#matt murdock/oc

[thornbushrose]

Five Things I Learned When I Was Kidnapped

Thornbushrose

So I wrote this little story that's set in the future of my Unreadable Heart story. I think it's really fun; it's about kids who get kidnapped and the heroes who come to rescue them (spoiler: the first one is the family pet). Matt Murdock's son is hyperactive, blissfully unafraid of anything, and a menace to society. Matt's daughter is highly observant, snarky, and about to discover things about the world and herself that she'd probably rather not know.

Summary:

When a disgruntled client of Nelson, Murdock and Page kidnaps the Murdock kids, he gets a lot more than he bargained for, and Dulce Murdock learns why no one messes with her mom and dad. ******************************************** Remember when you found out about Santa Claus? Did you feel betrayed, realizing that every adult you’d ever met was part of this huge conspiracy to keep the truth from you? Let me tell you about my life. ********************************************

Read it on AO3

Chapter 1: My Sensei Kicks Ass

Remember when you found out about Santa Claus? Did you feel betrayed, realizing that every adult you’d ever met was part of this huge conspiracy to keep the truth from you? Let me tell you about my life.

When I was eleven, my family lived in an old brownstone building in Hell’s Kitchen, Manhattan, up near Harlem. We bought it during the Blip, when real estate prices were really low. It was a four-plex but we combined two apartments to make room for all five of us, and rent out the other two. We were never super rich, but there was plenty of love in our house. Mom was an orphanage administrator and Dad was a pro-bono lawyer. They had big hearts, but not much family of their own, so they sort of made a big, tight family out of whoever was available. As a result, there were always adults in and out of our house, and even when Mom and Dad were busy, we never felt like we were being babysat, just visiting family.

There were three of us kids–forever kids, at least; there were foster kids and homeless teenagers who stayed for a while and moved on when they could. But the forever kids were me – I’m Dulce – , my little brother Frankie, and our baby sister Lauren, who everyone called Lolo. When Lolo was three, she had cute little pigtails and never stopped smiling. She and Mom were best friends and she never had to walk anywhere if Daddy was available to carry her.

Frankie was a sturdy little eight-year-old with dark curls that fell into his eyes. He never walked if he could run and he never whispered if he could shout, and if there was something that looked like you might be able to climb it, you’d get to the top and find him already there. He had Mom’s big heart, though, and Dad’s dimple.

I was born with two little lumps on my head that looked enough like devil horns to make my birth parents think I was the spawn of Satan. They walked away and Mom took me in. I remember piles of flowers and lots of sparkles at Mom and Dad’s wedding, smiles and big hugs later that day when Dad signed the papers to adopt me, and the loft we lived in before Frankie was born. Mom made me wear hats in public until I was old enough to understand a little about how mean people could be. By the time I was in fifth grade, those little knobs on my head had grown to about the length of my index fingers and each of them had a fleshy little fork at the end. The effect is kind of like a pronghorn antelope, so I’ve sort of adopted antelopes and reindeer as my spirit animals. Mom says that’s okay as long as I remember that I’m not anyone’s prey.

So one afternoon, Frankie and I got off the school bus and Dad was casually leaning against the bus stop shelter with both hands on his mobility cane. “Hi Daddy!” I called. Mom taught us to do that when we saw him, because he’s blind and that way he’d know where we were. Frankie came out a step behind me, shouted, “Hi Daddy!” and hurtled into Dad’s chest almost before Dad could brace himself. Dad laughed and straightened his red glasses while he tossed Frankie over his shoulder. At the time, I didn’t think this was weird – I thought everyone’s dad could casually carry a fifty-pound second grader on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Did you guys have a good day at school?”

“Yeah,” I said. “How was court?” I could tell he’d been to court because he was wearing a suit.

“Court went well,” Dad said, shuffling his cane into the hand wrapped around Frankie so he could offer me his free arm. “The judge accepted our motions.”

I took his arm above the elbow, like you’re supposed to when you guide a blind person. I knew Dad could find his way around the sidewalks of Hell’s Kitchen just fine without any help, but he liked the contact, and although I’d have died before I admitted it, so did I.

We only got a few yards down the sidewalk when Dad’s phone vibrated. He paused, taking his arm back so he could pull it out. “Sweetheart?” he answered. Then he said, “Yes, they just got off the bus. Yes, of course. I told you, it’s probably just a bluff. Everything will be okay.” He waited another moment, a smile growing on his face. “Well, it’s about time you had a turn being the anxious one. We’ll see you at home, Sweetheart.”

He put his phone away and Frankie took the opportunity to swing down from Dad’s shoulder. Dad skipped ahead to catch up with him, thrusting a hand out behind him, towards me. I took it and pulled myself up beside him. “What was that about?” I asked.

“Nothing to worry about,” Dad said casually. “How do you feel about Thai food for dinner?”

“You don’t usually meet us here,” I continued. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I meet you at the bus all the time. Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

“Good. I need a couple more years before I turn into your cringey old man.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re already cringey. I just don’t mind it that much.”

He barked a laugh.

It was only a five-minute walk to the brownstone, where we found Mom working on her laptop on the folding table in a corner of the living room while Lolo assaulted a coloring book on the coffee table with her crayons. When we came in, Mom got up and hugged each of us as we were trying to get our shoes off. “I love you,” she whispered in my ear when it was my turn. Dad kissed her and they went into the kitchen together while Frankie and I dropped our things off in our rooms.

An hour later, Uncle Foggy knocked on the door, and after him was Dad’s friend Mr. Marc, who drives us around when we need a car, and then Aunt Karen, Miss Jess and Sensei Danny, who teaches Kung Fu to me and Frankie. A few minutes later, two guys showed up with a ton of Thai food and we all sat down around the dining room table and had dinner. After we ate, Danny helped Mom clean up while Dad played dominoes with Uncle Foggy and Mr. Marc. Karen and Jess went out to the balcony for a while and when they came back they smelled like alcohol – real alcohol, not the beer the other adults had been drinking. Frankie chased Lolo all over the ground floor of the house while my mom’s pet raven, Harbinger, swooped and dove between them. I just sat and listened to all the grownups talking about politics and their various jobs and sports.

Later, Frankie sat down at the table and Aunt Karen pulled out a deck of cards. She was teaching us to play poker, but we weren’t supposed to tell Mom, so we called it Vermont Rummy when she was around. I was pretty sure she wasn’t fooled. No one ever fooled Mom. Harbinger perched on the back of Frankie’s chair and hissed when he started to put the wrong card down.

I have no idea how a raven learned to play Vermont Rummy.

Eventually, I realized that all the other adults were in the living room with Lolo. “You said he was just bluffing,” Dad growled quietly.

“That was before I realized he had a history of trafficking,” Uncle Foggy stage whispered. “The prosecution never mentioned it.”

I returned my attention to the game for a few moments. Then I heard Mr. Marc say, “Relax, Matt. Those kids might as well belong to all of us. We won’t let anything happen.”

“Is that what Khonshu thinks?” Jessica said, with a sneer in her voice.

“I’m not sure Khonshu understands the concept of children,” Marc replied lightly. “But he understands justice.”

“I don’t know if justice is what’s called for here,” Mom said coldly. That was pretty shocking. Mom and Dad were all about justice. What could possibly have made her that angry?

“Let’s talk about the facts.” Uncle Foggy sounded uncomfortable. For some reason, everyone acted scared when Mom was mad. I heard papers rustling, like he was bringing out a file. “Here’s what Karen turned up. Jess?”

“Dulce? It’s your turn.”

I jumped at Karen’s voice. “What are they doing in there?”

Her eyes widened, but she put on a fake, friendly smile. “Oh, you know. Grownup stuff.”

I started to stand up. “They’re talking about us.”

Karen stood up too. “It’s nothing to worry about. Let’s go upstairs. Frankie, do you want to show me your new video game?”

“Yeah!” Frankie shouted, jumping up. “It’s so cool! It’s like Pokemon and Fortnite at the same time, and there’s this really cool…” His voice trailed off into the distance as he pounded up the stairs.

I hesitated, glancing over my shoulder at the living room.

Karen came over and put an arm around my shoulders. “It’s nothing for you to worry about. You’re still a kid, let the grownups do the grownup stuff.”

I frowned, but I let her pull me up the stairs to Frankie’s room.

The next day, Dad took us to school on a city bus instead of just walking us to the school bus stop. When we arrived, he kissed us and wished us a good day, and then we headed in to our classrooms. When I glanced over my shoulder at him, he was talking to the police officer who always stood watch at the front door when school started.

At the end of the day, my teacher told me not to get in line for the bus because Dad was going to pick us up. Sure enough, he was outside the door when we stepped out into the late afternoon sunlight. Dad buzzed with tension as we walked to the bus stop. When the bus arrived, he hesitated for half a second, holding Frankie back from boarding. Then he ushered us aboard and climbed up behind us, paying our fares with his pass.

When we settled into our seats, I said, “What’s going on, Dad?”

“What do you mean?” His I’m-just-an-innocent-blind-guy routine infuriated Mom every time, and now I understood why.

“Yesterday you met us at the bus. Then you had some kind of power conference with our friends, and Aunt Karen said it was grownup stuff and I should leave it to the grownups, but I know you were talking about us. And today you’re all playing guard dog. What’s going on?”

He smiled ruefully, shaking his head. “Karen was right. And you are too smart for your own good.”

I folded my arms. “Obfuscation.”

His smile got bigger, more genuine. He liked it when I used lawyer words. “Look, Uncle Foggy and I tried to help someone, but it turned out that he was really a bad guy, and he got mad when we wouldn't help him do bad stuff. So we’re just trying to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

I pondered that for a moment. “He threatened us. Me and Frankie and Lolo.”

“He threatened all of us. Your mom and Lolo and Uncle Foggy are taking special precautions too. But it’s probably nothing to worry about.”

I would have believed him, if he weren’t fidgeting with the handle of his cane.

When we got home, Mr. Marc and Harbinger were tossing a toy mouse between them across our living room, while Mom cleaned the dining room. I was pretty sure she only did that when she was nervous. She had the furniture polish out and everything.

A couple of hours later, Uncle Foggy turned up with Miss Jess and some pizzas. We all ate together, and the messy, raucous, jovial conversation did a pretty good job of covering up the undercurrent of anxiety. But I noticed every time someone glanced over their shoulder at a strange noise, every time they looked at each other like they could read each others’ minds, every scramble to fill in the silence.

After dinner there was a little whispering, but no conference like the night before. Uncle Foggy played with Frankie, whom he called Mini-me, while Mom and Jess watched the latest episode of whatever silly romcom series they liked to watch and make fun of. Mr. Marc slipped out quietly. Dad called me over, sat Lolo on his lap and we read some books together. Reading with Dad wasn’t like reading with Mom, since Dad couldn’t actually read the pages. He had a device that converted text to a little Braille display, but it was slow, so a lot of the time I’d read the words and Lolo and I would describe the pictures to Dad.

Later, after bedtime, the door of my room creaked open and Frankie stuck his head in. “Prongs? You awake?” he whispered.

“Yeah, Mini-fog.”

He slipped in and shut the door behind him. He came over and climbed into my bed. “What’s with the grownups? Everyone’s all… buzzy and…” He patted his belly. “Tense.”

He could read emotions like Mom could, although he wasn’t very good at it yet. “A bad guy threatened our family,” I told him. “They’re worried that we’re not safe.”

In the dim light of my reindeer fairy lights, I saw him furrow his brow as he considered that. “Do you think we’re safe?” he said.

“Mom and Dad are pretty tough,” I said, yawning.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“And Mr. Marc is a…” I hesitated. I’d always assumed he was some kind of police officer, but he definitely wasn’t a New York City cop. “...FBI agent. Or something. He probably has a gun.”

Frankie snuggled in under the covers.

“There are lots of people looking out for us,” I continued. “And you got me, too.”

“I thought you hated me,” he sighed into my pillow.

“Well, sure,” I said, rolling over to wrap an arm around him. “But no one else is allowed to.”

**********

The next day, Dad walked us to school again, but after school, our sensei, Danny, was waiting for us.

“Your parents were busy,” he said, with a tight, fake smile. “So they asked me to take you home.”

I frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Danny said. “Everyone’s going to be okay.”

I didn’t like the sound of that, but I let it go.

“Are we going to have our lessons tomorrow like usual?” Frankie asked him.

“I don’t know,” Danny said. “Probably.”

“We can't skip a day! The competition is coming up,” I protested.

“You’ll do fine,” he said. “You guys are way ahead of most kids your age. You definitely have your dad’s talent.”

He meant Frankie did, of course. I’m adopted so it was impossible for me to have Dad’s anything, and that was really obvious in our Kung Fu lessons. I was still a little salty that Frankie was better than me, even though I was older and taller and had three whole years’ more training than he did.

“Was Daddy your student too?” Frankie asked.

“No, of course not,” Danny said, half-smiling. “He’s, like, ten years older than me.”

“I bet he could kick your butt!”

“Frankie!” I chided.

But Sensei Danny just laughed. “He did, once. Then we decided to be friends.”

When we got on the bus, Frankie kept getting out of his seat to show Danny his favorite moves. He was still punching and kicking air when we got off the bus on our block and started up the sidewalk. Danny was watching him with an approving smile, which was why I was the first to notice the white van parked illegally in front of our building.

“Hey, Danny…?” I said, stopping in my tracks.

Danny’s head swiveled toward the van as three big guys got out of it. He put a hand on Frankie’s chest to stop him. “Kids,” he said, “Go find a police officer.”

The men focused on us. One of them pulled out a knife with a complicated flipping movement.

“You guys are making a really big mistake,” Danny said to them as he dropped into wide-horse-stance with his hands raised in front of him. “You have no idea the nest of hornets you’re trying to kick.” He snapped at us, “Go!”

Frankie and I spun and bolted – right into the arms of two more big, scary guys behind us. The guy I ran into, an ugly guy with a black beanie over his bald head, tried to force a giant sack over me, but I screamed and threw my arms over my face to stop him. From the corner of my eye, I saw Frankie hop back from his attacker, a skinny guy in a green satin tracksuit, before the guy could bring the sack down on him. Quick as lightning, Frankie set his feet and punched Tracksuit Guy in the nuts, just like Danny taught us to.

Beanie guy had really long arms, though, and I couldn't get far enough out of his reach to copy Frankie. I was dodging back and forth, avoiding the sack, when suddenly Danny flew past me, foot-first, and kicked the guy in the middle of his chest. The thug tumbled backwards and Danny landed lightly on his feet. “Get your brother and go!” he gasped, turning back to the three guys running towards us.

I ducked past him and grabbed Frankie’s wrist. Tracksuit Guy stuck a leg out and swept our feet out from under us. We went down hard, scraping up our hands and knees, and then the guy jumped on Frankie, punching him (!!!) and shouting, “You little shit! You’re done!”

I got up about halfway, took two crouching steps, and hurled my entire body into the guy from the side. I punched him a good one in the jaw, which hurt all the way up to my wrist. He rolled under me and got his hands on my shoulders, but before he could push me away, I stuck my thumbs in his eyes. Tracksuit screamed and tossed me away from him.

Frankie was still on the ground, sobbing hard, bleeding from his nose. I scrambled over to him and tried to pull him up, but Tracksuit grabbed me by my hair and hauled me backwards. I screamed again and pulled away, feeling a lot of my hair rip out, and then one of the knife-wielding thugs flew backwards into Tracksuit. We all went down, but I was suddenly free, and I immediately bounced back to my feet.

I caught a glimpse of Danny fighting two guys at once, a ball of fists and feet, and then a sack fell over my face and Beanie Guy grabbed me around my elbows and lifted me off my feet. I screamed and kicked. Beanie Guy staggered, but the arm around me squeezed tighter, and he didn’t lose his grip. I threw my head back, trying to club him with my skull, but I couldn’t find him. I could hear Frankie nearby, screaming and crying, and he seemed to be moving along with me.

Somewhere behind us, I heard Danny shout, “No!” A van door slid open. The sounds of fighting stopped, except for Frankie struggling beside me, and footsteps running toward us. Beanie dumped me onto the scratchy carpet of the van, and I immediately wiggled around until I got the sack off my head, just as he tossed Frankie on top of me. Something mechanical clicked and clunked and loaded up like a jet engine. I finally got Frankie’s hair out of my eyes just in time to see Beanie pointing an impossibly huge and complicated silver gun at Danny.

A flash of yellow light centering on the gun blotted out my vision for a split second. I threw myself forward, but I couldn’t see anything and something flat and metallic crashed into my head. I fell back and my vision came back to show me the ceiling of the van. Beanie was sliding the gun back into the front seat of the car. Frankie snarled something like, “That's my sister, bitch!” and threw himself at the guy. I rolled over and pushed myself up, my ears ringing. Beanie caught Frankie and pinned his arms against his ribs, like he’d done with me, and used his other hand to drag the sack toward him.

I kicked at his hand, but missed. Where was Danny? We just had to fight until Danny got here and kicked this guy in the head and then we’d go home and be safe. Tracksuit Guy ran up to the van and helped Beanie get the sack open and stuff it over Frankie’s head. I tried to get to my feet, but the van spun and I couldn't find my balance.

They ripped open some duck tape and wrapped it around Frankie, securing his arms and the sack over him. I kept trying to get up. Danny would be here. I couldn’t let them hurt my brother. Danny would get here and rescue us.

Then Beanie growled to Tracksuit, “The blond guy dead?”

“Dunno,” Tracksuit shrugged. “Neutralized. Who cares?”

My stomach sank. I thought I was going to throw up.

Beanie Guy looked at me. “C’mere, princess.” I jerked back, but he caught my wrist and forced me closer to him. Tracksuit pulled another sack out from under a seat, and even though I fought them as hard as I could, they shoved it over my head and taped me up the same way they’d done to Frankie. Then they tossed both of us farther into the van. I heard them climb into the van and shut the door, and then we were moving. I couldn’t help it. I started crying.

[shadowbriar]

Matt Murdock — Without Me

Pairing : Matt Murdock x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 3.9k Warning : Angst as requested but with fluff ending. Insecurity. Miscommunication/Misunderstanding. Synopsis : She knew, even without bringing the topic to light, that marriage was never an option with him. Notes : this fic was a request. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

It was never easy.

No matter how many years they've spent together, the countless dates they went to, and the umpteen charming moments they've shared, dating Matt Murdock was never easy still.

Lord knows just how hard she tries to turn it off. To stop her mind from wandering to the dark places and to not think of the worst possible scenarios whenever the slightest inconvenience happens. She's tried her best, truly she has, to be a little more nonchalant whenever it comes to him, but it proved to be an impossible task to do. Perhaps when you care about someone a little too much than needed, the chance of keeping one's self collected inevitably becomes impossible.

Foggy and Marci’s wedding invitation laid proud on the coffee table, silently mocking her name whenever she was the only one left in the apartment. She knew, even without bringing the topic to light, that marriage was never an option with him. There’s just too many things in his hands, too many problems laid on his shoulders for him to ever weigh the possibility of matrimony.

She understood, a little too well, the reason for his silence. And though she once dreamed of having a family of her own, having mini versions of her and him running around the apartment and knocking over the cup of tea that would stain their rugged carpet, she’s learned to bury such thoughts in the deepest pit of her heart. She reckons, sacrificing something that she’s never had before would be less painful than losing the one she already has.

Five years of being loved by Matt Murdock would certainly make you a little too attached to the man.

But even with his gentle touch, the sweet nothings he whispered in her ears and the embrace he would always blanket her nights with, fear was never kept too far away. As much as she loves and understands him, as much as he worships and adores her, Matt was never an easy riddle to solve. His mind works with such complexity she’d never truly decipher. Oftentimes his actions speak much louder than his words and the past few days have only served as the new demons she has to battle with at night.

There’s always been more paperwork, more cases that needed his urgent attention before he could excuse himself out of the office, and even when his job was done, his other calls would already become too urgent for him to ignore. One too many rain checks done for their dates, that she couldn’t even bother asking if they could find a replacement date. Matt’s a busy man, his growing reputation and the demand Daredevil would have to serve at night were something she’s accepted, what she’s yet to understand, however, is his lack of communication. There were less words, less explanations and reassurance for her to hold on to. The blackhole that she’s currently drowning in was quiet and deadly. Something that he would not notice with the lack of presence.

Now she sits alone in their apartment, eyes vacant and barely blinking while her brain haywired. Perhaps this sudden change of action was caused by her wrongdoings. She tries to trace down every possible mistake she might have made, every misspoken word and unintentional actions, in an attempt to find a way to fix it. To apologise for whatever fault she’s committed before the sin stained a little too deep to ever be fixed.

If this was anyone else, she would’ve been upfront and ask if there’s anything wrong, confront the issue head-on without a care in the world, but this is Matt. He pushes people as easily as he draws them. One wrong movement and she fears all hell would break loose for them.

“Baby?” she heard Matt call, turning her head to see him entering from the staircase “What are you still doing up? It’s late.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she answers, walking to him and taking his helmet away “Was it an easy patrol?”

“Quite, yeah. Not too bad but not too boring either,” he says with a grin “I’ve missed you.”

She sighs, letting his hands rest on her waist while hers encircle his neck, “Yeah, well, you’ve been busy.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he says regretfully “Say, why don’t we go to that restaurant you’ve been wanting to try? The Italian one? How about this Friday, will you be free then?”

“I don’t know, will you? You’re the one who’s been so occupied lately.”

“I’ll be free on Friday, I promise,” he says excitedly, stealing a peck on her lips “So what do you say? Friday after work?”

Another tired sigh escapes her. Moments like this melts her worry away. Staring into his beautiful face, seeing that charming smile tugged on the corner of his lips, while his body was pressed against her. But as much as she treasures this, as much as she appreciates the comfort he could always bring her, she knew that the dark cloud would return the moment he’s out of her sight.

Gently, she leans in and kisses him. Matt’s grip on her shirt tightens, smiling between the kiss in satisfaction. Perhaps he misses her just as much as she missed him.

“Friday, it is.”

—-

She peeled herself off of the blanket with a huge sigh. The other side of the bed was cold, signifying that he’s been out for quite some time but she couldn’t find it in herself to frown. They do have a date afterwards. Perhaps Matt just wanted to make sure that he’s done all his work on time before they could escape their hectic lives for an hour or two.

It was still early for her to get ready for work, but coming early and finishing her tasks as soon as possible so she could have more time to doll herself up before the date sounds like a better plan to do. She sits up from the bed, hand carelessly reaching for the hair tie on the bedside table before knocking Matt’s phone in the process.

She picks up the item, thinking that it was one of the rare occurrences for him to forget his belongings. Reckon she really needs to get ready now so she could drop by his office and give him his phone, but her frown grows when someone calls.

“Hello?” she says as she picks it up.

“Oh, shit,” the other end of the line says before hanging up.

It was a woman. A voice that she was unfamiliar with. The twist in her gut grew, spreading through her veins like venom. She’s never one to pry on Matt’s phone, always confident in his loyalty, but given his absence and the strange call, her fingers couldn’t stop themselves from punching the passcode.

There was no text history with the caller, but there were several call logs, dating far into the past few weeks when he started to be ‘busy’. She wanted to call back the woman, ask her who she is and why she has been on frequent calls with her boyfriend, but she was too scared to face the possible truth. Too afraid to welcome the pour of the icy reality— that he’s found someone else.

“Oh, you’re up!” Matt says, cheeks flushed with slight panting “I forgot my phone.”

“Yeah, I know,” she answers, her voice caught in her throat. Still trying to process the event that’s just happened and how to act in front of him “I— Someone— Gwyneth called.”

“Oh,” his tongue darts to lick his lips, visibly looking nervous now “What did she say?”

“Nothing, she— She hung up.”

“Your heart is beating fast,” Matt notes “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just— Did you run back here?”

“I did, yeah. I was already at the office when I realised I'd forgotten my phone. I need it for the case I’m currently working on,” he answers, walking to her with careful steps “Can I have it, please?”

She swallows the lump in her throat, handing him the item in silence.

“Thank you,” Matt says, placing a kiss on the crown of her head “Listen, I have to run back, I’m having a meeting with a client in five minutes. I’ll see you later for our date, okay?”

She was still silent, breath hitched and sweats forming in the back of her neck.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, okay,” she finally answers, looking up to meet his eyes “I’ll see you later.”

Matt hesitated. He looks as if he was debating to ask something, looking conflicted over whatever it is that might be troubling his mind but the words died in his tongue. Perhaps unsure if he would want to pour petrol over the turmoil that’s evidently building between them. His finger taps on the phone in his palm as he says instead, “I love you.”

She forces a smile, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to see it but it was the only attempt she could pull to suppress the tears that were slowly watering her eyes, “I know.”

“You’re not gonna say it back?”

“You know I love you,” She says, kissing the back of his hand that was holding the phone “Go, you’re going to be late for the meeting.”

Matt smiles, stealing a kiss from her lips before heading back out.

—-

Her breathing was rigid. The movement of her chest forced as if trying her best to compose herself. Her lips were pressed in a tight smile, chewing her meal silently as she tried to focus on the words Matt was saying.

She tries, God knows she tries, to forget about this morning’s incident. Perhaps Gwyneth was the client he was supposed to meet. It surely isn't strange for him to have frequent calls with her if that was the case, but why does it feel wrong? Why does it feel like there’s something bigger that she wasn’t aware of? Why does it feel as if there was something Matt wasn’t telling?

“Love,” Matt calls, taking her hand slowly in his “Are you alright? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she lies through her teeth.

“Are you sure? Your heart has been beating like crazy all night.”

“Yeah, well, maybe stop listening to my heartbeat for once, Matt.”

The smile on his face waters, surprised to hear her bitter spat.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound as cruel,” she sighs, taking her hand away from him to rub her temples “I just have a lot of things in mind.”

Matt sighs, nodding in understanding, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Yes, she wanted to say, let’s talk about the affair you’re having behind me.

But is she ready? Is she ready to be stripped off of the fantasy that she’s tried so hard to build with him? Is she ready to bid goodbye to all the dreams and hopes she’s made with him? Is she ready to accept the fact that there would be no Matt in her future?

It was pathetic, sure, to hold on to the last strings of hope when the most possible outcome is laid bare in front of her. To be stubborn for once against the demons that are torturing her mind. But Matt is the only good thing in her life she’d never be ready to lose. He is the one thing she would rather risk her life for than to ever be separated from. Even if she has to turn a blind eye and pretend as if the romance they’re living in was pure and innocent.

“No, it’s fine,” she says, letting out a sigh to collect her composure “How’s your meeting? Did it go well?”

“Splendid. Listen, I have something to talk to you about,” he says, deflecting the topic. Matt takes a nervous gulp. His hands are now under the table, invisible to her eyes “I– Uh, I don’t know where to start.”

A sharp gasp escaped her lips as the tears threatened to form on her eyes. This must be it. The nervousness that has been bleeding out of him, the continuous rambling he does the whole night to mask his uneasiness, the way he keeps on rubbing his palm on his trousers. This must be it. This must be their end.

“You know how we’ve been together for quite some time now,” Matt starts, his hands still hidden under the table “I know five years with me must not have been the easiest for you. I know just how difficult it could be, living with me and accepting the life that I’m living in. I know that we didn’t always have sunshine and rainbows. Most of the time we have storms and thunders, really, yet we’re still here. You’re still here,” He says gently, his left hand reaching for hers “I know that you deserve better, that you can find someone better—”

She abruptly stood on her feet, letting his hand go in the process that he retreats it fast and hides it under the table once again. Her breathing was heavy, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Matt asks with a worried tone, still sitting on his seat.

“I have to get out of here.”

“W-What?”

She spared him no other word, grabbing her purse and bolting herself out of the restaurant.

Her heart was hammering inside her chest. By the time she hailed for a taxi, her cheeks were already wet with tears. The night she’s been looking forward to, the one date she hoped would flush all of her worries down the drain, turns out to be her worst nightmare. Never would she ever expect Matt to be this cruel. To lead her on, promising a lovely date when they haven’t seen each other for so long, only to break up with her before the clock strikes at nine. With an illicit affair she wasn’t aware of until the very morning, should one add.

“Wait, wait,” Matt says, stopping the taxi door before it closes “Where are you going? What happened?”

“Just leave me alone, Matt, please,” she begs through her tears.

“Baby, why are you crying?”

“Leave me alone, Matt. I don’t want to see you tonight.”

“I— What did I do?”

“Just— Please, don’t make it any harder than it already is.”

Matt was appalled, confused as to what might trigger this response, but he could feel just how upset she was. Her body was shaking, fingers trembling as they frantically wiped the tears that kept on flowing. Never had he ever seen her this distraught and Matt was scared that he would do more harm than good to try and talk with her about it, so he surrenders, “Okay, we’ll go home, okay? Let me just pay for dinner first.”

“No, I’m not going home. I told you, I don’t want to see you, okay!” She says, this time with a raise of voice as her anger slowly seeps in “I just want you to leave me alone, is that really too much to ask for?”

Hurt was evident on his face now, but she was too caught up with her own emotions to notice it.

“Please, Matt,” She begs, her voice hoarse in plea “Please let me go.”

Matt nods, ceasing his last attempt to hold her as he closes the taxi door. He listens as the driver steps on the gas, driving her away to wherever it is she might go. Though the car drives further from him, the sound of her sobs only grows louder in his ear. He wasn’t sure what he did, what he said that might have prompted this response, but whatever it is, he knew that he’s royally ruined what could’ve been the best night of their lives.

—-

It has been a week since she fled Hell’s Kitchen. She knew that there’s no corner in the city that he wouldn’t scour to find her, so she had to go a little farther to find shelter. She needed time and space to think, to take in the cruel reality that has finally caught up with her, before she could take baby steps towards acceptance. 

On the second day, she no longer breaks in tears whenever she looks into her phone and see the many messages Matt has left. By the fourth day, she could partly accept the fact that their ship had sunk. That trying to mend what’s been broken would only restrain him from his freedom, from loving the one person he might actually meant to be with. She loves him, too much for words to ever truly express it, but if being with another woman brings him better happiness, then she would sacrifice herself and blow the candle out. She would let him go.

The suffocation she feels in her lungs the moment she steps in the apartment was unbearable but she dragged her feet still. She whispers her silent goodbye, fingers tracing the walls of the apartment that she would soon leave. Her eyes study the surroundings, memorising each detail of Matt’s loft that she loved so much before she’s no longer welcomed.

She wonders if whoever would live with him next would keep the flower vase by the window. She wonders if they would change the lights in the living room. She wonders if they would paint the walls and fix the squeaky bathroom door. She wonders just how much of her remnants would be left untouched.

“You’re home,” Matt greets, breathless as if he just jolted out of bed.

It’s clear to see that he was in a wreck. The stubbles on his face were unkempt, new bruises littering his body. Matt looks defeated. Like he’s been dragged through a losing war and shattered beyond saving.

“I’m just here to take my things,” she says with a shaky voice, trying her best to keep herself calm and collected “I won’t take long. I’ll take whatever I couldn’t pack today on the weekends.”

“Where are you going?” He frowns, tilting his head a little in confusion “Why are you leaving?”

“Well, I’ve held you back long enough, haven’t I? It’s about time I let you go,” she says with a heartbroken sniffle, forcing a self-pitying smile “I won’t keep you from anyone, anymore. You’re free.”

Matt takes a few steps closer, his brows knitted as he finds himself further lost in the conversation, “Hold me back— Free— What are you talking about?”

“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? The other night? You wanted to break up with me,” she explains, swallowing the hard pill “I understand. I’ve accepted it, too. We don’t have to go through that conversation again.”

“Break up— What?”

“Matt, don’t play dumb with me,” she says with her patience wearing thin “I know everything. I know why you’ve been so busy lately. I know about your affair with Gwyneth, I know it all.”

“Affair? Gwyneth?” Matt questions, running a hand through his hair as he tries to place the puzzle pieces together “What are you talking about?”

“Look, you can really stop being a douche and just get off with it, alright? Do you really expect me to spell it to you? You cheated on me with Gwyneth. There, I said it.”

“I— What makes you think that I cheated on you with her?”

“Well, you’ve been gone. You have lots of call logs with her and they all aligned to the days when you started being distant. And that day when she called, she hung up because she heard my voice, didn’t she? She was scared that I’d find out about you two, well, guess what, I did.”

Matt’s lips were parted. The crease on his forehead was still deep as he tried to let her words sink in. He visibly looks baffled to the point that she starts to wonder if she’s making the right sense, but she wouldn’t let that puppy eye and innocent look on his face water her walls down. She’s given more than enough understanding for him to ever play her this way.

“Well? What do you have to say about yourself?” she asks, folding her hands in front of her chest “No arguments to defend yourself, Mr. Attorney?”

The corners of his lips tugged upward as he let out a satisfied sigh. Colours returned to his face the moment his brain caught up with her words. Like a lighting bulb glowing after it's been switched on. Without a word, Matt walks back to the bedroom. He returned not even a minute later with a small box in his hand.

“I have not been cheating on you,” he begins, taking one of her hands gently “I would never, ever, betray us like that. I love you too much to ever think about anyone else.”

“But Gwyneth—,”

“Gwyneth is a jeweller that has been helping me find the right ring for someone,” Matt cuts in, opening the box for her to see “I didn’t know what kind of ring you’d like, what design or what gem you’d like on it, so I looked for some personal jeweller to help me out.”

She was left speechless, looking down to the ring with utter embarrassment.

“When you picked up her call, she was trying to tell me that the ring was ready, but she didn’t expect you to answer. She was caught off guard, scared that she might spoil your surprise.”

Her head hangs low. Just how ridiculously stupid could she be. She was ashamed of thinking the worst, labelling names on Matt that should never have even crossed her mind. How is she supposed to apologise now after ruining their moment? After tainting their relationship red? Would she even have the chance to mend what she’s broken when she’s betrayed the trust between them?

“Hey,” Matt calls, holding her chin up gently “I've never cheated on you. There was never anyone else and there will never be. There’s only you, just you, and no one else.”

“I’m sorry,” she cries “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s just a misunderstanding,” he says with a chuckle, pulling her for a hug and rubbing her back “It’s okay, Baby. It’s my fault for being too occupied too, I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t get to apologise, okay? It’s only going to make me feel worse,” she sobs in his embrace “I should’ve known better. I should’ve trusted you or at the very least asked about Gwyneth, before jumping into conclusions.”

“Well, honestly, if you asked me about her, I wouldn’t have known what to say either. I’m not the best of a liar in front of you,” he answers, letting out a sigh “That morning I knew your heart was beating erratically but I was too scared to ask because I didn’t want you to ask about her. I didn’t have the answers to give without spoiling the surprise.”

She let go of the hug, wiping her tears while his hands still rested on her waist, “I’m sorry I ruined the surprise.”

“It doesn’t really matter. What matters is your answer,” Matt says with a nervous smile, letting go of his hold and kneeling in front of her now “I’m just gonna keep it short before either of us falls into another misunderstanding,” he says before the two of them break into a short laughter “Will you marry me?”

Her grin spreads, nodding as she kneels to his level, “Yes, yes, of course.”

Matt beams as he slips the ring on her finger. A satisfied exhale came out of him. Like he's just successfully removed mountains from his own shoulders. He pulls her for a kiss, hands cupping on cheeks gently, “I love you.”

“I love you, Matt Murdock,” she answers, her hand combing the strands of his hair with her fingers “You’re really a wreck without me, huh?”

He lets out a sigh, stealing another kiss through their laughter, “You have no idea.”

[superbreadsoul]

DON’T BAIL ON ME

Matt Murdock x Reader

DISCLAIMER: The following story is purely fictional and is made for entertainment purposes. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this story.

WARNING: Heartbreak, no happy-ending, Matt is emotionally constipated, Reader is unable to take responsibility as well. Elektra (cuz she’s hawt).

WORD COUNT: 5119 WORDS

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Matt’s voice trembled with concern as he heard her step through the door, sensing her eyes downcast, her posture tense. He had been pacing for what felt like hours, his mind running wild with worry. The clock on the wall mocked him with every passing second. He hadn’t heard from her all day. He hadn’t seen her since their plans had been set.

"Hey, sweetheart," he began, his tone more gentle than usual, but heavy with the weight of unspoken fear. "I was worried about you. Where have you been?"

Her response was quiet, almost reluctant, as if she was debating whether or not to let him in on the truth. "At the hospital."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. His heart skipped a beat. "What? Why? Are you okay?"

His feet moved instinctively toward her, but she didn't meet his gaze. Instead, she stepped back, a wall of frustration and hurt suddenly building between them. He halted, sensing the shift, his worry now mingling with confusion.

"Yeah," she said, her voice tight. "I was visiting Barry."

There was an unmistakable edge to her words, and Matt froze, the weight of her response settling in. Barry. The name stung. He had heard about Barry—her ex, the doctor— the one she couldn’t quite escape, the one who always seemed to pull her back in. He had known this day would come. He just hadn’t expected it to feel so… personal. Little did he know, that wasn't what she was seemingly hesitant about.

"Oh," Matt said, his voice trailing off as he tried to keep his composure. He noticed a familiar scent around her, something sweet and floral. "You—smell nice."

She blinked, her lips tightening into a thin line. “Really?” she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, I wanted to smell nice for our date. Thanks for showing up, by the way.”

Matt’s heart clenched. The biting tone in her voice stung, but it was nothing compared to the way the truth had just hit him. His sightless eyes bounced, full of remorse and regret. His mind raced, desperately trying to piece together where everything had gone wrong.

"Oh sweetheart," he whispered, his words catching in his throat. "I’m so sorry. It… it slipped my mind. I’m so, so sorry."

He stepped forward, his hands reaching for her, but she pulled back slightly, the distance between them growing, thick with unspoken anger.

"Are you?" she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of hurt and disbelief. She glanced up at him, the vulnerability in her voice almost too much for him to bear. "Are you really sorry, Matt?"

Her question hung in the air, and for a moment, he was speechless. All he could hear was the rapid beat of his own heart, and the deafening silence that followed. He had forgotten their date. He had let her down. Again.

Matt’s breath hitched as he took another step closer, his voice dropping to a softer, more sincere tone. “Y/N, is something wrong?”

The words were tentative, but they were filled with an unspoken plea for her to let him in, to let him fix this, to let him make things right. But she only stood there, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

Matt had known her long enough to recognize the storm brewing beneath her calm exterior. But this—this was different. This was something deeper, something he couldn’t fix with an apology alone.

"Natchios."

The name dropped from Y/N's lips like a stone sinking into the silence of the room, heavy and uninvited. It echoed through the small space, reverberating off the walls and into Matt’s chest, where it lodged like a shard of ice. The very surname that had haunted him for years. The one name he thought he had left behind. The name of the woman who had once ruled his world in a storm of chaos and passion—and who, no matter how hard he tried, was never truly gone.

“What?” Matt froze, his blood running cold, his breath caught in his throat. The dread settled in, slow and suffocating. He had thought he could outrun it, that he had buried that past deep enough for it to never resurface. But now, standing before him, was Y/N, looking at him with eyes that said she knew, and with a smile that barely disguised the hurt and the bitterness.

Y/N tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a bitter, almost rueful grin. “I was so caught up with the trial, I didn’t realise it at first. I’d never heard a name so unique. Then I thought, hey, actually, I have. I’ve only ever known one person with a name that unique. She had a pretty unique personality too. Elektra Natchios. Huh.”

Matt’s heart hammered in his chest, and he felt a cold sweat prick at the back of his neck. Her words stung deeper than he could have imagined. There was no hiding now, no pretending that this wasn’t happening. He couldn't see it but he knew that Y/N was no longer looking at him with the gentle affection of someone who had shared quiet moments of love. Now, she was looking at him with something else: pain. And the realization that everything he had tried to protect her from had come crashing down.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed at him, her gaze sharp and cutting, as she began to recall their past. “God, I hated that stupid Chevy Belair Coupe she used to drive around to pick you up. Then you’d get in the passenger seat with a big smile on your face, bunking all your classes.” She chuckled, but the sound was hollow, edged with something bitter and pained. “And I wouldn’t hear from you for days. Three days, Matt. I didn’t hear from you for three damn days.”

Matt opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He wanted to apologise, to explain, but the words felt useless. How could he explain any of it without dragging her deeper into the mess that was his life with Elektra? 

Elektra. 

Just the thought of her made his stomach twist, but the worst part was the knowledge that Y/N had been right all along. He had never fully severed the connection with Elektra, and now, it was here, in front of him, like a spectre from his past. 

Y/N’s eyes flashed with an icy determination. "She’s here, isn’t she? Like Stick? You can come out now.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and accusing. Matt’s breath hitched, and before he could protest or stop it, Y/N’s gaze flicked toward the door of the bedroom. The silence that followed was oppressive, and Matt’s heart sank as he knew exactly who would walk through that door, already hearing her heels clicking. He didn’t need to say a word. He didn’t have to.

From the shadows of the hallway, Elektra emerged.

“Hello, Y/N,” Elektra’s voice was smooth, almost amused, like she had been waiting for this moment, anticipating the fallout from Matt’s past finally catching up with him.

Elektra’s steps were confident, every movement exuding the kind of smug self-assurance Matt had never been able to shake. She stood tall in the doorway, her presence dominating the room even as she leaned casually against the frame. There was a faint, cruel smile playing at the edges of her lips as she looked past Matt to Y/N. 

Matt’s stomach turned. Elektra had always had that way of walking into a room like she owned it, like everyone in it was just another pawn in her game. He hated that about her. He hated the way she always made him feel like he was nothing more than a fool to be played with. 

“Elektra,” Y/N said, her voice tight with controlled fury. "I should have known you’d be here. Always lurking in the shadows, making everything more complicated than it needs to be."

Elektra’s eyes gleamed with something cold, calculating. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m just here to see Matthew, just like I always have been.”

Matt’s chest tightened. “Y/N, I—”

But Y/N held up a hand, the air shifting as she did, silencing him before he could finish. Her eyes, once soft with affection, now burned with a mix of pain and anger, and he realized, too late, that this was a breaking point. A fracture in their relationship that couldn’t be healed with empty words.

“What? You’re sorry?” Y/N asked, the disbelief thick in her voice. “For what, Matt? For still being tied to her after all this time? For letting her come back into your life, into our life, like nothing ever changed?”

Matt took a step forward, but it was like walking on a tightrope. Every word he tried to say felt heavier than the last, his voice faltering as he reached for her. “Y/N, it’s not what you think—”

“It never is,” Y/N snapped, her voice a mixture of frustration and grief. "You’re still lying to me, Matt. You’re still lying to me, even now.”

Y/N’s voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it, a sharpness that immediately cut through the tension in the room. “Matt and I need to talk, so I’m sorry, but I’d like you to leave.”

Elektra didn't flinch. She gave a soft, almost mocking smile, the same smile Matt had once found irresistible, traced it with his own fingers, now a twisted reminder of everything he was trying to move past. “Alright.” She didn’t hesitate, her heels clicking sharply against the floor as she turned toward Matt’s bedroom, making her way back into the shadows of his life.

But before she could slip out of sight, Y/N’s voice stopped her cold, the words laced with authority. “—The apartment.”

Elektra paused mid-step, a flicker of surprise in her eyes, but it was quickly masked by that same smug composure.

Matt opened his mouth, but his throat tightened as the reality of the situation began to settle in. He had never heard Y/N so resolute, and despite everything he wanted to say, he knew that this wasn’t his battle to fight. Still, he hated the feeling of being stuck in the middle. “Y/N—” he started, his voice soft, trying to diffuse the tension.

“—You speak when I ask you to speak.” Her voice cut through his words like a knife, leaving no room for argument.

Matt flinched, a sigh escaping him. His frustration built inside him, the weight of being trapped between the two women he cared about—one from his past, one from his present. He dropped his head, hands on his hips, trying to control the burning anger bubbling within him. The last thing he wanted was this kind of confrontation, but it was inevitable, wasn’t it? A situation of his own making.

Elektra, as if sensing Matt's turmoil, gave him one last smirk before she silently walked out, her footsteps echoing as she left the apartment. But even with her gone, the tension in the room was suffocating. Y/N stood there, arms crossed, her eyes trained on Matt, who didn’t move. The silence stretched between them like a chasm, filled with things unsaid.

“I’m not gonna have a one-sided conversation, so can you please turn around?” Y/N’s voice was stern, but there was an underlying hurt that Matt couldn’t ignore.

Reluctantly, Matt turned to face her. His jaw was tight, the weight of her gaze almost unbearable. For a second, he was relieved that he wouldn't have to see that scathing look on her face Foggy always talked about. He knew what was coming next, but it didn’t make it any easier to bear. 

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” she asked, her tone softening only slightly as she tried to understand, but the confusion in her eyes was clear.

Matt opened his mouth, the words caught somewhere between guilt and frustration. “About what?” he asked, feigning ignorance, but even to him, the question felt hollow. He couldn’t pretend anymore.

Y/N’s eyes flicked to the door where Elektra had just left, and her voice was barely above a whisper as she listed out the things that had been gnawing at her. “About Stick. About Elektra. About everything that’s been hanging over us since the moment we got together. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her words hit harder than she probably realised, and Matt’s breath faltered. The truth was, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to share it. Not because he didn’t trust her, but because he had hoped—no, he had needed—to believe that he could keep his past locked away. That Elektra, Stick, and all the messes of his old life would stay buried, far from Y/N. But he had been fooling himself. And now, here she was, asking him the one question he couldn’t dodge.

“Because you walked out on me before I could tell you,” Matt said, his voice thick with frustration, his hands clenched at his sides. His sightless eyes were wild, somewhat searching for hers—waiting so that she might tell him that she understood, or at least would understand, if he could just explain it all.

Y/N didn’t flinch at his words, but the hurt was unmistakable. She stood there, her arms still crossed, her gaze unwavering. She had always been so patient with him, so understanding. But this—this was too much. 

“You think I walked out on you?” she asked, her voice tight, trying to keep the trembling anger at bay. “You think I just left? You’re the one who shut me out, Matt. You’re the one who didn’t trust me with the truth. You kept me at arm’s length, and now I’m supposed to believe it was just because you couldn’t find the right time to tell me?”

Matt took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with a frustration that was barely contained. “It wasn’t like that,” he said, his voice lower now, softer but still heavy with regret. “I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to drag you into that world. But you—you wouldn’t have understood. You wouldn’t have accepted it.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she stepped closer to him, her voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t get to decide what I can or can’t handle, Matt. You don’t get to keep things from me because you’re afraid of how I’ll react. I’m your partner. You tell me. You trust me.”

Y/N’s voice was laced with frustration as she tried to make him understand, but Matt could sense that her patience was starting to wear thin. “Besides, I was rightfully upset—”

“—Is there a point to this conversation?” Matt interrupted, his tone sharp, his shoulders tense. He didn’t want to fight. He didn’t want to keep spinning in this cycle of misunderstandings and hurt feelings. He just wanted it to go back to the way it was. He wanted everything to feel normal again.

Y/N blinked, her expression one of bewilderment and frustration. “What do you mean, ‘is there a point’? Matt, of course, there’s a point! I want you to talk to me!” She said the words with an exasperated urgency, as if she couldn’t understand why he wasn’t getting it.

Matt’s jaw clenched, and he turned away for a moment, trying to steady himself. “There’s nothing to talk about, Y/N. Besides, you made it clear yesterday that you didn’t want to talk to me.”

The hurt in his voice was unmistakable, and Y/N’s chest tightened. The memory of last night—the way she’d stormed out, the way Matt had closed himself off—was still fresh. It felt like a betrayal, but even more so, it felt like the same pattern she had been trying to avoid. He was slipping away from her, like he always did.

Her heart pounded as she stared at him, frustration bubbling up again. “See, this is exactly what I’m talking about,” she said, her finger gesturing towards him. “You just brush it all off. It’s like you won’t even try to understand why I’m upset!”

Matt’s eyes flashed, frustration building in his chest. He didn’t know how to explain it, how to make her understand that his silence wasn’t about her, but about the things inside him that he didn’t know how to talk about. “What?” he snapped back, unable to hide the rawness in his voice. “What do you want from me, Y/N?”

“God! It’s always one step forward and ten steps back with us!” she nearly shouted, her voice full of pent-up frustration. “It’s always the same thing! You do something, and I pull away. I do something, and you pull away. We can’t keep doing this, Matt! I can’t keep feeling like I’m the only one trying to hold this together.”

The words hit him harder than he expected, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. He wanted to explain that it wasn’t just her—that it wasn’t always her fault. But the truth was, his own insecurities were starting to drown out the words. His fear of being abandoned, of losing her, was starting to seep into every crack of their relationship, and he didn’t know how to fight it.

“We talk, don’t we?” Matt said cynically, crossing his arms as he looked at where he assumed her eyes were, his expression closed off. “I’m right here standing in front of you.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed as she shot back with a bitter laugh, the sting of his words landing harder than he’d realised. “As opposed to how lately, every conversation I have with you is towards your back?” she said, her voice full of incredulity. “You’re physically here, Matt, but you’ve been gone for a while now.”

Matt flinched at the accusation, the weight of her words cutting deep. He opened his mouth to argue, but the frustration in Y/N’s voice silenced him before he could speak.

“What the hell does that mean?” he snapped back, his confusion mixing with his growing anger. 

Y/N’s words were sharp, cutting through the air between them like a blade. “It means you avoid me!” she deadpanned, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “It means your first instinct is to run away from me the second things get a little bit rough.” She pointed directly at him, her eyes narrowing as she squinted up at him in disbelief. She rocked her hand in the air, as if to emphasise how often he pulled away, how shaky he could be when things weren't easy.

Matt’s heart beat erratically in his chest as she spoke, the truth in her words hitting him like a freight train. She wasn’t wrong. He had always pulled away when things got tough. His instinct had always been to retreat into the safety of silence, of isolation, of not facing the things that scared him the most.

“I don’t run,” Matt muttered, his voice low and defensive. “I—”

“You do,” she interrupted sharply, cutting him off before he could finish. “I’m not an idiot, Matt. I can see it. You shut down. You turn away. You make yourself small, and you expect me to just stand here and wait for you to come back.”

Matt stood there, frozen for a moment, the words hanging in the air like a weight he couldn’t escape. His breath was shallow, his chest tight. The things Y/N was saying, the things she was pointing out, weren’t easy to hear, but they were the truth. And deep down, he knew it.

“I don’t run!” Matt growled stubbornly in denial.

Matt's chest tightened, his jaw clenching in anger. He couldn't stand hearing it, especially not from her. "Okay? That is neither here nor there," he snapped, immediately brushing her words aside, shaking his head in frustration. He was done with the conversation, or so he thought. He wanted to put the walls back up, to shield himself from the rawness of the situation.

Y/N raised an eyebrow at him, the sarcasm in her expression all too clear. "Okay, well, here we are, Matt," she said, her voice dripping with frustration and mockery. "What do you wanna do? How do you wanna handle it, huh? Do you wanna fight for us, or do you wanna bail?"

She pointed toward the door, her hand shaking slightly with the intensity of the moment, as if to punctuate her question. Her voice rose in frustration, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and hurt. She paused, studying him as the weight of his silence seemed to hang in the air. But as she watched him, something softened in her gaze. She saw the vulnerable look in his eyes—the quiet uncertainty he wore so well. And despite the storm of emotions she felt, her heart ached for him.

With a heavy sigh, she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to raise my voice,” she said quietly, the sharpness gone from her tone, replaced by something more tender. The fight was still there, but beneath it, there was love. She stepped forward, her hands trembling as she reached for him.

Y/N placed her hands gently in his, her touch soft and warm. She needed him to hear her, needed him to understand. “Listen to me,” she said, her voice steady now, but filled with a quiet urgency. “I want you, Matt. In all your sweet, yet rugged, devilish glory,” she said with a small, affectionate smile, even as her heart ached with the weight of everything unsaid. “I want to be here when your nights get rough, and I want to be the first thing you feel in the morning.”

She cupped his cheeks, her fingers soft against his skin as she looked into his eyes and feeling the intensity that made his breath catch in his throat. Her gaze softened, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She sniffled, her voice trembling. "Look, you think your crazy life, your past, everything that’s happened to you, is going to scare me away or something… but that’s not true. You’re so wrong."

Her chest tightened, her heart aching at the sight of him—of the man who had always been so afraid of being too much, so afraid of dragging others down with him. “Because there’s nothing out there, nothing in here, that scares me as much as the thought of losing you.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper now, but the weight of her words struck him with the force of a wrecking ball. "Trust me when I say… people like you and me, we don’t get the chance to love like this, Matt. I stay. I don’t run. Because I love you."

The confession hit him like a punch to the gut. She had said it. She had finally said it, and her words hung in the air between them like a lifeline. She had chosen him, despite everything. Despite his fear, his past, the mess he carried around with him. 

Y/N’s voice was soft, tender now, as she spoke again, the love in her tone so raw it made his heart ache. “I love you so much that all I can ever think about is you. There’s no version of my life that doesn’t have you in it.” Her hands tightened around his, pulling him closer, even as she sniffled again, the tears starting to break free from her eyes. “So I’ll stay right here. You can push me away all you want, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait for you.”

Matt’s breath caught in his throat as he processed her words, the weight of her confession crashing over him. She was here. She was choosing to stay, despite the chaos, despite everything. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had said something so raw, so real to him. 

But even now, he found it hard to believe. He was so used to people leaving, to pushing others away before they could hurt him. The idea that she wouldn’t walk away, that she wanted him, despite his flaws and his broken pieces—it was a foreign concept. 

He shook his head, as if trying to clear the fog in his mind, but the truth was, he was terrified. Terrified of letting her in, terrified of what would happen if he let himself truly believe that someone could love him—want him—after everything.

"I..." His voice cracked as he tried to speak, but words failed him. He reached up, touching her hands, still holding him so gently, and his gaze softened as he aimlessly searched where he assumed her face was in wonder, listening to her heart for any sign of doubt. But there was none. There was only love. A kind of love he had never known, never imagined he deserved.

Matt stood frozen, his heart hammering in his chest as Y/N’s confession lingered in the air between them. The weight of her words was suffocating, like a tidal wave crashing over him. He had never expected this moment to come, and now that it had, he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Her love for him, so pure and raw, left him paralyzed, caught between the fear of being loved and the fear of losing her.

His mind raced, his emotions a tangled mess. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in his throat. His fears—his insecurities—gripped him like chains. Could he really let her in? Could he really let someone love him after everything he had done, everything he had become? And if he did, what would that mean for her? For them?

Y/N noticed the struggle in his sightless eyes, the way he seemed to shrink in on himself, and her heart sank. She had poured herself out to him—had told him, for the first time, how much he meant to her—and now, he couldn’t even return the sentiment. She frowned softly, her own pain growing as she took a small step back, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Matt?” She searched his face, looking for something, anything, that would tell her that he felt the same. “Did you hear me?” she repeated, the desperation creeping into her voice. “Say something. Please? Matt?”

The silence between them stretched on, thick with the unspoken. Matt’s brow furrowed, his hands trembling slightly as he struggled to find the words that felt right. But there was nothing—nothing that could explain the tangled mess of emotions inside him. He opened his mouth, but only half-formed words came out. 

“I—uh—I can’t do this right now,” he finally said, his voice shaky with regret. “There’s a lot going on, and I—I can’t—” His words faltered, a deep ache filling his chest. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel the same way. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with her. But the weight of his dual life—the mask he wore, the life he led as Daredevil—was so heavy, and he wasn’t sure how to balance it with what Y/N was offering him. The fear of losing her, of not being enough, of the danger he brought to everyone around him—it all swirled in his mind.

Y/N’s heart dropped at his words. The dread that washed over her was instantaneous, a cold, sharp wave that made her feel small and foolish. She had laid herself bare, had trusted him with a part of herself she didn’t give to anyone else, and now—now he was pulling away. 

"Oh," she whispered, the word barely escaping her lips as the weight of disappointment settled into her chest. A hollow ache took root there. She had given him everything she had, all her love, all her hope—and he couldn’t even say it back. The look in his eyes was enough to confirm the one thing she’d feared most: he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t willing to let her in. 

Her hands instinctively pulled away from his, the absence of his touch like an icy wind. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to see the regret in his eyes. Instead, she looked away, her heart breaking with every passing second. She felt so stupid for believing, for thinking that maybe this time, with him, things could be different. That maybe, just maybe, he could love her back.

“I don’t—” Matt began again, but the words felt too heavy to say. He sighed deeply, his own heart aching as he heard the stutter in her heartbeat. He didn’t want to hurt her; glad he couldn't see that look of brokenness in her eyes. But he knew he had to do this—he had to finish what he started with Elektra, had to be Daredevil first. There was too much at stake. He was torn between the man he wanted to be for her and the one he had to be for the city.

“I have to go,” he said reluctantly, his voice low and filled with regret. His eyes softened for a moment, the weight of the moment heavy in the space between them. “I need to finish something. I need to... do what I have to do. I’ll come back, okay?”

The words sounded hollow to Y/N, and she felt her throat close up as the tears welled up in her eyes. She couldn’t look at him now, not like this. Not when he was so distant, so unsure. Her voice cracked as she whispered, barely able to get the words out.

“Okay.”

It was the only thing she could say, the only thing she had left. Her heart was in pieces, each one slipping further away from him with every word he spoke. She wouldn’t fight him. She couldn’t fight him. Not now. Not when he was already running. 

She didn’t look up as he left, didn’t want him to sense the tears that slipped down her cheeks, the raw pain she could no longer hide. All she wanted was for him to stay, to choose her, but the cold reality was that she didn’t know if he ever would.

Matt hesitated at the door, his hand on the handle, but the moment lingered for just a second longer. He tilted his head, ear faced to her direction, his face a mix of regret and guilt, but he didn’t say anything more. He couldn’t.

And with that, he was gone, leaving Y/N standing in the quiet apartment, her heart aching with the realisation that love—real love—might not be enough to bridge the chasm between them.

The End.

[bullseyelover]

[scarfacemarston]

DM WANTED

Hey y’all!

I’m part of a small dnd server and our Dm is on break for a while. We’re looking for a DM to help run a few games in the server!

One shots and short campaigns are best, but you’d be welcome to try a long campaign!

We play dnd, but also Star Wars 5e, Marvel and have home brews for a pirate game! It’s possible you can spread out for your own work.

We’re looking for someone who is relaxed and used to playing with new players.

You must be over 21.

Most importantly, it’s crucial to be lgbt friendly and neurodivergent friendly!

People are also welcome to join the server! We are super chill and if you’ve never played before, no worries! We’ll teach you either as a group or one on one! If you don’t want fantasy, we have Star Wars 5e, Marvel and Dc!

Feel free to message with any questions.

[jaggedamethyst]

that will be enough (matt murdock x reader)

pairing: matt murdock x reader

content: reader has holiday anxiety (me lol), angst, some fluff if you squint

notes: I have missed matt honestly...but this is something short while I work on some other things. if you also have holiday anxiety...sending love. as always, I dont believe in proofreading.

full masterlist linked here

For Matt, the holidays were yet another reminder of the love he had in his heart—most of all for his dad. The love he had for you was intense, yet differed from the emotion held for his late father. While having laid the great Jack to rest, the feeling of doing so always persistent in his mind, he could forget it was there. With you, the warmth consistently filled his body. It made sense, then, that he was exceptionally in tune to your every action. 

Matt dreaded his somber mood during this time of year. He quickly noticed, too, your feigned enjoyment. Whether it be a mindless repetitive tapping, or a grimace at the sight of even more holiday decor—the disdain was clear. 

You’d forced yourself to accept invitations, RSVP, and show up to events this year. With each one, you were reminded of how little you actually had. Not financially, per say, but the lack of family. It was easy to say that that intimacy could be found anywhere, but people sucked. It was officially true that with your low tolerance for bullshit, you had girl bossed your way into having no friends, no family to see, and nobody to love—besides Matt. The thought made you pull away from him. The thought of placing all of this onto Matt alone—to be the only important thing in your life—was a lot. So when you found yourself at another winter soiree, Matt attached at your hip, it was easy for him to notice you weren’t okay. 

He tried to talk to you a few times, you hadn’t responded. Not purposely ignoring him, he noticed, but regressing into that state you would sometimes when you were overstimulated. There was so much happening, you couldn’t process everything. The music was meant to be the obligatory party soundtrack. You let out a huff at the ambience seemingly blaring in your ears. Your head was pounding. There were too many people. Too much talking. Not enough quiet. 

You felt a hand on your back. You turned to see Matt there, as always. You tried to hide the immediate response your body had to him, but you both knew that he was aware. 

“You okay?” His voice the only thing making sense was common for you. He’d say the same about you. When you didn’t respond, he continued, “How are you feeling?” He rubbed a few circles into your lower back, before resting his hand on your waist. 

You nodded, a hesitance there, “I’m o-okay.” You turned your head away, embarrassed by your inability to say two words without choking up. 

Without a word, Matt grasped your hand and pulled you from the table you’d be standing at. You followed him, always willing to do so, you’d go wherever he went. Shut up. You quieted your own thoughts. How pathetic it was to be so incapable and reliant on a man. Your lip quivered. Matt turned to you, again, sensing it all. He moved to grab your coats—sliding on yours, then his. 

“Come on.” 

Your feet were moving on their own. You let the feeling of his arm pulling yours lead you into the elevator. You sniffled, still not much on your mind other than the immense failure you were. 

“Hey,” Matt turned to you as the doors closed. “Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.” 

You felt the tears building, the pressure burning your eyes. “It won’t.” 

He was in front of you now, the twinge of salt in your tears hitting the air and his lips. Matt turned swiftly, hitting the stop button. You stumbled at the jolt and grasped for the wall for support. 

“Matt! What are you doing?”

“What are you feeling?”

“Nothing, I’m good.”

He tilted his head as he did, “Lie.” 

“I hate you,” 

“Another lie.” 

You turned to face the elevator wall. You sucked your teeth at your reflection. He was always so in tune, whether good or bad you still were not sure. It was times like this, where you let as if you were crawling in your skin, that the thought of explaining that phenomenon made you feel ill. 

He interrupted the thought, “It’s okay.” Don’t get yourself worked up. 

A split second later you spoke frantically, “I don’t think I can live without you.” The words blended together, the embarrassment increasing with every letter that left your mouth. 

He smiled a bit, nodding, “Thats good to hear…seeing as I don’t really plan on going anywhere.” 

The sound of you inhaling and exhaling slow filled the elevator cart. You looked at him, then. “What I mean…meant…is that…I am overwhelmed right now.” 

An arched brow and a nod encouraged you to continue. 

“I have nobody,” He opened his mouth to interrupt. You quieted him with your hand up, “…except you. Which isn’t…ideal.” There was sympathy, but silence still. He allowed you the space, here, to say everything. “Whenever we’re out…when I’m out…I feel so lonely. It’s like this time of year just heightens that feeling I have that everything should be perfect. But nothing is. Nothing can be.” You paused, “But I want it to.” 

“I miss my dad.” Matt stated plainly. “And I don’t really talk to my mom.” It was your turn to nod this time. “I have a few people I care about, but sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough. Especially during Christmas.” He went to lean on the opposite elevator wall as you were standing. “I imagined myself having years way beyond what I had with my dad. In church on Christmas, or maybe watching movies with him…I didn’t get much of that.” He stabilized himself, removing his red frames with one hand. “I don’t want you to feel burdened by the expectation of what a cookie-cutter life should be. Sometimes there’s other plans for us…and honestly…if we only have each other, forever, that will be enough for me.” 

You nodded aggressively, trying to make sense of that. You tried to drill the words into your mind so as to never be in this state again. 

“I hate Christmas.” 

Matt moved to hit the button, “Me too, babe.”

There wasn’t much said on the way to his apartment, nor when you’d both crawled into bed. After a while, Matt grabbed your palm and kissed the back of your hand. He spoke into your now intertwined fingers. “I can’t live without you either, by the way.” 

“Good to know that we’re both extremely helpless individuals.”

He chuckled, “We truly belong together”

You hummed. The intense feeling hadn’t completely left you, but rather been satiated by the knowledge that despite its existence—Matt would always be there, too.

[farfromstrange]

The Matt Murdock Anthology

Find Me On AO3!

⤹ NAVIGATION.

🫀 -> comfort for the aching hearts

🔥 -> Smut/explicit sexual content (18+ MINORS DNI)

🌻 -> Fluff

💧 -> Angst

🪐 -> All fics set in the universe of my longest and ongoing work Foreigner's God

A/n: Some fics might not be displayed because I tend to forget updating this Masterlist. Newer fics are on here, older ones might have gotten lost. In that case, search the matt murdock x reader tag on my profile to find all my fics. It also includes fics I reblogged, but most of them are mine. Same goes for the Thots & Blurbs section. Most of those are classified as anon ask’s.

⤹ ONE SHOTS:

☽ Sleep [matt murdock x reader] 🫀

✑ she can’t sleep and he’s there to make sure she’s alright.

☽ Costumer Service [matt murdock x afab!reader] 🔥🫀

✑ after a rough day at work, you lash out at your boyfriend. matt being matt, he makes it his mission to give you what you need to relax.

☽ Late Night Talking [matt murdock x fem!oc] 🌻🪐

✑ eliza has the weirdest questions on her mind in the middle of the night. three times she wakes up matt to answer her questions and the one time matt wakes her with an important question.

☽ Spiders [matt murdock x fem!reader] 🌻

✑ matt finds a spider in the house and he refuses to kill it so his girlfriend has to step up to do the job. she hates it as much as he does.

☽ Long-distance [matt murdock x afab!reader] 🔥 🌻

✑ Matt buys you a long-distance remote vibrator so he can play with you while he’s away – but there is a twist! He has one too, and he wants you to play with him while he plays with you. All over the phone, no touching. You can’t say no to that offer.

☽ Gifted Kid Burnout [matt murdock x f!reader] 💧🫀

✑ she’s exhausted, burned out and he wants nothing more than to help her.

☽ Stay Quiet [matt Murdock x f!reader] 🔥

✑ porn without plot in which Matty fucks you in the office (and Foggy gets traumatized for life)

☽ For You [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥

✑ request: prompt 78 — loss of virginity (exactly what the prompt says it’s gonna be)

☽ Pointless [matt murdock x female!oc / matt x reader] 🌻 🪐

✑ song fic based on Pointless by Lewis Capaldi — a glimpse into how Matt views their relationship. (Part of the FG series, but no names are used)

☽ Ease The Pain [matt murdock x reader] 🔥🌻 🫀

✑ Matt helps to ease your period pains.

☽ Daddy Issues [matt murdock x reader] 💧🫀

✑ you flinch when Matt raises his voice for the first time and he learns about your daddy issues. Not the sexy kind.

☽ Angel On The Roof [matt murdock x reader] 💧 -> TW: SUICIDE

✑ Mental illness is silent until it isn’t, but then it’s often too late. Or, Matt accompanies a troubled stranger home on a couple of occasions, not realizing what he’s truly feeling until she’s already lost the battle against her own mind.

☽ Angel On The Roof (Your Version) -> Request; TW: MENTIONS OF SUICIDE AND SELF-HARM but with a happy ending!

✑ What if Matt’s word did manage to talk you off the edge and you find a way out of the dark hole that is depression? This is ‘Angel On The Roof’ from your POV with a happy ending.

☽ Useless [matt murdock x reader]

✑ Matt finds you during a depressive episode and he takes care of you. 💧🫀

☽ Promise Me [matt murdock x ofc] 🪐

✑ Foreigner’s God One-Shot — tender moments shared at night

☽ Good Boys Deserve To Be Taken Care Of [matt murdock x afab!reader] 🔥

✑ Matt looks good in the mornings. He always looks good, but the object of your attraction lies a bit lower this time, and you want to worship him like he deserves. (Or, an ode to Matt’s beautiful ass and the attention it deserves.)

✑ Part 2 to this can now be read here.

☽ Are You Okay? [matt murdock x reader] 🫀

✑ Sometimes it takes just one question or one person to make your shitty day less shitty.

☽ Back To December [matt murdock x reader] -> Request 💧 TW: DEATH

✑ Everything and everyone eventually slips through Matt Murdock’s fingers, and he doesn’t manage to save you in this one. (Hurt/ no comfort)

☽ Narcissist [matt murdock x reader] -> Request 💧🫀 TW: DOMESTIC ABUSE

✑ Trying to catch a break from your abusive boyfriend, you find yourself seeking refuge and a drink at Josie's in the middle of the night. It's where you bump into Matt Murdock, a charming stranger with the promise of a night of fun. After taking you home with him, it doesn't take him long to discover the dark nature of your need to escape.

☽ Honest Mistake [matt murdock x reader] -> Request 🌻

✑ After a night at Josie's, Foggy spends the night. When Matt wakes up the next day to kiss you good morning, he soon realizes that it's not you who is lying next to him but rather Foggy himself.

☽ Tupperware [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥

✑ A conversation about kitchen supplies takes an unexpected turn…

☽ Matilda [matt murdock x f!reader] 💧🫀

✑ You tried moving on from your past, but some things still haunt you. Matt is there to comfort you and tell you that sometimes, it’s okay to just let it go, even if it’s your family.

☽ Brother [matt murdock x sister!reader] l -> Request 💧

✑ After an argument with Matt about something that seems so stupid now, you get kidnapped by a human trafficking ring and he has to save you, his sister, before something worse happens. He finds you battered and bruises, but at least you’re alive. (This is solely x sister!reader, nothing more)

☽ WORDLE [matt murdock x ofc] 🌻 🪐

✑ Eliza and Foggy play Wordle, and it soon turns into a very competitive game.

☽ Please, Be Okay [matt murdock x reader] 🫀💧

✑ When Matt doesn’t answer your texts or calls like he usually does, you start to expect the worst…

☽ You’re Losing Me [matt murdock x reader] 💧 -> Request

✑ Based on “You’re Losing Me” by Taylor Swift. You and Matt have a fight and you throw him out of the bedroom with a decision to make. The question is just, is he going to give up on you and prompt you to leave or will you two manage to fix what’s broken?

☽ Feisty [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥 -> Request

✑ Matt decides he has to show you your place after you two have an argument.

☽ Sub Space [matt murdock x f!reader] 🌻🔥 -> Request

✑ After particularly rough sex with Matt, you find yourself lost in sub space and he takes care of you.

☽ Slipping Through My Fingers [matt murdock x teen!vigilante!reader] 💧 -> Request (Not a ship fic!) TW: Death.

✑ You get caught by yours and Matt’s enemies and he can’t save you.

☽ Naughty Girl [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥 -> Request

✑ Messing around with Matt at work leads to an unwelcome interruption and your naughty side coming out, which Matt is not happy with…

☽ Cruel Revenge [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥 -> Request

✑ Matt decides to mess with you at work this time when Foggy and Karen come to visit… (kind of a part 2 to Naughty Girl)

☽ Sweeter Than Fiction [matt murdock x afab!reader] 🔥 -> Request

✑ You decide to learn Braille and buy a rather… unconventional book to put your knowledge to the test, and Matt gets suspicious about why a book gets more attention than he does (and gets you wet)

☽ Just Let Me Love You [matt murdock x f!reader] 💧🫀

✑ You're struggling with your body image. Matt comforts you.

☽ Focus [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥 -> Request

✑ Matt blindfolds you after you ask him to show you what it feels like to experience an orgasm blind.

☽ Is It Over Now? [matt murdock x neutral!reader] 💧

✑ inspired by “is it over now?” by Taylor Swift. Matt cheats on you and you deal with your thoughts. Slight Frank Castle x Reader and Elektra x Matt. (Warning: Matt slander. This is from the POV of someone who had their heart broken. Beware.)

☽ New Year’s Day [matt murdock x neutral!reader] 🌻

✑ Inspired by many Taylor Swift’s discography. You recount your relationship with Matt as he asks you an important question on New Year’s Eve.

☽ Sensory Deprivation [matt murdock x afab!reader] 🔥 -> Request

✑ You help Matt focus after the world gets just a little too much.

☽ Up Against The Wall [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥

✑ PWP. You and Matt do it against the window after you pissed him off. That's it.

☽ Unicorns Need Love Too [matt murdock x f!reader] 🌶️ (semi-spice)🌻

✑ You’re ovulating, and your hormones are not taking it easy on you. Matt is there to help. Kind of. He’s a little shit.

☽ S.M.S [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥

✑ Soft Morning Sex with Matt Murdock.

☽ Interview With The Vampire [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥🧛💧

✑ You are the first journalist to interview Hell’s Kitchen’s resident vampire vigilante after he requested you personally to tell his story. (…) As it turns out, interviewing a vampire is a lot more complex than you expected it to be, and Matthew Michael Murdock has set his mind on ruining you for any other man to come.

☽ Tumb v Printer [matt murdock x reader] 🌻

✑ You’re clumsy, and Matt is worried about you. Especially when you cut your thumb on the inside of a printer.

☽ Burden Me [matt murdock x reader] 💧🫀 TW: suicidal thoughts & depression

✑ You’ve been having a very hard time lately, but when Matt walks in on you breaking down and crying, he’s there to comfort you and urge you to finally talk about the thoughts that sometimes come to haunt you.

☽ What if the way you hold me is actually what’s holy? [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥

✑ you fantasize about Matt in the shower while he’s still at work only to find him suddenly right in front of you, ready to help you take care of your little problem.

☽ Pink Eye [matt murdock x gen!neutral reader] 🌻

✑ sickfic; you catch a bad case of pink eye and the common cold after New Year’s, and Matt takes care of you.

☽ One Soul [matt murdock x reader] 💧🫀

✑ Matt gets hurt, badly, and you have to break the promise you made him: not to take him to the hospital.

☽ Smaller Than This [matt murdock x reader] -> Request. TW: Eating Disorder💧🫀

✑ Matt helping Reading with an eating disorder.

☽ Mine [matt murdock x reader] 🌻 -> Request.

✑ It’s your wedding day, and you relive how you and Matt met at St. Agnes.

☽ Teacher's Pet [professor!matt murdock x fem!student!reader] 🔥

✑ Professor Murdock shows you how remarkable you are.

⤹ ON-GOING SERIES:

☽ Foreigner’s God [matt murdock x fem!oc] 🪐 🌻 💧 🔥 ⇛ official tag is #foreigner’s god, if you want to search my profile! you should find all the chapters, previews, snippets, thoughts, etc. listed in chronological order. (extremely slow updates)

☽ Total Eclipse Of The Heart [matt murdock x f!vampire!reader] 🔥🩸 ⇛ Part 1, 2, 3… ⇛ DARK FANTASY (dead dove do not eat) (ON HOLD until further notice)

☽ Do No Harm [matt murdock x f!reader] 🌻 💧 🔥 ⇛ Doctor!Reader, slow-burn series

☽ Carpe Noctem [vampire!matt murdock x f!nun!reader] 💧🔥🩸 ⇛ Dead dove don’t eat, dark fantasy, no happy ending and a little bit of insanity… (extremely slow updates)

☽ I Love You In Every Universe [matt murdock x f!reader] 💧 (extremely slow updates)

☽ Silver Spoons & Butterknives [matt murdock x president’s daughter!reader] 💧🌻🔥

⤹ HEADCANONS:

☽ Going on vacation with Matt Murdock [matt Murdock x afab!reader] 🔥 🌻

✑ what it would be like to go on vacation with our dear Matthew and his heightened senses (he really loves us in this one)

☽ Totally random Matt Murdock headcanons that keep me up at night [matt murdock x reader] 🔥 🌻

✑ some headcanons (6, to be exact) that keep me up at night

⤹ THOTS & BLURBS:

☽ Going to Fogwell’s with Matt… [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥

☽ Switch!Matt thots [matt murdock x afab!reader] 🔥

☽ False God By Taylor Swift Thot [matt murdock x reader] 🔥

☽ Sub!Matt thot [matt murdock x reader] 🔥

☽ Matt being too big thot [matt murdock x f!reader] 🔥

⤹ EVENTS:

☽ Kinktober 2023 (Matt's Version) [matt murdock x afab!reader] 🔥

☽ Lizzi’s Valentine’s Special & Follower Celebration -> Introducing: The Vault 🔥 🌻 💧

☽ Fictober 2024 (Matt’s Version) [matt murdock x reader] 🔥

☽ Lizzi’s Birthday Bouquets (still being updated)

[lostnighterarts]

Kendall projecting her period cramps into Kurt and Matt

Enjoy it

Inspired by @padawan-carol ans @hans-hargan

[fandomnerd9602]

TIGER/SPIDER MasterList

Ava Ayala / White Tiger x Spider-Man!Reader

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Epilogue

Tags @deafeningsharkslimeempath @marveldcfandom @ma1egamer @multi-fandom-enjoyer @texaswolf23 @revanshand @russianredassassin @jadenyukiyusakufujikiyutoduelist @jacenradio7 @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @edgeofthedark0

[thornbushrose]

Five Things I Learned When I Was Kidnapped

A Daredevil fanfiction

Thornbushrose

Summary:

When a disgruntled client of Nelson, Murdock and Page kidnaps the Murdock kids, he gets a lot more than he bargained for, and Dulce Murdock learns why no one messes with her mom and dad. ********************************************

Chapter 1: My Sensei Kicks Ass

Remember when you found out about Santa Claus? Did you feel betrayed, realizing that every adult you’d ever met was part of this huge conspiracy to keep the truth from you? Let me tell you about my life.

When I was eleven, my family lived in an old brownstone building in Hell’s Kitchen, Manhattan, up near Harlem. We bought it during the Blip, when real estate prices were really low. It was a four-plex but we combined two apartments to make room for all five of us, and rent out the other two. We were never super rich, but there was plenty of love in our house. Mom was an orphanage administrator and Dad was a pro-bono lawyer. They had big hearts, but not much family of their own, so they sort of made a big, tight family out of whoever was available. As a result, there were always adults in and out of our house, and even when Mom and Dad were busy, we never felt like we were being babysat, just visiting family.

There were three of us kids–forever kids, at least; there were foster kids and homeless teenagers who stayed for a while and moved on when they could. But the forever kids were me – I’m Dulce – , my little brother Frankie, and our baby sister Lauren, who everyone called Lolo. When Lolo was three, she had cute little pigtails and never stopped smiling. She and Mom were best friends and she never had to walk anywhere if Daddy was available to carry her.

Frankie was a sturdy little eight-year-old with dark curls that fell into his eyes. He never walked if he could run and he never whispered if he could shout, and if there was something that looked like you might be able to climb it, you’d get to the top and find him already there. He had Mom’s big heart, though, and Dad’s dimple.

I was born with two little lumps on my head that looked enough like devil horns to make my birth parents think I was the spawn of Satan. They walked away and Mom took me in. I remember piles of flowers and lots of sparkles at Mom and Dad’s wedding, smiles and big hugs later that day when Dad signed the papers to adopt me, and the loft we lived in before Frankie was born. Mom made me wear hats in public until I was old enough to understand a little about how mean people could be. By the time I was in fifth grade, those little knobs on my head had grown to about the length of my index fingers and each of them had a fleshy little fork at the end. The effect is kind of like a pronghorn antelope, so I’ve sort of adopted antelopes and reindeer as my spirit animals. Mom says that’s okay as long as I remember that I’m not anyone’s prey.

So one afternoon, Frankie and I got off the school bus and Dad was casually leaning against the bus stop shelter with both hands on his mobility cane. “Hi Daddy!” I called. Mom taught us to do that when we saw him, because he’s blind and that way he’d know where we were. Frankie came out a step behind me, shouted, “Hi Daddy!” and hurtled into Dad’s chest almost before Dad could brace himself. Dad laughed and straightened his red glasses while he tossed Frankie over his shoulder. At the time, I didn’t think this was weird – I thought everyone’s dad could casually carry a fifty-pound second grader on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Did you guys have a good day at school?”

“Yeah,” I said. “How was court?” I could tell he’d been to court because he was wearing a suit.

“Court went well,” Dad said, shuffling his cane into the hand wrapped around Frankie so he could offer me his free arm. “The judge accepted our motions.”

I took his arm above the elbow, like you’re supposed to when you guide a blind person. I knew Dad could find his way around the sidewalks of Hell’s Kitchen just fine without any help, but he liked the contact, and although I’d have died before I admitted it, so did I.

We only got a few yards down the sidewalk when Dad’s phone vibrated. He paused, taking his arm back so he could pull it out. “Sweetheart?” he answered. Then he said, “Yes, they just got off the bus. Yes, of course. I told you, it’s probably just a bluff. Everything will be okay.” He waited another moment, a smile growing on his face. “Well, it’s about time you had a turn being the anxious one. We’ll see you at home, Sweetheart.”

He put his phone away and Frankie took the opportunity to swing down from Dad’s shoulder. Dad skipped ahead to catch up with him, thrusting a hand out behind him, towards me. I took it and pulled myself up beside him. “What was that about?” I asked.

“Nothing to worry about,” Dad said casually. “How do you feel about Thai food for dinner?”

“You don’t usually meet us here,” I continued. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I meet you at the bus all the time. Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

“Good. I need a couple more years before I turn into your cringey old man.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re already cringey. I just don’t mind it that much.”

He barked a laugh.

It was only a five-minute walk to the brownstone, where we found Mom working on her laptop on the folding table in a corner of the living room while Lolo assaulted a coloring book on the coffee table with her crayons. When we came in, Mom got up and hugged each of us as we were trying to get our shoes off. “I love you,” she whispered in my ear when it was my turn. Dad kissed her and they went into the kitchen together while Frankie and I dropped our things off in our rooms.

An hour later, Uncle Foggy knocked on the door, and after him was Dad’s friend Mr. Marc, who drives us around when we need a car, and then Aunt Karen, Miss Jess and Sensei Danny, who teaches Kung Fu to me and Frankie. A few minutes later, two guys showed up with a ton of Thai food and we all sat down around the dining room table and had dinner. After we ate, Danny helped Mom clean up while Dad played dominoes with Uncle Foggy and Mr. Marc. Karen and Jess went out to the balcony for a while and when they came back they smelled like alcohol – real alcohol, not the beer the other adults had been drinking. Frankie chased Lolo all over the ground floor of the house while my mom’s pet raven, Harbinger, swooped and dove between them. I just sat and listened to all the grownups talking about politics and their various jobs and sports.

Later, Frankie sat down at the table and Aunt Karen pulled out a deck of cards. She was teaching us to play poker, but we weren’t supposed to tell Mom, so we called it Vermont Rummy when she was around. I was pretty sure she wasn’t fooled. No one ever fooled Mom. Harbinger perched on the back of Frankie’s chair and hissed when he started to put the wrong card down.

I have no idea how a raven learned to play Vermont Rummy.

Eventually, I realized that all the other adults were in the living room with Lolo. “You said he was just bluffing,” Dad growled quietly.

“That was before I realized he had a history of trafficking,” Uncle Foggy stage whispered. “The prosecution never mentioned it.”

I returned my attention to the game for a few moments. Then I heard Mr. Marc say, “Relax, Matt. Those kids might as well belong to all of us. We won’t let anything happen.”

“Is that what Khonshu thinks?” Jessica said, with a sneer in her voice.

“I’m not sure Khonshu understands the concept of children,” Marc replied lightly. “But he understands justice.”

“I don’t know if justice is what’s called for here,” Mom said coldly. That was pretty shocking. Mom and Dad were all about justice. What could possibly have made her that angry?

“Let’s talk about the facts.” Uncle Foggy sounded uncomfortable. For some reason, everyone acted scared when Mom was mad. I heard papers rustling, like he was bringing out a file. “Here’s what Karen turned up. Jess?”

“Dulce? It’s your turn.”

I jumped at Karen’s voice. “What are they doing in there?”

Her eyes widened, but she put on a fake, friendly smile. “Oh, you know. Grownup stuff.”

I started to stand up. “They’re talking about us.”

Karen stood up too. “It’s nothing to worry about. Let’s go upstairs. Frankie, do you want to show me your new video game?”

“Yeah!” Frankie shouted, jumping up. “It’s so cool! It’s like Pokemon and Fortnite at the same time, and there’s this really cool…” His voice trailed off into the distance as he pounded up the stairs.

I hesitated, glancing over my shoulder at the living room.

Karen came over and put an arm around my shoulders. “It’s nothing for you to worry about. You’re still a kid, let the grownups do the grownup stuff.”

I frowned, but I let her pull me up the stairs to Frankie’s room.

The next day, Dad took us to school on a city bus instead of just walking us to the school bus stop. When we arrived, he kissed us and wished us a good day, and then we headed in to our classrooms. When I glanced over my shoulder at him, he was talking to the police officer who always stood watch at the front door when school started.

At the end of the day, my teacher told me not to get in line for the bus because Dad was going to pick us up. Sure enough, he was outside the door when we stepped out into the late afternoon sunlight. Dad buzzed with tension as we walked to the bus stop. When the bus arrived, he hesitated for half a second, holding Frankie back from boarding. Then he ushered us aboard and climbed up behind us, paying our fares with his pass.

When we settled into our seats, I said, “What’s going on, Dad?”

“What do you mean?” His I’m-just-an-innocent-blind-guy routine infuriated Mom every time, and now I understood why.

“Yesterday you met us at the bus. Then you had some kind of power conference with our friends, and Aunt Karen said it was grownup stuff and I should leave it to the grownups, but I know you were talking about us. And today you’re all playing guard dog. What’s going on?”

He smiled ruefully, shaking his head. “Karen was right. And you are too smart for your own good.”

I folded my arms. “Obfuscation.”

His smile got bigger, more genuine. He liked it when I used lawyer words. “Look, Uncle Foggy and I tried to help someone, but it turned out that he was really a bad guy, and he got mad when we wouldn't help him do bad stuff. So we’re just trying to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

I pondered that for a moment. “He threatened us. Me and Frankie and Lolo.”

“He threatened all of us. Your mom and Lolo and Uncle Foggy are taking special precautions too. But it’s probably nothing to worry about.”

I would have believed him, if he weren’t fidgeting with the handle of his cane.

When we got home, Mr. Marc and Harbinger were tossing a toy mouse between them across our living room, while Mom cleaned the dining room. I was pretty sure she only did that when she was nervous. She had the furniture polish out and everything.

A couple of hours later, Uncle Foggy turned up with Miss Jess and some pizzas. We all ate together, and the messy, raucous, jovial conversation did a pretty good job of covering up the undercurrent of anxiety. But I noticed every time someone glanced over their shoulder at a strange noise, every time they looked at each other like they could read each others’ minds, every scramble to fill in the silence.

After dinner there was a little whispering, but no conference like the night before. Uncle Foggy played with Frankie, whom he called Mini-me, while Mom and Jess watched the latest episode of whatever silly romcom series they liked to watch and make fun of. Mr. Marc slipped out quietly. Dad called me over, sat Lolo on his lap and we read some books together. Reading with Dad wasn’t like reading with Mom, since Dad couldn’t actually read the pages. He had a device that converted text to a little Braille display, but it was slow, so a lot of the time I’d read the words and Lolo and I would describe the pictures to Dad.

Later, after bedtime, the door of my room creaked open and Frankie stuck his head in. “Prongs? You awake?” he whispered.

“Yeah, Mini-fog.”

He slipped in and shut the door behind him. He came over and climbed into my bed. “What’s with the grownups? Everyone’s all… buzzy and…” He patted his belly. “Tense.”

He could read emotions like Mom could, although he wasn’t very good at it yet. “A bad guy threatened our family,” I told him. “They’re worried that we’re not safe.”

In the dim light of my reindeer fairy lights, I saw him furrow his brow as he considered that. “Do you think we’re safe?” he said.

“Mom and Dad are pretty tough,” I said, yawning.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“And Mr. Marc is a…” I hesitated. I’d always assumed he was some kind of police officer, but he definitely wasn’t a New York City cop. “...FBI agent. Or something. He probably has a gun.”

Frankie snuggled in under the covers.

“There are lots of people looking out for us,” I continued. “And you got me, too.”

“I thought you hated me,” he sighed into my pillow.

“Well, sure,” I said, rolling over to wrap an arm around him. “But no one else is allowed to.”

**********

The next day, Dad walked us to school again, but after school, our sensei, Danny, was waiting for us.

“Your parents were busy,” he said, with a tight, fake smile. “So they asked me to take you home.”

I frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Danny said. “Everyone’s going to be okay.”

I didn’t like the sound of that, but I let it go.

“Are we going to have our lessons tomorrow like usual?” Frankie asked him.

“I don’t know,” Danny said. “Probably.”

“We can't skip a day! The competition is coming up,” I protested.

“You’ll do fine,” he said. “You guys are way ahead of most kids your age. You definitely have your dad’s talent.”

He meant Frankie did, of course. I’m adopted so it was impossible for me to have Dad’s anything, and that was really obvious in our Kung Fu lessons. I was still a little salty that Frankie was better than me, even though I was older and taller and had three whole years’ more training than he did.

“Was Daddy your student too?” Frankie asked.

“No, of course not,” Danny said, half-smiling. “He’s, like, ten years older than me.”

“I bet he could kick your butt!”

“Frankie!” I chided.

But Sensei Danny just laughed. “He did, once. Then we decided to be friends.”

When we got on the bus, Frankie kept getting out of his seat to show Danny his favorite moves. He was still punching and kicking air when we got off the bus on our block and started up the sidewalk. Danny was watching him with an approving smile, which was why I was the first to notice the white van parked illegally in front of our building.

“Hey, Danny…?” I said, stopping in my tracks.

Danny’s head swiveled toward the van as three big guys got out of it. He put a hand on Frankie’s chest to stop him. “Kids,” he said, “Go find a police officer.”

The men focused on us. One of them pulled out a knife with a complicated flipping movement.

“You guys are making a really big mistake,” Danny said to them as he dropped into wide-horse-stance with his hands raised in front of him. “You have no idea the nest of hornets you’re trying to kick.” He snapped at us, “Go!”

Frankie and I spun and bolted – right into the arms of two more big, scary guys behind us. The guy I ran into, an ugly guy with a black beanie over his bald head, tried to force a giant sack over me, but I screamed and threw my arms over my face to stop him. From the corner of my eye, I saw Frankie hop back from his attacker, a skinny guy in a green satin tracksuit, before the guy could bring the sack down on him. Quick as lightning, Frankie set his feet and punched Tracksuit Guy in the nuts, just like Danny taught us to.

Beanie guy had really long arms, though, and I couldn't get far enough out of his reach to copy Frankie. I was dodging back and forth, avoiding the sack, when suddenly Danny flew past me, foot-first, and kicked the guy in the middle of his chest. The thug tumbled backwards and Danny landed lightly on his feet. “Get your brother and go!” he gasped, turning back to the three guys running towards us.

I ducked past him and grabbed Frankie’s wrist. Tracksuit Guy stuck a leg out and swept our feet out from under us. We went down hard, scraping up our hands and knees, and then the guy jumped on Frankie, punching him (!!!) and shouting, “You little shit! You’re done!”

I got up about halfway, took two crouching steps, and hurled my entire body into the guy from the side. I punched him a good one in the jaw, which hurt all the way up to my wrist. He rolled under me and got his hands on my shoulders, but before he could push me away, I stuck my thumbs in his eyes. Tracksuit screamed and tossed me away from him.

Frankie was still on the ground, sobbing hard, bleeding from his nose. I scrambled over to him and tried to pull him up, but Tracksuit grabbed me by my hair and hauled me backwards. I screamed again and pulled away, feeling a lot of my hair rip out, and then one of the knife-wielding thugs flew backwards into Tracksuit. We all went down, but I was suddenly free, and I immediately bounced back to my feet.

I caught a glimpse of Danny fighting two guys at once, a ball of fists and feet, and then a sack fell over my face and Beanie Guy grabbed me around my elbows and lifted me off my feet. I screamed and kicked. Beanie Guy staggered, but the arm around me squeezed tighter, and he didn’t lose his grip. I threw my head back, trying to club him with my skull, but I couldn’t find him. I could hear Frankie nearby, screaming and crying, and he seemed to be moving along with me.

Somewhere behind us, I heard Danny shout, “No!” A van door slid open. The sounds of fighting stopped, except for Frankie struggling beside me, and footsteps running toward us. Beanie dumped me onto the scratchy carpet of the van, and I immediately wiggled around until I got the sack off my head, just as he tossed Frankie on top of me. Something mechanical clicked and clunked and loaded up like a jet engine. I finally got Frankie’s hair out of my eyes just in time to see Beanie pointing an impossibly huge and complicated silver gun at Danny.

A flash of yellow light centering on the gun blotted out my vision for a split second. I threw myself forward, but I couldn’t see anything and something flat and metallic crashed into my head. I fell back and my vision came back to show me the ceiling of the van. Beanie was sliding the gun back into the front seat of the car. Frankie snarled something like, “That's my sister, bitch!” and threw himself at the guy. I rolled over and pushed myself up, my ears ringing. Beanie caught Frankie and pinned his arms against his ribs, like he’d done with me, and used his other hand to drag the sack toward him.

I kicked at his hand, but missed. Where was Danny? We just had to fight until Danny got here and kicked this guy in the head and then we’d go home and be safe. Tracksuit Guy ran up to the van and helped Beanie get the sack open and stuff it over Frankie’s head. I tried to get to my feet, but the van spun and I couldn't find my balance.

They ripped open some duck tape and wrapped it around Frankie, securing his arms and the sack over him. I kept trying to get up. Danny would be here. I couldn’t let them hurt my brother. Danny would get here and rescue us.

Then Beanie growled to Tracksuit, “The blond guy dead?”

“Dunno,” Tracksuit shrugged. “Neutralized. Who cares?”

My stomach sank. I thought I was going to throw up.

Beanie Guy looked at me. “C’mere, princess.” I jerked back, but he caught my wrist and forced me closer to him. Tracksuit pulled another sack out from under a seat, and even though I fought them as hard as I could, they shoved it over my head and taped me up the same way they’d done to Frankie. Then they tossed both of us farther into the van. I heard them climb into the van and shut the door, and then we were moving. I couldn’t help it. I started crying.

*****

Head over to Ao3 for the next chapter!

[thequeenofcurses]

Between Sin and Salvation

summary: you're an assassin who is sent to kill the devil of hells kitchen. matt murdock/dd x f!assassin (but mostly gender neutral). drabble

a/n: little drabble based off this tiktok that so perfectly fits matt. i had never heard the song before, but it's pretty good if you wanna check it out. not sure if ill ever expand on this (should i???). it was just something i felt like writing after seeing the tiktok

The first time you meet Matthew Murdock, he’s standing in a courtroom, and you’re watching him from the rafters, a blade hidden beneath the slit of your dress. The Hand sent you to kill him — Daredevil, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, the man who has been a thorn in their side for far too long. But as you watch him argue with fire in his voice, righteousness bleeding from every word, you hesitate.

The first mistake.

You tell yourself it’s curiosity. He doesn’t fit the mold of the men you’ve killed before. Most of them are corrupt, self-serving. But he’s different. A man who fights not for power, but for people who have none. A foolish cause, but one that makes your hand falter on the hilt of your blade. You leave before the verdict is read, the echo of his voice still lingering in your ears.

The second time you meet, it’s on a rooftop, under the blood-red glow of the city. He already knows who you are.

“I could hear your heartbeat in the courtroom,” he says, voice steady, measured. “It didn’t waver. Not even when you decided not to strike.”

You smirk, twirling the dagger between your fingers. “Maybe I wanted a fair fight.”

He scoffs. “The Hand doesn’t do fair.”

“Neither do you.”

You lunge first. A dance of death, of power shifting back and forth, steel kissing flesh, fists finding their mark. He’s good. Too good. But so are you. The difference is you don’t fear the fall.

You slip past his defenses once, twice, drawing a thin line of crimson across his ribs. He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he smirks, as if enjoying the fight. And then he turns the tide, knocking you back against the edge of the rooftop, his baton pressed against your throat.

You should be afraid.

You’re not.

The second mistake.

The third time you meet, it’s in a dark alley, and you have him pinned against the brick, the blade at his throat. His breathing is ragged, but so is yours. His hands rest against your hips, a mockery of intimacy.

“I should kill you,” you whisper, more to yourself than him.

“But you won’t.”

His lips ghost over your jaw as he speaks, and your grip tightens on the blade. Your entire life, you’ve been a weapon, honed and sharpened, aimed at targets without question. But he makes you hesitate.

The third mistake.

The fourth time you meet, it’s in his apartment, after you’ve killed the men sent to replace you.

He doesn’t ask why.

He already knows.

Your clothes are soaked in blood yet none of it is  yours. His fingers trace over the bruises on your skin, mapping out sins neither of you can wash away. When he kisses you, it’s not soft nor gentle. It’s a war, a fight neither of you truly want to win.

Between sin and salvation, you find yourself wanting him more than the absolution you were never meant to have.

But there’s no happy ending for monsters like you.

Only the promise of more mistakes.

A/N: first time ever writing for matt/dd, but this was pretty fun.

dd divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more masterlist | marvel masterlist

[angellicxx]

Ricochet- Chapter 1: The Beginning

Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter x Vigilante Reader

Summary: In the streets of New York, injustice thrives in the dark. Despite your work alongside Daredevil, you have to dig deeper into the criminal underground of NYC to discover the roots of corruption. Your vigilante life becomes entangled with your past as you work to infiltrate the underground mob run by the infamous Kingpin, freshly released on parole. Loyal federal agent Benjamin Poindexter is tasked with overseeing Fisk’s house arrest– and aiding in his empire under the alias of Bullseye. The both of you become interlaced within the Volchiy, a Russian gang led by your childhood friend; you moonlight as a vigilante, trying to take down the mob from within, while Dex is unaware the new girl he can't get his mind off of is the same one in a mask he fights in the streets. Torn between secret identities, lies, and threat of betrayal, you and Dex navigate a tension filled clash between loyalty and justice.

warnings: drug dealing implication, fight scene, blood, mention of h@nging

slowburn, enemies to lovers, secret identities, bullseye x vigilante reader, use of (y/n), reader is an orphan

an: Chapter 1 of my first full length fic. Hopefully you like it and I actually finish.

disclaimer: ivan volkov is an oc and the volchiy gang is a fictional mcu gang i made up. i dont speak russian so sorry if any of the langauge is wrong or stupid.

wc: 3,500

YOU

New York City was different at night. 

A different city during the day, and different from anywhere else in the world. 

But to the fortunate millions who are unlucky enough to burrow within the labyrinth of streets nestled between skyscrapers and offices, twinkling streetlights and billboards that replaced the stars, living in rows of century old bricked townhomes and eating at their corner store bodegas– it was home. 

With its dreams and flaws and all, it was the one place where in a crowd of millions you could feel so close– yet so alone. 

You weren’t a stranger to the deep poison that drained into the ground of the city. Bloody– like black bile– the cruelty of crime and lies that had been ever present as a New York native. 

Justice had to be paid with a high price, but only by those willing to sell. Even with the haunt of knowing there was at least one person out in the streets below you who needed help, just someone to be noticed and saved by a dashing hero in the night, was enough to send you on the streets every evening in a skin tight costume, face guarded in a mask.

Every night was different. 

Tonight could change. 

“(Y/N).” A voice called from the other side of the roof as the access door’s hinges squeaked in the wind. 

Devil horns pointed to the heavens as the fellow masked hero walked across the roof, where soot and dirt had caked into layers from decades of the building's abandonment. 

“You’re late, Matt.” You with a tinge of annoyance through a cracking smile. This wasn’t an uncommon late appearance, but you didn’t mind; it gave you more time alone to breathe.

This has been your routine for the past year. 

Late nights alongside Matt. 

You couldn’t picture what your life would be like if you hadn't crossed paths. There were few heroes in New York, some that were unknown to anyone but thugs in the shadows. But meeting Matt put you on a clear path. It was refreshing to come across a normal person who understood you, even if you met that someone by nearly bashing each other's ribs in. 

 Your tired arms pushed your body up from its spot of legs dangling over the ledge, tingling as they gained feeling to stand up. 

“Apologies. Got held up in the office.” He flashed a charismatic smile from beneath his half exposed cowl, stepping onto the ledge next to you. 

You rolled your head over your shoulders, stretching your back with a scoff. “Don’t let your job get in the way of your hobby.”

“Ouch.” Matt said. 

“And to think you actually enjoyed working with me.”

“No,  no, I’m strictly here for business.” You patted a gloved hand over his padded shoulder and sighed. “Where are we going tonight?”

“Yesterday, there was a robbery on 56th. Three men from the Italians, all armed with guns and high out of their minds. Through their drugged rambling they managed to tell me about a warehouse at the piers; they said it was a hideout for some operation, only ever occupied for drops and pickups. Figured we would check it out tonight and see where it leads.” 

You nodded, eyes wandering to the river distant in the horizon, the black waters gleaming with reflections of moonlight. “Sounds fun.” You said, pulling on your mask. 

The warehouse was near the docks– an old canning factory in the early industry days turned moonshine distributor in the twenties. Abandoned for decades the red brick had faded and been engulfed in tangles of long ivy that covered the frosted pane windows. 

Semi-trucks were parked for the night on the surrounding lot, stacks of shipping containers and a chain link fence keeping it guarded from a pedestrian road and isolated to the water. There was a small dock of rotting wood with a single boat bobbing in the black water. 

You jumped the fence after Matt, the impact absorbing into the heel of your boot as you scanned the area. “It looks like a drop point.”

Matt rolled his shoulders as he crept around a shipping container. “Does it?”

You ignored him, piecing together as many clues as possible. “Shipments must be coming down from the Hudson, either local or overseas. Did the Italians say who owned it?”

“No, he passed out before he could even say what it was. It's empty, smells like gunpowder.”

“Weapons?”

He nodded. “Or there was trouble here recently.”

You managed to find an unlocked side door, making your way inside to the spacious warehouse. There was a layer of stagnant dust covering pillars of stacked crates and workbenches, the faint glow of a lantern as you peered from behind a wall. 

Before you could advance further inside, a glove layered hand clutched onto your shoulder, pulling you back behind the corner. 

“Stop.” Matt whispered. 

You quickly scanned the area and tried to listen for what Matt was sensing. “What’s wrong?”

His head tilted. “Five men, armed. Coming from the dock.”

Through a shattered window you could see it, a second boat tethered at the water and the muffled sound of speech. 

“Shit .” You muttered. “Great timing.”

There was a rumbling of an iron door and footsteps as the men entered– foreign speech echoed across the walls. A loud crash sent them into disarray. You peered over to see a crate had been knocked over, black guns scattered over the floor as they began to yell at eachother, fingers pointed at a retreating peer. 

Matt took this opportunity to creep from the shadows, throwing a punch into the back of a straggler at the edge of the argument. You quickly followed suit, throwing your momentum into a kick that sent another on the ground as the other three were too busy engulfed in their bickering to notice they had visitors. 

You were quick in the dark, it was where you worked best. Maybe that was why you and Matt worked so well together– you both had an advantage of being invisible. 

You propelled yourself with your legs, wrapping them around the smaller of the accusing pair as you wrapped his neck and slammed him into the ground. 

Despite your stealth, it came at the cost of your strength, especially against guys twice your bodyweight. You groan as you hit the pavement, thankful his head collided and knocked him out on the first try.

The other men finally caught on to the ambush. They snapped from the dispute, reaching for their holsters only to be hit away with a baton. One of the guys was on the ground before you even managed to stand back up. The last one standing, the guy who had dropped the crate, stood frozen– scrambling to unlock his safety as he walked backwards into a pile of boxes that clattered over him. 

Your smirk dropped when an arm wrapped from behind you. Before you could dodge the impending blow to your face, Matt had pulled him off of you and pummeled his face.

Halfway between consciousness and falling to the floor from his knees, Matt held him up by his collar, fist raised. “Who do you work for?”

His head rattled frantically, pleading to the dark eyes of Daredevil’s mask. “N-n--nobody. N-o work-” Matt hit him again, grasping a tighter hold and looming over him. 

“Who do you work for?” 

The man choked, blood spurting out of his throat and dripping to the ground, eyes near swollen shut as he managed the words. 

“Ivan Volkov.”

The name echoed in your mind as Matt struck a blow to his bloodied face, a quick knockout as he fell limp to the floor. There was a moment of silence– only heavy breathing echoing through the large warehouse.

Matt was listening, slowly turning to look at his partner who hadn’t moved.

 “You know him.”

Not a question– a confrontation. You really hated having a human lie detector to work with.

Suppressed memories of your childhood seemed to flood in with no reason. Just one name and you were suddenly seven years old again; running through the streets of Brooklyn with your friends to escape classes taught by the nuns, scavenging for change in the gutter to buy candy and spend on petty bets, breaking windows with rocks to enter the abandoned buildings just like this one. 

Just parentless, uncontrolled children–  dreams still far and the ever lingering hope of finding a family one day. Through those early formidable years you had countless siblings. 

Ivan Volkov was one of them. 

A few years older than you, Ivan was orphaned at age ten when his father was imprisoned for his position in the Russian mob, only to be found hanging in his cell two days before the case went to trial. As far as you ever knew, Ivan’s mother was a nameless woman never present in his life, most likely killed for knowing too much when he was a child. 

Nonetheless, Ivan was one of the few older kids at St. Michaels Orphanage. Aggressive, erratic, and manipulative– how he was labeled in his file. But you only knew Ivan as sweet, caring and funny. 

He was just troubled, like the rest of you. 

He would leave some nights and return bloodied in the morning; it was only a secret from the nuns that Ivan was slipping into a life similar to his father’s. You and the other children had watched him steal and do deals in the park near the church. He would only smile at you and buy ice cream with the leftover money so you all kept your mouths shut and never questioned anything.

He was like a brother to you. 

When he aged out, you and three other kids cried all night; one of you even begged him to adopt you all. Ivan never visited after he left. He moved on in life. 

But everytime a group of men in dark sunglasses, trench coats, and brooding energies walked down the street near gang territory you looked extra closely to see if you could recognize his face.

Now, years later, the truth was revealed. Heavy dust in the air and echoing clatters of distant machinery confirmed you weren’t dreaming. Ivan was alive and making a name for himself. 

Reminiscence broke as you furrowed your brow and blinked your dry eyes to focus, a reluctant nod and click of the tongue.

“Yeah. Yeah I know him.”

Matt was watching you closely, reading you through subtle movements. “Have you worked for him before?” 

You shook your head, sweat dripping as you rubbed your mask-covered brow. “We- uh,  grew up together– in the orphanage. He left as soon as he turned eighteen and I never knew what happened to him. Last I knew he had run off to join a gang his dad had been a part of.”

Matt cocked his head, pieces coming together. “Dimitry Volkov, right? Christ, I remember studying that case in law school. He had the cops running circles back then– the biggest weapons bust in city history.” 

“And now I guess he’s built it back up.” You reached your hand into an opened crate, fingers brushing cold metal as you hauled a handgun from its depths. You studied it in your hands– the weight, model, balance. As you turned the hilt you could see it. Carved into the shiny black was two thin converging lines, a watermark– “ V ”. 

You swallowed, holding it out for Matt. 

“Volchiy .”

 He sighed as he took it. “Russians.” He removed a glove and brushed his thumb over the inscription. “I felt the same thing on the guns I found on the Italians. It's new– oiled. My guess, they were manufactured abroad and altered in the city. The Volchiy are dealing them underground so the weapons can’t be traced. There's probably hundreds of them distributed in the streets right now.” 

You stood silent. The warehouse was filled with boxes. “Well, what do we do now?”

“They’re going to realize their stashpoint is compromised, probably move it or reinforce security. For all we know there could be dozens of locations scattered across the city– factories, hideouts, headquarters. It runs deep. This is just the tip of the iceberg.”

“What, we just leave an anonymous tip to the NYPD? ‘Hey, here's a new crime ring, good luck.’ We have to find where this leads.”

Matt was hesitant, placing down the gun. You knew the reason he didn’t want to keep searching. 

“ Fisk .” You hissed, the name a curse. “You think he’s involved?”

He lowered his head, shaking it.  “I know he’s in charge.” 

“He’s on house arrest. He got the justice you wanted. He can’t possibly be doing damage from a penthouse.” You protested, but it was no use. Fisk haunted Matt more than you could realize. You could tell his release from prison infuriated him, despite when he claimed the FBI had the right to keep him locked away under supervision, even if it was in the comfort of a luxury apartment. 

“He’s got the whole city wired from that penthouse. He’s pulling strings with the FBI– he’s only locked in there because he wants to be. He’s brutal, (Y/N). A man like Fisk– we can’t.”

You nodded despite your disappointment. This was a serious lead Matt was willing to abandon just because of his past with Fisk. 

“Fine. I guess we’ll just stick to disarming the thugs on the streets after they’ve already striked.” You took one more look around the spacious warehouse before stepping over a knocked out gang member to the open door. 

You were exhausted climbing up the fire escape to the roof, gripping the rusted rails to haul yourself up the next step. You were relieved to pull off your mask and breathe uncovered air when you landed on the same decrepit rooftop overlooking Hell’s Kitchen. You and Matt had made your way back through the shadows in silence, tensions high about your splitting decisions. He finally broke it as he lingered behind you. 

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). Really. If things were different, then maybe. But right now– it’s just not safe.”

You understood. You hated that he was partly right, Fisk wasn’t a figure to be messed with. Especially when every criminal organization was under his command. Just going after one would domino all the others to come to aid. But deep in your bones you knew there was more. This was the whole point– protecting the city. If just one guy got to dictate how it ran, then there was no justice at all.

You turned around, nodding with sincerity. “I get it Matt. It’s alright. I’m sure there's something else we can do.”

He read you for a moment, a twitch of a smile when he realized you were telling the truth. “Thank you.” He gave a nod of approval before turning around. “Stay safe (Y/N).” 

“You too, Matt. Good night.” 

“Good night,” Matt called out as he vanished down the fire escape. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

You rolled your eyes and beckoned a wave, crouching back down onto your rooftop perch, gripping your mask in your hands-- hard. A sigh of aggravation fell through the air, caching back in your throat as you looked up. 

Your eyes lingered in the skyline. Nothing felt so far anymore. Everything that was happening was in your territory– the one you promised to protect. 

 It was right there, stretching its influence across the city and trickling into Hell’s Kitchen.

It was a dumb thought, really. But what more was there to lose? How many people could get caught in the crossfire before you decided to sacrifice your integrity? 

You tucked your mask into your belt, taking one more glance at the alive city before retreating home. 

It was time to pay an old friend a visit. 

DEX

Dex was haunted. 

By the things he’s done, the things he was bound to do all over again. 

He fell for it.

 He fell right into Fisk’s grasp. 

Every order he followed, it was because he wanted to.

Testified in the trial for Wilson Fisk’s parole and appeal. 

He lied under oath– not like the truth has ever mattered. 

He took out the fellow agents who refused loyalty. 

Wore a mask.

Pulled the trigger. 

Killed people.

The rest of the FBI would move on from this assignment and continue their work. Dex would be left to linger in the past-- more trapped within the house arrest boundary than Fisk ever was. 

The thick bulletproof glass was the only thing keeping him from falling over sixty stories to the muck filled streets of New York. His gaze fell over the skyline, light filled windows of the Midtown high rises imitating the stars in the midnight darkness. 

The sterile apartment of Fisk was like a familiar sanctuary above the city.

It was the same way he had his apartment– clean and orderly. The only thing visible in the fresh white painted walled penthouse were the dozens of modern art pieces on display at every turn, a museum worth millions for only Fisk and his wife to see. 

At first, Dex could understand how only a deranged monster like Fisk could find solace in those strange pieces. 

As time grew on, he began to grow fond of them too.

His favorite one was hanging right in the foyer.

Much of the art Fisk kept was just geometric shapes of paint on canvas, nonsensical patterns he never cared for of bland color.

This one was different.

Organic. 

Messy.

Raw. 

It wasn’t art to him– it was real.

Splatters of crimson that stained the linen canvas, no clues of the former cream color it once was. Streaks of different hues and splotches of unidentified circles. It was chaotic, but organized. 

Just a red, bloody, mess. 

For the quick glance where his eyes fell each day when he entered the front door, his dread disipated. He would forget he was in the same sterile apartment with the one task of being ordered around by Fisk; instead he was back in the field, gun in hand and steady throw at his will– complete precision and control. This was the only art in the world he could truly digest. 

Every time he saw it there was a reminder that the artist– a name of a painter unknown to him and probably long dead– understood him. 

Even with the entire city in his field of vision, Dex’s mind was far behind him in the entryway, glaring at the red and trying to understand it. 

“Special Agent Poindexter.” 

A gravelly voice echoed through the abnormally large apartment,  rippling a chill through Dex’s spine, ears perking up as he turned to face the dim lit room.

The brooding force in a white suit– Wilson Fisk stood across the living room, hands behind his back like a marble statue. 

“Sir.” Dex straightened, legs shoulder width apart and arms crossed over his thundering chest. 

A vicious smile crept across his round face, city lights from the window bouncing off his bald head as he crept closer to the agent. 

“Please, there is no need for formalities. I owe my gratitude for what you have done. For me, for Vanessa.”

Dex flexed his hands, fingers aching and knuckles bruised.

Killed people.

Fisk began his creep forward, careful steps across the white tiles that reverberated through the sparsely furnished room until he was parallel to the windows next to him. 

“I am proud of your work.” Fisk sighed out the reluctant praise. Dex could tell the corruptive man wasn’t one to hand out sincerities like this.

“From that very night you saved my life, I knew you had an exceeding talent. One that could never be fully appreciated under the constraints of a federal agency. Where rules and standards demanded you set aside these strengths and neglect your abilities for a noble pursuit. The Bureau never appreciated you the way I do, Benjamin. With your help, I can restore the city. To the way it needs to be. Tamed. Disciplined.”

Dex rocked back on his heels to adjust his footing, becoming more aware of his time standing all day. “Thank you sir. It’s an honor to work for you.” The words forced from his voice, a tinge of a smile and nod at his approval. 

“Now that I am free, the true work may begin. My time incarcerated has enacted a toll on the order of everything. They are becoming more sloppy and arrogant, my workers. I would go myself, but as you know I am still constrained.” He smiled. 

Dex’s eyes flicked to the black banded ankle monitor, light beeping in the dark over Fisk’s pant leg. “My prospects are in desperate need of management in my absence. It is much to ask of you– but it must be done.”

Dex rolled his shoulders, glancing from the city to his boss. 

“Anything you need, Fisk. I’ll do it.”

“Good. Very well.” Kingpin grinned. “How familiar are you with my empire?”

[graves-doodles]

Behold, my favorite blorbos 🤲

[bullseyelover]

you’re so smooth. if you want you can bite me. and i won’t move.

vacillator by ethel cain

[procrastinatingacademic]

Updated Masterlist

Started: 28 February 2025

Last updated: 11 June 2025

Total works: 36

Angst💥; Fluff💫; Suggestive themes🔥

I don't write smut. All fics are 'x Reader' unless stated otherwise. I strive to mostly write gender-neutral Reader-characters, and I don't use Y/N.

DC Comics

The Scarecrow/Dr. Jonathan Crane

Ongoing series - There's nothing to fear when I'm with you (Jonathan x female OC)

Fighting boredom

John Contantine

Ongoing series - Restless: A Constantine/Good Omens Crossover (currently on hiatus)💫🔥(No Reader-character)

The Riddler/Edward Nygma

Starlight is for dancing🔥

Black Mask/Roman Sionis

We were together, I forget the rest💫🔥

The Sandman

The Corinthian

(The lesser of) two evils💥💫🔥

Life is the flower for which love is the honey💥💫

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless

To see a world in a grain of sand (Blind!Reader)

Grishaverse

Kaz Brekker

Stay💫

It is lightning that does the work💥💫

Nikolai Lantsov/Sturmhond

A mother is the truest friend we have💥💫 (Mother Figure!Reader)

Two ships in the night💫

The Hunger Games

Haymitch Abernathy

The Survivors 💥(Haymitch x female OC; slow burn) (Ongoing series)

Criminal Minds

Dr. Spencer Reid

Experience💫

Your song💫

Kidnapped for the vibes💥💫 (UnSub!Spencer Reid)

Interview with the Vampire (2022)

Armand

Would you like to be?💥💫

House of the Dragon

Larys Strong

Darkness shared by two💫🔥

Marvel

Dr. Stephen Strange

A little less awkward💫

Daredevil/Matt Murdock

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard, are sweeter 💫🔥

Greek Mythology

Apollo

Apollo - Autism💥💫 (No Reader-character)

Hermes

Hermes - Kleptomania💥 (No Reader-character)

Hades

Hades - Separation Anxiety Disorder💥💫 (No Reader-character)

Hypnos

WIP: Hypnos - Narcolepsy

Potterverse

Newt Scamander

Hold me close💥💫

Sirius & Regulus Black

The best way to make children good is to make them happy💥💫 (Parental Figure!Reader)

Supernatural

Lucifer

Wings of snow💫

Eyes of fire🔥

Gabriel

WIP: Run away with me, mon amour

Arcane

Viktor

Memorise you💥💫🔥 (Blind!Reader)

The Witcher (Netflix)

Jaskier

Sing a song only you can hear💫

Untitled WIP

Critical Role/The Legend of Vox Machina

Percival "Percy" de Rolo

While the music lasts💫

Prodigal Son

Malcolm Bright

Shut your eyes and see💥💫 (Blind!Reader)

Sherlock (BBC)

James "Jim" Moriarty

The world is boring for boring people💥💫🔥

Good Omens

Ongoing series - Restless: A Constantine/Good Omens Crossover (currently on hiatus)💫🔥(No Reader-character)

Various

The Three Musketeers (Anderson, 2011)

Aramis/René d'Herblay

Be kind, aim for my heart💫

Le Comte de Monte-Cristo (de La Patellière & Delaporte, 2024)

Edmond Dantès/The Count of Monte Cristo

Count your blessings

Amsterdam

LA by Night/Vampire the Masquerade

Robert Garrick

All your tomorrows start here💫

[jaggedamethyst]

when matt murdock has allergies…

pairing: matt murdock x reader (not gender specific in this one)

content: matt has allergies and has to tackle every day life without his senses. one shot, angst (i guess)

notes: this is my first official post (omg?) it may not be great, but i hope to get better as i post more. this one is a bit dramatic but i mostly read angst to feel something so it had to be done. 💋 also i have sinus issues and cannot function so he’s a direct representation of me ty. 🥹

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Matt has allergies. He figured that on top of balancing his firm, relationships, and his night time activities, that telling people he had the occasional sniffle was just juvenile.

Trivial, meaningless, and stupid. Whatever negative adjective he could muster up wasn’t enough to describe how pointless it felt to explain himself to everyone he came in contact with.

Having become reliant on other senses to become his sight, the “occasional sniffle” was anything short of minor. As mucus filled his sinuses and blocked his ears—sound became substantially more quiet. Distance was hard to measure. The inevitable fatigue he felt increased all sensations Matt felt—skewing his perception of the everyday item. Usually perfectly tempered coffee now left blisters on his tongue. His soft bed sheets feeling like sandpaper. His nose constantly swollen and red with the many smells of New York streets. His respiratory problems became eras of overcompensation—using one sense here, another there, and none working.

He was always willing to put in the work, to compensate, until it came to you. An immediate wave of defeat washed over him when he couldn’t sense you.

You with an amazing smile he loved to illicit.

You with a laugh so sweet he could almost taste the hint of saccharine.

You with the soft skin, riddled with divots and creases he’d long committed to memory.

When Matt couldn’t sense you, couldn’t compensate and make you smile, hear you laugh, or feel your skin…he wasn’t himself. It seemed counterintuitive to give up, when in all other areas he’d worked so hard to keep up. But with you, the current came. Tides of disappointment and anger continued to sink him further.

When you eventually arrived to his apartment, Matt remained motionless. You both knew that was unlike himself.

It was easy to let your empathy wash over you, to let the tears come knowing someone you love is suffering. But to let that feeling grasp you was to drown, and what good is that to someone already fighting the tides?

You quickly sprang into action, looking for the medication you knew worked best for him. He didn’t take it yet, you knew. Matt was in self destruct mode.

As you softly approached the couch, hand outstretched, his lack of reaction struck you. To Matt, the cushion beside him dipped, the filling scratching at his ear drums like the incessant rats that ran the street. Your hands, enveloping his cheeks with an otherwise soothing touch, felt like two ice packs—endlessly cold from the harsh weather outside.

The chill traveled to his own hands. Then, a slight sensation he could only assume was an affirming squeeze. The frost of your hands subsequently moving up to his mouth, giving him something. He couldn’t care enough to resist if he wanted.

Matt let the idea of you be his Moon—controlling his ocean of emotion and pulling the tides back slightly. Hearing you continue to mumble to him was a tranquility that saved him time and time again.

Matthew couldn’t hear you, but he knew that everything would be alright. The bliss of rest quickly approach and with it, a prayer to God that he would be reunited with his love again.