least another two hours until it was deemed proper and acceptable for him to go home. Billy craned his neck, eyes searching for a specific clientele that should already be here. He hoped tonight they could come to a reasonable agreement and sign the contract Billy's assistant sent him over yesterday.

The voice he was hoping to hear tonight called behind him, pulling him away from the suffocating crowd. Daniel Shepherd clapped him on the shoulder, his voice pulling in his head that turned in his direction. "Rosetta, please let me introduce you to William Russo."

Billy looked at the woman who was beside his potential client. Daniel had his hand on the small of her back as he continued to list names Billy hadn't heard of yet. While the women tonight wore revealing dresses with slits to their thighs and low-cut gowns in a variety of different colours, Rosetta wore a simple satin black evening dress with an open back. The fabric clung to all the right places on her body but not too much to indulge in what lay underneath the pricy textile.

Rosetta's gaze met his as she uttered the words in a voice that seemed too familiar for Billy. Have they met before? Maybe even shared an intimate night together but the accent in her voice made him scratch those thoughts away. "Pleasure."

"All mine, Rosetta." He politely answered back, dark eyes that blended in with his pupils never left her face. Studying the details he couldn't remember where he knew from. "You are from-?"

"Yes, Britain." She agreed without Billy having to end his sentence. She probably had that asked too many times tonight. "I'm here instead of my friend who painted all this amazing art." She gestured with her hand around the room, a smile on her face. She had dimples, Billy realized. His eyes left her form as he surveyed the room. He didn't notice them before. Huh. "She fell sick but wanted someone to represent her here today. She called Daniel and asked him if I could come instead of her. Daniel being the gracious co-host he is, of course, said yes."

"You talk too highly of me." Daniel put his hand on his heart, the other still on her back. Billy's gaze discreetly followed the curve of Rosetta's jawline and the slope of her nose to her lips. Those were unrecognizable but her eyes, the dark brown of her eyebrows and pinned dark strands of hair brought up thoughts Billy didn't seem to shake. They must have slept together at some point otherwise Billy didn't have a clue where he would know her from. But the name Rosetta or her English accent didn't ring any bells and she didn't seem to react to him at all. Focus, Billy. Make time to talk to Daniel and convince him to sign.

"It's the truth!" Rosetta clutched her purse with hands that seemed too callous for a lady who attended tonight's gala.

Daniel smiled at her before his eyes left hers and he looked around the circle of people who stood with them at the round high bar table. "Well, if I knew Anita had such beautiful friends I would have invited her more often to these events."

Rosetta stiffened up a bit, the corners of her mouth twisting. It was gone in a second as her lips pulled up in a charming smile, but Billy saw it. Maybe he should stop staring at her but who cared? He certainly didn't but he also didn't want to come across like a creep so he averted his eyes to the other guests before moving back to her. While she wore heels and Daniel wasn't a tall man himself either she had to crane her neck to look him in the eyes. "If I knew this many handsome men attend these kinds of galas, I would have asked her sooner to invite me."

Daniel laughed loudly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as a light shade of pink covered his ears. As far as Billy knew Daniel wasn't married or even had a girlfriend. There was a rumour going around an upper-class dinner Billy attended a few months ago that Daniel and his assistant held a close relationship but nobody knew anything else on the matter. "You are too kind, my lady, and a charmer." Daniel voiced smoothly back.

Rosetta tilted her head, the strand of hair that reached her chin shifted with the movement of her cranium. "What can I say I enjoy your company."

"Do you?" Daniel's eyes didn't stray from her as the conversation around the small circle of people at the table continued. Rosetta didn't spare Billy a second glance when the chatter strayed back to him, asking him how life was treating him. No, she rather exchanged flirty remarks with Daniel Shepherd.

What a nightmare, Billy thought as he effortlessly smoothed his hair back, the glass of single malt whiskey cold in his hand and the smoothness of the drink burned his throat as he swallowed a sip. He surveyed the artwork around him, the blended colours of dark reds and cobalt blues. The paintings didn't stir any feelings in him or any further thought to know more about them. However, he was interested in who Rosetta's sick friend was. The name Anita didn't strike a chord in his consciousness so Billy let them drift away.

Rosetta's voice made him turn back to her as she looked at him, "What is it that you do for work exactly? If I may ask, of course."

His bewildered expression at her question made Billy think he looked like a fish caught off guard. "I-" What do you mean she didn't know what he did? What he owned? That he served in the Army for years and killed more people than he could count on his two hands? It made Billy think less of himself, which didn't seem logical. He wanted people to know and recognize him. He wanted to be notable for something yet he didn't wish for people to understand or fathom him.

Then it dawned upon him as she further explained, "I'm sorry, I should have rephrased myself. I'm not very familiar with everyone around here and what they exactly do. I'm trying to get to know as many people as I can. Make acquaintances, you know?"

Of fucking course she didn't know him or rather his social image that was open to the public. She or anyone else for that matter didn't know the horrible things Billy did outside of his public appearances. The lonely nights that he spent covered in the blood of the people Rawlins wanted Billy to eliminate. That he almost got his best friend and his family killed. "I own a security company."

"Like for clubs?"

Billy chuckled, shaking his head as surveyed the woman before him. His laughter died down, Rosetta's innocent eyes wide at his teasing smile when he answered. "No, we protect Senators,-" Billy shrugged, "-public people who are in any type of risk or endangerment."

Her mouth formed an oval shape, brows furrowing before they evened out again. "Oh, that makes more sense, doesn't it?" She looked at Daniel with a fascination in her eyes as Billy revealed his answer. He found it strange. A classy woman from England with calloused yet tender-looking hands seeking validation from a man like Daniel Shepherd. What was she here for and why? She was trying to come across as a modest and proper yet dense lady while Billy saw the sharp glint in her eyes when nobody else seemed to. And maybe that made him more nervous than before. Because he recognized it in himself when he was talking with dim-witted clients or trying to seem like the good guy when doing interviews with whatever newspaper.

"Billy here has been working very hard.” Daniel praised him, “His company is one of the most successful ones here in New York."

Billy did let those words get to his head. Daniel wasn’t lying. Anvil was the most affluent and profit-making that it have ever been. "Thank you, Daniel. I always like to hear those words."

Billy looked at Rosetta again to gauge her reaction to the well-doing of his company and the flatter he received from Shepherd but she wasn’t looking at him or Daniel. Rather she observed the crowd around her in the spacious room. Something appeared to catch her attention more than the looks of Billy Russo and that made him feel…? Absolutely nothing, the ex-military man thought.

She looked back at Daniel, craning her neck to whisper something in his ear and clutching her bag with pale knuckles. She turned around and gave Daniel one last charming smile. Billy only saw the full extent of her backless dress as she made her steps away from them, hips swaying just the right way to turn heads in her direction. "Restroom," Daniel answered Billy's questioning gaze as he averted his eyes and smiled at the man standing before him. Billy jumped right into business but the question still lingered in his mind.

Who was this woman?

—

Billy fucking Russo. Of course. Why didn’t Anastasiya think of that? Stupid, stupid, stupid. She was so excited for the information she needed to get tonight that she didn’t think a socially recognizable person like Billy Russo would also attend the same gala she happened to be present at. Yeah, she knew exactly who he was when she spied on Kolya two weeks ago at the warehouse. She didn’t think he was worth another thought these last 14 days yet tonight proved Anastasiya wrong.

Why? Why and why? Billy could mess up the whole plan she carefully laid out for tonight. He didn’t seem to know her which had slowed Anastasiya’s heartbeat when she spoke to him before. But the way his eyes lingered on her for more than an ethically acceptable time made her nervous and she hadn’t felt nervous in a long while.

With a deep breath and an additional strut in her steps, Anastasiya fixated on her target for the night. The glass containing a scarlet wine that she grabbed from a tray made her hand heavy as she focused on the man coming towards her. She was out of sight of Daniel and his suck-up friends so Anastasiya didn’t mind putting on a show as she intentionally slipped on nothing but thin air.

The ruby liquid collided with the white and black colours of the man’s suit before her as she steadied herself and the glass in her hand. "Oh, my! I am so sorry, sir! That is all my fault. I haven't been paying attention to where I was going."

The man whom Anastasiya studied for the last two weeks let out a loud curse, "No! Leave it!" He quickly grabbed a few napkins from a nearby table as he shook his head, muttering curse words under his breath. His harsh tone softened when he looked at her. Anastasiya made sure her eyes looked as innocent as possible, her shoulders hanging low, brows pulled together to enhance that timid aura she was supposed to give off. Her mouth hung open with an apologetic look on her face. The man sputtered on his words. "I shouldn't have been walking this fast. Excuse me for raising my voice."

Anastasiya hoped she pulled off the shy and pure exterior as she apologized. Her arms reached for more napkins as she patted the older man’s suit to help him. "No, please don't apologize. I ruined your suit."

"Nothing I can't buy 10 more times." My God. How uncreative, Anastasiya thought. People who were truly strong on the inside wouldn’t need to show off to people by saying phrases like that. People with extreme qualities like bragging about how great they were, and how many women they’ve seduced also liked to brag about their fancy cars. But those were the very same people who were such weak, tiny little people on the inside. Anastasiya never understood the concept. They were trying to cover up their weaknesses and insecurities with bravado and wealth. People should let their actions do the talking sometimes rather than using their unnecessary words.

Anastasiya didn’t let the comment affect her though. "Please let me do something for you." She mimicked a fake pondering look on her face. The man was already eating out of the palm of her hands. "Let me pay for the cleaning. I feel terrible."

"Nonsense."

She put the pink slightly wet napkins on the table. "Then let me make it up to you with a dinner?"

"I-"

"Please, I insist." The man’s name was Denis Andreyev. He hesitantly agreed to her offer but with a bit more convincing on Anastasiya’s side he took the bait. She grabbed a business card from her bag with a fake name on it and slipped it into the front pocket of his suit. "Call me. And I will arrange a dinner for us where I can hopefully-" Anastasiya chuckled with embarrassment as she tapped the front pocket on his chest with her left hand, "Make up for whatever trouble I have caused you."

"Alright.” The man joined in laughter with her, a flirtatious smile on his face that made Anastasiya happy she would be able to kill him as soon as she got what she came for. “Thank you,...?"

"Beatrice." She answered his question. Denis bowed at the waist, his hand grabbed hers as he slowly brought up her hand to his mouth and kissed it. In that moment Anastasiya successfully seized his identifying card from his suit jacket as Denis was focused on her fluttery eyes and soft lips.

She snatched her other hand quickly back from his suit before he could notice it. Ding, ding. One for Anastasiya. Zero for yet another Russian man before her. Now she just had to get into his office undetected.

Denis wished her a good night and promised to call her. How bad that the number on that business card didn’t exist just like the name she gave him. Anastasiya apologized again as she stepped away from him and made her way to the stairs to be able to reach the elevator.

When she reached the corner of the wall, disappearing behind the white slab of concrete and out of the gaze of the other guests, a strong arm reached around her waist and pinned her to the wall. Warm hands covered her mouth, and the voice of the man she didn’t want to hear again tonight reached her ears, “Where do you think you’re going with that, Anastasiya?”

Billy fucking Russo.

[esmerxyaugusta]

is it just or does eveeytime i want to watch something, i dont know what to watch bc i want the fanfic i just read as a show or a movie or something and that just doesnt exist like i want to watch a matt murdock x child reader or like blackhill x child reader show like whyyyy

im going to cry in a hole now...

byyeee

[petertingle-yipyip]

mad at god - matt murdock (masterlist)

season one // season two // season three

pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (Daredevil x Exodus)

summary: Time heals all wounds, until they’re reopened. Y/N and try to leave Exodus and the Devil behind, but when an old face returns with a new vendetta, those personas are revived. Guilt, revenge, blood, death. All prices that the Kitchen’s vigilante duo has to pay, and fate is a cruel mistress who comes to collect.

(1) Friends To Lovers: Months after Elektra, the Kitchen is down two vigilantes. Believing they could have a normal life, Matt and Y/N try domesticity. Though something still lingers within them both.

(2) What A Time: Peace didn’t last long as an odd case lures Matt back in. Following right behind him as always, Y/N ends up drawn in as well. But who are they really up against?

(3) Happening Again: Coming face to face with the past isn’t easy. But when that past is supposed to be dead, vengeance seems inevitable.

(4) She: Love and lost, life and death. There seems to be no line between the two anymore as the Hand’s newest plans unfold.

(5) Ain’t It Fun: The rapid rollercoaster of the Hand’s latest plot goes into sudden free fall and your small group of Defenders is forced to make a drastic move to save NYC.

(6) Maybe My Soulmate Died: It all come crashing down in the final face off against Elektra and the Hand. Seven go in, Six come out. But part of her gets buried too, so maybe five and a half.

Epilogue- Sad, Beautiful, Tragic: Time drags on without Matt Murdock, though he still lingers in everything around her. Attempting to move forward, Y/N is pushed over an edge. (warning: short attempted drowning scene. written in red so it can be skipped)

[gxthicwxrm]

gxthicwxrm's Marvel Masterlist

Hello! This is my Marvel fics masterlist! My Marvel requests are currently closed!

Happy reading!

Matthew "Daredevil" Murdock:

Series:

Without Him - Good Choice -

Natasha "Black Widow" Romanoff:

Series:

Hydra's Newest Experiment - A Killing Machine

Fics:

The Black Widow Salon Breathtaking I Can't Lose You The Tree Lighting It's Not Fair

Fics:

Kate "Hawkeye" Bishop:

Fics:

We Are Heroes, It's What We Do

[lizamango]

currently procrastinating my third year dissertation and my two 1200 courseworks to write a Matt Murdock x Black Widow! Reader fic, what are you up to? 🫶🏼

[amhrosina]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write Matt Murdock x Black Widow reader where they end up meeting by chance and now the reader wants to get out of the red room because he convinced her that she’s better than what she was trained to be?

hi nonnie!!!

i've actually turned this into a little mini series called The Red Room.

Part Two will be out tomorrow <3

thank you for the request!

[chvoswxtch]

Hi! I have a request for Matt Murdock

Matt is dating a Black Widow but she occasionally suffers from nightmares about her past, and doesn’t sleep for a long period of time and he sometimes stays up with her and talks to her about the Red Room.

hi nonnie! thank you so much for the request! i'm not sure if you're the same person that requested a few other matt x black widow reader prompts, but if you are, you literally live rent free in my head because it's an idea i've thought about for awhile now, so thank you & I hope this is what you were looking for!

warning: some cursing, and very brief mentions of abuse in relation to the red room. I gave this a kinda fluffy ending because everyone deserves some comfort after a nightmare. ❤️ word count: 1.5k

the red room.

Raindrops cascaded lazily down the glass after pelting the window pane, like they were a part of some fervent race none of them cared to win. Thunder cracked loudly across the sky, the sound ricocheting through the clouds like a dead tree being snapped in half in a quiet forest. If it wasn’t for the calamitous thunder accompanying the cadent storm outside, Matt wouldn’t have noticed that you weren’t in bed. 

Another round of thunder dragged him out of a deep sleep, and it was only as he turned over to seek out your body that he noticed your side of the bed had gone somewhat cold. Matt suddenly shot up, focusing his senses on trying to find you and decipher what state you were in. The living room was still and quiet as you sat perched on the window sill, but inside of you another storm was brewing. 

Your breaths were somewhat ragged as you attempted to keep them under control, eyes following the trails of raindrops to give your mind something else to focus on. Your heart thundered in your rib cage at an anxious irregular pace, and Matt could smell the cortisol raging in your bloodstream. He kept his footsteps quiet as he approached you slowly, not wanting to add to the fear and uncertainty that was radiating off of you. He kept his voice barely above a whisper as he stood a few feet away, preparing to give you space if you needed it.

“What was it tonight?”

You jumped so slightly at the intrusion of his voice, even he almost missed it. Matt’s fingers twitched at his sides as he studied you, waiting for some kind of signal that he could approach. A shaky inhale through your nose had his chest constricting along with the detachment in your voice.

“The Red Room.”

Matt closed his eyes for a moment as his fists balled up tightly at his sides. You hadn’t gone into too much detail about what you’d endured during your time in the Red Room, but based off of the snippets you were vulnerable enough to share and the way your body reacted as you divulged them, he didn’t have to use his imagination. He’d heard plenty of horror stories from other former black widows that had escaped, and if your story was anything like theirs, he understood fully why you never wanted to speak of it. 

Although he knew his own childhood and upbringing hadn’t been exactly easy, he couldn’t even fathom the degrees of abuse and manipulation you had experienced. The first night that you spent together when you’d had a nightmare, Matt was more terrified than he had ever been in his entire life. He had a brief idea of your past, but he didn’t know just how much it affected you until that night. It had taken him several hours to calm you down, and he had never felt so helpless. 

The hardest part was never knowing when the nightmares were going to hit, or what they would do to you. Some nights you woke up sobbing uncontrollably, gripping onto his body like he would vanish into thin air if you even slightly loosened your hold. Other nights you awoke with a start, silently slipping into the living room, refusing to speak to him or let him touch you. The worst nights were when you woke up screaming. Matt would have to pin you down to the mattress until you awoke fully, repeating over and over that you were safe; that you were home. He hated those nights. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel real.”

You were talking to him. This was a good sign. He approached you slowly and carefully like you were a wounded animal trapped in a corner. He placed his hand next to yours on the window sill so that you could feel his warmth and presence, leaving the option to take it completely up to you. 

“How so?”

“The memories. Sometimes they feel like…like they belong to someone else, and I just have them in my head.”

Matt stayed quiet as he waited for you to continue. He felt a slight sense of relief noting that your breathing had finally started to even out.

“I know they’re mine. I can feel the reason behind every scar. I know exactly what memory they’re tied to. Sometimes…if I close my eyes…it’s like I’m still there. Like this has all been some…twisted dream I made up, and I’m finally awake.”

“It’s not a dream.”

Matt spoke more firmly this time so you couldn’t mistake the sincerity in his voice. His chest ached when he felt the lump forming in your throat, his entire face falling as he tasted the salt from your silent tears. He gently turned your body to face him, slotting himself between your thighs, and delicately brought your hand up to place your palm against his chest over his heart.

“This is real. You being here, with me, is real. Feel my heart. I want you to try and match your rhythm with mine, like we practiced. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Your shaky fingers gripped tightly onto Matt’s bicep as you dug your blunt nails into his chest, closing your eyes to try to focus on the strong rhythm thumping against your palm. You leaned forward to rest your head on Matt’s sternum, melting further into his touch as he cradled the back of your head and held your wrist.

“There you go. That’s perfect. You’re doing so well, my love. I’m so proud of you.”

“I can still see their faces…”

Matt could feel tears building up behind his own eyelids at how small and broken your voice sounded. He let out a shaky exhale, hugging you even tighter to his chest. 

“Listen to me. That wasn’t your fault. That was not you. That is not who you are. I know that. I trust that. You can’t blame yourself for things that were out of your control.”

Guilt was an emotion Matthew Murdock knew all too well. He knew how heavy it could weigh on someone’s chest to the point where it made it difficult to breathe. He knew the agony of making a remorseful decision or an inadequate effort. He felt hypocritical telling you something that even he had a hard time believing and practicing himself. But he had always had the luxury that you never did; a choice. 

Questions of morality and faith guided his feelings of guilt, not an absence of autonomy.

“If you truly were the darkness they tried to create, you wouldn’t feel an ounce of remorse. You wouldn’t have dedicated your life to helping people the second you were able to make a decision for yourself. You are a light, my love, and you bring that light to everyone you meet and help. You put the goddamn sun to shame.”

“So…if people stare at me too long, they go blind?”

“What do you think happened to me?”

A breathless laugh cut through your tears and Matt found himself letting out a deep sigh of relief, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you tipped your head back to look up at him.

“Uh…you said you had an accident as a kid?”

“I’m full of shit. I saw you smile for the first time and next thing I knew, I was blind. I just, you know, made up that story so you wouldn’t feel guilty.”

You were trying your hardest to contain your giggles as you shook your head, and Matt couldn’t help but grin victoriously. 

“Oh, okay. So you decided to make me feel guilty when I’m already feeling guilty?”

“Guilt cancels out guilt. Isn’t that how math works?”

“It’s a good thing you’re such a pretty lawyer.”

“In my defense, I only took about 2 semesters of math.”

“Mm, it shows.”

As the storm calmed into a light rain outside, Matt could feel the sky opening up in your chest. There wasn’t a lingering trace of fear in your veins, and your heart had steadied to a relaxed rhythm that matched his. Matt sent a silent prayer up to his God that he was able to bring you back easily tonight. 

He wrapped his arm around your waist as he held you protectively against his chest, cradling your face gently in one of his hands.

“Hey, everything is okay. You’re home. You’re safe. I would never let anything happen to you, you know that right?”

“I know, Matty.”

You gave his bicep a gentle squeeze, something you did to reassure him you were back in a good headspace, as you leaned into his touch for comfort. Matt lightly traced the pad of his thumb along your cheekbone, leaning in to press your foreheads together.

“No one is ever going to hurt you again.”

A tiny proud smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you chased Matt’s lips for a soft kiss, whispering against his mouth.

“Not unless they wanna meet the Devil.”

A crooked smirk lifted at the corner of Matt’s lips as he bumped his nose against yours. 

“Not even God could help them if they did.”

[akariamai]

Chamomile Tea

Part 1

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Black Widow!Reader

Word Count: 1112

Steam seeped from the porcelain cup, filled to the rim with your Chamomile tea, as you waited for your neighbor to arrive. The table you choose was not made out of thoughtlessness. It was deliberate and precise. The chairs near the table held the same preference. You needed to see the exits of the room, the people walking in and out of the coffee shop, and be slightly hidden away from the world. 

The Red Room taught you to be hyper vigilant. To be aware of your surroundings every waking moment of your life. Danger can lurk at every corner of the world. Slowly whisking you away from the little sanity you clasps to.

Last night left you vulnerable. You lost your head for a second, yelling at the woman you’ve all but forgotten. Forgetting the world around you, the man beneath your floor. Facing her was so unexpected and so painful. She was there for a moment and then gone the next. She should’ve never come back to reconcile when there was nothing left to fix. The pieces left were far too small to mend. 

Matt, once she had climbed out of your window, came to comfort you in such a way where you wouldn’t feel unease. He sat closely to you but not so close that his shoulders could touch yours if he wasn’t comfortable. He waited for you to reach out to him. Matt truly was a saint. He was patient with you. He didn’t pressure you to talk unless you felt you could open up to him.

You saw him through one of the semi-dirty windows near the front of the building. He was making his way towards the sliding doors of the coffee shop. Tilting his head before heading towards the line to order. He must’ve smelled your Chamomile tea or the fragrance you generously sprinkle onto your body because once he ordered, he walked straight towards your direction. Although there were other ways where he could’ve found you, his sense of smell only being one of them. He could’ve merely asked the staff once he finished ordering if a person similar to you was waiting in the shop and pointed him in your direction. 

He made his way towards you, careful not to go too fast, without knocking into anything or anyone. His hands made it towards the chair in front of you and asked, “[Reader] is that you?”

Your first natural response is to nod but nodding will do nothing but make him laugh. You reassured, “Yeah, it’s me.” Taking a sip from your tea, the gentle touch of the notes of apple and a mellow sweetness exploded your taste buds with flavor. “What’d you get?” It was a blatant attempt at ignoring the vulnerability you’d shown last night.

“I ordered a cup of coffee and a glazed donut.” He knew not to push where he shouldn’t. He spent months comprehending the slight substantial changes in your body and registering them to how you were feeling. It was quite difficult especially when he couldn’t read you like others. You were a complete mystery and you so readily intrigued him.

There were questions he wished to ask. ‘Who was she?’ ‘How do you feel?’ ‘How can I help you?’ ‘Why do you push me away when you clearly need someone?’ Granted he was not the best for accepting help nor was he the best at keeping his feelings in check. He wanted to do right to the world, bloodying his hands to do it, and keep the people he cherishes safe from harm. Somehow you had wormed your way into his heart and carved a place there for only you to fill.

He’d never tell you this, however, his past relationships had never held on for too long. He’d either lose them due to his extra-curricular activities or in the death of his beloved. Heartbreak always awaited him in the end. It was like he was cursed to walk the path of vigilantism alone.

“She was someone I considered a sister…” You paused, “when I was younger. More naive to the world around me.” She suffered the same fate as you before she left without warning. The hurt did not come from leaving suddenly or being left in the dark but for not sending help for the rest. The inability to begin the complete and utter annihilation of the Red Room. “I was taken to a vile place when I was a child. Too young to remember the face of my mother or share any memories of anything but blood and weapons.”

His heart ached for you and your lost childhood. He could feel the wave of sorrow spilling out of you and you confessed to him snippets of your past. It was more than he had hoped for. 

“One day, she vanished without a word. It was a place where hope could not enter but when word spread of an escape, it rushed in like smoke. That pinch of happiness was all we had. Someone might finally save us but no one ever did and that happiness disappeared like it was never there.”

He could feel tears pooling into your eyes but they refused to fall. He could tell you were holding them in but he stayed quiet. “I’ll never forgive her for not trying. For giving up on us the moment she tasted freedom.”

Matt placed his hand, palming facing the ceiling, waiting for you to choose to take his hand. It was the only way he knew how to comfort you. A gentle smile worked his way onto his lips as he felt your hand inch closer to his. Your hand was rough, the bumps of scars littered all over, and your grip was light. You had suffered all this time and had only now had the time to process such a revelation.

“You don’t have to.” He believed in forgiveness but could not pressure anyone to come to that resolution. It was a path walked alone. The road to be able to forgive is not an easy one. It was taxing and tiresome. Even he, a self-proclaimed man of god, still found it hard to reach the absolution of forgiveness. 

“Thank you.” Your lips whispered into the air almost silent enough for his ears wouldn’t pick it up without his senses. He slightly tightened his grip, letting you know he could be someone you could depend on. That you were not alone in your journey to recovery, whatever form it takes. He wants to stay by your side through it all and maybe even learn more of what remained of your past.

Masterlist

[aza-writes]

Blood Red : Chapter 13

The cycle

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF BLOOD AND VIOLENCE AND PAST SEXUAL ABUSE

Hell's Kitchen : 2016

Aleksandra's POV

The walk back to my apartment is sweet and slow. Like the walk to the coffee shop, there wasn't much talking, but it is different this time. The silence is softer and more comfortable.

Maverick's fingers keep brushing against mine, each time lingering longer. I quickly glance at him, wondering if he notices what he's doing. His eyes keep looking down at the ground, then up, then at our hands.

He's definitely doing it on purpose. Yet, I don't mind.

I move my fingers so they meet his halfway. Maverick's fingers start to curl around mine leading our hands to interlock. It takes me two seconds to realize that he's holding my hand.

He's holding my hand.

Holy shit.

He's actually holding my hand. I feel like I'm in one of the teen movies the Red Room used to be shown in our American Culture class. I'm walking with a boy, after a date, holding hands.

My apartment building comes into view and I'm dreading going home. I want to stay in this moment. Everything feels so so calming and safe. I don't have to worry about anything except for his hand and mine. The fact that this all has to end is the only thing that is making this moment sour, but it isn't enough to ruin it completely.

The doorman to my apartment looks right into my eyes and nods before opening the door for both Maverick and me. The doorman, whose name I have yet to learn, looks down at Maverick's and my hands. He doesn't display what he's thinking on his face, a trait I assume you pick up in his position of seeing all types of people who can afford whatever they want. He keeps his judgments to himself and keeps his face stoic, I can appreciate that.

The elevator doors open slowly, revealing only a young gentleman who hurries off without looking up from his phone. I drop Maverick's hand and walk into the elevator, turning around immediately so I'm able to look at Maverick. I didn't notice that Maverick has a puzzled look on his face until now. I look him in the eyes and give him a small smile, trying to make him feel better, but I'm unsure of what made him upset in the first place. I give Maverick a soft smile, trying to be kind in this situation while simultaneously trying to figure out what I did to make Maverick sad or worried.

Maverick looks back up at me and smiles back. His smile is much wider than mine, showing more teeth. He then follows me into the elevator and stands next to me. As soon as the door shuts, our hands interlock again.

I decide to break the silence, wanting to show my appreciation for tonight and that I do have feelings for him, I'm just unsure of what they are. "Thank you for the nice night and the coffee."

"Of course." He turns his head to look me in the eyes. "Thank you for saying yes."

Maverick's eyes shift away from my eyes to my lips, then back to my eyes. His mouth opens, about to say something but the elevator ding cuts him off, and the doors open to my floor.

He walks me to my apartment, our hands still intertwined, and the walk becomes silent again. I don't mind the silence, it's comforting with him. It's peaceful.

Maverick stands to my side as I unlock my door, letting go of my hand. The way he lets go of my hand is completely different from the way I let go of his. He lowers our hands down together and pulls away his palm, then his fingers while having them linger for a moment, then he gently set his hand back to his side. I, on the other hand, just dropped his. I wouldn't have understood the difference if someone just explained it to me, but feeling how Maverick let go compared to the way I did it just added to the description of him; soft.

"I'm sorry for dropping your hand earlier." I keep my head down and focused on the doorknob. "I didn't mean it like that."

He quickly replies, "Don't worry about it." His voice is sincere. "I know what you meant." I move my eyes to meet his, his eyes show that he means it.

He chuckles to himself softly and shakes his head a bit. I show the confusion on my face as I chuckle with him.

"What is it?" My voice is light, the same way it was at the café.

"Can I kiss you?" He almost doesn't believe the words he's saying as if his mind didn't approve before they came out.

I almost don't believe what he's saying. My mind can't come up with words to reply to him. I don't know what else to do besides nod.

Maverick's smile widens a bit before he brings his left hand to my cheek. He looks into my eyes again before leaning and pulling me a bit closer and kissing me. I've been in this situation before, I know what to do. I've been trained on this. This isn't a movie, it won't end here.

I open my door and slip my tongue into his mouth a bit. Although my actions aren't hesitant, my mind is. I don't want to have sex tonight, but he wants to so I have to.

When my tongue hits Maverick's lips his eyes open and he pulls away.

Fuck, I did something wrong. Did I not slide my tongue in enough? Maybe he's a guy who needs to be in control of the whole situation. Fuck I should have known.

"Hold on," I turn around and start to lock my door back up, wanting to be ready for anything he has planned. "I don't have to go to work for another few hours, we can go anywhere you w-"

"H-hold on." His tone shows that he's shocked about the situation, but it isn't from anger, instead, it's confusion. "I don't understand what you mean."

"Well, you kissed me."

As if a switch has been hit, his cheeks turn bright red. "Y-yeah-yes I did. I did kiss you." His eyes widen again. "Did you not want me to? Shit, I'm so sorry Aleksandra, I didn't mean to force you. I'm so sorry."

I shake my head to get him to stop rambling for one second. "It's my fault. I should've known you wanted to have sex at a hotel or something instead of my apartment. We can go there if you would like."

"Sex?"

"Yes, sex. You kissed me and sex follows kissing."

"I-I don't want to have sex with you tonight."

I can feel the air leave my body. This has never happened before. A strange laugh escapes my lips, I wasn't even aware I was going to do it until after it happened. Shock and relief fill my brain.

"I-I don't mean to be rude but I just wanted to kiss you."

"You just wanted to kiss me? Nothing else?" Tears threaten to escape my eyes. They aren't from sadness. There's so much relief in this situation that I'm unsure of what to do.

"I'm sorry Aleksandra." He digs around in his pocket and pulls out a small cross. "I'm Catholic and I know it's considered unrealistic and old-fashioned now but I want to wait until I'm married. It's something my mother always wanted for me and now that she's gone I want to fulfill every wish she had for me."

His reason didn't matter to me, it's what he's doing that's so important.

He didn't want to have sex with me. He didn't ask me out for my body.

"I'm so sorry. I don't want to force you to do anything you don't want to do and I don't wanna do this tonight. I'm so sorry for confusing you."

The laugh leaves my lips again, and a small smile follows it. "I don't want to have sex tonight either."

"Oh. You don't?"

I shake my head. I'm scared that if I continue to speak that I will end up crying, yet I don't have control over the words coming out of my mouth. They just come. "I've always been taught to have sex with men, I didn't know you could kiss someone without having sex."

Maverick's face drops a bit. Without saying a word, he picks up my hands and just holds them. His thumbs create small circles on the back of my palm. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

My lip starts to quiver. My eyes start to hurt from the strain of holding back my tears for so long.

"I will never make you do something you don't want to. If you ever feel like I'm pressuring you, tell me and I'll stop right away. I don't want to hurt you."

I don't want to hurt you.

No one has ever said that to me in that tone.

He isn't threatening me, he's telling me.

Maverick Lucius doesn't want to hurt me.

I finally get the courage to look into his eyes. They're glossed over with tears, making him look even softer than before. "Thank you." My voice is just above a whisper, if I go any higher my tears will fall without me wanting them to.

The corners of his lips raise as he brought my right hand to them. He places a small kiss on the back of my hand and then gently lowers my hand to my sides.

"I have to go to a meeting with Leland, but I'll call you in the morning." He lets go of my left, keeping my right in his grasp. Although the rest of him appeared soft, his hands are calloused like mine. "I had an amazing time tonight Aleksandra."

"I enjoyed it too." A true, genuine smile grows on my face. I want him to know that I'm happy to be here in this moment with him. I'm happy about going with him tonight. I'm happy right now.

"Goodnight Aleksandra."

"Goodnight Maverick."

He smiles at me one last time before carefully putting my hand down again. I watch him walk into the elevator before turning back to my door and going into my apartment. Maverick was the contrast in my day. Last night was blood, the morning was lying and manipulation and this afternoon was sweat and training, but Maverick was peaceful. I can't help but feel a bit upset that the peace had to end, but the feeling is quickly replaced with excitement for what I was about to do. Because now it's time for the cycle to start over: now it's time for blood.

------

"This doesn't have to be this hard." Wesley's voice echoes throughout the small, empty basement. "Just tell us who you told." A devilish smirk grows on his face as he gestures behind him. "Well, who else you told."

I keep my eyes forward at the man tied to the chair, resisting the urge to look to my right and see the girl lying almost dead on the ground. He'll be dead soon, but for now, he's alive until we get what we want from the rat.

Wesley starts to pace around the man in the chair. I think his name is "We know you said his name, Ernest, just tell us who all you told."

Ernest Basseri, a new and very, very low employee to Mr. Fisk. He washes cars, takes out the trash, and shines shoes and junk. He only knows Mr. Fisk's name because he works at meetings Fisk attends. He had a good thing going; protection, nice pay, a chance to rise in the rankings, and the first pick of apartments and cars, yet he still managed to fuck it up.

Ernest shakes his head no, well kind of. His head is drooped down, neck limp. The movement is very subtle, but it's there.

Wesley straitens up and fixes his tie. "Hm? Nothing? Okay." He looks up at me, that's all it takes.

I turn around and look at the table behind me. An abundance of weapons is sprawled out on the grey foldout table. I run the steps of interrogation through my head. Freezing water, check; hurting someone he cares about, check; hitting him in pressure points, check. Busting his kneecaps is next. Perfect.

I grab the crowbar and twirl it around a bit, earning an eye roll from Wesley but it doesn't bother me in the slightest. I won't let him ruin my fun. I get to torture someone the exact way I was taught, Dreykov would be so proud of me.

I move in front of Ernest and turn to the side a bit to get the perfect angle for the most impact. His head is still limp with shallow breaths. A little smirk grows, concealed by my mask. I lift the crowbar with my right hand and immediately bring the curve of the bar down to his right kneecap. His silence was broken as he unleashes a horrifying scream; the kind that horror actors spend their whole lives trying to perfect. My heart skips a beat when I hear it. This is the best part of the job, the screams of terror, the room filled with the smell of blood, red clouding my vision, it's perfect. Wesley's enjoying this too. He has a small smirk similar to mine, but his is from pride instead of lust.

"Come on Ernest." Wesley nods at me again, signaling me to move on to the next part of our plan. "This doesn't have to go on any longer." I grab the poor girl, Ernest's girlfriend, off the floor, and hold her close to my chest. I pull out my knife from its holster and hold it to her throat. "Do you have to put this poor girl through all this pain? Because of you're stupidity, she has to die." The girl tries to yell, scream, fuck she's trying to whisper, but all that she can muster is a small groan. "Unless you tell us who else you told." Wesley pulls Ernest's hair up and leans in close to his ear. "Even if you don't tell us, we'll find them and their punishment will be worse than death." Again, wait a few seconds. Nothing.

I start to move my knife across the girlfriend's throat, I think her name is Maddie. A loud, horrific scream escapes her throat.

"MY ROOMMATE!"

The room goes silent and I pull my knife away slightly, still making contact but not drawing. blood.

Ernest is shaking and his eyes pool with tears. "I-I told my roommate."

"What's his name?" There's a long silence that followed. I can't tell if it's because Ernest is trying to catch his breath or if he decided to become a слабак (wimp.)

Wesley isn't too fond of Ernest's silence either. His impatience growing by the second. "WHAT IS YOUR ROOMMATE'S NAME?"

"N-" Ernest spits out blood. "Nolan Baumann. I-I didn't mean to though, he didn't do anything wrong. It was before I knew the rules." His voice is now fast and frantic, trying to spare his friend's life as well as his own. All Wesley does and write down the name and look at me again.

Nolan Baumann became my task for the night, and I get to make an example out of him.

That means no rules, and no holding back.

I can do whatever I want.

"Thank you Mr. Basseri. That is all." Wesley's voice is calm and relaxed. I never thought I would say this but I fucking love that tone right now. If I was speaking I would do the same thing. False hope is very powerful, it makes this whole situation more enjoyable; for us at least.

"T-that's it? I can go now?"

There it is, the false hope.

Wesley takes long strides as he walks around to face Earnest, letting the hope sit for a moment. It's nice seeing his dead eyes start to light up.

An evil grin takes over Wesley's face. "Go to what? Home? Go to your roommate who you just sold out? Or to the police who will never believe your story?" Wesley lets out a sinister chuckle. "What would you tell them? An infamous Russian assassin beat you up? Better yet, why don't you go back home with your little whore girlfriend, who cheats on you every night, while you hire the most expensive prostitutes and not have to pay them because you work for my employer?" A horrific look is on Ernest's face while Wesley looks like a kid in a candy store. "No, no you may not."

In one swipe, Maddie's throat sprays blood all over Ernest's face and the side of Wesley's jacket. Ernest's screams echo throughout the room as I let Maddie's lifeless body collapse to the ground. My eyes dilate and I take a long, deep breath. I want to giggle like a kid, fuck I almost do.

The smell of her blood takes over my mind, my body itching for more of it. The smell isn't enough right now, I need to taste it, snort it, fucking bathe in it. I need all of it in its glory. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought this moment was a religious experience, that I was meeting God himself.

Wesley displays a sick smile on his face that matches the one under my mask. I imagine he gets the same twisted pleasure from this but he is more psychological, mine is chemical.

I watch Ernest bawling his eyes out. Honestly don't understand why he's so upset about his whore girlfriend, he cheated on her constantly and again, and his girlfriend was a major bitch.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to be at a meeting with my employer. Ernest, you showed promise. You were eager to please, but look where that got you." Wesley fixes his suit and opens the thick, metal door that led to a cement hallway. "Aleksandra, make sure he doesn't say our employer's, name again, and don't be late."

Although Wesley is speaking to me, I keep my back to him. I keep my eyes fixed on Ernest, savoring this moment. I haven't been able to interrogate people like this in so long.

"P-please let me out. Come on, you don't want to do this. You're just a kid." He pleads and pleads, but it won't do anything. He's my job, he brought this on himself.

I don't entertain him with a response, he doesn't deserve it. I take my mask off. I want this idiot to see my face before I kill him. I want him to see my joy in his suffering. I slide the table over in front of Ernest, enjoying the scraping noise that increased the tension. I like playing this out, stretching the fear, breaking Ernest further and further. It's euphoric.

I walk around Ernest's chair getting into position for what I'm going to do.

"Please, please. Aleksandra? Right? T-that's your name?" He pauses, does he think I'll answer? Fuck, he really is an idiot. "Please, I can help you get out! I can save you from Fisk-"

I slam my hands down on the table, halting Ernest's pleas. "We don't say his name." My voice is calm, I don't have a reason to feel anything besides calm. I'm in complete control.

"I'm sorry! I'm so fucking sorry! Please, please help me!" His pleas are weightless, he doesn't deserve help. He broke the rules, now there are consequences.

I grab his jaw and squeeze it together, leading him to open his mouth. His eyes start to water and his body shakes. I hold it open as I grab his tongue out of his mouth and pull it across the table. In a clean, fluid motion, I grab the knife out of my holster and plunge it through his tongue and into the table. Blood spurts out of his mouth and he tries to scream in pain.

This isn't enough though. His tongue will heal, I need more. Fisk needs more. Ernest continues to shake and cry like a fucking baby. I'm over it, why is he crying? He knew what would happen if he said our employer's name. He fucked himself. He brought this on himself. d

He's on my last nerve, so fuck it. Without a second thought, I hold the table down with my hands and kick him backward with my left leg.

Riiiiiiiiipppppppppp

Blood gushes out of his mouth as half of his tongue is laying in front of me on the table while the other half dangles from his mouth. He tries to mumble something, but with his tongue cut off it sounds like a bunch of random noises an infant makes. His hands and legs are tied to the chair leaving him flat on his back thrashing around in the chair.

He looks pathetic, like a turtle laying on its back. I don't know if I should laugh at him or pity him.

His screams and half pleas are starting to get annoying. I walk over and pull his chair up so he's back in a sitting position. His face is red along with his eyes. Blood is flowing out of his mouth.

Blood.

Oh, fuck me.

He doesn't have to live, his death doesn't even have to look like an accident. I can rip him to shreds.

My throat goes dry and my heart rate spikes. I can hear my heartbeat thumping in my ears. His grunts are muffled as I gulp. I take my gloves off and start to pet Ernest's hair. The world goes black and white except for the blood.

The blood.

The red is so vibrant it's hurting my eyes. It's glowing off of his face. I touch it with the tip of my index finger, hold it up to my nose, and smell it. A million sparks fly throughout my body. An insane high takes over my body.

I need more.

I lick the blood off my finger and then off his chin. A pornographic moan escapes my lips as I go back in to lick more blood off of his face. The moan comes from pure pleasure; toe curling, body shaking pleasure. Ernest's screams stop, he half-heartedly tries to back away from me, but he's in my hands, he has nowhere to go. He's losing a lot of blood. He'll pass out; soon enough, he should die from blood loss.

What a fucking waste. Blood loss is the worse type of death, wasting something that could be used in so many ways. So many fucking beautiful ways.

I cup Ernest's face in my hands and stare into his eyes; his glorious bloodshot eyes. He trembles in complete horror; terror radiating off his face.

"You have no idea how much I enjoy this." I can't make my voice louder than a whisper, all of my energy is going into the effort of ripping Ernest to shreds in a second. Not taking over and going against the very thing Wesley, and by that Fisk, ordered me to do. He is here to send a message.

Yes, I can do what I want, but I have to keep his body intact, I have to have something to show others. I have rules to follow, and I intend to follow them.

"What did you think was going to happen when you said his name?" My eyes linger over his body as I sit him upright again. "Did you expect nothing to happen? Did you assume that the warnings were false?" I wipe off a knife from the table filled with weapons that are in every interrogation room. "Hm? Oh right," I pick up my knife from the table in front of Earnest, the tongue is still attached to it. "How rude of me." I pluck his tongue off of my knife and throw it across the room. I may have bloodlust, but I'm not a cannibal. I have some morals.

Ernest starts to let out a familiar whimper. It's the same cry every man does before he dies when he knows that his life is about to end. It's fear mixed with knowledge.

As much as to my dismay, I have to start wrapping this up. I can't be late for the meeting tonight. Unlike Earnest, I still have an employer to impress. I stare at the table filled with every weapon imaginable. Everything I've ever been trained to use was right in front of me. Fisk knew me well, he knew I wouldn't want to be confined to one weapon.

He gave me a choice.

Earnest continues to tremble, his life is in my hands.

And now his death.

I pick up a long, jagged knife and twirl it in my hands. Ernest shakes his head and tries to yell something, probably begging for his life, but the absence of his tongue leaves him to wordless jumbles of noise. He sounds like a babbling infant.

I push him to the ground and straddle him, wanting him to see my eyes as I kill him.

I want to see his eyes as I kill him. I want him to feel the fear of death.

Ernest squirms and shrieks as I raise the knife into the air. His eyes swell with tears and stream out.

And just like that, the flow of tears ceases, the squeals stop, and his blood is officially all mine.

• • • • • •

Masterlists

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

can you make one with matt where the reader used to be a black widow but now she's trying to live a normal life, is dating matt and everything is doing great until elektra comes back and they have all that conversation about running away together, he lefts the reader but matt and elektra end up getting caught along with the defenders, karen and foggy goes after the reader to ask her to rescue them. she and matt talks and you can decide from there (its ok if its a little long)

hii, love this sm. I wasn’t sure about the ending, so it’s kind of up in the air a bit, you’ll see what I mean- it’s up for interpretation. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

also this is based on events from midland circle

me or her

pairing || matt murdock x blackwidow!fem reader

wc || 1.1k

warnings || mentions of weapons, kind of angsty (?)

a/n || I do not hate Elektra- I love her, but it’s just for the storyline

masterlist + rules

taglist

There were three dreaded words that you had hoped would never come out of anyone’s mouth. Those words became a reality when Karen and Foggy called you out of the blue sounding worried, those three awful words were “Matt needs help.” If Matt needed help, you knew it must’ve been bad. You truly would do anything for your boyfriend, even though he’d never actually ask. But he didn’t ask, it was his friends so that confirmed your worst fear; that he was in fact in danger.

As a young girl, you were trained in the Red Room, which meant that you were a very skilled widow. You had managed to escape a few years back and ever since then, you’ve tried your best to live somewhat of a normal life. A few months after leaving you had found Matt, he had become a close confidant and someone special that helped you reintegrate back into the world.

Over those years of dating Matt, you had learned many things about him, especially his complicated relationship towards his college ex-girlfriend. You appreciated the way he’d open up to you about her, but you couldn’t help but dislike her. You hated the way she affected Matt but it wasn’t just out of jealousy, it was something more.

So when Matt found out that Elektra came back from the dead, he completely lost it. She became his every thought, and you began to dislike him for it. You told yourself that he just has a big heart, and wants to help people. But that didn’t always translate to your brain.

Even though you were mad at Matt for going after her, you would still do anything for him, especially if Foggy and Karen asked for your help.

Pulling out a padlocked box of your old weapons from the back of the closet, you pack your bag, filling it with anything you might need. Dressing and padding yourself, you run out of the apartment in an attempt to get to Midland Circle before it was too late.

Karen and Foggy were safe at the police station, and they told you what you needed to know. You felt relieved to find out he wasn’t alone in there and that he had help from a couple of other New York heroes.

Rushing into the building, making your way down the numerous stairs to the basement. Running past the defenders, immediately asking “where’s Daredevil?”

“Underground, you gotta be fast, the whole building is gonna come down.” Danny quickly said.

“He wouldn’t leave her.” Jessica says with a slightly pained smile.

“Go go, before it’s too late.” Luke instructs, pointing you away.

Jumping down the flights of stairs until you make it to the elevator. Attaching a harness to the secure parts of the building, hopping in the lift to take you many levels underground. Looking down you spot him. “Matt! Matt!” You shout out, trying to get his attention.

It seems to have worked because his attempts to stop Elektra became more urgent and desperate. Pulling a pistol from your holster, aiming at her foot to stall her. Jumping off the poorly made lift, you stalk over and yank a pair of batons from behind your back, striking her with them and sending electroshock waves throughout her body.

“What are you doing?” Matt shouts out confused, trying to pull you away.

“That’s not Elektra.” You reply, holding her down.

“I can help her.” He says almost sadly.

“It’s not her, Matt. Your Elektra is gone… this isn’t her.” You empathetically say.

She must’ve sensed your moment of weakness when you turned your attention to your grieving boyfriend because that’s when her knee bolted up to strike you in the stomach. Hitting at her several more times to get her to surrender.

Matt pulls you away from behind, tugging at your waist to stop.

“What are you doing!?” You shout, trying to resist movement.

“I can’t let you kill her.” He says quietly.

You look over to Elektra who was slumped against the wall in pain. “Kill her? Matt, that’s not her. She’s gone!”

“Stop saying that.” He yells, dragging you away.

“Why are you protecting her and not me?” You ask, suddenly realising.

“Just go.” Matt shouts, continuing to pull you.

“Not without you.” Tugging on his arm.

“I can’t leave her.”

“Matt. She died… in your arms. You have to leave her.” Overpowering him and dragging him to the lift.

Pushing him down and strapping him to the metal bars. “Please, Matt?” Sadness growing in your voice.

Hitting the ‘up’ bottom and continuing to hold him down. His struggles became harder to contain but you were almost at the top. Looking down at Elektra, you saw how lost and confused she was. The guilt you felt was horrific, even though she was a weapon of the hand, she was still a person. You knew Matt would never forgive you for this, but you would rather that than him squished under a building.

Heaving him from the lift and up the stairs. It was like he mentally checked out, which made lugging his weight even harder. Wrapping his arm over your shoulder, holding onto his side to support him as you walked out of the building.

Paramedics rush to your side, peeling Matt away from you to check him over. Rushing over to Karen and Foggy, pulling them into a hug while the building behind you began to crumble. Windows exploded with fire as the levels started to cave in.

Looking over, you see Matt who was sitting curled up with his hands over his ears to cover the noise. He didn’t want to hear it because that would mean that Elektra was truly gone- again. You felt your heartbreak, so you excuse yourself to try to comfort him.

Taking a seat next to him in the back of the ambulance. Cautiously thinking of how you could possibly soothe him. “I’m so proud of you.” You say sweetly.

He doesn’t respond, he just rests his head atop your shoulder, quietly soaking in the comfort of your scent. You didn’t know what things would mean for you both now, but you were just happy that he was okay. You just hoped he would be able to understand what you did, and in time hopefully forgive you for it.

Holding his head, blocking his ears so he didn’t have to hear the remaining clatters and crashes of the tumbling building.

Karen and Foggy were finally let past the police, so they rush over to you to hug you both tightly, checking each of you over with worried eyes.

Matt turns to face you, a pained smile across his lips. You weren’t sure what exactly what he was feeling, but you were just so glad that he was next to you right now.

[rosegolqen]

Mors Vincit Omnia

billy russo x reader (au)

warnings: short fight scene

words: 2886

iii. pursuing the woman

Indescribably everything had been planned perfectly. To every last fucking detail. Distract Daniel for the time being while also impress him for future needs. Done. Slip away from the crowd unnoticed with an excuse of going to the restroom. Check. Charm Denis Andreyev, a Russian man who was tied with a ringleader who in expanse was directly working with General Dreykov, her once master. Done. Denis Andreyev was so absorbed in her that she easily slipped his identification card from his pocket. Now she would be able to break into his office and get the name of that ringleader who was kidnapping young girls and shipping them off to the General. Anastasiya would be able to buy herself enough time to bring down Dreykov before her master hired another ringleader. Check. No. Scratch that because an undeniably attractive yet idiotic man decided to stop her before she could get to Denis's office.

Strong arms pinned her torso and hands to the wall, a warm hand covered the lower part of her face and Anastasiya could see the recognition in Billy's eyes when he looked at her. His whisper brought shivers down her spine. She hadn't let anyone get this close to her in a long time. She hadn't expected him or anyone to catch her tonight. "Where do you think you're going with that, Anastasiya?"

The textured yet white concrete wall bit into the skin of her back because of the stupid dress she was wearing. A minute detail that Anastasiya also hated about the black dress was that it was almost skin-tight and she couldn't hide that many weapons underneath it. Don't be fooled she still had many tricks up her sleeve that didn't need the inclusion of pointy and sharp objects.

Billy must have watched the interaction she had with Denis. She thought she was slick and Russo had found a woman to distract himself with just as he did at every social gathering yet Anastasiya underestimated him. His sharp military eyes trained with years of experience and ruthlessness didn't miss a minor point.

He was good, but she was better.

The elevator opposite their hiding spot by the wall opened luckily enough, detecting movement from them and Anastasiya mustered enough strength to overpower him and push both of them into the open elevator. Before a head could turn in their direction from the party, she hit a button, swiftly closing the metal doors as she pushed Billy away from her and against the walls of the lift.

Andreyev's card was safely tucked between the fabric of the dress and her collarbone. She would need that after she was done with Billy. She let her bag fall to the ground as the man before she straightened his back and slicked back a strand of hair that fell over his forehead. His top lip pulled back, bearing his teeth and his eyes wide with ferocity. His suit was crumpled, ironed button-up brimming with wrinkles.

She tilted her head, trying to get her breathing under control as she dropped the fake English accent, "You don't want to play games with me tonight, Russo." Anastasiya thanked whatever Saint that her dress had a tiny slit going above her knees as she ripped the fabric more, making it easier for her to move. A thin thigh holster adored the flesh of her femur bone, containing a pointy knife that she sharpened this morning. Pulling it out, she twirled the knife in her dominant hand, "It could end bloody for you."

Billy held both of his hands up to his chest, breaths heavy as he regarded her with eyes that dissected every turn of the knife in her hand. With slow and steady moves he hit the emergency stop button in the elevator, making the metal cage halt. "I don't fight with women, I don't want to hurt you." Billy knew she was capable of cutting a man's head off yet he didn't think she was a match to him in any fight. As far as he knew she had a mysterious agenda against even more mysterious people. He didn't recognize the man's card that she had stolen. He will find out though.

"Don't worry about me, Russo." The tilt of her head made her fringe move before her eyes and Anastasiya regretted not plaiting her hair into Dutch braids around her head. Though braids reminded her of darker times when her mind felt underwater, muddled with actions and thoughts that weren't entirely her own. A small devil was always perked on her shoulders, heaving them down with commands for her to execute and while she tried to fight those dark whispers, her mind wasn't willing to assist in breaking free from the grasp of the man who controlled her and so many other women. Tonight that cycle created by her once master would start to crumble.

While Billy seemed to lower his guard with his body language, Anastasiya was waiting for him to make the first move. She knew he was a predator underneath all those expensive suits he wore and the facade he was putting on for the high-class people. As she was trying to figure out his fighting techniques, Russo struck. His right hand trying to grab her knife, his body swift and efficient.

She ducked underneath his hand, turning around and raising her leg, her heel digging into his back as she forcefully pushed him against the metal wall. He let out a wince, his hands taking the brunt of the shove. Quickly regaining her footing in those annoying heels made Anastasiya also realize that she missed her combat boots so very much.

Billy let out a hiss as he turned around, "You shouldn't have done that." He looked more angry now than before. Good. His body oozed off with aggression as he tried to hit her with a fast punch she moved out of the way in the small confinement of the elevator, still trying to slip the knife from her hands. Horrendous. Billy wasn't familiar with the movements of a trained Black Widow as he tried to use the strength that he was taught in the Marines. Anastasiya on the other hand made sure not to move that much.

Rather he exerted himself than her.

With a strike to his windpipe with her elbow, Anastasiya bought herself valuable time to think as Billy instinctively reached with both hands for his throat, heaving out a muffled breath. Without waiting another second Russo pushed her against the elevator, her head hitting the cold metal as she tried to focus her eyes again. Pinning her hand with the knife against the lift, his body pressed against hers as she tried to kick him in the stomach. He blocked her knee before it could hit him as he tried to wrench the weapon from her. Her hand free from any weapons reached for his slicked-down hair, pulling the strands back as he let out another hiss, body crammed with heavy breaths.

Billy yanked the knife from her hand, thrusting it into the metal wall beside her head. The loud noise beside her ear made her squint her eyes as the man pushed his body more against her, pinning her torso between his and the elevator. Pushing her knees up she thrusted them forward. The slit of her dress ripped further against her thighs as she felt the hard planes of Russo's abdomen with her lower legs. With a cry and a forceful grip on Billy's hair, Anastasiya twisted the man's body away from her. Hand and torso falling away from the elevator, she slid down the lift's wall, backside hitting the floor as Billy did the same.

He let out a colourful curse. Pulling herself on her feet, she turned around, trying to wrench the knife from the metal plate. That was a mistake she hadn't made in a long while. Never turn your back on the opponent. With a grunt Russo pinned her from behind, strong arms circling her hands against her chest before she could pull the blade free.

Anastasiya made sure Billy wouldn't be able to headlock her. That would have been fatal. She moved her hips to the right side as she struck backwards with her elbow against his gut. The move successfully weakened his hold on her, a grunt falling from his lips and grip loosening, making it able for her to face him. She pulled her left hand into a fist and smacked him right in the nose. His body lurched backwards, head hitting the metal wall hard enough to surrender him to an unconscious state. She moved out of the way before his body fell against her as she sacked against the lift herself.

The cold of the steel touched the back of her head. The sensation was cold against the stuffy air in the elevator. She opened her mouth and cracked her jaw, her breaths deep as she tried to slow the beating of her heart. Anastasiya let out a sigh as she looked at the knocked-out man splayed on the floor. He laid on his stomach, a wet patch of dark hair shining on the back of his head, a tiny trail of blood running down behind his ear that was most probably from the hit and also well deserved.

Anastasiya stood up, pressing a button in the elevator and the number of the supposed floor Andreyev's office was on. She memorized the way to his office from the plans of the building she acquired a week ago. Getting into his office wouldn't be that hard, the bodyguards were mostly on the ground floor where the guests mingled, rather it would be difficult to find the information she needed on the ringleader. She didn't think it was on Andreyev's computer yet she still stole his card so she would be able to look through it but she would need to search his office for the hidden data.

Good thing she spilt wine all over his suit so that he was distracted at the moment and wouldn't focus on his robbed card. Before she stepped out of the elevator and onto the right floor, she butted Billy on the temple with the tilt of her knife, making sure that he wouldn't interrupt her again tonight. Anastasiya made sure though that she didn't hit him that hard, she wouldn't want him to wake up with neurological problems. She debated disposing of his body in an office but decided against it, leaving him in the elevator. If someone found him, it would be an embarrassing situation for Russo to talk himself out of. A woman who attended the gala and moved like an assassin knocked him out? Right, because anyone would believe that.

Sheathing the blade back in its place, she picked up her bag from the floor and checked out her appearance in the reflection of the steel lift. Her knuckles were red from the punch she delivered Billy, she was glad the skin didn't open on her hand. She knew they would be delicate and throb with pain by the next morning but with those thoughts, she confidently made her way to Denis's office.

Pulling the card from beneath her dress, Anastasiya looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was behind her. The hallway she walked through was clean and sterile, with bright lights buzzing above her head. She thanked the Saints that the building wasn't equipped with cameras only at the entrance. Andreyev's nameplate was hung beside a corner office door, the room dark though Anastasiya could see that floor-to-ceiling windows covered one side of the room, a big bookshelf the other and an expensive desk and chairs were placed in the middle of the room.

Looking once again over her shoulder, she closed the door behind her, making her way over to the desk in the dimmed office. She switched on the small light at the desk. The too-neat placement of expensive pens on the desk made Anastasiya pull a face. Denis Andreyev was too compulsive by the look of his desk to appear as anything but a psycho to her whereas the public saw a nice gentleman who worked with international clients to help small businesses.

Turning the computer on and pushing the identification card into the opening of the card identifier beside the screen, Anastasiya leaned back in the chair. Sifting through the boring files on the computer she let out a sign. She expected it, but disappointment ran through her body, hands shaking lightly as she pulled the card out and tucked it again between the fabric of the dress and her right clavicle bone.

Her heels tapped on the shiny floor of the office as she looked around, hands behind her back. If I were working with a man who I need to stay in contact with every day where would I hide the evidence of our communication? Anastasiya thought about Denis having these calls in his home but he spent his every waking minute in his office, she realized as she had stalked him a week ago. It was more likely they communicated here but where exactly? With what phone? Not through emails or Denis's office and personal phone. She checked all of those. No sketchy number or email address that would be noticeable as a Russian ringleader who collected little girls and shipped them off to wherever place Dreykov currently trained his widows.

Knocking on the walls by the bookshelf and moving trinkets didn't activate any hiding place like in those cartoons that Anastasiya has memories of. She let out an exhale, the clock on the wall showing that 14 minutes had already gone by. She should hurry up. Looking around the office once again, her trained eyes didn't see anything out of suspicion.

Making her way over the desk again, Anastasiya abruptly stopped. Her ears picked up a sound that was unusual in the silent office. Looking at her heeled feet, she took two steps back. The clicking of her heels made a different noise when she stepped on a specific vinyl tile. Crouching down she knocked on the tile with the hand that didn't punch Billy. Nothing happened, so she tried to press down the tile. Leaning on both her arms so that she was able to use more strength, the tile emitted a ticking sound and pushed upward.

A tiny compartment with enough space to hide things popped up. A load of cash, some company documents and a burner phone lay in the recess. Taking the phone and putting it in her bag, Anastasiya pushed the tile carefully back in its place.

Clever, but Denis wasn't as bright as he thought he was.

Anastasiya quickly turned the lamp by the desk off and made her way from the office. Pushing the door open only slightly, she eyed the hallway. Not noticing anyone she stepped out and closed the door behind her. She took a look at the elevator that was still on the same floor and Anastasiya was slightly curious if Russo was still in there. Against her better judgment, she made her way to the elevator, the doors opening at her movements.

With a deep breath she prepared for Billy to jump out yet the lift was empty. Her eyes took in the inside of the elevator but nothing stood out to her as if she and Russo didn't fight there about 20 minutes ago. Pushing him out of her mind, she focused on her mission and turned away, heading for the flight of stairs.

As she arrived at the last set of steps, Anastasiya was out of breath but still pushing forward. She couldn't use the front entrance to exit the building because of the stupid cameras. So she needed to manoeuvre her way out at the emergency exit that only had access through the staircase. What a dill-witted structure this building had.

With a relieved sigh, Anastasiya pushed the door open, cold air hitting her skin. The moon shone tonight brighter than it usually did in the city that never sleeps. She fished out her real phone and called a cab, throwing Denis's card into the dark alleyway behind her.

Somehow these two weeks took a toll on her emotionally more than the missions she usually did in the past. In truth she was never herself when she had to execute Dreykov's commands. She didn't have to deal with the burden of emotions back then. But tonight she truly did something that could help many people. Tonight she was all about saving more lives. Tomorrow she would start with the ringleader and hopefully by next week she would be able to slit her once master's throat.

Stepping into the cab with an excited strut in her step that she hadn't felt in a long time— or ever in her life, Anastasiya didn't see the man hiding in the shadows and clutching a handkerchief to the bleeding wound on his head. His eyes took in the screen of his phone. A dot on the city's map moved in the direction of where Anastasiya's cab was driving.

Good thing he slipped a minuscule tracker on the shank of her heels as she pushed him against the elevator's metal wall. Oh, he was going to enjoy messing with her.

[dark-night-sky-99]

Check it out

[petertingle-yipyip]

MAD AT GOD - MATT MURDOCK

season 2b epilogue - sad, beautiful, tragic

tags: @americaarse @dusstory @ironprincessstranger @mayasaurus--rex @astrobees @johnmurphys-sass // six // masterlist // season 3

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (past) / Billy Russo x Reader

Word Count: 3,854

Summary: Time drags on without Matt Murdock, though he still lingers in everything around her. Attempting to move forward, Y/N is pushed over an edge. (warning: short attempted drowning scene. written in red so it can be skipped)

Being back in the apartment after the police finally released you, it felt empty. Almost as empty as you did. Matt’s clothes were still laid about the floor, all over the bedroom and even the living room. The place still smelled like him, like his scent was soaked into the floorboards. You kicked the clothes into the closet, unable to bring yourself to touch them, worried they would disappear if you grabbed them.

The bed was too big without him, uncomfortable to be alone in. His side was too cold as you tried sitting on the floor with your back against it, your side was too warm when you did the same thing. You shoved yourself away quickly and felt your heart begin to race.

There were memories covering every inch of space that began closing in. Painted on the walls, sewn into the sofa, carved into the floorboards. Pinned to the fridge, tucked into books, saved in picture frames, hidden in every nook and cranny. Everywhere you turned, you could hear his voice as you were bombarded with instances that had made you happy. Now, you wanted to forget you ever loved him, made you want to burn the apartment down. Maybe then it wouldn’t hurt so bad if everything was gone.

Suddenly, it didn’t feel like that apartment was home.

You didn’t belong there.

It was supposed to be a home. A place born out of love and full of warmth, with a hopeful outlook for your future together. It was a place where two people tried to beat the odds and have a normal life. The lawyer- turned vigilante -turned lawyer again and the assassin- turned law student- turned vigilante- turned lawyer - turned security detail. It was supposed to be a home, where strength and tragic pasts met the idea of hope and redemption. Maybe not with a family made up of mini Y/Ns and mini Matts, but with the family you two found along the way.

But you felt like a stranger in your own place. You didn’t belong in Y/N’s home. That place was reserved for Y/N and Matt. Not whatever you were left with since a huge piece of you went down with Matt at Midland Circle just hours before.

You felt more like Exodus than you ever did before, angry and alone.

Maybe you deserved all of that. The agony. The loneliness. The guilt. The regret. The despair. The gnawing pang in the center of your chest that threatened to engulf you with every swelling breath.

Just days before, you were enjoying the balance you managed to find. You had someone to keep you in check, to force you to take a step back and realize what was going on around you. But now… Now you were left with nothing.

Now you were nothing.

How were you supposed to live like that? With that pain. With that crushing weight of knowing you didn’t save him. You didn’t save the man you loved. The man who loved you for you, who knew you long before you really knew yourself.

You went into your bathroom and left your mask, Bites, and belt on the counter. You started the water and pulled the tie from your hair. You didn’t care to fight your boots off so you stepped in with them on, seeing the water stain red with blood and the floor black with the grime of your boot soles. You sank to the floor and let the water soak your suit, hoping it could rinse the lonely feeling off your skin.

It didn’t.

You let yourself slide down until your were laying flat, water bouncing off your chest as your eyes closed. The moments replayed as soon as you did. Your foot knocked the lever to cover the drain and you felt the water pooling beneath you.

You knew you should get up. You had a life to get back to. If you fell apart after Daredevil died and Matt would coincidentally disappear around the same time, it wouldn’t be long before people put two and two together. That would connect you to Exodus. Everything you worked to keep secret would be brought to light and all hell would break loose without either of you there to serve as floodgates to take the brunt of the beatings.

But if Daredevil was dead and Exodus was dead… It wouldn’t matter if Y/N and Matt went missing or if people found out. There’d be no one to attack.

Those thoughts ran rampant as the water level rose, now enough to cover your arms.

Maybe the Bulletin would run a story that someone drowned you. Followed you home and snuck in, caught you by surprise as you were defenseless and getting ready for a shower. That’s why the boots were on but the accessories were off.

Now the water started covering your chest.

Hopefully Karen would write the story. You trusted her to create something that didn’t criminalize you or Matt.

You figured the water would eventually soak the floorboards and bother your downstairs neighbors. They’d call the landlord, who’d come in and find your body. Karen or Foggy would have to ID you.

Karen or Foggy would have to ID you.

The water had reached your chin when you realized that. You remembered what it was like when your office had to ID Elena’s body, how heartbroken Karen was. You remembered what Foggy felt when he realized one of his best friends weren’t coming back. Could you really do that to him?

The water was creeping up your nose when you made a decision.

You shot up so quickly that the water sloshed over the side of the tub and soaked your mat. You turned the water off and cleared the drain, sitting in the draining water while you coughed violently to clear the water from your airways.

You decided quickly that you wouldn’t tell anyone about that.

As days passed and there was no news on any bodies beneath the rubble, you truly gave up hope. You had lost everything. And everytime you woke up in that bed, the bed that would always smell like him, you were slapped in the face with that reminder. Every morning it made you scream.

One morning a few weeks of nothing, you thought there was somewhere you could go yet again. You knew it would be the same, that being there would change nothing. But still, your heart forced some hope into your thoughts.You told yourself that you could find comfort in this place, like you did before, because it was somewhere so dear to him. Somewhere maybe you could relish in his memory rather than be suffocated by it. Wearing one of Matt’s old college sweaters, one that still smelled like his cologne, you walked the familiar path to the church.

You sat alone on the bench outside, though if someone had asked you what was special about the church, you wouldn’t have had an answer for them. The building didn’t pulse with devotion anymore, despite patrons walking in and out. It didn’t feel warm or smell like cinnamon. Instead it was like abandoned ruins, like the fire inside was snuffed out after being used to tear it down. You turned to face the church and leaned against the rod iron fence, resting your chin against the hands you had folded over the metal.

“Little lonely out here, isn’t it?” Father Lantom asked as he came and motioned to the space beside you. “And cold.”

You scooted to make a bit more room but said nothing.

“Y/N, right?”

“Mhmm.” You hummed.

“You know, it’s much warmer inside. And my offer for a latte still stands, or just a conversation.”

You offered a weak, polite smile. “I actually think it’d be colder.” You said honestly. “I just…”

“Seal of confession applies to this bench.” He offered genuinely. “If you need it.”

You were quiet for a moment as you thought about it. You knew how Matt trusted Father Lantom, how he knew he would get honest advice from him. And if Matt trusted him, that still meant something. You let your head fall to the side and looked at the older man beside you, feeling like a lost child looking for someone to help.

“I miss him… Everyday I wake up alone. Every night I sit on my rooftop and wait for that damned suit. But I know it’ll never come. Then it hits me and everything is fresh again and I feel like I can’t breathe anymore. He’s gone… He’s gone but I’m still here.”

“And you blame yourself?”

“I couldn’t stop him…”

“I see… And you joined him in this other life?”

“I did..” You smiled softly, thinking of nights you and Matt spent running around Hell’s Kitchen in your vigilante suits. “And when we were out there, all night… It was like we were unstoppable. We had each other’s backs.”

“That’s why you feel you should’ve saved him?”

“C’mon, Father. You knew him.. He was a better person than me. Why did he deserve to die?”

“Y/N, no one deserves to die… When Matthew was young and struggling with his new life, I once explained to him that God’s plan is like a beautiful woven tapestry. But only He can see the true beauty of it. We see the frayed strings and messy stitches, and even that is just a fragment of the picture, so it doesn’t make sense. But what is planned for each and every one of us is truly remarkable.”

“I’m sorry, Father.” You sighed. “I know bringing in your big guy upstairs is the whole point of this place, but I didn’t come here to find religion. To be honest, God and I are never gonna be on the same page. That’s why I gave up on religion.. There’s not a single one that can save me.”

“Then what did you come to find?”

“A memory of Matt that didn’t make me feel like I was drowning.”

“Thought I’d find you here.” A familiar voice announced from behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Billy. “You doin’ okay?”

“No different than yesterday.” You shrugged and got to your feet. “Thanks for the chat, Father.”

“You’re welcome here anytime, Y/N. Whatever the reason.”

That was part of your new routine for the next few days. You would wake up, go sit on your worn spot outside the church until Billy or Curtis found you. Sometimes they’d bring coffee or breakfast. You went to work and took it out on the new recruits. You went home and felt everything drain out of you, except on nights where you went to Curtis’ support group for veterans or beat the shit out of a punching bag at Fogwell’s. But most nights, you laid on your rooftop when the sun went down until the air grew cold and damp enough to make your nose runny. Then you’d climb into your far too big bed, sleeping on Matt’s side to make sure no one else dared to touch it, and fight through the night to sleep just to wake up in a daze.

You woke up confused why you were on the wrong side and reached over to find yourself alone. Then you remembered he was gone and you started the cycle all over again.

You started inviting Billy over after work instead of your rooftop isolation after about a week of waking up screaming for Matt and getting no response.

“Finally bringing me home to meet the mister?” He teased the first time you had him in your cold, lonely apartment.

“Nah, you wish… He’s gone, actually.” You said simply, trying to keep any type of emotion out of your voice. “Drink?”

“If it’ll get you to tell me what’s really goin’ on with you lately..”

“Since when are you so interested in my personal life, Mr. Russo?” You tried to joke as you sat beside him and handed him a beer.

The same beer Matt always kept on hand. It was cheap and tasted like it. You didn’t even like it that much but… Matt.

“Since the guys have been complaining about ‘the chick who takes her job way too seriously’. All of a sudden you invite me over while your guy’s away… Somethin’ isn’t adding up here, Y/N.”

“He’s not away, Billy. He’s dead… He’s been dead for a little while.”

“So that’s what happened…”

“Yeah.. I thought I’d be okay but it just hurts. And I’m tired of being alone…”

That was when you started sleeping with Billy.

It was a distraction. And it worked for a week, maybe two. When you woke up with Billy in your bed - on your side of course, you’d never let anyone else sleep on Matt’s side - you didn’t feel so empty. Until you realized you weren’t acknowledging it was Billy until you woke up fully. You went to bed and in those first few moments in the morning when you were still groggy and unsure, in your mind it was Matt.

The day you realized was the same night Foggy came over with something to say.

“It’s about time we finally talked.” You ushered him inside. “You’ve hardly said anything to me since you found out about Ex.”

“Can you blame me for needing some time?” He asked with a weak shrug.

“Couple days, sure. It’s been- What, almost two months?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come by sooner.”

You shrugged. “Why are you here now? Wanna hear my tragic backstory or rationale for being a murderer?”

“No one said you’re a murderer.” He sighed.

“Y’know, Karen once told me what you said to her. I think it was about Fisk… You said ‘You can’t just run around killing people and call yourself a human being.’ So what, Fog? Am I not a human being anymore?”

“Y/N… I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Just say what you want.” You said flatly. “What did you come here to tell me?”

“That I’m worried about you.” He said softly. “I’ve never seen you shut down like this.”

“Yeah, well, Matt’s never died before. Has he?” You laughed bitterly. “Honestly, Foggy, I feel absolutely shitty every day that I wake up. I’ve never felt this horrible. I don’t even want to get up and go to work. I wake up and I remember that I was too weak to beat him. He kissed me and suddenly, that’s all I could think about. Next thing I realized, he uses my own discs against me and I’m being pulled to the elevator.”

“I will never understand what it feels like.” Foggy said softly, carefully stepping closer to you. “I wasn’t there. But Y/N, shutting down isn’t gonna help you process this grief. You need us around.”

“I don’t know how to grieve!” You shouted suddenly. You caught the small movement out the corner of your eye and you quickly realized what it was. “Did you just flinch?”

Silence.

“Foggy.. Are you afraid of me?” You asked carefully.

He sighed instead of answering.

You swallowed the lump building in your throat and nodded slightly. “Yeah, of course you are.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He tried quickly. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“C’mon.” You scoffed. “It’s practically dripping off you.”

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” He insisted. “We’re just worried about you, Y/N/N. I know losing Matt was hard for you.”

“Of course it was. It hurt like nothing in the world. If anyone gets that, it should be you.”

“I do, but we don’t think that this is the best thing for you to be doing.”

“And what exactly do you think I’m doing?”

“C’mon.” He scoffed slightly but you stared expectantly instead of answering. “Billy Russo?”

“What does it matter who I sleep with? It’s not like I’m cheating on anyone.”

“So it doesn’t bother you to bring guys into Matt’s apartment?”

“My apartment.”

“Into Matt’s bed?”

“My bed.”

“Either way. Sleeping with your boss-“

“He’s not my boss anymore.” You cut in. “I’m leaving Anvil. I have to report to Quantico for training next week.”

“Really?”

You nodded. “Dex called a few days ago.”

“That’s great.” He gave a small smile. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“When was I supposed to?” You have a small shrug.

“Do you think this is gonna help you feel better?”

“I don’t want to feel better..” You shook your head and laughed bitterly as you spoke a truth you hadn’t even admitted to yourself . “Because no one is ever gonna love me like that again! I don’t want to get over it! I want to sit with him in bed and I know it’s really fucking selfish but I’m so fucking lost without him. Someone loved me, Foggy. Someone actually loved me and I loved him, too! And goddamnit, I was worth something to him!”

“That’s what this about?” He pressed. “You want someone to tell you you’re worth something?”

“I earned something with Matt. Despite every odd being against us and everything that tried to kill us, we made it because we fought for it.” You said as you stared at the countertop, a cold sadness creeping into your chest that you tried to push away. “He showed me that I had the right to die, right to live. Just a right to choose, yknow? Me and him, we were both a trainwreck but also somehow making it. And I would do it all again.”

“You guys had something special.” He nodded. “I’d never seen him as happy as he was when you were around.”

“All my miserable life, I loved someone I barely knew.. I remember figuring out he was Daredevil and I felt absolutely gutted. It was like… Who was he? How had I not known sooner?”

“None of us knew, Y/N. He thought he was protecting us.”

“Yeah, you’re preaching to the choir here.” You rolled your eyes. “My point is that now he’s down there-“ You made a vague gesture towards Midland Circle. “-and I’m still here. What else am I supposed to do?”

“Not shut us out. Y/N, we love you! We’re here for you but you won’t talk to us!”

“Cause I don’t want to feel better! What part of that isn’t getting through? I want to rip the skies apart and fight God! I want to make a deal with any religion that’ll bring him back!”

“I want him back, too.” He tried, stepping to the opposite side of the counter.

“But it wasn’t your fault, was it?”

“I’m the one who brought him the suit! I brought yours! It’s my fault just as much as yours!”

“The difference is that we were going in there whether you brought the suits or we had to get them ourselves! He’s dead because I couldn’t stop him!”

“No one blames you!”

“I do! I wake up every day and when I wake up without him, I know it was because I failed him. I loved him so goddamn much and…”

“Y/N..” He said softly, reaching for the hand closest to him. Looking down at your palms that rested on the countertop, you noticed they were shaking. “You don’t have to put yourself through this alone… We all get it.”

“Then why is everybody not angry? Crying out? Screaming and cursing and acknowledging he’s gone?” You looked up to meet his worried eyes. “Why is everybody so happy in the sun like nothing happened at all? Jessica. Luke. God, Luke. He could’ve tried to stay. You don’t think the unbreakable man wouldn’t have had better luck surviving a falling building than a blind man in a devil costume?!”

He didn’t have an answer.

“But the same goes for Danny. Or Claire. Nobody has talked about it. You wanna know who actually called? Colleen. And I hardly talked to her! Everyone else shrugged it off that Matt Murdock is dead. He died for this city that he loved so much and this city doesn’t even know it!”

“Me. You. Karen. We all have matching wounds from what happened.”

“Do we?” You laughed bitterly and stood tall, pulling your hand away. “Matching wounds? Cause it seems like mine is still black and bruised and hurting, but you guys are perfectly fine.”

“Y’know what.” He sighed and stood a step back with hands up in surrender. “If you don’t want us around, you want to do the same bullshit lone soldier routine Matt did, go ahead. But if you get yourself killed, that would be your fault.”

He left after that and slammed the door behind him.

You stood in the kitchen for a moment, quiet as you processed what happened. Then you screamed in frustration and slammed your hand against the countertop. You winced and peaked down to see the split skin at the base of your pinky’s knuckle where it hit the handle of the fork you had left out from the morning. You groaned in annoyance before rinsing it in the sink as three quick taps sounded on your door before it opened.

“Hey. Saw your friend in the hall.” He announced his arrival.

“Yeah..” You said absently.

“You alright? What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Y/N.”

“It’s not your problem to worry about, Billy.” You sighed and lifted your eyes to look at him. “That’s not the kinda thing we have going here.”

He offered a slightly amused but challenging raise of his brows as he came around to your side of the counter. He put his hands on the counter on either side of your hips, caging you in as he leaned closer. You huffed quietly and hopped up to sit on the cool marble.

“Y’know you’re burning up?” He tried with a smirk.

“Yeah, tends to happen when I’m pissed off.”

“So what do you say…” His hands slid up the side of your legs and under your shirt, fingers dancing against your lower back. “… we burn off a little steam?”

The next day, you stared in your bathroom mirror after you woke up and left Billy in the bed. Your conversation with Foggy bounced around your skull all night but you kept coming back to one solid thing.

Everyone else was fine. They were done grieving and had accepted his death. You had to do the same.

You let your mind drift to Midland Circle, to the crushing memory of watching the collapsing building swallow the man you loved.

You watched the blue cloudiness fan across your eyes and you let yourself feel frozen until suddenly, your vision cleared and you felt nothing as you flicked away the single tear.

You weren’t happy. You weren’t sad. You weren’t grieving or angry or alone.

You were absolutely empty.

Maybe that’d be a better way to start this new chapter of your life. A few months away from the Kitchen, away from your grief and any sort of feeling might be what you need to find some semblance of who you used to be.

Or you’ll find someone new to be.