#this is not what i meant to be doing rn but my brain chose violence

[dawntainbobbynash]

All right, come back to me. Come on. Come back to me.

[youveneverbeenalone]

Inktober for Writers/Fictober:

Day 30- Secret (Darejones)

Hello again, fam. Are you ready for the second to last installment of this project I took on a year ago and which took on a life of its own, but which has brought me such joy in the end? I think I am.

Today’s prompt, Secret, turned into one of my favorites. Maybe even my very favorite. It started as a crack idea that I barely started writing last year, but then I sat down and thought about it for a minute and realized ... I might be on to something. But then I took longer than I meant to in getting everything about it just right. I think it was worth it, though. I’m pretty proud of this one. I hope you like it.

Now, fair disclosure (and cw: sexual assault - not in the fic but in this paragraph): parts of what I write for Jessica are what I’d call ... autobiographically-adjacent. My story is different than hers in many ways (obviously) but there are still many similarities. That’s a big part of why I love her as a character so much and why I enjoy writing her. So occasionally I borrow inspiration from my own life and find a way to fit it into Jessica’s that will still make sense for her character and within her world. I try to do this with mostly little things. Details that the show never gets to or thinks to touch on. But I try not to do it with anything that would change the shape of her actual story. I never want to add something that doesn’t fit or seems out of character. Hopefully that’s not what’s happening here. Anyway, I may never have been experimented on and turned into a superhero, but I (like too many others) have been manipulated and experienced sexual violence against my will and one of the ways I chose to cope with that violation and reclaim my bodily autonomy was how Jessica chooses to in this one shot. So the idea didn’t just come from nowhere.

Anyway, this piece fits with the general timeline I was creating with the other Inktober for Writers oneshots from last year, right after they first get together. Like immediately after, in the morning.

To refresh your memory and/or to catch up, here are the preceding 29 days on AO3 (tumblr links are being fussy rn). Give me your thoughts if you’re so inclined. I’d enjoy hearing them if you’re interested in sharing. And again - thank you, with every fiber of my being for reading! You’re all the best!

Day 30 - Secret

When he happens to notice this new, secret bit of information about her is as much of a surprise as the discovery itself, because he is not typically one to miss such details, though he’ll chalk most of that up to the fact that the first time he was introduced to that patch of her skin, he was a little preoccupied. But when they’re getting up and around the next morning, he’s free of distractions as he happens upon it again.

It happens the morning after - after they spend the night together for the first time - when he offers to make her breakfast, having woken her gently with kisses, soft touches to her face, and general adoration that she pretends to despise but he can tell she actually loves. She grunts a begrudging affirmative, still groggy and very put out to be awake before 10 am, but gets up and puts on her underwear and t-shirt as he pulls on pajama pants and a t-shirt of his own. Next she finds her jeans and moves to step in them, but in her still half-asleep state, her foot catches in the fabric, and she starts to fall.

He’s behind her in seconds, pulling her up with one hand grabbing her hip and the other at her shoulder to steady her, a smirk on his face. But his expression immediately morphs into one of confusion.

“Wait, is that a tattoo?” The hand holding her hip now traces the skin slightly to the right of her left hip bone where a circular tattoo, about the size of a plum is inked into her skin.

She heaves a big sigh and fights a losing battle with a blush, rolling her head to angle away from him. “I was wondering if you were going to notice that.”

He chuckles softly. “Forgive me if my attention was diverted last night when I might have had the chance to notice it. I would hope my efforts were appreciated and that the oversight could be forgiven,” he says with a sly grin as he leans in and kisses her neck where she’s exposed it for him.

She shivers and he notices her pulse spike. The shiver seems like an indicator that she enjoyed the gesture, but he can’t quite parse if it’s the good kind of pulse spike or not as her adrenaline spikes as well. But then she turns in his hold so that they’re face-to-face, and he makes a mental note to avoid her neck from behind until they’ve had a conversation about it, just to be sure. She doesn’t seem too upset, though, and links her hands around his neck.

“I probably don’t want to know the answer to this question, but how can you tell?”

He settles his hands on her hips and shrugs. “It has to do with the … density of the skin in that area, for lack of a better word. I can feel the ink sitting in the dermis layer.”

“Yeah, that’s not creepy and simultaneously gross at all.”

He just smirks at her. “May I?”

“Fine,” she huffs.

With gentle, teasing fingers, he resumes his tracing of the outline of the shape with a quiet intensity. He pretends not to notice her sharp intake of breath or rapidly increasing pulse as he does. Instead, he narrates what he finds.

“So it’s a smiley face. But a … dead one? Like, with ex-ed out eyes?”

She huffs an exasperated sigh at him, but it sounds like she’s holding back a bit of a chuckle. “It’s the Nirvana logo, dumbass.”

Matt closes his eyes and inclines his head a few degrees, appropriately chagrined even if it’s not technically realistic for him to have known that. He wasn’t really a fan of grunge before the accident.

“Right. Sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve seen it.”

She bites her lip and rolls her eyes at him, still fighting a laugh. “I guess you’re forgiven.”

He puts a hand to his chest, voice feigning shock. “I’m touched by your magnanimity.”

At this, Jessica playfully punches him in the shoulder.

A beat passes as he begins re-tracing the outline of the shape on her soft skin, mesmerized by this new discovery. His voice is quiet when he finally works up the courage to ask the question that is suddenly burning a hole through the center of his brain.

“What made you decide to get it?”

She doesn’t seem to understand the sincerity of his interest and shrugs. “I don’t know. Why does any young idiot get a tattoo? I had just turned eighteen and was desperate to do anything that would prove my independence to any and everyone who would listen. Plus, I might have been a little drunk. And I, uhhh … nevermind.”

Matt cocks his head at the way that she begins to trail off, as though editing herself before sharing something too … well, he’s not quite sure what. But he has a suspicion.

“What?”

“Do you not know what ‘nevermind’ means?”

And the flinty edge that is now creeping into her tone does nothing to dissuade him of said suspicion. He runs a few contingencies in his head about how to proceed before making a calculated choice to respond with sarcasm.

“Oh, wait … I do know this one! It’s the name of a Nirvana album?”

“Cute,” she huffs with a halfhearted sneer of a smile. But it’s not too far off of the mark for what he was expecting in response, and it’s less of a shutdown than she could have given him, so he looks at the floor as he pushes her just a little harder.

“Thanks. But, it just seemed like you were thinking really hard about something before you changed your mind. And it just seemed like it was somewhat significant. Now, you don’t have to tell me; you never have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But you also don’t have to not tell me something just because it is significant. I don’t scare that easy, Jones. I’m Daredevil, remember?”

She shakes her head and scoffs at him. “I don’t — I mean, look, I just … ughhh. Fine. It’s just that … even though I wasn’t really consciously thinking it, looking back, it was something I wanted to do for myself. To myself. To show that even though those bastards at IGH had done whatever the fuck they’d done to me, my body was still mine and I got to decide my fate. Including choosing to get a shitty Nirvana tattoo on my hip.”

She’s deflated by the end - as though the disclosure took an inordinate amount of energy from her - posture sagging and looking down and away from him.

Matt blinks at her. “Wow, Jess. That is … surprisingly insightful. And it makes a lot of sense, actually. Thank you for telling me that. Truly.” He brings a gentle hand up to cup her face and lifts her chin, as if to make eye contact with her and emphasize his words.

“Yeah, well, congratulations. You know all my secrets now,” she says in a flat voice.

He struggles and fails to suppress a chuckle, because the idea strikes him as patently ridiculous. Someone as complex and complicated and intelligent and interesting as Jessica Jones is bound to have more secrets than a Nirvana tattoo. Surely.

“Somehow I doubt that,” he says in an arch tone.

But she doesn’t chuckle back or even huff a laugh under her breath at him. Instead she pushes hard against his chest, effectively breaking out of his hold, and smacks him in the arm with a surprising amount of force.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asks, very confused at her sudden change in mood.

“That wasn’t supposed to be funny, asshole. But believe me, I’m thrilled to know this is just a big joke to you. That I’m a joke to you.” She storms off, out of his bedroom and into the living room.

Matt hurries after her, his mind reeling and anxiety coursing through his veins. He’s never made such a terrible miscalculation in how she’d respond to his sarcasm, but he supposes it was bound to happen eventually. He just wishes it wasn’t in response to such a fragile moment that he unintentionally stomped all over.

“No! Jess. Never. You’re the furthest thing from a joke to me. I swear. I-I’m sorry. You’re right. That was … very unfair of me. Please forgive me for being so flippant. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or invalidate what you were trying to share with me. I’m sorry.”

A quick scan reveals she’s not particularly moved by his words, standing still and silent, arms crossed tight over her chest, as she stares out of his apartment window into the distance.

He runs a nervous hand through his hair and walks a few cautious steps toward the next window over, but she gives no sign that she acknowledges him. Heaving a heavy sigh, he leans back against the brick wall in between the windows and looks down, addressing his feet as much as he’s addressing her.

“I just meant that there’s so much more to you, so much more than what you present to the world. And I see that. Just as I see why you keep it locked away. You’d be crazy not to. Or at least a glutton for punishment with no survival instinct. But you’re neither of those things. You’re beautifully complex and complicated and messy and I love you for it. For all of it. But please believe me when I say I’m not scared of it. I’m not scared of you or of any possible secret you may have. I meant it when I said you never have to tell me anything, but you always can if you want to or if you need someone to talk to. About whatever.”

She answers him in the form of a heavy sigh as she shifts her weight, leaning into her opposite hip. But she still says nothing, staring blankly out at the city below.

Matt sighs in frustration before making himself take a step back to reassess. He’s pretty sure she’s listening - if not, she would have just left. She had every opportunity to. And he’s seen her leave for much less in the past. So he can’t give up yet. Matt licks his lips as he tries his last remaining strategy, edging ever so carefully closer to her as he speaks.

“Not gonna argue - I totally deserve the silent treatment, but that’s gonna make today pretty miserable for me. So is there anything I could do to make it up to you? Or to show you how sorry I am? I mean, I was already going to make breakfast, but at this point, maybe you’d like it in bed?”

She still refuses to look at him, but she turns from looking out the window to looking down at the floor as she leans her left side against the brick wall in between the windows.

Matt considers this progress and continues edging toward her and offering suggestions for how he could pay his penance.

“Or maybe some old fashioned groveling would help?”

Jessica rolls her eyes at that, and Matt smirks at the fact that he seems to be winning her over, slowly but surely.

“Or maybe … I could get a matching tattoo?”

She bites her lip at that, no doubt to keep from smirking at him. But he’s not about to let her get away with that.

“Is that it? Oh, I think that’s it. But where do you think would be best? Here?”

He holds up his arm, flexing his bicep, and though she can’t help but look at him now, she’s doing her damnedest not to smile. But Matt is nothing if not persistent.

“Or maybe here?” he asks, gesturing with his left hand to his right shoulder blade as he turns around and pulls his t-shirt over his head.

Casually, he drops the shirt to the floor, and as it falls, Jessica’s pulse begins to rise. Matt turns back around to face her and edges one last step toward her, stopping just short of arms-length apart.

He slides a finger under the waistband of his pajama pants and lowers them just far enough to expose his own left hip. “Or what about here? Then we can really match.”

Finally losing the battle against her will, Jessica scoffs at him as a tiny smirk breaks across her scowling face. “Idiot,” she says, though with decidedly less acid in her voice than a few moments ago.

“But I’m your idiot,” he says, as he moves slowly back into her space, allowing her the chance to turn away. When she doesn’t, he settles his hands around her waist and leans his forehead forward to touch hers, ever so gently.

“You’d better be,” she huffs with an exaggerated pout. But then she softens, and he watches, perplexed and absolutely elated, as she curls into him, resting her head on his right shoulder and tracing mindless patterns over the planes of his chest.

A sun-bright grin starts to break across his face, but he turns and presses a soft kiss into her hair to keep it from blinding her. This is a rare display of vulnerability from her and he doesn’t want to spook her or ruin the moment. Instead he responds in a tone with which he assumes she’ll be more comfortable.

“The infamous Jessica Jones showing some amount of affection?! What will people say if they find out?”

She pushes back far enough to give him a look, but it lacks the full threat of which she is capable. “You better not go around ruining my image, Murdock. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

She leans back against his chest, one hand wrapped around his neck while the other settles over his heart, beating steadily - if a little more rapidly at her close proximity.

Matt wouldn’t be able to stifle the magnitude of his smile this time, even if he tried. So he doesn’t.

“Your secret’s safe with me, Jones. All of them.” His hand returns to her hip and ever so lightly traces the outline of her tattoo as he speaks. “I promise.”

A beat passes as the tension between them swells, and Matt listens as Jessica’s heart once again begins to race. And then she’s surging forward, pressing her lips to his, and wrapping her arms around him with a resolution that makes Matt’s blood sing. But not just in a physical way.

Because the way she is reaching for him now feels different. More sure. More comfortable. Like he’s passed some kind of a test, or made it through some trial and proved his worth. Like he’s earned another clue to help him solve puzzle that is Jessica Jones. He understands that as of this moment, he has been let into her world in a way that few (if any) ever have. And he vows never to betray the trust or the gift she has given him in sharing these secret parts of herself with him.

He pulls her in like a lifeline and kisses her right back, sure hands settling at the small of her back and the base of her throat like anchor points, holding her to him. In doing so, he hopes that he has successfully communicated his promise to her. And if the look she gives him as she takes his hand and turns back to his bedroom after they part for breath - chests heaving in tandem - is any indication, he’s guessing she’s got some idea.

—

By the time they actually make it to the kitchen to start working on breakfast, it’s closer to noon than to a respectable breakfast hour, but Matt can’t honestly say he minds. In fact, he thinks that by being with Jessica, he may come to develop a new appreciation for the existence of brunch.

————-

P.S. If anyone is curious (and because I enjoy showing it off) - here’s my version of reclaiming my bodily autonomy by getting a tea saucer sized tattoo between my shoulder blades. So totally worth it.