#matt murdock/reader

[readscreamrepeat]

Knees, Now. ~Writing Prompt~

Warning/Tags: 18+ Only, Light Sexual Tension, Snarky Matt, A bit of a late-night scare. 

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem Reader.

Summary: When you’re caught, you’re caught.

Prompt: "Get on your knees. Now."

Also Posted on AO3: Knees, Now by AilaTheTiefling

Notes:

I asked to join @mattmurdocksscars 2.5k follower celebration, and chose to write on this prompt, this was absolutely not where I thought this was going to go…but here it is. 

This is my first Reader POV story! Please let me know your thoughts. I ran it through edits, but I am sure it needs a second scan. :) Thanks for checking it out!

There were several things you were sure of at this moment. 

One: it was too late to be heading home from the bookstore, but you couldn't help it! You had gotten sucked into that new fantasy book that was released, and the store was quiet, comfortable, and warm. Your apartment's heating had been on the fritz, and the landlord hadn't come by to take a look since you phoned about the issue. Besides, your apartment wasn't that far. 

Two: Matt, would have a cow, once you spilled the beans that you walked home this late, he always was on some shit about it not being safe…granted his job as lawyer did leave him looking at the worst cases possible but…well, if something was going to happen, it was going to happen in daylight or nighttime. 

Three: There was someone following you, you dared not turn around.

Boy, were you in for an earful from Matt.

Your hand clenching around the pocket knife in your coat pocket, flicking the safety off…

You didn't have a purse on you, just a small wallet tucked in your bra, with your ID, Subway Pass, and a few dollars. Your phone was also in your jacket pocket with the knife. Before you could pull the knife… You miscalculated the distance between you and the attacker, as a rough, gloved hand gripped your upper arm and swung you into the nearest alleyway.

You sucked in air as you felt your body swing towards the wall, but your head never hit the brick wall behind you, as a large hand cradled the back of your skull. Your grip faltered on your knife, your eyes clamped shut.

“Damn it”

That voice, you cracked one eye open, and were face to face with Matt. A bit shocked, you stared up at him as his eyes danced around your face, towards your chest. “What. Are. You. Doing?” It was a low growl that vibrated where your bodies touched, your heart pounding.

What were you doing? What was he doing? Your eyes dropped down, no red glasses, no cane, dressed all in black, as you trailed down, your eyes widened further, not gloved hands but wrapped. 

“Matthew.” You hiss out at him…”You terrified me.” His lips tilted upwards into a small smirk, leaned closer to your ear. 

“Sweetheart, be glad it was me.” 

There was something dark in his gaze, something a bit off. You tried to reply, but you only opened and closed your mouth a few times. Your heart had started to calm, but Matt had not pulled his body from you. As you looked closer at his face in the dimly lit alley, you saw blood trickling down his hairline, over his eyebrow, and into his eye. He did his best to mimic locking eyes with you, his eyebrows drawn downward, a small sign of his anger.

“So, what are you doing out here?”

Finally, his question sparked a fuse inside of you. 

“Me? What are you doing? For god's sake, you're bleeding, no glasses, no cane…and dressed all in bla…black in the middle of...” 

You paused…and something clicked. His outfit was familiar, his demeanor, the blood…

“No…no fuckin’ way.” Matt didn't move, you were sure he wasn't breathing with how tightly you both were wound together. 

Matt had taken a risk grabbing you; he knew he wouldn't be able to play off his current appearance…he was so close to telling you anyway, but when he saw you walking home, this late at night, smelling like espresso coffee and new books. He felt a bit of his control snap. He had lost his lead on the Russian mobster he was chasing due to him disappearing down a manhole. He was already feeling rather pissed and this was just the icing on the proverbially cake. AFTER he had told you to get home before it was too late at night. 

“I'm doing what I should be.” 

And as he said it, he grabbed you by the waist, pulled you up, and threw you over his shoulder as if it was nothing! You squeaked in response, as you felt him move quickly through back alleys, around corners, the small light that did filter in as he moved by…you saw a black mask hanging from his back pocket. The devil wears black in hell's kitchen.

You assumed from the direction you were headed that he was taking you back to his apartment. Matt didn't say anything, so during this time, you pondered. The scars, the strange bruises, the cuts, the blood, the first aid kit, just all of the damn things! All this time, from photos you had seen in papers, to whispers on the streets of hell's Kitchen, it never dawned on you that he kept his eyes covered. Holy shit! How did he do all that he did? 

“Matt…?”

He made a shushing noise as he set you down. “Not now, climb.” He pointed up his apartment building's fire escape. “To the roof, we have to go through my door there.” You hesitantly looked up, it was quite a climb but well if anyone did make you feel safe it was Matt…and double so since Matt was Daredevil! “I won’t let anything happen to you.” As he nudged you to the ladder.

The climb was silent again, and as soon as you both made it to the roof, he grabbed your wrist, and spun you to him,  the door knob so close to your fingers. 

“Now, sweetie, you tell me why you were out so late, and I'll answer those questions burning on the tip of your tongue.”

His breath was warm against your parted lips, his forehead pressed into yours. “Do I need a good reason? Matt. What the hell?” Your free hand gripped at his black shit. “Matt?” You didn't even know how to ask, and as you said his name, you tugged his shirt back and forth. 

He chuckled from his chest, it was deep, and you felt a warmth flutter in your stomach. 

Thick biceps, strong legs, tight grip.

“Fine, it's exactly what you think…” Matt paused, tilted his head a bit to the side. “I was out for a nightly run.” no fucking way. Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head… “There's only one reason you should be doing that.” His lips were near your ear now, and goosebumps spread across your arms. 

“Excuse me?” You said, turning, your mouth grazing his stubbled jaw. “Rolling your eyes like that.” There was no way. 

“I wanted to tell you sooner, I almost did the other night…when you wanted me to stay in bed with you at your place.” Matt paused and buried his face into the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath. Matt had not exposed this side of himself so willingly…but he felt like you would not judge, or run away from him. Matt had learned enough about you these past few months that this felt right.

“I'm the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, I guess now they are calling me Daredevil.” He nipped at your neck, with small fluttering bites, and your knees almost buckled. You wanted to say more, wanted to ask, but you felt like he would give you what you most wanted regardless. 

“I can do these things because I can hear, smell, and touch things with my heightened senses. That accident I was in when I was young changed me."

Matt had been telling you some things in bits and pieces, and as he spoke, you realized that for months, he had been dropping hints about those heightened senses. The way he reacted to your scent when you had never even put anything on, to the noises you made while you were pushed deep into the mattress, holding back the sounds in your chest, the way he made comments on things you said well out of earshot.

The whole time he explained things to you about being Daredevil or his sense, he would nip or drag his tongue along your neck, and once he felt he had aired enough of his secrets, Matt pulled back, letting you go. You wobbled where you stood, a bit breathless, a bit stunned, very excited. 

“I knew you were hiding something.” The words came out breathless, in a bit of a pant. “The ways you acted were a bit…strange.” 

He raised his eyebrow at you, not taking the bait of your comment. “Hmm, now answer my question?”

 No wonder he had not wanted you out at night! Damn it. You had zero defense! “I…umm…lost track of time.” He smiled, showing teeth, a bit of blood dribbled onto his lips, and your gaze followed as it dripped off his chin.  “Reading…at the store.”

“Not good enough.” He said as he pushed your shoulder, to turn and go towards the door. “Downstairs.” His request sounded more like a command, so you obeyed. The whole time down the stairs, you spoke, nervous anticipation building in your chest.

“Look…if…I had known you were the devil…I would have, I don't know, believed you?”

Matt scoffed behind you, and you could hear the tear of velcro as he began to remove his boxing wraps. 

“You'd believe the devil over Matt?”

 You giggled a bit under your breath. “Well… I mean..it's you, both of you.” 

Once you made it down the last few steps, Matt was on you, quick, his mouth pressed into yours, hard, teeth biting at your lips, tongue licking over the light indents he made. Matt's blood tasted so good on your tongue.

You responded in kind, trying to run your hands over his chest, but as you raised your arms, you felt his right hand clamp both of your wrists tightly, and suddenly, a cloth pressure began to wind itself around your wrist, over your knuckles. “Matt!” he was binding your hands with his boxing wraps!

“I”

Nip

“Told you” 

Bite

“To be”

Kiss

“Safe.” 

The Velcro was loud as it connected in your ears. Your hands bound in front of you, your fingers only slightly able to wiggle. You were hot, panting, swearing under your breath, as Matt stood in front of you, bathed in a dim light from the billboard outside, his lean frame clad in all black, and god, he was perfect, his mouth red, swollen, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. You'd do anything for this devilish man, as the most sinful thing you heard all night rumbled from his mouth.

“Get on your Knees, now.”

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Songbird

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

My Masterlist

gif by me

Summary: Angsty blurb about Matt hearing you after your breakup and yearning to be yours again.

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on Tumblr to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platforms I currently post on are Tumblr and AO3. Thanks!*

WC: 696

Matt's hand tightened around his cane as he walked, almost trance-like steps taking him the few blocks north of Hell's Kitchen. He knew it would only be another moment or so until he could hear it.

The bustling streets in the breezy summer evening were packed with people, barely paying attention to the blind man as he passed by. He tried his best to tune them all out; the tourists leaving Central Park for the evening, the hotdog stands selling their wares, the New Yorkers eager to get home from work and to their evening activities.

He only sought out one sound. You.

As his feet reached the steps leading up to the Metropolitan Opera, he could finally hear it. The melody that haunted him cut through the walls and windows and straight to his ears. He held his breath as the words rang through all the other noise and struck his heart.

"Mi chiamano Mimì, ma il mio nome è Lucia. La storia mia è breve. A tela o a seta ricamo in casa e fuori…"

Spanish and Italian were sister languages and the little he’d studied in college always allowed him to get the gist of the Italian lyrics you sang. His heart swelled with pride to hear you now executing them flawlessly, though the sorrow behind them stung at his heart like a swarm of bees.

Your voice is what made him fall for you in the first place. Hearing your clear soprano sing out through the streets of Hell's Kitchen as you rehearsed in your apartment. Perfectly in tune and flawless.

"Mi piaccion quelle cose che han sì dolce malìa, che parlano d'amor, di primavere, di sogni e di chimere, quelle cose che han nome poesia… Lei m'intende?"

A tear slipped down his cheek as you continued your aria to a packed auditorium behind the doors which he stood on the other side of. If only things had been different, he could instead be inside. Sitting in the front row in his best suit to witness the biggest moment of your career. You’d probably have whispered a sweet message to him from backstage, meant for only his sensitive ears to hear before you stepped in front of the lights and dazzled the public with what he knew from the moment he met you: that you were the most spectacular person he’d ever met.

"Mi chiamano Mimì, il perché non so. Sola, mi fo il pranzo da me stessa."

If only he hadn’t messed it all up. His double life as a lawyer and vigilante keeping him so busy that you always came last on his priority list. As your opera career grew and grew, the nights apart did too. You in some city halfway across the world and him in a courtroom or an alleyway. When you came home how you’d beg for connection that he couldn’t quite give to you. Then came the fighting and the tears. Then the making up only to run into the same frustrations a few weeks later. And through it all, how he could never quite be there for you in the way you were for him.

You finally wised up and one day had enough. All he had now was a voicemail from you saying goodbye and the scent of you that hung around the apartment and haunted him for months. 

Now here you were, the biggest job of your career. A principle role with the Met. Mimi in La Boheme. And he wasn’t by your side to enjoy the moment with you. He yearned to hear your voice ring through his apartment once more, to be beside you as you celebrated this achievement. Together.

"Ma i fior ch'io faccio, ahimè! non hanno odore. Altro di me non le saprei narrare. Sono la sua vicina"

The final note as you finished your aria hung in the air and he felt the oxygen finally fill his lungs in the moment of silence before the audience erupted into applause. He wiped away the tear on his cheek and turned to walk back to Hell’s Kitchen, determination etched in his face. He had to get you back. One way or another.

[gilverrwrites]

Ooh I was the person who asked if you wrote for Marvel and someone beat me to asking about Matt. Clearly we are on same wave length. His grin drives me crazy 😵‍💫

How teasing do you think he would be in bed?

Exceptionally so. It's just in his nature to be cheeky.

He's the kind to be like "Yes, Dear? Do you need something?" When you call out his name.

"Matty... I need more... please" You're complain when he's grazing your sweet spot with the lightest flick of his tongue. He'll sound so sweet, and clueless as he asks, "More what? I don't know what you mean, you'll have to explain it to me." and then he'll laugh, with a shit eating grin when all you do is whine and try to grab for him.

And if you think he's not using his lawyer tactics on you, you're wrong. Every word out of your mouth, every promise, everything will be held against you at some point or another. "You said, and I quote 'Please Matt, I'll do anything, I'll even do that thing you like, just please fuck me.' and I did. It was verbal contract in the eyes of the law. So now you..."

He's a such a little shit.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 7

Day Six | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Eight

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked.

Warnings: Morning sex; fingering; oral sex; safe sex; vaginal sex

It was rare to wake up with him, and rarer still to have the time to linger. 

Waking up to Matt was always a beautiful sight, but you had time to indulge in the early morning light, and in the calm Saturday morning quiet. You rolled onto your back as you eyed the alarm clock on the bedside table. You still had a little while before the alarm would go off. You could always try and fall back asleep for a little bit…Or you could get up early and make breakfast for the two of you. 

Well. Make breakfast was a little much. When you were this sleepy, you were far more likely to just order something for the two of you and put it on plates when it got there. You glanced over your shoulder, eyeing Matt as he slept.

You carefully rolled over, tucking your hands under your head and taking in his sleeping face. There was a small cut on the bridge of his nose, but you couldn’t see any other outward shows of his typical nightly activities. You reached out hesitantly, trailing your knuckles gently over his cheek. You smiled as his brows furrowed a little, his breath drawing in just a touch sharper than a moment before. You didn’t need him to say a thing to know better. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” You murmured. 

“You didn’t,” He reassured, voice low and gravelly in a way that tickled your brain. “I was on my way the second you moved.” 

“So I did wake you.” 

“Mm, but not in the way you thought you did.” Matt reached out, his fingers tracing gently over your hip before he smoothed his hand around your back, drawing you into his chest. You cuddled closer, sliding a leg between his and nuzzling into his neck. You drew in a deep breath, then hummed softly. He smelled so nice, the scent of his body wash curling around you.

“Someone showered when they got in,” You teased.  

“I didn’t want to come to bed reeking like the Hudson.”

It was enough to make you reel back, your face twisted in concern. Matt shook his head gently, smoothing a hand up over your arm. 

“Just a…Little midnight swim," He added.

“In the Hudson? Voluntarily?”

“Not exactly.” 

“...You worry the hell out of me.” 

“I know. Sorry.”

“Are you?”

You were teasing, of course, but Matt’s earnest insistence of, “I am,” made your stomach flip. Your gaze dropped to his chest as you swallowed thickly. 

“You’re a real a sap, Murdock,” You mumbled. 

“You bring it out in me.” Matt’s hand lifted to gently grasp your chin, gently drawing you in for a kiss. You relaxed as he pressed a tender kiss to your lips, chased by another, and then a third. You sighed softly, smoothing your hand over his cheek, up into his soft hair. Matt steered you back onto the mattress, humming against your lips. You smiled as his lips trailed down, brushing over the curve of your chin before smoothing down along the line of your neck. 

“What do you want for breakfast?” You mumbled. Matt slid his hand over your thigh, giving it a squeeze. 

“I think breakfast can wait,” Matt murmured. Your smile widened as his kisses trailed further down, his hand sneaking up under the fabric of your nightdress. You drew your knees up, cradling Matt’s hips as he pressed closer, easing the fabric up to bare your chest. The heat of his lips was maddening as he trailed his lips between the valley of your breasts, then turned his head, tracing the curve of one, then swiping his tongue along the nipple. You moaned softly, hips pressing against Matt’s as you felt him hardening against your thigh. 

You sighed his name softly as turned his head, giving your other breast the same treatment. His lips drifted down over your belly as he scooched back, the covers drawing away from your body as he moved. Matt’s hand slid warmly over your thigh, further parting your legs for him. You bit your lip as he trailed the tip of his nose over your pubic mound, then flicked his tongue teasingly against your lips. 

Before you could even think to beg, Matt opened his mouth just a touch wider, swiping his tongue broadly across your lips. You let your head rest back against the pillows, eyes falling shut as the tip of his tongue traced your slit, then swirled achingly slowly around your clit. You let out a breathy moan as the swirls turned to lazy upward strokes, stopping only when Matt closed his lips around the sensitive nub, giving your clit a gentle, sucking kiss. You reached down, sliding your fingers into his hair and gently scraping your nails over his scalp. Matt’s moan rumbled against you, the vibration making your thighs twitch around his shoulders. 

Matt’s tongue drifted lower, teasing at where you were growing more and more wet. He slipped a hand up over your inner thigh before he gently tapped the tip of your finger against your fluttering entrance. He tipped his chin up, lapping at your clit again as he eased his fore and middle fingers into you. You whimpered, raising your hands to toy and teased your breasts, cupping them and sweeping your thumbs over the pebbled nipples. Matt tipped his head from side to side, laving his tongue across your lips and clit as he gently curled and pumped his fingers into your slick channel. 

“Matt,” You warned softly, feeling the familiar heat coil in your stomach. He hummed in encouragement, leveling another sucking kiss to your clit, chased by swift lapping strokes. You gave your nipples a light pinch, moaning as your orgasm washed over you, clenching around his still-pumping fingers. He turned his head as you settled, brushing his slick lips against your quivering inner thigh. 

You untangled your fingers from his hair, trailing your knuckles along his jaw. 

“Lay back,” You urged softly. Matt smiled, straightening from where he was nestled between your thighs. You sat up, drawing off your nightdress and tossing it aside as Matt lay back down beside you. You leaned over him, kissing him gently, then tracing your tongue across his lips as your hand drifted down his body. You teased your nails over his muscled chest and abdomen, then traced your fingers over the band of his boxer-briefs, smoothing over his hard cock. You grinned as you felt it twitch beneath your touch, and heard Matt grunt softly. You massaged him through the soft fabric before you slid your hand beneath the band. Matt’s mouth opened beneath yours, your tongue tangling together as he sighed into the heady kiss. 

You tugged the band of the boxer-briefs down, allowing his cock to bob heavily between his legs. You lightly cupped it, loosely teasing up and down the thick shaft, and giggling as Matt’s hips chased the tantalizing heat. You turned your head, swiping your tongue across your lips as you eyed the flushed head, smoothing your thumb over the tip. You shifted, kneeling on the mattress and taking his cock between your lips. He groaned low in his chest, his palm smoothing over your ass as you took him more deeply into your mouth. You took him in in slowly, savoring the weight of the spongy head against your tongue. You swirled your tongue around his glans as your hand massaged the shaft. 

“Fuck,” Matt sighed, fingers drifting down your inner thigh, trailing between your damp lips to tease your still-tender clit. It was just a moment before his fingers eased into you again, pumping lazily. You whimpered, unable to help it. You drew back and tipped your head to the side, pillowing your lips along the shaft as your fingers traced the veined underside. His cock twitched again, a pearl of precum forming at the tip. You leaned up, tenderly swiping the bead away before taking his head back into your mouth. 

Matt loosed another soft, gravelly groan, his hips tipping up into your mouth just a little bit. 

“Sweetheart,” He murmured, “C’mere.” 

You pouted a little bit, giving his shaft another swipe with your tongue before leaning back. Your pout turned to a smile as Matt rolled over, grabbing a condom from the drawer of his bedside table. You laid down, watching him kneel up and roll the condom on. He leaned over you, bracing one hand beside your head as the other hand grasped his cock. He teased the tip along your opening, smiling as you tipped your hips up into the teasing swipe. Your smile faltered, mouth opening in a moan as he eased into you. You licked your lips, raising your hands to cup Matt’s cheeks as he pushed into you slowly. His lashes fluttered as your pussy throbbed around him, and you watched him swallow thickly as a flush spread across his cheeks. You leaned up, catching Matt’s lips with yours in a sweet kiss. He sighed against your lips, shifting to prop your hips up with his, steadying himself and resting his free hand on your hip. You slid your legs over his, kissing Matt languidly as his hips began to grind. 

The two of you moaned and sighed against one another’s lips as Matt fucked you with slow, lazy rolls of his hips. He broke your kiss to turn his head, pressing his face into your neck. Your eyes slipped closed as you rested you hand on the nape of his neck. His hot breath brushed across your skin as you felt him grunting and whining against your neck. 

“Matt,” You whimpered. “You feel so good.” 

You could feel him fighting to keep his pace even, and it sent a thrill through you. You turned your head, lips brushing his ear. 

“Are you gonna cum for me, Matt?” 

He groaned, teeth sinking into your tender flesh, his hips nearly slapping against yours. You gasped at the sharp sensation, chased by his tongue soothing hotly over the stinging skin. He slid a hand between the two of you, teasing the tips of his fingers over your tingling clit. You whimpered, turning your head a touch further to catch his lips again. Your tongues slipped together before you had to lean back, panting as you surrendered to the sensation of him filling you. You were so close—you could feel Matt still holding back, too. 

“Fuck, Matt, please, please,” You begged. Matt nodded, tongue swiping across your lips as he rubbed his fingers across your clit, giving you just what you needed. You came again, moaning against his lips as you tightened around him. A guttural groan punched out of Matt’s chest a few moments later, his hips jolting, then stalling against yours. 

He lowered himself over you, resting his head on your shoulder as you curled your arms around him. You sighed softly, smiling as Matt pressed another kiss to your fresh hickey. 

“...How about bacon egg and cheese from that place around the corner?” You offered. Matt nodded a little. 

“I can live with that.” 

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @wild-rose-35 ; @daisyslibrary ; @informally-liz ; @andrastesflamingtitties ; @muchacha-encabronada ; @nerdygirl0414; @elen-aranel ; @ohbee-whatcanyoube ; @kmc1989 ; @quietpainter ; @thedreadandthefugitivemind ; @kaletastrophes ; @nyx2021

[amberlynnmurdock]

Blind Faith

Chapter 1: My Savior 

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader 

Summary: One college-drunken night, you didn't expect to be saved by the man in the mask. You didn't expect him to agree to walk you home, either. You especially didn't expect to enter into an affair with the masked vigilante. That's what happens when you follow faith blindly. You let yourself fall in love, with someone who won't even tell you who he is. On top of pining for the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, you have to graduate NYU, take the LSAT, keep this secret, manage your social life and an internship at a law firm named Nelson & Murdock.

Warnings for this chapter: attempted assault, drug use, mentions of alcohol

New York City

Midnight

A grayish fog hovered over the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. Shining lights were now dimmed as stores were just starting to close. Yes, it was midnight, and stores were still open. But this was New York City, and it just made sense. Although some businesses were ready to close up for the night, others were just opening. As the day crowd shuffled on home, the night crowd was heading out. They consisted of many different groups: from college students to socialites, to white-collar business people to criminals—all out for the very same reason: simply because it was New York City.

You fell under the college student category. This was your last semester at New York University and you weren’t going to waste any weekend—or weeknight, in this case—to go out drinking with your friends. You only ever regretted it at the very end of the night, when you were laying down in bed and the room was still spinning, or hugging a toilet bowl. For you, it wasn’t the end of the night; it was the beginning.

“Here we are,” your friend, Emily, announced. The auburn-haired girl scrambled in her leather purse for a pass for you and your friends to show the bouncer, who stood at probably six feet and wore a leather jacket. “Our promoter’s name is Cain,” she yelled at the bouncer over the music booming inside.

Without a smile, he checked her pass from Cain and nodded his head.

“IDs,” he demanded.  

The four of you all pulled out your IDs. When you reached for your wallet from your purse, it was then you realized how buzzed you already felt. Your other friend, Bella, giggled next to you as she accidentally dropped her wallet on the ground. There was a difference between accidentally dropping something and drunkenly dropping something. You laughed with her and nudged your waist into hers.

After calmly showing the bouncer your IDs, the four of you gracefully entered the club, the muffled music from outside now blasting in your ears. Now that you were all 21 with graduation on the horizon, there wasn’t any worrying anymore about fake IDs. You could come and go to bars as you pleased.

“Let’s get some shots!” Emily shouted. You all walked in a single file but held onto each other’s hands as you navigated the sea of people dancing on the floor. Navigating the crowd didn’t come without being shoved, which is why you all held onto each other. You gripped Bella’s hand tightly as she followed behind you, making sure she wouldn’t get pulled away.

The music was so loud you could feel it reverberate in your heart. Good thing you decided to wear your black boots, too. If you had chosen to go with heels, your toes might’ve been stepped on in this crowd. You consciously pulled down your black mini skirt since it rose a bit from walking.

“Four shots of Casamigos, please!” You shouted at the woman bartender who leaned over to hear your order. She nodded in response and gave a thumbs up, immediately grabbing a bottle and lining up four shot glasses. You gave her your card to open a tab.

Your other friend, Hannah, squeezed your arms in excitement.

“Fuck finals!” She screamed. You laughed before taking your shot with the girls. After ordering another round of shots, the four of you began your night of dancing, drinking, and partying like you didn’t have to wake up early for any exam.

~~~

As the night went on, the drinks didn’t stop. Neither did the dancing nor the dodging of drunk men trying and failing to flirt with you and your friends. You and Emily went to the bathroom together to ensure the other was safe, even if one of you didn’t have to go. Bella and Hannah stayed put at the corner of the bar.

In the bathroom, girls lined up waiting for their turn in the stalls. You managed to squeeze by them to get to the mirrors because you didn’t have to go. Arriving at the mirror, you were pleasantly surprised with how well your makeup had held up. Your hair was messy from dancing but after flipping it twice, you styled it again. You adjusted your black top, too, pulling it up a bit.

The girl in the mirror next to you was bent over, so you couldn’t see her face. Just as you were about to lean over and ask if she was okay, she flipped her head up and took a big sniff. Ahh. You realized. She’s doin’ okay.

When Emily was done, the two of you exited the bathroom and reentered the club. You found your other friends and ordered one last round of shots before you called it a night. It was a successful night—you all managed to keep each other within a good distance, you danced, you turned down gross men and their attempts at flirting—now all that was left was to get back to your apartment building safely. Easy.

“Just one more song!” Hannah begged, and it didn’t take much convincing for the rest of you to agree. Your heart banged against your chest as you danced along to the last song of the night, definitely on a different level than you were at the start.

The only downside to going out was dressing for the weather at the beginning of the night, and not anticipating that it would drop a few degrees by the end of the night. Thankfully, being in a stuffy club with lots of other people and dancing made you work up a sweat and essentially get hot. When you walked out into the 50-degree weather, it felt like a comfortable 60 degrees. Still, the chill coated your bones immediately, and you started to dream of your bed. Your ears were ringing from the loud music, and you stumbled a bit walking.

The apartment building was only eight blocks from the club. The four of you linked arms and began your trek home, laughing and talking about the night you just had.

“That guy was so gross, Bella,” Hannah laughed, “I can’t believe he had the audacity to think just because he bought me a drink I’d go home with him. The fucking nerve some guys have.”

“Seriously,” you agreed, “not to mention when his phone lit up, ‘Boo-Boo’ had just texted him."

“Ugh, what is wrong with men?” Bella groaned.

And in the middle of your conversation, your heart dropped to the bottom of your stomach upon realization. Your card.

“Oh, shit, guys,” you cursed, stopping in your tracks which caused your friends to stop as well. “I forgot to close my tab and get my card back!”

“Oh no,” Emily said, “can’t you get it tomorrow? Do you really need it now?”

“This club doesn’t open until 11 PM. It’s now or never,” you shook your head, annoyed at yourself for being so forgetful. “I’ll go grab it and meet you guys back at the apartment.”

“No way,” Bella argued, “you can’t go back alone! Let me go with you.”

“No, it’s okay,” you protested. It was already almost two in the morning, and you knew all of you had exams at eight. It was dark out and late, but you were only four blocks away. You’d sprint back and take that as a punishment for your forgetfulness. “Seriously! I’ll be fine. There are lots of people around here anyway. We all have an early exam, I don’t want to be the reason we flunk our senior year.”

Your friends seemed unsure, but you assured them you were 100% okay with going back alone. Perhaps you were a bit buzzed, but not too much you wouldn’t be able to find your way home. With that, your three friends sauntered back home as you turned around to go back to the club.

~~~

Getting back inside the club wasn’t hard since people were starting to trickle out. The upbeat pop music had transitioned into lo-fi beats by the DJ. Without so many people standing shoulder to shoulder on the floor, you were shocked to see how open and big the floor really was. You made a beeline for the bar and found the bartender you spoke with earlier in the night. She had bleach-blonde hair and a septum piercing.

“I saw you and your friends get outta here quick. Wanted to stop you but, y’know,” now that the music had faded, you could hear her thick New York accent. You smiled and shrugged your shoulders.

“I know, that’s why I rushed back. I didn’t want to short you!”

“If you hadn’t come back, we would’ve put an automatic 20% tip anyway,” she reasoned. Without asking, she poured you a glass of water.

Signing the receipt and slipping the card back into your wallet, you smiled at her.

“Well, here’s thirty percent.”

“Thanks, babe,” she graciously took the receipt. “Your friends outside? It’s pretty late for you to be alone.”

You waved a hand, dismissing her and finishing the water to help sober you up. “I’ll be fine. Only eight blocks away from home.”

“Sheesh. You say that like it’s two. Take this,” she slid you a tiny pink contraption, which you realized was a can of mace. You slid it into your purse quickly.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“Now get home safe,” she demanded.

“You too!”

Turning around from the bar, it was evident the club was closing up for the night. The normal lights came on, which brought about a whole new vibe to the place. Only a few partiers lingered, while the rest made their exit. You weren’t concerned at all walking home since you saw the crowds of people. And you weren’t being naive either, or so you convinced yourself. You’ve lived in New York for the past four years—you weren’t scared of it anymore.

Walking outside, it was unfortunate to see the crowds of people walking the opposite way you were going. Looking to your right, towards midtown, you could see the lights and large crowds of people huddling together, rushing to get home. To your left was a different story: darkness loomed ahead, and only two or three small groups were walking in the distance. The only light came from the dim orange street lamps that barely brought a glow. Bracing yourself, you took a deep breath and kept your finger on the mace the bartender had given you.

Okay, maybe it was a little spooky walking home alone. But you walked at a fast pace. You wrapped your arms around yourself in an attempt to keep from shivering. You wished you’d brought a jacket.

As if a higher power had nudged something in your subconscious, you looked up from the sidewalk and saw three men loitering at a corner of a building. They had their backs against the brick wall, with their hands in their pockets, like they were waiting for something or someone. Knowing better, you crossed the street to avoid walking past them.

You heard one of them say something, but you couldn’t make out what it was. Your pace quickened, as did your heartbeat. Suddenly, it didn’t feel so cold anymore. The adrenaline you felt from walking away from them had sent your body into a panic. An unpleasant hot feeling spread across your chest, yet your arms still shivered from the cold. It was suddenly getting harder to breathe, as you walked against the wind.

“Hey!” One of them shouted. “It’s not lady-like to run away.”

The only way you could describe how you felt at this moment was like being trapped inside a dream—no, nightmare—where you felt like you were capable of breaking free of something, say a locked car, but things out of your control forced you to stay put. It was like trying to yell the word No! at someone but you couldn’t for the life of you find your voice. It was like wanting to hit back at someone in your dream, but your arm felt like it weighed 100 tons. It was like falling, as you did now, and not being able to get back up.

You took a harsh fall on the pavement, tripping over some uneven sidewalk. Your knees scratched the sidewalk harshly and immediately started burning from the sensation. You dropped your bag and turned to face your attackers, helpless.

“Oh, she’s already ready for us, with her legs spread in that little skirt,” another one of them growled. You tried to back up and stand up but a third was behind you, who lifted you from behind your shoulders and gripped you.

“Let me go!” You struggled against the man who reeked of rum and cigarettes. His cold leather jacket was on top of your bare skin—you felt like an animal being dissected. The more you struggled against him, the tighter he held on. He kicked your knees from behind, causing your legs to go weak so now you knelt in his grasp.

“Who’s first?” One of them smiled a twisted smile. His hand held onto his crotch aggressively, getting himself ready.

“Let me fucking go! Help!” Your voice sounded hoarse, scared. These were the assholes you weren’t supposed to be afraid of—they weren’t supposed to win.

“Let her go.”

A fourth voice came from somewhere behind the two men who stood before you. For a moment, you thought it was one of their cronies who was acting selfishly and wanted you first, but from the looks of the men, you knew the voice didn’t belong to their kind. The two men in front of you parted, revealing a man dressed in all black, with a black mask covering half his face. He held two wooden sticks.

“Don’t make me say it again,” the man demanded in an oddly calm voice.

“Come and get her, asshole. You might have to wait. I don’t take too long,” the man who gripped you held on even tighter. You yelped in his grasp and tried to kick out of his hold on you.

The man in the mask acted quickly. Before you knew it, one of the wooden sticks in his hands was thrown at the man to your left, who fell, holding his face where the stick impacted him. The man in the mask seamlessly kicked the other guy on the right, who tried to lunge at him. He threw him to the ground like he was nothing more than a ball. The man who held you suddenly pulled something out of his pocket: a switchblade.

“Hey!” His grimy voice echoed in the air. The man in the mask turned his head menacingly, slowly. The man who held you placed the switchblade on your neck. You gasped as you tried to sink away from the sharp blade tickling your skin. “I ain’t care if she’s dead when I do it.”

The man in the mask punched the guy in front of him to stay down. The one behind was knocked out.

The man in the mask slowly turned around to face you and your captor. You tried to break free of his grasp again but failed. He pressed the front of the blade to your neck more harshly this time.

Before you could even react, the man in the mask lunged a wooden stick at the man’s face, hitting him square in the face. He dropped his switchblade in pain and you took this as your attempt to escape, this time succeeding. You stood by the side and quickly grabbed your purse on the ground. You watched as your savior, you thought you’d call him, punched the man in the face, repeatedly, until he fell down unconscious. Your savior grunted with each blow, making sure the man was knocked out.

Out of breath, your savior slowly stood up from kneeling on the man’s chest and turned in your direction. Your heart was beating uncontrollably now, completely shaken from your attempted attack. An attack that fell through, because the man in the masked saved you. You didn’t know what to say. You were shivering, but not from the cold.

“Are you okay?” He asked you as he took a step forward. You flinched unnaturally, only because you were still on edge. When he saw you flinch, he stopped in his footsteps immediately. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know,” you replied, wanting him to know you were grateful. “I’ll… I’ll be okay.” Nothing like that had ever happened to you. He gave you a nod and grabbed his wooden sticks on the ground, tucking them into his pockets. “Thank you… so much.”

He pressed his lips together in response.

“You shouldn’t be out this late alone, a young woman like you,” he had caught his breath by now and spoke softly.

“I’d argue men like that shouldn’t be able to walk out at night freely, so young women like me could feel safer,” you couldn’t help but say in response. You shivered in the cold and hugged your arms around your body. “But I guess that’s why you’re here. You know, I think I remember reading about you in the papers. Girls on my campus feel safer knowing you may be out there.” He hummed in response.

“Thank you,” you repeated yourself, unsure if he heard you the first time you said it. “I was really scared. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you didn’t show.”

“No need to thank me,” he waved his hand in response. “I…no need. Take care of yourself, okay?” He began to walk away, his black silhouette beginning to look like a shadow. You called after him in protest, before he could get any farther.

“Hey, wait!” You called. He stopped in his tracks and turned his head to look at you.

“You said it yourself it’s not safe for women like me to be out here alone,” you began, “will you walk me home?” Part of you wouldn’t admit it, but you were still too scared to walk alone.

He paused for a good thirty seconds you thought, like you knew he was really thinking about it. The best part about being a pre-law student was that in situations like this, you got to put your knowledge to the test. He did technically just testify he believes women like me shouldn’t be out here alone. If he really believed it, he’d follow through.

You could’ve sworn you saw a hint of a smile on his face. But without seeing his eyes, and the night being as black as his mask, you really couldn’t tell.

He didn’t say anything back, but you took his turning around and walking toward you as a response that said yes.

~~~

Matt Murdock didn’t walk the people he saved home very often, but you brought up a valid point that he couldn’t really say no.

“Lead the way,” he spoke in a low voice as he walked to you. He could hear your heartbeat—it was still beating fast, without rhythm, meaning you were still scared.

Matt walked with you at first in silence. He used this time to put a picture in his head: why were you out so late? And alone?

He noticed the smell of liquor and sweat on your skin first. You mentioned a campus before, so he immediately knew you were in your early 20s. By the sound of your shoes—boots—hitting the pavement, you must’ve been dressed up for something. Or, dressed down, on second thought. Your legs and arms were shivering from the cold—you were in a skirt. And, a sleeveless top. Ahh, he thought in his head. I remember my days of college partying, too.

Still, he wondered where your friends were. Were you really out here alone?

And as if you’d read his mind, you spoke.

“You know, I wasn’t alone this entire night,” you explained. “I was with my friends earlier. We went to a club, just down the street. I forgot my card there and needed to go back.”

“Why didn’t any of them go with you?”

“I told them not to. We all have early exams in the morning. I didn’t want to keep anyone out later than they had to be.”

“And going to a club at midnight isn’t too late?” Matt couldn’t help but pry, lightheartedly, with a small smile.

“I know what you’re thinking,” you replied, “but it’s our senior year. You know, senioritis. We’re all over it. And we don’t want to pass up any opportunities to go out. Did you go to college?”

Matt didn’t respond. He kept walking with you.

“Ahh,” you said in realization, “forgot. Vigilantes are supposed to remain mysterious.”

Matt didn’t respond.

“You know, vigilantism is really backward? What you did for me—which I am eternally grateful for, by the way—is still illegal.”

Matt couldn’t help but smile in response. He nodded.

“I know. Hence the mask,” he replied.

“Of course. You cover your face so you don’t get caught acting outside the law. Even though it may be for the greater good,” you thought aloud.

“You… are you studying law?” Matt asked, despite himself.

“I am!” You replied excitedly, “How could you tell?”

He didn’t respond. You continued.

“When I graduate, I intend to take the LSAT, and immediately apply for Columbia Law.”

Matt raised his eyebrows, which you couldn’t see.

“Hey, as a vigilante, do you know any lawyers? I might need some letters of recommendation for that,” you chided. Matt chuckled softly.

“I—“

“Oh, right, forgot. Secrecy, and vigilantism. Mystery. How do you make any friends?” It was then Matt realized you may still have been a bit buzzed.

“I tend to keep people away when I’m dressed like this.”

“Hmm,” you replied.

Silence filled the space between you again. Matt could hear you slightly yawn. In your purse, he sensed a can of cheap mace. When you moved your arms, Matt caught a whiff of your fragrance. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but it was sweet. Like, marshmallows.

After another block, you slowed your speed, and Matt was content to know you weren’t scared anymore. Not scared in his presence, not scared at all. Your heartbeat had fallen to its normal rhythm. Your breathing was soft.

“This is it,” you announced, stopping in front of your apartment building.

Matt lingered in the shadows, against the wall of the building. He knew the security guard was at his desk inside. When you realized he was hiding, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re so dramatic,” you giggled. Matt didn’t find it funny, but he was amused at your entertainment.

“My savior,” you spoke softly, just for him to hear. “Thank you again. Perhaps I should get myself into more trouble.”

Matt shook his head, “I’m not a savior. And don’t get yourself into trouble. Study. And good luck with law school.”

“I said you are my savior. There is a difference,” you argued. Matt noticed you did that a lot—argued. He smiled—it’s something he doesn’t do very often when dressed like this.

“Be safe,” he pleaded.

“__,” you said your name. Matt was caught off guard by your introduction. “I don’t have to know your name, but you can know mine. My name is __.”

“Be safe, __,” he repeated.

“I will. And you do the same.”

With that, Matt heard you shuffle for your keycard. You entered your building. Matt waited on the side of the building for you to go up the elevator, to the 11th floor, swipe your card to your apartment and lock the door behind you. After that, he stopped listening. He knew you were safe. He exhaled sharply and slumped his shoulders against the brick building.

He wasn’t a savior.

He disappeared into the night.

[ms-nesbit]

im going to give two options for fic drops, and you decide which you prefer.

(options are seen below)

option one:

Bucky perched atop the abandoned building, hiding his shadow among the darkness of the twilight night. In the cold hours, when the birds lay their heads to rest, and devils rise from the dead, his left shoulder ached from the contact of the vibranium arm. Nevertheless, the tension in his shoulder came second to the bitter breeze stabbing his cheeks, despite the facial hair he grew solely for warm sustenance. Yet, as he sat perched along the flat overhang of the building, his combat boots pressed hard against the large concrete blocks below him, Bucky’s focus drifted from his task (which was, simply put, to observe the relation of the mob crime scene along Midtown), the dishes left waiting for him back in his quaint studio in Harlem, the bitter cold that hit so much more in late February, and her.

option two:

...

As Matthew stepped through the streets, one block after another, he encountered a pleasant concoction of jasmine, vanilla, and bergamot that he couldn’t shake off. So, Matthew pursued it, leading him to an outdoor seating area of a Greek restaurant. There, he heard a roar of laughter, followed by a hiccup, all from a single person. He grinned to himself as he listened ...

[daredevilexchange]

@marvel-kitten for @ophanimgold

Teen And Up Audiences No Archive Warnings Apply

Matt Murdock/Reader

Additional Tags: Reader-Insert, POV Female Character, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, First Kiss, Candy, Sexual Tension, Domestic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Blind Matt Murdock, Matt Murdock is a Tease, Trick or Treating, Mentioned Foggy Nelson, Matt Murdock & Foggy Nelson Friendship, Happy Ending, Short & Sweet

Words: 1,872

Summary: After asking Matt to go trick or treating with you, you’re surprised by just how special the domesticity is. It’s like something new has finally passed between you. A spell to match the atmosphere of the night, drawing the both of you closer together than ever.

[infuschia]

Matt Murdock/Reader - Black and Midnight Blue: “Brick by Brick” - New Chapter Excerpt! :)

HELLO HELLO here i have an excerpt from my Matt/Reader fic on A03 called Black and Midnight Blue!! This is an unreleased chapter coming out on Sunday:) The FULL chapter is a tad spicy however this excerpt just hints at some spicy things. anyway hope u like xox

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41053290/chapters/102893784

Black and Midnight Blue - Matt Murdock/Reader - on A03!

Chapter 36: *Brick by Brick

----

Matt laughed, his head leaning chidingly toward yours. He paused, though, eyes going a shade more narrow. “Matty?”

You blushed, grinning right back.

“Hey, I figured if Stick of all people gets to call you that, so do I.”

He shook his head. “I’m not complaining.”

“Good,” you purred, whispering your lips along the scruff of his jaw. “Because I think it suits you.”

“Does it?”

“Mhm,” you kept on, drifting your lips up closer to Matt’s ear. The muscles at this side of his neck flickered just slightly as your heated breath drifted over his skin. “I think it especially suits you when you act as needy as you did just a minute ago.”

One other thing you’d noticed about Matt Murdock: he was never averse to a tease. In fact, it seemed as though it was a welcome challenge, a source of titillating entertainment for his sharp mind and sharper senses.

Not surprising, law career and all.

From where your head was positioned, you jaw Matt’s jaw tense out, his cheeks stretch back in an open, grinning breath of a laugh. You twisted your own smiling lips together. At his chest, your fingertips traced up over drying sweat, trailing a line up to his neck - where you swirled the tip of your index finger over his skin. You opened your already-parted lips to speak, but Matt’s voice cut through the silence first, more sultry and warm than you were expecting.

“And when you act as needy as you did just a minute ago?” He purred, tipping his head so that those plush lips would offer their sound right into your ear. “What should I call you then?”

A laugh escaped you. “Call me whatever you want.”

“No, no,” Matt chided, his hand at your hip tapping you lightly. “I want to know what you like to be called.”

A shiver wound its way up through your body. Matt didn’t let up, not even when he absolutely heard the rate of your pulse move slowly into speeding territory.

“I know you like your name, and I know you like ‘sweetheart,’” he hummed into you, stubble grazing your cheek, “but I just want to make sure I’m not missing anything.”

Your tongue darted out over your lips. Even the sound of his voice was enough. Didn’t matter what name he used it for, not with you. Especially not when he was so very close, and so very warm.

“I do think I remember, though,” Matt kept on in the same rasping, sultry tone, “that you don’t seem to mind praise.”

At that statement, your breath hitched. That night, the night where the stitches you required were just numerous and deep enough for Matt’s help to be an absolute necessity - that was the night where his words of affirmation had drawn up sensations within you that drove further than the prick of a suture. And, of course, this was evidently something he’d remembered. You didn’t need to see Matt’s mouth to know how wide his smirk was.

“Maybe I’ll just make sure to remind you how good you feel, smell, sound - or just how good you’re doing for me. How’s that?”

Your cheeks dimpled and blushed, no matter how hard you tried to fight the expression. 

“I…” you started, faltering as Matt pressed his fingers deeper at your waist, drew his lips so close to your ear that your skin tingled in their presence.

“Like you said,” he declared, low and gritty and wanting. “I know you well enough by now.”

----

HAHAH WOOP RELEASING SUNDAY

[thatboisus]

me logging onto tumblr after consuming a new piece of media

[goodkidmadcity]

when the fic was so good, you just sit and wish it was you there rn….

[winnysplayground]

“i can fix her, i can fix him, i can fix them”

i think we need to work on you first.

[l0caltiredgirl]

when i want fluff/angst fics and all i’m getting is smut

the struggle is real

[chuulyssa]

being an x reader writer and trying to be inclusive of all readers makes me overthink so much like should i write about you having smth with milk in it? no no what if the reader is lactose-intolerant. about the reader being the big spoon? noo what if they wanna be cuddled like a little spoon. about fingers through your hair? noooo what if the person reading it is bald

[love-at-first-sight-23]

Welcome to the world of “Being in love with a person who doesn’t exist in real life but you pretend they do anyway because you’re obsessed” ✧˖*°࿐

[amberlynnmurdock]

Blind Faith

Chapter 2: Fate 

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Chapter Summary: Fate brings you and the Devil of Hell's Kitchen together again.

Warnings for this chapter: attempted attack, cursing, mentions of alcohol.

Chapter 1 here

New York City

11:00 PM

You haven’t told anyone about your savior.

It’s nearly midnight, and you and your friends are getting ready to go out. There were plenty of distractions around you—things you had grown used to over the past four years living here. The JBL speaker that played Hannah’s pre-game playlist, the sounds of phones clicking when a selfie was taken, and shot glasses slamming on the marble countertop—the familiar position of leaning over the bathroom sink to draw on your eyeliner. Emily asking you to help her tie her halter top at her neck.

And yet, despite all these distractions—despite all the conversations you’ve had and the time that’s passed since last week—you couldn’t stop thinking about him: your savior.

When you stumbled into your apartment last week after getting attacked (and then saved), no one noticed your entrance because they were sound asleep. When you looked at your appearance in the mirror, you didn’t look like you had been attacked. Sure, your hair was messy, and your knees a bit scraped, but otherwise you looked fine. Seeing Emily asleep on the couch, you half thought about telling her about what happened in the morning. The other side of you won—you’d keep your interaction with your savior a secret.

Why? You weren’t sure. So much of your life was shared with people, so much of it you had to share. You wanted to keep your moment with your savior to yourself. It was precious, and it didn’t need to be shared. No one needed to know.

“Hello? Earth to __?” Bella cooed your name, waving a shot of tequila in your face. You traded the lipstick you were holding for the shot. Following Bella out of the bathroom and into your living room, you meet Hannah and Emily who held shots of their own.

“To the official end of the semester, and thus the end of our undergrad years,” Bella raised her shot in the area. The rest of you did the same, and you added one more line.

“And to the beginning of what lies ahead,” you smiled at your friends. You didn’t want to get sentimental, but it was hard not to. At least, your lease in this apartment didn’t end until December, so the four of you still had time to make more memories living together.

After that, you all took your shots and made matching grimacing faces once the alcohol burned down your throat. It didn’t stop you all from pouring another round.

Your savior still lingered in the back of your mind, and you wondered if you’d get to see him again.

~~~

Midnight

Another night, another bar.

This time, you definitely drank more than your capacity. Simply put… it was one of those nights. Did you regret it? Not right now. Would you? Maybe. You were having too much fun to care. And… Hannah was handing you another shot.

“When’s the last time we had any water?” You shouted over the music at her.

She shrugged and flipped her blonde hair behind her shoulders.

“You said another shot?!” She laughed and took your hand to lead you through the crowd of people to the bar. Reaching the bar, you leaned over the wooden countertop and got the bartender’s attention. It was a young woman, with dark hair wearing hoop earrings.

“Two shots of Tito’s,” you ordered, “please.”

“Let me buy this round,” a voice shouted in your ear unpleasantly. Startled, you jumped next to Hannah a bit and the two of you looked at where the voice came from. It was a guy, around your age, maybe older, who bore an NYU collared shirt. He didn’t look familiar, you thought. You hated unsolicited offers, especially from men at the bar.

“No thanks,” you curtly replied, facing the other way. The bartender gave you a knowing look and took your card from your hand—you wouldn’t be so forgetful of it, this time.

As if offended, the guy, who you now saw had sandy blonde hair, frowned. He was clearly confused by your rejection.

You and Hannah ignored him while you took your shots.

“Hello?” He called for your attention again.

“I said we don’t need your money,” you snapped at him. “Go bother someone else.”  

Perplexed, the guy rolled his eyes, muttered something under his breath, and left the bar. You shook your head and grabbed Hannah’s hand.

“Why do men think it’s such a grand gesture to offer to buy us six-dollar shots?!” You said in exasperation.

“The audacity,” Hannah replied.

Moving back to the dance floor, you and Hannah found Emily and Bella who were next to a group of guys—familiar faces, probably a “situationship” they had going on. You eyed the guys suspiciously. It was hard not to, given the history of your friends’ choice of men. For the sake of having a good time, though, you decided to play nice. You told yourself you’d only get mean if any of the guys started acting like assholes.

“We might bounce to another bar,” Emily told you, “are you cool with that?”

“That’s good with me. Let me step outside for fresh air and then I’ll meet you when you finish your drinks here,” You replied. If you were going to start all over again at another bar, might as well prepare yourself by getting as much fresh air as possible, before you’d be stuck in yet another stuffy club.

You pushed past the crowds, and it was then you realized that you seriously needed water. You walked zig-zagged, but your mind was sharp enough to know where you were going. You dodged some more people outside and walked around the building of the bar to the alleyway. There were enough people around the front you weren't concerned for your safety, truthfully this time.

You pulled out your phone and began scrolling through the notifications you got once you had service again. Curiously, you opened your job searching app to see if any of the law firms you had applied to reviewed your application.

Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz: 1 view.

Landman and Zack: 2 views.

Landau, Luckman and Lake: 1 view.

Ferrari and Hindel Associates: 1 view.

Nelson & Murdock: 1 view, 1 new message.

You were too drunk to open the message from the last firm you applied to. You bookmarked the page and would read it in the morning when you were sober.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you heard a girl’s voice come from your left. It appeared you weren’t alone in the alley after all. She looked to be about your age, maybe younger. The bar you and your friends were at was known to let underage college kids in, so you wouldn’t be surprised. “I’m tired and I want to go home with Stephanie.” Her back was on the brick wall and there was a guy in front of her, about your age, for sure.

“You’re not goin’ home with Stephanie,” he demanded, “you’re comin’ home with me.” He slurred his words as well, and you knew the girl was drunk by the way she was squirming against the wall. Her voice cracked when she spoke like she was about to cry. “And you’re gonna tell me what that guy said to you.”

“I told you!” She begged, “I dropped my wallet and he picked it up for me, that’s it!”

“I saw you handed him something,” he argued. “What the fuck did you give him?”

“Nothing!” The girl cried. She tried to walk away from him, but he aggressively grabbed both her shoulders and squeezed her arms. The girl yelped in response, and you couldn’t be a bystander anymore.

“Hey!” You started walking toward them, feeling your heart rate rise. “Don’t touch her! Leave her alone,” you said in a steady voice. Your ears were ringing. As you got closer, you realized the guy towered over the girl but barely towered over you. His eyes were like daggers as he looked at you like you’d just triggered something in him.

“Fuck off,” he sneered, still holding the girl in his arms.

“I said leave her alone,” you argued. Ignoring you, he stared at the young girl in front of him and gripped her shoulders so hard, you could see her arms begin to turn red at the contact. Unsure of what to do, you did what first popped into your mind in your drunken state. You shoved the guy off her with all your might, feeling your core tighten.

“You fuckin’ bitch,” the guy growled as he charged for you. Bracing for impact, you held your arms over your head in a criss-cross position and waited for whatever was to come. Instead of feeling his body weight lunge at you, you instead were met with…nothing but the cool air gracing your skin. When you opened your eyes, you gasped when you saw your savior had stopped the guy from attacking you.

You couldn’t waste time watching as the man in the mask almost beat him to a pulp. You looked at the girl who stood shocked and quickly grabbed her hand, leading her away toward the end of the alley near the bar. She was crying, and she held onto you tightly.

“Thank you,” she managed to say among her tears. You squeezed her hand in response—maybe her friend Stephanie was out here looking for her. A curly-haired red-headed girl put her phone down from her ear and raised her hand as she saw you leading her friend to her.

“Stephanie!” The girl called out.

“Oh my god, Christina,” Stephanie cried, hugging her friend. Stephanie gave you a grateful look as they hugged. You smiled, patting Christina on the back. Nothing like nearly getting attacked again and saving a girl from her asshole boyfriend to sober you up fast. Remembering that your savior was in the alleyway, you rushed back around the corner in hopes of catching him.

And there he was, under a dimly lit lamp, chest heaving over the guy who now lay crunched and knocked out. You walked carefully and slowly, your savior’s back to you. He turned his head so you could see the profile of his covered face. His hands were in fists, but when he realized you were there, he let his fists go.

“Fate brings us together again,” you decide to speak first.

“Or you just keep getting yourself into trouble,” he replied.

“That…” you feel yourself slur your words again, “that wasn’t me. I was just trying to help her.”

“Maybe not attack a 180-pound man without a weapon,” he argued. Your savior wasn’t being so kind to you. Or maybe you weren’t used to being called out.

“I would’ve figured something out… had you not been there,” you tried your hardest to sound sober but it wasn’t working.

He was fully turned around now. He looked like nothing but a black shadow in the dark. Only his lips were visible, and he wasn’t smiling at your lighthearted tone of voice.

“Had I not been here, he could’ve hurt you. And the girl, for that matter.”

“And yet you were here, somehow, which brings me back to saying it was fate.”

You stepped closer to him, the closest you’ve ever stood. You felt something hot in your chest.

His silence was driving you crazy.

“I saw a girl getting harassed by her toxic boyfriend and I thought telling him to fuck-off would’ve scared him. I couldn’t—I couldn’t stand by and hear something like that. So if he were to attack me, weaponless, at least he wouldn’t have achieved his first goal of hurting that poor girl,” you explained the best you could, starting to feel like the ground you stood on was spinning. The man in the mask—your savior—his mouth twitched to say something, then he shook his head.

“You shouldn’t put yourself in danger like that,” he told you.

“So I shouldn’t have stepped in? Okay,” you scoffed, “then why do you step in? Do we not have the same mindset about this? If I’m a bystander who can’t ignore something, and it’s wrong that I step in, what does that make you?”

“Someone who knows how to fight when they do step in. You are intoxicated,” he plainly stated. You shook your head, annoyed.

“I would’ve done the same thing sober,” you truthfully argued, “I—I can’t stand men who take advantage of girls. I would’ve risked it, sober or not, if it meant that girl didn’t have to carry home trauma!”

“And then, what would’ve happened to you, if I wasn’t here?”

“I guess we’ll never know,” you answered. He pressed his lips together exasperated.

“I told you to take care of yourself. To be safe,” he said lowly.

“I have,” you whispered. “Really. And… I guess I should say thank you again. For tonight. I know it was dangerous, but if you come from the same place of not being able to stand by, then you of all should understand.”

He was silent for a moment. Then, he spoke, a bit louder this time.

“You need to learn how to defend yourself.”

“I’ll make time, now that it’s summer,” you mentioned. Then, maybe it was a surge of confidence or the alcohol, you asked him. “Teach me?”

The corner of his mouth perked in a smile.

“You know where I live,” you continued, “West 45th and 11th. The roof.”

“You sure you won’t be out with your friends?” He asked lightly.

You didn’t like how excited you got at his inquisition. You played it off.

“I can spare a night, for you,” you answered. “For not putting myself in danger, anymore. Saturday.”

His demeanor changed—it wasn’t defensive anymore, nor argumentative. His shoulders relaxed, and he took a heavy sigh.

“Your friends are wondering where you are,” he suddenly said. You furrowed your brows. Before you could question him, you felt your phone buzz with a text from Bella asking where you were.

“They’re outside. Go meet them before they get suspicious,” your savior suggested, starting to walk away. You felt the fire in your chest you felt earlier start to diminish, the farther he backed away.

“Saturday?” You wanted to confirm with him.

“At 10,” was his response.

Before you could say anything else, your savior blended in with the blackness of the alley.

You took one last look before you sealed your fate.

[lokisbirdofhermes]

For all those curious, I finally decided to finish this fic and posted it up on AO3.

Take Me to Church: You are a world-weary woman out on a Friday night just wanting to drink and decompress at a bar in Hell's Kitchen, but a drunk jerk harasses you and that's when you meet the incomparable Matt Murdock, who swoops in with finesse to get rid of the jerk. You both hit it off after that and you discover that maybe this Friday night is salvageable after all. Matt Murdock/Reader one-shot.

birdofhermes matt murdock fic??? would die to see even a glimpse

For your viewing pleasure, here's an excerpt from the Matt Murdock/Female Reader fic I started (and will finish at some point):

Sometimes it really sucked being a woman.

“Come on, baby, it’s Friday night and you’re in a bar,” the drunkard wheedled, standing too close for comfort to your table. “You’re out, and you’ve got a drink, and you’re looking great, but you’re gonna tell me you don’t want some company?”

You glanced up from your novel and glared daggers. “That is exactly what I am telling you. Please leave me alone.”

He clucked his tongue. “I think you’re just playing hard to get, personally.”

“I don’t care what you think,” you snapped. “Leave. Me. Alone.”

At last, the glazed, intoxicated look slid away from his beady little eyes. Unfortunately, anger replaced it. “You got some attitude on you, huh? What are you gonna do if I don’t leave?”

You prepared a hasty response, and your hand was already in your purse beneath the table palming your pepper spray, when another man’s voice spoke to the right of the drunkard. “Excuse me.”

The drunkard jumped to one side, startled, and now you could see him. It was the good-looking brunette guy who had been at the bar. He wore a relatively nice but inexpensive grey suit, a black tie, white dress shirt, and black shoes. He also had round, red specs and a white cane in one hand that he held between both hands. You realized with a start that he was blind.

“But the lady asked you not one but three times to leave her alone,” the blind man said in a firm, but not entirely confrontational tone. “I know I’m blind, but I have pretty good hearing and unless you don’t, I’d appreciate it if you respected her wishes and walked away from her table. Now.”

The drunkard’s chest inflated as he took a deep breath, sizing up the stranger. “You think I won’t hit a blind man, huh?”

The blind man smiled. “Oh, you probably would, but I’d wager that you’re not quite drunk enough to go that far. Hit me if you want, but how’s that gonna look to the cops that you got in a fist fight with a blind man after harassing a woman?”

The drunkard’s jaw clenched. Then, after a moment, he snorted and shoved past the blind man. “Bitch isn’t even worth it anyway.”

The blind man stumbled as the guy brushed by, but didn’t fall. He shook his head and then faced you. “I’m sorry about that, ma’am. I didn’t mean to be presumptuous, but it was starting to get kind of heated and I didn’t want it to escalate.”

You nodded, staring after the drunk to be sure you saw him leave. “I accept your apology. And thanks. He was a piece of work, alright.”

“A regular Picasso,” he agreed. “Now, don’t take this the wrong way, but do you mind if I refresh your drink as a poor attempt at an apology on behalf of the male species?”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. “I normally wouldn’t mind, but you already rescued me. I don’t want you to pay for another drink too.”

“Oh, I won’t be,” he said, and then he lifted his other hand to show he was holding a wallet. “Our drunken friend is footing the bill.”

Your jaw dropped. “You stole his wallet?”

He shrugged. “More like borrowed. It’ll take him about half an hour to realize he doesn’t have it, and then probably another half hour to assume he may have ‘dropped it’ in here. I’ll mail it back to him.”

You chuckled. “Well, in that case, yeah. Hook me up, hero.”

He grinned. “I’ll be right back.”

You blinked. “Don’t you need me to tell you what it is?”

“No. Cranberry and vodka, twist of lime, right?”

You glanced at the mostly empty glass and then eyed him. “Are you actually blind or are you just pretending so you can pick up a pity fuck?”

He laughed then. “No, blind as a bat, I promise. Just got an unnaturally good sense of smell. I’ll be right back.”