#v4leoftears

[v4leoftears]

More late night DD doodles! this time just experimenting with more toony looks, look at the goofy beann!! 💕❤️️

[bellaxgiornata]

You're Safe With Me [Chapter Seven]

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader Word Count: 6.1k [Series Masterlist]

a/n: It's been so long since this series got a much needed update, but here y'all go. Enjoy... Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @lunaticgurly @allaboardthereadingrailroad @linamarr @hollandorks @sleeperthelazy @marcysbear @mattmurdocksstarlight @xxdrixx @v4leoftears @aoi-targaryen @danzer8705 @anon-cat-posts @heimtathurs @kmc1989 @thepunisherfrankcastle @agirlcandream84 @americaarse @desert-fern @youmakelovinfun @callmebrooklynbabes @jooheoniesdimples @wkndwlff @midnightramble @ingstadstarlight @pone21 @kezibear @gamingfeline

Surrounded by darkness, it took a moment for your tired eyes to adjust to the dim light of the motel room. Blinking slowly as you lay along the stiff, uncomfortable mattress, you noticed a few streaks of moonlight pouring inside from behind the thin curtains that covered the window across the room. The pale light mixed with the faint red from the motel's sign outside, the slight neon glow that seeped its way inside once more drawing forth that uneasy feeling in your gut. The one you hadn't been able to shake ever since you and Frank had finished your greasy dinner before falling asleep.

Something just felt wrong.

Judging by how quiet and dark it currently was, you knew it was either still quite late or very early considering the sun hadn't risen yet. You wished you could see the alarm clock from where you lay on the bed, curious as to what time it actually was. But Frank had gone to sleep last night insisting that he place himself on the bed between you and the door across the room in the event something happened–which you'd been more than happy to agree to when he'd phrased it like that. Though that meant his large body was currently blocking the single alarm clock on the nightstand along the opposite side of the bed, making it impossible for you to know what time it was. 

You knew he'd wanted to get an early start this morning, wanting to hit the road again and put even more distance between you both and this area as soon as the sun rose. But there was a large part of you–the part feeling that uneasiness in your stomach–that wished you could just wake him and leave right now. You were eager to go somewhere else that made you feel less on edge. Somewhere farther away from obvious Patriot Militia activity. You weren't sure if it was just in your head, but you’d felt like something was about to go wrong ever since Frank had stopped the van at that Walmart yesterday. 

Shifting a bit along the mattress and readjusting your position, you were abruptly hit with the sudden urge to relieve your bladder, the feeling causing you to quickly realize why you'd woken in the first place. Drawing your attention away from the window, your eyes fell on Frank beside you in the dark. He was laying with his back towards you on the bed looking exactly as he had when you’d first fallen asleep together. Judging by the faint rise and fall of his broad shoulder peeking out from beneath the sheets, you assumed he was still currently asleep. 

Admittedly it had taken you a while to fall asleep after you'd both eaten your dinner last night. Once you'd finally stopped focusing on that lingering feeling of dread, the feeling only calmed slightly by Frank's oddly comforting presence in the bed with you, you'd soon found it hard to ignore him . The way his body weight dipped the mattress had your own body struggling not to roll right into his solid back. For a long time you'd laid there being overly aware of where you placed your legs or your arms as you'd tried to get comfortable in the small bed. You were terrified of accidentally touching him and risking him turning around and shooting you one of his disapproving, surly looks. Or even worse–being scolded by him.

And the longer you laid beside him in the bed, unable to fall asleep, you’d noticed how he smelled like gasoline and cheap motel soap. Two scents that probably shouldn’t have mixed together but somehow felt just as oddly reassuring as the weight of him in the bed beside you. You’d laid awake staring at the back of him for far longer than you cared to admit just letting the scent fill your nose and taking further comfort in it.

But as you lay there staring at his back in the dark once more, his soft and steady exhales just loud enough for you to hear over the faint sounds of traffic on the nearby interstate, your bladder's need to be emptied grew more persistent. Biting your lip, you very slowly pulled the motel’s scratchy sheet and comforter off of yourself. You tried to move carefully as you uncovered yourself, not wanting to disturb Frank's sleeping form beside you. You figured he could use all the sleep he could get considering he was the one doing all of the driving and protecting. You knew he was exhausted, though you also feared how much grumpier he might be without a good rest.

The unforgiving chill of the motel room hit you the moment you’d removed the blankets, the loss of warmth from Frank's body heat becoming impossible to ignore. He was certainly like a furnace beneath the sheets–another thing you’d found strangely comforting about sharing the bed with him. But as you pushed yourself upright on the mattress slowly, your eyes on his back as you gnawed your bottom lip, you gradually sat upright and shoved those strange thoughts from your mind. Right now you just wanted to take a piss without incurring the wrath of accidentally waking the Punisher. 

Moving one leg at a time, you gently lowered your right foot to the floor before your left one followed after it. Silently, you slid along the mattress before rising to your feet, your eyes focused on the bathroom door situated across the room and by the sink. Taking a quiet step in that direction through the dark, your mind entirely focused on your very full bladder, you were surprised when something abruptly caught your left wrist. 

Startling in the darkness, you gasped audibly in surprise as your head darted over your shoulder. Frank was lying awake in the bed now, having somehow rolled noiselessly onto his other side towards you. In the dim light filtering past the motel curtains behind him, you could see his eyes were open and focused on where you stood beside the bed. Your own eyes soon dropped down to where his large hand was still holding onto you, the feel of his calloused and warm fingers lightly gripping your wrist causing goosebumps to raise along your bare forearms. Something strange stirred within you under his touch, especially with the look of concern written in his eyes and the slight furrow between his brows. But the deep and tired timbre of his voice breaking through the silence quickly distracted you from the strangely pleasant sensation that you’d felt at his touch. 

“What’re you doin’?” he asked.

Swallowing hard, aware of his grip still on your left wrist, you gestured over your shoulder with your right hand. “I need to use the bathroom,” you told him awkwardly. “Was trying not to bother you. Figured you'd be…upset if I did.”

Frank's gaze held yours as he silently stared at you, his eyes narrowing a little. In the seconds that followed, you found yourself becoming increasingly aware of each of his individual fingers on your skin. Trying to steady your breathing, you attempted to shoot him a small smile while you simultaneously hoped that he couldn’t somehow feel the slight uptick in your pulse beneath the pads of his fingers.

“Trust me, I wasn't about to disappear,” you assured him. A sheepish smile slipped onto your mouth as you quietly added, “I sort of need you and all. Not exactly inclined to run from you anymore.”

His expression softened at your words, his hand gradually releasing its hold on your wrist before it fell back to the bed. Frank gave you a single, wordless nod in response. For a second more you watched as he began to settle back down on the mattress, tugging the sheets up and over himself before he rolled over onto his side with his back once more facing you. The moment he’d laid down, the desperate urge to relieve your bladder once more overtook you and you hurried towards the bathroom. 

Stepping inside, you flipped on the light and shut the door softly behind yourself. You side-eyed the couple of dead moths laying on the floor beside the shower as you cautiously made your way over to the toilet. Half-awake you hurried to do your business in the bathroom, not wanting to run into any living insects–especially not after how Frank had reacted to you screaming over a spider in the previous motel.

When you left the bathroom, turning off the light and navigating your way to the nearby sink just outside, you were once more thrown into the darkness of the room. Your eyes took a minute to adjust as you felt your way to the sink, but once they did, you caught sight of Frank through the mirror. Turning on the faucet and beginning to wash your hands, you curiously eyed his reflection. He was sitting upright in the bed, his posture rigid and completely still. He looked anything but relaxed and ready to fall back asleep. A cold chill spread through you as you watched him, quickly feeling like his current alertness had nothing to do with you waking to use the bathroom. 

After drying your hands on the towel, you set it back on the counter before nervously turning towards him. He sat still alert on the bed, his gaze fixed straight ahead and focused on the wallpapered wall across from him. Hesitantly you took a step towards him, nerves twisting in your stomach.

“What is it?” you whispered. “What's–”

Frank held up a hand immediately, cutting you clear off. Biting the inside of your cheek, you watched as he tilted his head towards the motel door as if he was focused hard on listening to something outside. Eyes narrowing, you practically held your breath as you tried to pick up on whatever it was that he had.

At first you didn't hear anything besides the distant sound of cars and trucks speeding past the motel parking lot, the noise a constant since you'd both shown up earlier. But then you thought you caught the faint sound of voices. Voices that were speaking in the slightest of hushed whispers. And it sounded like it was coming from just outside, not that far from your motel room.

You felt your heart jump into your throat, that nagging feeling of unease and dread washing back over you instantly. Frank's head spun towards you moments later, his hard gaze causing your palms to sweat as fear gripped you in a firm hold. You knew what he was about to say before he even said the words.

“Get under the bed,” he ordered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Stay there.”

Without a word you nodded, already obediently hurrying over towards the side of the bed. Frank rose from the mattress before you'd even lowered your knees to the dirty motel floor, and as you steadied your hands against the side of the bed, not even remotely thinking about how disgusting and unclean the floor that you were about to get quite intimate with certainly was, you watched as Frank grabbed the handgun from the nightstand beside where he'd been sleeping. Breath coming in sharper, the last thing you saw before laying down along the floor was Frank’s back as he quietly paced his way to the motel door.

With a racing heart, you shimmied your way beneath the bed frame, grateful that it was just wide enough to actually fit you beneath it. Though it was a tight fit, one that was quite uncomfortable and only adding to your increasingly terrified state. The tight, enclosed space was threatening to push you straight into a panic attack as you lay there attempting to remain calm. When you heard the door of your motel room open, you squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath.

The memory of the last time you’d hidden under the bed not that long ago was scratching at the surface of your memory. The gunshots and tang of coppery blood hanging in the air pushed at the edges of your mind as you did your best to fend them off. Though that became less of a difficult task the moment you heard the distinct shriek of a woman coming from what sounded like the room right next door.

Eyes flying wide open at the scream, you swore your heart stopped beating entirely at the sound. It wasn’t long before you heard the neighboring motel door fly open, slamming into the wall with such force that it caused the adjoining wall to shake. You assumed that had been Frank bursting into the room, probably driven even further into that protective mode of his due to the horrified scream. 

Your mind was already racing as you lay beneath the bed, your heart now thudding so hard you could feel your pulse hammering away in your throat. Was it the Patriot Militia in the room next door? Had they just somehow gotten the wrong room and thought you had been staying in that one? Were they about to attack an innocent person? The thought of something horrible happening to someone else because of you had your stomach knotting and coiling with guilt.

But you didn’t have long to lay beneath the dusty bed frame worrying because the sound of a fight soon grew unmistakeable next door and you couldn’t focus on anything else. You heard loud crashes, the sound of glass shattering–the mirror above the sink possibly–and the occasional sharp bang of a gun firing which had you wincing every single time it went off. Every once and awhile the noises were accentuated by a feminine scream or something that sounded like Frank’s deep rumbling voice, but it was so muffled by the other sounds that you had no idea what he was saying.

Hands curling into fists at your sides, they ached from the tension of how tight you’d balled them. Your nails were digging into your palms while your teeth dug so hard into your bottom lip to keep you from violently shaking beneath the bed that you figured there’d soon be blood in your mouth. Part of you wanted to block out the sounds of the fight from next door, but another part of you was trying hard to decipher what the voices were saying above all the noise. And every time you heard Frank’s deadly tone making its way through the thin walls you felt a sense of comfort. It at least meant he was still alive.

You weren’t sure how long you’d laid on the floor beneath that bed while trying hard to keep your breath steady before the sound of the fight had finally died down. You figured that meant Frank had dealt with the neighboring intruders the only way you expected from the Punisher. Though you could hear him talking once more, his voice still too low and muffled for you to make out the words no matter how hard you strained to listen. The voice responding to him sounded male, though. Nothing at all like the initial screaming that had sounded like it had come from a woman. You found yourself hoping she was alright. 

Curiosity eventually won out as you lay there in the cramped, tight space. Raising your head a fraction from off the floor, you craned your neck and tried hard to understand what was being said in the next room. There were two male voices, one distinctly that of Frank’s, but no matter how hard you strained to listen, you couldn’t quite make out the words. And then the sound of a loud thwap startled you seconds later before a very solid thump met your ears. The next thing you picked up on was a protesting, feminine voice that was quickly growing louder as it neared your room. Brows knitting together in confusion, you lowered your head back to the floor before rolling it towards what you could see of the motel door from beneath the bed. It soon burst loudly open seconds later, startling you at the abruptness. A set of shoes you didn’t recognize practically stumbled into the room before you spotted Frank’s familiar black boots following right behind.

“I don’t know who they were!” the unknown voice protested. “I swear! They just showed up when I was asleep right before you did!”

“Not buyin’ it, kid,” Frank’s familiar tone replied.

From beneath the bed you pulled a face at his words. Kid? What did he mean by kid ? Especially after all the violent noises you'd just overheard coming from the room over. And why had he brought them with him? 

Frank called your name and you immediately stiffened under the bed, your thoughts entirely interrupted at the note of urgency in his voice. You focused back on the two sets of feet that were making their way further into the room, the motel door slamming closed a little harder than necessary.

“You can come out now,” Frank continued. “We gotta go. Grab your bag and get in the van.”

It took you a minute to uncomfortably squeeze your way out from beneath the bed frame. Gritting your teeth together, you tried to maneuver your way out but inevitably ended up hitting your shoulder on the frame as you did, grimacing slightly at the pain that shot through your arm as you finished crawling out from beneath the bed. You squinted when your eyes were hit with the light from the motel room that Frank must have turned on. Your back ached as you pulled yourself up from off of the floor, eyes adjusting to the brightness. On the opposite side of the bed you spotted Frank, one hand haphazardly swinging his bag onto his shoulder, the other roughly holding onto the back of a young woman’s sweatshirt.

“Frank, what’re you doing?” you asked, eyeing the young woman who you quickly recognized from the motel lobby when you’d arrived last night. “Why is she here?”

“Because she ain’t who she’s sayin’ she is, that’s why,” Frank snapped. “Look, we gotta go and she's gotta come with us. I can explain everything in the van when we're outta here. Alright?”

You shook your head immediately, the young girl now turning her terrified eyes on you. There was blood splattered along her face and bits of it in her blonde hair, though not remotely as much blood as what was currently covering Frank’s face. You tried to ignore the way your stomach lurched at the reason as to why they most likely had blood on themselves and why it was suddenly so quiet in the room next door.

“You–you can’t just kidnap a teenage girl from a motel, Frank,” you shot back, throwing a hand at the girl. “What about the father that she’s traveling with? You don’t think he’s going to file a police report when he sees she's missing? Have them looking for us nationwide?”

Frank rolled his eyes impatiently, his hold not letting up on the back of the girl’s pink sweatshirt. “She was lying. She isn’t here with her father. She's staying in that room alone. I'm not remotely buyin’ her innocent act and neither should you.”

“No, my–my dad just ran out for a bit,” the young blonde said, her voice wavering as her terrified eyes remained fixed on you, wide and pleading as they filled with tears. “He’s going to be back any minute and if he sees me missing he is going to freak out. Please, you have to let me go. I don’t know what’s going on! I swear!”

Your eyes darted to Frank at her side, her pleas and the tears in her eyes making you feel uneasy. Shaking your head gently at him, you said, “This isn’t what we do. We aren't going to kidnap people. They probably just had the wrong room, Frank. Mixed her up while looking for me. Just let her go and let’s get out of here.”

Frank shot you a look of disbelief, his head canting roughly to the side as his eyes narrowed at you. “Oh come on, are you really buyin’ this bullshit innocent act?” he retorted. “Only one bed was messed. There were no other bags but her backpack. No trace of anyone else in the room. And the asshole I questioned seemed pretty damn surprised when he saw me ‘cause he didn't realize you were here. The facts are in front of your face, Spunky,” he continued sharply. “Whatever the hell is goin’ on, she stepped into the same pile of shit you did. They’re after her, too. It's plain as day.”

Your eyes flew to the young woman who was still shooting you a pleading look, tears welling in her eyes as a couple slipped down her cheek. Uncertainty filled you as you studied her. She looked like she was barely even eighteen, how could the Patriot Militia have possibly been after her as well? What could they have wanted with her? The very idea of the terrorist organization targeting her seemed utterly ridiculous. It seemed more likely that she'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time, staying in a motel room that was neighboring yours and causing them to mistake her for you.

But yet, as you thought about it for a moment, you realized that her age alone should've been a complete giveaway to these people that they had the wrong person. If they'd thought she was the news reporter they were chasing down, seeing her should have made it quite obvious that she was far too young to even be a news reporter.

“Please,” the girl begged you. “ Please . I just want to go home. That’s all. I don’t know what’s going on or who those people are, I swear. I promise I won’t even tell the cops about either of you. Just let me go!”

“You either trust me or you don’t, Spunky,” Frank said, his impatience clear in his tone. “Cops are gonna be here any minute. We need to go. And I ain’t risking leaving her behind. So either you fall for her bullshit and we end up targets in a jail cell, or you grab your goddamn bag and we get the hell outta here. I need to call Madani.”

Inhaling a shuddering breath in, you couldn’t believe what you were about to do. Slowly you nodded at Frank, your stomach twisting as you headed over to the footboard of the bed and bent down to grab your bag from off of the floor. You shouldered the strap of it, your eyes meeting Frank’s as you straightened. A look of relief immediately washed over his face.

“Only because I…somehow trust you,” you told him softly. “Though, this seriously doesn’t feel right. She's just a kid.”

“I can see that,” Frank agreed, gesturing his head towards the door. “But we gotta go.”

With nerves and that sense of unease flooding your body, you walked past him, wincing as the young girl began sniffling softly behind you. It didn’t feel right dragging her along with the pair of you even if Frank seemed to believe she was somehow in danger herself. And you couldn't help but feel empathetic to her current situation, especially since only days ago Frank had practically kidnapped you, too. 

Making your way out of the motel room, you couldn't resist shooting a glance at the room to your right. The room Frank and the girl had just come from. Thankfully the door was shut, blocking your view of whatever lay behind it. The thought of what it was hiding had your blood running cold, a shiver racing down your spine. The scent of gunpowder and the coppery tang of blood from what had happened in the motel just days ago filled your nose, the memory causing you to feel sick.

Forcing your attention to the parking lot ahead of you and tearing it away from the door, you focused your eyes on Frank's van as your feet led you towards it. You weren't going to think about what had happened in either of those motel rooms. Not right now, not if you didn't want to lose your shit in the motel parking lot. Because Frank was right, you needed to get out of here before the police appeared, and truthfully, you were grateful that you were still breathing. 

As you approached the van, you could hear the young girl struggling against Frank's grip just behind you. Of course Frank remained silent despite her continued pleas, not remotely engaging with her now. That only seemed to upset her further, which in turn only increased your feeling of guilt for what you were both doing to her.

Opening the passenger door, you began to climb into the front of the van. You heard Frank leading the young woman around to the back of it before he roughly opened the doors. Cringing as you settled into the front seat, your arms hugging your little duffle bag to your chest, you heard the distinct sound of a zip tie tightening. Turning around in your seat, you frowned at the sight of one of the zip ties already secured around her right wrist.

“Please, don't,” the girl pleaded with Frank as he grabbed her other wrist. “Please don’t do this.” 

“That's not necessary, is it?” you called back to Frank.

Frank's stern gaze shifted from the blonde to you, his hand still firmly gripping her wrist as he paused. In the distance your ears picked up on the sound of police sirens, the noise immediately increasing your panic. They were most certainly on their way here and you were both quickly running out of time. No doubt Frank knew that, too.

“We don’t know her,” Frank shot back, his head gesturing to the blonde. “You really want to leave her loose back here? Hands free so she can attack us?”

Your gaze shifted uneasily to the girl beside him. “You don’t really think a teenage girl is capable of that, do you?” you questioned back.

“I don’t know who the damn hell she is, Spunky,” Frank growled. “And personally, I’d rather not risk finding out. You get me?”

Eyelids slowly lowering, you nodded in defeat. Turning back around in your seat, you felt sick to your stomach as you heard him finish securing her wrists before hefting her into the back of the van. Rather roughly he slammed the back doors shut before appearing at the driver’s side of the vehicle seconds later. He opened the door and climbed in, tossing his duffle bag down on the floor beside your feet before shoving the key into the ignition and starting the van. You shot him a questioning look, your feet shifting away from the bag.

“You want her sitting back there with the guns?” he snapped.

“No,” you admitted quietly.

Frank let out a grunt in response before he put the car in drive. As he began to peel out of the motel’s parking lot, he started shifting in the driver’s seat, one hand searching the pocket of his pants. Your head turned slightly over your shoulder, shamefully eyeing the young woman in the back. She was sitting on the floor of the van hunched over, her face buried in her hands. You’d been about to open your mouth to say something, but Frank had roughly bumped something against your arm to get your attention. Gaze returning back to him beside you, the sound of sirens growing even louder, you frowned at the phone in his hand.

“I’m gonna need you to call Madani,” he told you. “Put her on speakerphone. I need to focus on driving if you wanna get outta here.”

Wordlessly you accepted the phone from his hand and pulled up the contact list. The only other number saved in the phone that wasn’t your new burner phone was that of a Dinah Madani. Hitting the call button, you watched the phone screen change before you pressed the button to place it on speakerphone. The sound of the dial tone cut through the tension filling the van as you sat there quietly. The phone rang four times before she finally answered.

“What is it now, Castle?” Madani’s tired and irritated voice greeted from over the line. “It’s almost three in the morning.”

“We got another problem, Madani,” Frank answered, his eyes focused straight ahead. “Need you to clean up another mess for us.”

There was a curse on the other end of the line before Madani let out a sigh.

“You know,” she began, the sleep slowly leaving her voice, “just because I gave you the clearance to protect someone by any means necessary, that doesn’t mean you need to keep dropping bodies.”

“Wasn’t tryin’ to,” Frank replied, glancing in the rearview mirror as he spoke. “But they went after someone in the motel room next to ours and–”

“So help me, Castle,” Madani immediately began, “if you got an innocent bystander killed, the deal will be off.”

“No, I didin’t,” he countered. “They were actually after this girl. Barely looks to be eighteen. Apparently didn’t even know we were right there, too. Which is either coincidental or somethin’ else, I don’t know. But either way, I wasn’t just gonna sit back and let them take her.”

There was a pause before Madani answered.

“So what happened? Is she okay?” she asked. “Is she with you? Why are they after her?”

Frank glanced over his shoulder at the girl, your own eyes following his gaze. Her attention was focused on the both of you, clearly listening in to the phone call. There was a hard to read expression on her face, but something about it made her seem a little less innocent as you eyed her.

“She’s alive,” Frank replied, focusing back on the road. “Brought her with us. But she’s refusing to say why they want her.”

“Well let me know whatever you find out,” Madani told him. “But just…no torturing her, okay? She’s just a kid so treat her like one.”

You saw the way the muscle twitched in Frank’s cheek at her words, his eyes narrowing at the road. She’d touched on a nerve with that comment, it was obvious.

“Wouldn’t do that, Madani,” Frank ground out. “That’s not what I do.”

A loud sigh came from the other end of the phone before you heard the click of a pen. 

“So where is the mess I need to clean up?” Madani asked.

“Sunny Daze Motel,” Frank told her. 

Your attention shifted to the side mirror on the van as Frank repeated the motel’s address to her. Some of your nerves were eased by the fact that you couldn’t hear the police sirens anymore and you definitely couldn’t see any flashing blue and red lights. And that seemed like a good thing. It meant that you both had once more managed to get away with your lives intact. And now Madani would clean up the mess Frank left behind and keep the cops off of your back again, which was a relief even if you still felt sick at the thought of the dead bodies you knew were laying back in that motel room.

“There uh, was something else, Madani.”

The sound of unease in Frank’s tone caught your attention instantly. Head darting over your shoulder, your eyes immediately narrowed at him curiously. What else could there have been besides the dead bodies and the mysterious girl?

“What, Castle?” Madani asked carefully.

You could see the way Frank hesitated, his eyes determinedly focused on the road ahead of him. The shift in his demeanor had you studying him closely as he spoke, paying close attention to every word.

“The guy I questioned back at the motel,” Frank began slowly, “he mentioned something. Something that seemed…concerning.” 

He paused, his hands readjusting their position on the steering wheel. His grip seemed tighter than usual when he was driving, almost as if he was…uncomfortable. Or nervous. 

“Yeah?” Madani pressed.

“Not sure how much clearance you’ve got at Homeland, but have you uh,” Frank asked carefully, his eyes still straight ahead, “you ever heard of something called Project Chimera?” 

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Your eyes narrowed even further as you studied Frank, certain he was intentionally avoiding looking at you now. Whatever the hell that was didn’t sound good, that much you could gauge.

“No,” Madani answered slowly, dragging the word out. “Should I know what that is?”

“Heard it mentioned a long time ago. Back when I was still in that special forces group,” Frank continued, still very much ignoring the way your eyes were boring into the side of his face. “S’posed to be something that doesn’t exist even though it does. Top secret government shit, y’know? Something I remember being asked to join. But I said no ‘cause it seemed…not quite right.”

“You got more than that to go on?” Madani questioned.

Frank’s mouth set into a hard line, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tight you saw his knuckles whiten now. He was definitely nervous and that had you terrified. What could possibly scare the Punisher?

“All I remember hearing ‘bout it after the fact,” Frank answered, “was that they were making enhanced soldiers. Not training them– making them.”

Your blood ran cold as you stiffened in the seat. You didn’t know what that meant, but it didn’t sound like a good thing. Over the line, you heard Madani clear her throat and you waited with bated breath, hoping you’d get something more from either of them. 

“So you…you’re telling me that there might be some sort of…bigger threat after her now?” Madani hesitantly asked. “Is that what you’re saying? That it’s not just assholes with guns anymore?”

“Dunno,” Frank replied. “Dickhead mentioned his superiors weren’t a fan of mine. Managed to mention Chimera. Our girl here told me some higher up government shitbags are behind all this mess with the militia. So my guess?” he continued on. “The dickhead must’ve meant some higher ranking officials have access to these soldiers. I must be making enough trouble for them to need to call in somethin’ more…reliable.”

“Wonderful,” Madani muttered. “Alright, well, I’ll deal with your motel problem now, then I’ll do my best to dig around and see what I can find on some secret, nonexistent  government project. In the meantime, you find out what’s up with the other girl and keep your goddamn head’s down, okay? I don’t need any of you dying on me before I can get this shit dealt with.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Frank said. “That’s always the plan, ain’t it?”

The call ended abruptly and for a moment you just sat there with the phone in your hand, trying to process what you’d just overheard. Eventually you cautiously reached your hand out, giving the phone back to Frank when he briefly glanced at you. You watched as he pocketed it once more, his attention remaining focused on the road. But you couldn’t stop staring at him after what you’d just learned, fear once more enveloping you where you sat.

“Are we just…not going to talk about that?” you whispered, voice shaking.

“Talk ‘bout what?” Frank asked, eyes still on the road.

“The bigger threat?” you replied. “Enhanced soldiers? Whatever Project Chimera is?”

At the sound of your quiet, terrified voice, Frank’s gaze finally landed on you in the seat beside him. His expression softened, sympathy shining back at you in his dark eyes. At the moment, he looked far more compassionate than you’d ever seen him before. 

“Hey, ‘s’alright,” he assured you. “You don’t need to worry about it. No one is gonna hurt you, okay? I made you a promise. And I’m a stubborn asshole, remember? Nothing is gonna happen to you.”

Feeling tears prick at your eyes, your attention switched to the road. Arms hugging your duffle bag tighter to your chest, you once more felt the weight of everything crashing down on you. Frank was good– really good–at fighting. But neither of you even knew what this Project Chimera was or what an enhanced soldier was even capable of. 

“You don’t know that,” you whispered back, shaking your head lightly. “You can’t possibly know that.”

“You’re gonna be alright, you got that?” Frank stated firmly. “We’re gonna take these assholes down. And at the end of it, you’ll be just fine, Spunky.”

A tear snuck its way out of the corner of your eye, slipping its way down your cheek. You wanted to believe him, you really did. But right now you felt like the odds were quickly stacking against you both. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you whispered back.

[yarrystyleeza]

𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐚'𝐬 𝟐𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫!

Well, as the title suggests, I am turning 22 on January 30th (yes I can't believe it either), and it's a very very special number to me, I was obsessed with it since I was a kid—because of Taylor Swift's 22 of course (you have no idea how happy my inner child is now!).

However, I thought I should celebrate this very important event with you by hosting my second sleepover! (honestly I was planning to make this a double sleepover if I hit 300 followers before my birthday, but since I didn't, I really had to host a sleepover)

As usual, my sleepover will host games, questions, asks, and definitely, requests!!! <3

The sleepover will be a week long, from January 30th till February 6th, where you can submit asks and requests!

Note on prohibited things that I won't be doing or answering:

No nsfw/dirty asks, writing requests or questions, it's uncomfortable for me sometimes, and this is an all-ages-friendly celebration. No further elaboration, please respect this. <3

𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬:

Here's a list of the games we can play:

Kiss/Marry/Kill: you give me three characters and I will sort each one in one of these categories! (make it hard for me)

Would you rather: you give me two things/characters and I get to choose one that suits me better! (for example: night owl or early bird?)

Make an assumption: you literally make an assumption about me and I either prove it or deny it!

Never have I ever: you ask me about things I did or didn't do!

Exchanged Ships: basically, you give me a character that you find as my significant other, and I will give you a character in exchange and why I think it's the perfect character for you!

Random Q&A: you can ask me about anything, whether it's my favorite food or even what fabrics do I prefer to wear, ask whatever you want!

Girly Talks: just talk to me about any girly topic you want and we'll establish a good conversation! Let's talk about books or authors, favorite poetry pieces, maybe movies we loved in our childhood, or even your favorite outfits back when you were a 10 year old! Literally anything!

Rate My Music Taste: give me a song/artist and I will rate it from 1 (absolute flop) to 10 (total banger)! — (this is absolutely done just for fun).

I Wanna Write You A Song: start with a phrase and we will make a totally original song together in the reblogs!

Doodles: give me something simple to draw!

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬:

As for writing requests, I will be taking fluff/angst/violence (blood and gore—due to the nature of the characters I write for) x female!reader requests only. But of course you can request the prompt you desire. <3

As for the characters, here's a list of the fictional men that I would be writing for:

Matt Murdock/Daredevil

Foggy Nelson

Tristan Thorn

Michael Kinsella

Henry (from Eat Locals)

Daryl Dixon

(might consider writing for other Charlie Cox/Norman Reedus characters. example: Ian Hamilton, Owen Sleater, Scud, Murphy MacManus, etc.)

You can ask for prompt included in this list or ones you come up with yourself:

intimate moments / gestures that make me feel love / romantic rainy day prompts / gentle things that make me fall harder in love / fluffy comforting/sick dialogue prompts / lighthearted first kiss prompts / sparring prompts / forced proximity prompts / date prompts masterpost /

Note that I will be tagging the fic requests with #yuna's 22 birthday sleepover so they're easy to find, but they will be sorted in my main masterlist as regular requests! <3

tagging my moots to spread the word sorry for being a little too annoying hehe (and I tried to tag as much as possible but my memory is messing around with me I'm sorry if I forgot anyone): @v4leoftears @remonemo @fizanotfeeza @bunmurdock @bellaxgiornata @kal-0n @1988-fiend @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @floral-charlie-cat @farfromstrange @babygirlmurdock @mattmurdocksscars @itwasthereaminuteago @c-mrdck @xxeycisxx @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mindidjarin @little-miss-dilf-lover @shiorimakibawrites @tongueofcat @marytheweefrenchie @chvoswxtch @devilsmurdock @galaxies-and-moons-and-cox @acharliecoxedfan @folkloreandfall @murdocklorian @munsonownsmyass @abbyhaslongshorts @murc0ck @lazyxsquirrel @theradioactivespidergwen @xxdrixx @saintmurd0ck @softasawhisper @she-likesorchids @peterman-spideyparker @mattmurdocksstarlight @amberlynnmurdock @courtforshort15 @saltedlays @importantnightwerewolf @lene-loki

That's basically everything I have for my birthday sleepover, feel free to submit requests and games! Thank you for coming to my sleepover tonight! <3

[igotanidea]

Surprise : Matt Murdock imagine

asked by @v4leoftears as a part of my celebration

A/N: it;s been a while since I wrote for Matt, and damn! It's nice to get back to that :D, words in italics are the the references to the past, at first, and Matt;s thoughs, later.

****************************************

„Suprise!”

Matt could barely do as little as open the door to his place when Karen, Foggy and  Y/N jumped out of different furniture and started happily screaming. They have been planning this little birthday party for him for a while now. Even though Y/N was not sure about hiding in the Daredevil’s apartment, her friends convinced her to do so.

“Come on! It’s gonna be fun!” Foggy said

“Unless he goes full vigilante mode and kills us all in a blink of an eye. You do realize he can hear people heartbeats, right? What do you think would be his first reaction upon sensing three of those in his flat?” she scoffed

“You are too modest, my friend. Everyone knows Matt can tell your heart from everyone else’s. It just beats differently, cause he is soooo in love with you” Nelson grinned at poor, blushing girl.

“Stop it , Franklin!”

“Don’t be me mad at me…..”

“I'm not mad!”

“Last time someone used my real name was probably in middle school, so yes, I can tell you are.”

“We can use some nice scent to calm him down” Karen suggested “I don’t think he would become suspicious if he smells the freshly baked cake or something like this. Or maybe we can get some of his favorite takeout?”

“Nah.” Y/N shook her head “it’s his birthday. We are not taking take-out. If anything I am going to prepare something nice from the scratch.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you agreed to this. I was truly worrying you were going to leave us alone with all the preparations.”  

“When did I agree…..?” Y/N trailed, but quickly realized how tricked she was “oh, damn…..”

The three friends had their hands full for the last couple days. The hardest task was probably pretending that they had no clue Matt’s birthday were coming. Even though he was throwing hints left and right.

“I think I should replace my hoodie soon, it seems like it is tearing.” He said one day.

“Really? I know a nice shop with good men’s clothes so I can take you there.” Y/N replied not even looking up from her documents

“I’m running low on medical supplies” he whined on the other

“too many dangerous adventures lately?” Foggy laughed “maybe the devil needs retirement.”

 “I might be taking some time off next Thursday., That’s a special date for me” was probably the most suggestive.

“All right. I’ll write it down so no one forgets and won’t take any clients of yours then.” Karen smiled brightly not catching the bait.

So all that left Matt in sad belief that no one of his friends remembered and made him just a bit more nostalgic than usual. He spoke less and tried to bury himself in the work. The plan was working just perfectly.

The only thing left to do was performing some magic so the three of them could leave the office early on that big day, without making Matt suspicious. Now that, that would be a challenge, no doubts. He was just too… careful and observant. 

But during all those times of being friends with him, Foggy, Karen and Y/n got sneaky and creative as well. Maybe even more than Matt, since, after all, they were the ones who had to keep his identity a secret and come up with excuses for him being late or bruised or disheveled.

So when the next Thursday finally came, miraculously Y/N got sick, Karen found a lead of a new investigation and Foggy had a family emergency. As a result Matt was left alone in the office, sulking, putting on his characteristic sad wet cat expression and getting lost in thoughts. Somewhere around six he gave up completely and with a deep sigh left the office heading straight towards his apartment. Apparently the only thing he could hope for (even on his b-day) was getting into gear and getting beaten up.

Yeah, well. If only he had more faith in his friends.

“SURPRISE!”

“What…..?” his surprised gaze landed somewhere above Y/N’s head, all his posture asking for any kind of explanation. “What…..?”

“Oh, you silly one!” Y/N rushed towards him, enveloping him a tight hug in which he immediately got lost “Please tell me, you did not actually think we forgot about your special day?”

“I….. I kinda did…..”

“You are a man of a little faith, my friend” Foggy laughed, reaching for the paper hat and putting it on Matt’s head.  “We’re gonna party like we did in college.” he added, handing him a bunch of party baloons in different shapes and sizes.

“We weren’t exactly party animals, Foggy.”

“Stop embarrassing us in front of the girls, Murdock!”

“If only that were the only thing that you can get ashamed of” Y/N rolled her eyes and grabbed Matt’s hand leading him inside “stop standing in the threshold birthday boy. There’s more than just some gadgets which were actually Foggy's ideas. ”

“Now you got me worried. I seriously hope you did not set fire in my apartment”

“Idiot!” Y/N smacked his head playfully “use some of your supersenses! Do you smell burnt?”

“Not really.” He smiled lightly “it’s actually pretty nice scent. What did you make?”

“Something special.” Karen grinned, getting the food out the oven “we figured you could actually use some home-cooked meal, instead of take-out again.”

“You shouldn’t have…..”

“Nonsense.” Foggy muttered.

“You, Nelson, have nothing to say in the matter! We made it all from scratch, you just came for the done!”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I brought the presents! That was some heavy lifting”

“Guys!” Karen interrupted Y/N and Foggy’s banter “stop fighting, we should focus on the man of the hour.”

“No, please.” Matt whispered “laugh and bicker all you want. I haven’t had so much laugh and fun in here for a while. It’s just …. nice. Thank you all.”

“Don’t thank us, yet. At least not before tasting and opening the gift.”

“You really shouldn’t have…..”

“Mattie….” Y/N took a step towards him “listen to me” she grabbed his face in her hands and looked him straight into the eyes “you. deserve it. All right? Nod If you understand.” He nodded obediently “don’t you ever think differently, love.”

“Ok, you two lovebirds, come sit and let us eat! I’m hungry!”

“You are always hungry, Foggy!”

“I’m a busy, important man! I’m entitled to be hungry. Can I start now?”

“ NO!” Karen and Y/N yelled in unison

“WHY?!”

“Not before a birthday cake!”

“There’s a birthday cake?” Matt raised his happy, gazeless eyes onto his friends “really?”

“Of course. What’s a b-day party without a cake? Now, here.” The girls put the dessert onto the table and lighted the candles.

“We weren’t sure how old you were, you ancient one….” Foggy joked

“We were actually surprised you lived this long…..” Karen added

“So this is just symbolic number.” Y/N ended the sentence “But the wish is yours to make.”

“I don’t…..”

“Sh! You don’t have to say it outloud. Just think it. It’s all right.”

“All right.” Matt whispered, his eyes glimming a bit as he leaned over the candles and blew them off in the first try.

“Please, I just want them to stay with me like this. I don’t want to be alone ever again”. He though

“Yes!” his friends clapped happily “you made it, it’s gonna come true! Happy birthday, Matt!"

It already did. He closed his eyes, trying to process all those happy feelings bubbling inside him. Thank you, lord. I don’t deserve any of this.

“Finally! Can I eat now?!”

Matthew Murdock never believed he could be happy. He was used to constant pain, fear, guilt and regret.  The feeling on carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders all alone. He was a martyr, who put himself on the cross and forgot how to get down from it. And now? Now all that emptiness that was his best friend, was extruded by laughing, joy and that warming presence of his favorite people – friends and the love of his life. They really were here. Despite everything he did, what he put them thought, they never stopped believing in him, never left him. God, he truly did not deserve them. Their voices, jokes and bantering was exactly what he needed. A reminder that no matter what he was not alone. He smiled lightly, digging into the food. Made just for him. To celebrate him. All the effort they put into that, all the planning and preparations. It was just too much to handle and he started to shake, almost unnoticeably by anyone.

Anyone except Y/N, who sat the closest to him.  

“Matty?” she reassuringly put  a hand on his shoulder throwing him off his reverie “Are you all right?”

“I’m just…. I need a second all right?” he stood up from the table and exit the room, followed by his friends’ surprised gazes. Y/N didn’t even need to think twice when she walked right after him towards the bedroom. Her man was just sitting on the bed, sobbing lightly and that made her blood freeze in her veins.

“Matty?” in a blink of an eye she was by his side, cradling his head and taking all the mixed-up emotions filling him whole “what happened, love? Sh.” She caressed his cheek lovingly “it’s all good. Tell me. I can’t let you go through a mental breakdown tonight. And well, ever. But especially tonight. Tell me, Matt.”

“You’re just all so good to me.” He whispered, hiding face in the crook of her neck “I still can’t process that…”

“Process what, silly? That we love you? That we care about you? That we only want what best for you? Even if sometimes requires tough love?”

“Yes.” He confessed and his confession made her tighten the grip on him

“Good thing we can always remind you.” she smiled and kissed the top of his head

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“Of course. I told you. You deserve it. You are a good person, Matthew Murdock. Stubborn like hell and individualistic, for sure, but deep down, nothing but good.”

‘Can we stay here for a while?” he asked just wanting to be with her until he got back his composure.

“I think….” She trailed, but sudden yelling from the dining room cut her off.

“Are you two gonna come out so Matt can open the presents?!”

“WHO’S BIRTHDAY IS IT, FOGGY?!” Y/N yelled back “WHY DO YOU FEEL THE URGE TO TELL PEOPLE WHAT TO DO IN WHAT ORDER?!”

All Foggy did in response was a happy laugh.

“something tells me he's getting another kind of present there!”

“Shut up, Franklin!” she couldn’t help but blush a bit “what do you say, jubiliarian, shall we get back?”

“Only if you give me your present later…” he smirked and kissed her cheek.

“We’ll see about that…..”  

[v4leoftears]

Needed some serotonin for the night so I decided to sketch up @merdie Matthewroo they drew a bit back!! 💕

Hope yah like it!! he is plotting devilish things 🔥‼️

[v4leoftears]

See no evil

Late night study/practice with our favorite devil.

I really need to indulge in more quick pieces like this one, it was really fun to make.

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 18: "A Series of Firsts"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut [Comfort now exists in this series!!]

Word Count: 4k

a/n: This is a SWEET installment!!! I have tortured y'all enough and I now present to you lovely readers a very enjoyable ATY Matty. From here on out comfort should outweigh the slight bit of angst that lingers in this series. Enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705 @yourlocalbentspine @harperdoodle @hollandorks @mattmurdocksstarlight @yeonalie @will-delete-this-later-probably @darekened-writer [some of you might need to check your settings to be tagged!]

It felt strange walking the streets that somehow felt both familiar but not as the snow fell down in a flurry of white, fluffy flakes around you. A strong, bitter gust of wind blew past you down the sidewalk as you made your way and you pulled your coat a bit tighter around yourself, tucking your chin into the scarf you were wearing as a chill ran down your spine.

LA had certainly made you forget just how cold the New York winters really could be.

Your flight to New York had gotten in around three this afternoon and you’d spent your time once you'd left the airport checking into the hotel that you were staying at in Hell’s Kitchen. You’d taken a brief nap in your room, tired from the long flight, before grabbing something quick for dinner. Now you were on your way to meet Foggy, Karen, and Matt at Josie’s for drinks tonight since they’d finally finished work.

Your stomach was churning and rolling with nervous excitement the closer you got to the bar, and when the neon sign finally came into view, you wondered if Matt was inside already. You wondered if he’d picked up on your heartbeat outside a while ago; he’d once told you that he could hear familiar heartbeats from a significant distance, singling them out. That thought had yours beating a little erratically on your walk.

You were incredibly nervous to see Matt tonight. Because tonight would be the first time you’d ever been around him after having learned the truth that he returned the feelings you had for him. You didn’t know what to expect or how you should even act around him this evening. Did you flirt or just act like your usual self? The fact that the pair of you would have an audience with Karen and Foggy didn’t help with the situation either–or your nerves.

Your boots crunched over the salt on the sidewalk as you finally came upon the entrance to Josie’s. Pulling your hand out of the warmth of your coat pocket, you reached out and opened the door. The heat and noise of the bar instantly hit you as you stepped inside, a smile slipping onto your lips at the sight of Josie waving at you behind the counter. Removing the hat from your head, you managed a brief wave in return before a chorus of excited shouts drew your attention immediately to your right.

All three of your friends were crowded around their usual table in varying disheveled states of their work attire. They were cheering and smiling, beers raised in their hands towards you as you stood there in surprise, your eyes taking in the sight of them. Though inevitably your gaze landed on Matt sitting at the table and you quickly noticed the empty seat beside him. 

For a moment all you could do was stand there and stare at Matt, your feet rooted to the sticky bar floor as your hands nervously twisted the knitted winter hat in them. Your eyes lingered on him as he set his beer on the table, gradually rising to his feet with a vibrant smile on his face, his covered gaze very clearly focused solely on you. Heat crept up your neck under the weight of his intense focus, another sudden rush of nerves filling you. 

He looked good, somehow even better in the months since you'd last seen him. The slight pull of the buttons on his dress shirt certainly wasn't helping your racing pulse, either. Neither was the sight of his exposed muscular forearms with the way his shirt sleeves were often rolled up, or the way his dress pants clung just right as he stood to his feet.

How in the hell were you supposed to make it through the night without passing out? This was Matthew Murdock, the best friend you'd been in love with for years . He was absolutely beautiful. You were certain one teasing, flirtatious comment out of those beautiful lips of his directed at you would have you on the floor.

Sucking in a deep breath, you nervously headed over to their table on trembling legs. All three of them had risen from their chairs and were making their way over to greet you, but Foggy had practically catapulted around the table. He nearly slammed into you with a bear hug, crushing you as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. You laughed as you hugged him back.

"Goddamn eight months is a long time," Foggy complained when he finally released you. "You cannot go that long without seeing me again!"

"Yeah," you agreed. "It definitely was a long time, Fog. I missed being back here."

Karen bumped her hip into Foggy, pushing him out of the way so she could draw you in for a hug next. You quickly returned it, more nervous butterflies fluttering in your stomach as she shot you a knowing look when she pulled away.

"Missed seeing you in Josie’s," she told you. "It always felt weird without you here."

The moment Karen stepped back, your focus shifted to Matt just to your left. He almost looked nervous as he approached you, your heart flying up into your throat. He said your name softly, the smile never leaving his lips as he gradually closed the space between the pair of you. 

His arms carefully encircled your shoulders, almost as if he wasn't sure of how he should act, either. Chewing the inside of your cheek, your own arms timidly slipped their way around Matt's waist, your hands cautiously landing on his back. You felt Matt's mouth beside your ear and a shiver ran down your spine.

"I missed this," he whispered. 

Your eyes instantly closed at his words, arms tightening around him at the sound of his voice. In turn, Matt's own arms held you a bit more firmly to the front of himself as you buried your face into his shoulder, gradually relaxing into him.

"I did, too," you whispered back, voice muffled by his dress shirt. 

"It's good to have you back in Hell’s Kitchen," he told you.

Both of you held on to each other for a few moments longer, a smile drawn wide across your mouth as your fingers pressed into his back, trying to hold onto him somehow tighter. You didn't want to let him go, not after having gone without him eight long months. You felt the eventual prickle of tears in your eyes building the longer you held onto him, the dampness forming from a combination of extreme joy at finally seeing Matt again– touching him–mixed with the knowledge that you definitely would not be ready to say goodbye again in a few days. 

Pressing your lips together, you reluctantly broke away from Matt, unburying your face from his shoulder as your arms gradually dropped back to your sides. And it didn't escape your notice that it took Matt a few seconds longer to release you from his hold, slowly pulling away from you. Though you stood entirely still and in complete shock when one of his hands slid its way up from your shoulders all the way to your cheek, his thumb tenderly stroking back and forth along your skin. Shyly you held his covered gaze, heat burning your cheeks at that charming smile on his mouth as he touched you in a way that felt so far from friendly. Matt’s smile only seemed to grow the further you flushed, your right hand nervously tightening around the hat in your hand. 

Foggy loudly cleared his throat beside you, the sound breaking through the moment between you and Matt. Your eyes quickly darted away from him and landed on your two friends, Matt's hand inevitably falling from your cheek and back to his side. Both Foggy and Karen were shooting you wide, excited grins. Feeling a little embarrassed they’d just witnessed that, your bottom lip slipped between your teeth as you tried to fight down the growing nerves in your stomach.

"Why don't we sit and catch up?" Foggy suggested, gesturing to the chair that had been empty beside Matt’s. "We already grabbed you a beer.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, nodding lightly. “That uh, that sounds good.”

The four of you headed back towards the table, your cheeks still burning a bit as you slid the chair out beside the one Matt was settling back down into. You noticed how he’d slid his just a bit closer towards yours, and that only had your stomach twisting more nervously as you set your hat down on the table. When you sat down in the chair, Foggy pushed a beer along the table towards you.

“Thanks, Fog,” you said, smiling at him.

Accepting the beer from his hand, you saw Matt’s attention on you out of the corner of your eye. He was still wearing that charming smile, directing it solely at you. In fact, he was completely focused on just you. That level of attention from him had your heart speeding up a little, your tongue slipping out to wet your lips. It didn’t matter that the pair of you had steadily been flirting more and more over your phone calls back and forth to each other these past few weeks before you’d finally flown out to New York, having Matthew Murdock’s sole focus on just you for once was suddenly making it damn near impossible to breathe. 

You were definitely going to have a hard time adjusting to him being like this with you.

Clearing your throat, you tried to ignore the fluttering of your stomach. “How were things at the office today?” you asked, glancing between the three of them.

“A bit busy,” Karen answered. “There was an influx of new clients this afternoon.”

“And thank God for you stopping in after your classes,” Foggy added to Karen. “I don’t think we’d have made it through the rest of the day without your help.”

“Yeah, Matt mentioned you guys had been busy lately,” you said, picking up your beer.

“Oh yeah?” Foggy asked, a teasing smile on his face that had your beer pausing midway to your lips. “You both been talking a lot, have you?”

Heart giving a little lurch, your eyes darted towards Matt just to your left. A faint smirk slipped onto his lips as his hand came up, adjusting his glasses along the bridge of his nose. Your eyes lingered on his fingers for a moment as if you were in a trance, watching their movements as your beer still hovered just before your lips. His head shifted a little more towards you when his hand lowered back to the table and you almost forgot to breathe. His smirk only grew wider.

“How was your flight?” Matt asked.

Blinking hard a few times you glanced away, finally bringing the bottle to your lips. You took a big drink hoping the alcohol would help to somewhat calm your nerves before you answered.

“It was good, just really long,” you told him. “I’m still trying to readjust to the few hours time difference.”

“Jetlagged?” Karen asked.

“Yeah,” you said with a nod. “And I’m also trying to adjust to how cold it is right now.”

Foggy let out a sigh, shaking his head in faux disappointment at you across the table. “You go to LA for not even a year and you suddenly can’t handle the snow? Have you turned into Matt now?” He gestured a thumb at Matt beside him which only had Matt abruptly frowning. “Cause this guy still bitches that he’s freezing every goddamn day. It’s like the walk to Jerome Hall with him all over again when he gets to the office every morning. Always so grumpy.”

“I hate the cold, Fog,” Matt said, his attention shifting to Foggy. “You know that.”

“Yeah, I do,” Foggy agreed. “I’ve only heard you tell me that about a million times now.”

“Does he still bury his face in a scarf?” you asked, grinning at the memories flashing through your mind. “Like he did all those times I met you guys at the dining hall?”

“Mhmm,” Karen hummed out. “Wraps it all the way up to his nose.”

You tried to stifle the laugh as you chanced a glance at Matt. He was smiling at you now, though, the frown entirely missing from his face. The laughter died on your lips almost immediately at the sight–he truly was incredibly handsome. 

“I seem to remember someone always being really clumsy on the ice,” Matt teased.

Your eyes went wide as you heard Foggy burst into a laugh. Playfully your hand reached out, swatting Matt’s arm as his smile only broadened. 

“I didn’t fall that often!” you countered.

Matt’s smile turned smug as he grabbed his beer, raising it from the table. “Because I usually caught you before you did,” he pointed out.

You opened your mouth, about to respond, but then you stopped. Brows furrowing deeply together, you quickly replayed the memories in your mind of the times you’d walked back from the bar or the dining hall or one of the restaurants nearby campus when you’d been out with Matt and Foggy. Your eyes narrowed as you recalled multiple different occasions you’d been walking beside Matt, your foot slipping on a patch of ice before Matt’s hand darted out to catch your arm.

“Didn’t realize that, did you?” Matt asked, his voice breaking through your thoughts.

“No,” you whispered, glancing up at him. “I didn’t.” 

Something incredibly strange happened in that moment–Matt’s smile suddenly turned shy as he ducked his head, focusing on the table. His fingers began twirling the beer bottle in front of himself almost nervously.

“Ever since you fell that time when we were leaving the bar and you–you hurt your wrist–” Matt began softly, gesturing a hand towards your left wrist, “–I always paid attention to your footing when there was ice. I didn’t want you to get hurt again. Because I remembered how much you said it hurt trying to type on keyboards all day for your programming courses after that.”

“Oh,” you whispered, eyes darting down towards your wrist. “I had no idea.”

Under the table, you felt Karen's foot nudge yours. Looking over your shoulder at her, you saw the bright smile on her face as she waggled her blonde brows at you. Movement across the table quickly caught your eye and your head turned, catching Foggy clasping his hands in something like mock prayer as he looked up at the ceiling of Josie’s, muttering ‘thank you’ repeatedly under his breath.

“Do you mind if I walk you back to your hotel after this?” Matt asked.

His voice yet again caught your attention, your head shifting back towards him. That shy look remained on his face, his dark brows raised a little above his glasses.

“Just, you know, to make sure you don’t trip on any patches of ice?” he added.

A warm, tingling feeling rushed through you at his words, your eyes openly staring at his lips as he’d spoken. For a moment you wondered what you’d have to do to feel them on yours tonight, because at this point you’d do just about anything.

“I’d like that,” you answered softly.

Nervously chewing the inside of your cheek, you walked with an arm looped through Matt’s, your hand clutching the wool of his coat as the pair of you made your way back towards your hotel in companionable silence. He’d folded up his cane and put it into his jacket pocket before you’d both begun the walk to your hotel which was only a couple of blocks from Josie’s. But when his free hand suddenly came up and landed atop the hand you were holding onto him with, you instantly startled at the touch. 

“Your hand is freezing,” Matt observed.

“Yours is warm,” you blurted.

Matt chuckled lightly, his hand wrapping over the top of yours more fully and shielding it from the chilly night air. A slight giddiness rippled through you at the gesture, especially considering how much you knew Matt hated the cold himself. And not only that, but this walk with Matt back to your hotel felt vastly different than every other time you’d ever walked anywhere with him before. Different than any time he’d ever walked you back to your dorm at Columbia. It almost felt romantic–intimate, even. Which was definitely a first between the two of you.

“I’m really glad you came out to visit,” Matt told you. “Hell’s Kitchen really hasn’t been the same with you gone. And Karen was right, it always felt strange going to Josie’s and not having you there.”

“Well it–it always felt weird spending my days without seeing you,” you confessed, your eyes focused on the sidewalk as you both walked. “I mean I know after graduation it wasn’t like I saw you all the time but…it felt weird going months without hearing your voice. And not–not getting to see you every once and awhile.”

“I wanted to see you more often,” Matt admitted, his head turning over his shoulder towards you. “After graduation, I mean. I wished I could’ve seen you every day. Wished that I could’ve–” he stopped mid-sentence, letting his unfinished thought hang in the air before he shook his head. “I’m just–just glad you’re here right now. Though I wish it wasn’t just for a few days.”

You hung your head, a sad smile pulling at your lips. Your trip to Hell’s Kitchen was only four days long–not even if you actually counted the days you’d had to fly in and fly back. Truthfully it wasn’t long enough. 

“I wish I could stay longer, too,” you whispered. 

“I know Karen said you have a brunch planned tomorrow with her,” Matt began, “and I know that tomorrow night we’re all getting together back at Josie’s again, but would you…maybe like to grab coffee with me? Tomorrow morning?”

You glanced up at Matt from beneath your lashes, spotting the hopeful look on his face as he continued to focus on you in return. Your heart gave a little jolt in your chest at the sight. 

“As in, like a…” your voice trailed off as nerves once again swirled in your stomach.

“A date, yes,” Matt confirmed. “Would you like to grab coffee with me tomorrow morning? As our first date?”

Inhaling a shaky breath, you nodded slowly. “Yes,” you answered.

Behind his glasses, Matt’s face visibly lit up. You could almost feel the warmth radiating from him. He abruptly came to a stop on the sidewalk, pulling you to one along with him. In one swift movement, he’d placed both of his hands gently on your hips, turning and guiding you backwards until your back was lightly pressed to the building that was now behind you. Matt stood before you, blocking you from the view of foot traffic as he smiled softly back at you. 

“And Sunday night,” he continued, one hand rising up to very gently cup your cheek. “Can I take you to dinner Sunday night for our second?”

Lips parting, you stood there momentarily stunned as you stared back at him. In the silence that followed, you saw the white plumes of your breath mingle with his in the incredibly small space between the pair of you, your heart beating faster in your chest. He was so close to you now; you couldn’t help it when your gaze inevitably dropped down to his lips yet again this evening. Almost as if he’d known, the corners of his mouth curved ever faintly upwards.

“Yes,” you whispered.

Matt’s smile grew wider at your response, his other hand releasing your hip to reach up and remove his glasses from his face. One-handedly he folded them, slipping them into his jacket pocket as he gazed warmly back down at you, the view of his handsome face no longer obstructed. He took another step towards you, ever so slowly closing the distance between the pair of you. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart somehow hammering even faster in your chest as Matt’s hand slid down your cheek, his fingers lightly gripping your chin and tilting your face up towards his.

“And what about right now?” Matt asked, his voice hardly above a whisper. He leaned in even closer to you, his face barely a couple of inches away as his eyes fixed downward on your lips. “Can I kiss you right now?”

The warmth of his breath washed over your lips with each of his exhales and the sensation quickly had you growing lightheaded. Your own eyes were still focused on his mouth, that very same mouth you’d seen kiss countless other women over the years. The one that had flirted with so many others. The mouth that you’d spent years dreaming about, wondering how it would feel if he ever pressed it to yours. Wondering how soft those plush lips of his would actually be and if he was as great of a kisser as you’d unfortunately had to overhear countless times before. 

Never in your life did you ever think that mouth would kiss yours.

“Yes,” you barely breathed out.

Matt’s thumb slid upwards, the pad of it brushing so lightly over your lips that you’d almost not felt it. You swallowed hard, a slight shudder running down your spine that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with Matthew Murdock. You saw his eyelids flutter close before his nose gently nudged yours, his fingers under your chin only further coaxing your mouth up towards his. 

His lips had barely ghosted along yours–just the lightest of touches–before both of your hands flew out and landed on Matt’s chest. The moment his lips met yours more fully for a second time, your fingers curled tight around his wool coat, fisting the material roughly as you held on to him, your knees suddenly growing weak. Eyelids closing shut, you kissed him back more fervently than you’d have ever thought you’d have the nerve to do. 

Matt’s fingers soon released your chin, his hand making its way to cradle the back of your head as he stepped completely into you, carefully pushing you further into the brick wall behind you. Both of your hands released their tight grip on his coat, making their way up to wrap one after the other around his neck, pulling him tighter into you and deepening the kiss. Matt’s mouth only moved more enthusiastically against your own in response, his hand tightening its grip in your hair as his other arm snaked its way around your waist, drawing you in flush to the front of himself with a faint grunt against your mouth. 

As he kissed you, Matt held onto you like he had no intention of ever letting you go, his fingers roughly digging into your lower back even through your thick layers. His warm, soft lips were a distinct contrast to the cold as they continued to meet yours over and over, and the sharp, gasping breaths escaping from both of your mouths between kisses quickly filled your ears. With the way he was kissing you, you’d entirely forgotten about the fact that you were in public, standing on a sidewalk pressed against a building and openly making out with him. All you could think about was Matt and the way his mouth was making you feel. 

For years you had often wondered if kissing Matt would feel like everything you’d ever thought it would, but tonight you’d finally learned that it felt like so much more.

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 16: "The Death of Miscommunication"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 4.9k

a/n: The frustration should mostly leave us all in this one! The gradual comfort and fluff slowly begins from here on out! You survived the worst of the angst and we're going to head towards a happy ending! Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705 @yourlocalbentspine @harperdoodle @hollandorks @mattmurdocksstarlight @yeonalie

“So your grades were finally posted and now it's a literal fact that Karen Page is a goddamn smarty pants?” you teased.

Across from you on your couch, Karen giggled and snuggled further under the blanket you were both sharing. Both of you were cradling a glass of white wine in your hands, the leftover Thai food you’d had for dinner sitting on your coffee table. 

Karen’s flight had gotten in about three hours ago and you had been beyond excited for her to be staying the week at your place. Though it felt so strange having part of your New York life in LA, and it certainly meant a particular someone from New York was on your mind a bit more than usual today.

“I’m honestly shocked I did so well with everything I’ve had going on,” Karen told you. “I mean, that was a full class load and I was helping Foggy and Matt at the office part time.”

Something stirred in your chest at the mention of Matt, your smile momentarily faltering before you forced it back on your face. “Yeah,” you agreed. “Honestly when you told me you’d just go down to working part time while taking classes and working on your law degree, I thought you’d finally gone insane. I don’t know how you’re going to keep that up, but more power to you if you can, Kare.”

“Thanks,” she said, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “So you’re still enjoying the new job here?”

You nodded, bringing your wine glass up to your lips for a drink. Swallowing down the slightly sweet wine, you continued to smile back at Karen, though it felt a little strained.

“Yeah, I enjoy the job. Admittedly the pay has had a lot to do with that,” you replied. “And I’ve been enjoying the new city, but I’ve told you that already. The food here is honestly just as incredible as back in New York, but now I actually have the money to indulge in it more often. And the night life is…entertaining, to say the least.”

Karen laughed, drawing her own glass of wine towards her mouth. The glass hesitated by her lips for a moment though as her sharp blue eyes studied you silently. 

“You know,” she began slowly, “I’ve noticed you don’t talk about your dating life much out here.”

Your brows drew together, head tilting to the side. Had you not mentioned it to her? You knew you hadn’t really said much to Foggy, not really wanting it to get back to Matt and end up hurting him that you’d been so actively dating, but you didn’t realize you hadn’t told Karen much.

“I haven’t?” you asked her.

She shook her head, swallowing down her sip of wine. “No,” she answered. “Have you been dating?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, heat burning at your cheeks as you focused on the wine glass in your lap. “It was difficult at first, because it–it sort of felt wrong, you know?”

“Because of Matt?” Karen asked.

You nodded, your gaze still focused on the glass of wine in your lap. Your fingers lightly drummed along the side of it nervously. You desperately wanted to ask her about Matt but you were afraid to know what had been going on with him since you’d left.

“But yes, I’ve been dating,” you confessed.

“Has…anything come of it?” she asked curiously. “Have you met anyone?”

Clearing your throat nervously, eyes still averted, you shook your head. “I’ve…met a lot of someones, actually,” you told her. “But not a particular someone.”

“Wow,” Karen said in surprise.

Her tone caused you to look back up at her, shocked to see she was grinning back at you from the other end of the couch. Your brows drew together in confusion; you’d expected her to be a little upset because she had known about your feelings for Matt and his feelings for you. Part of you had wondered if she might consider it some sort of betrayal to him that you’d been sleeping with other men since you now knew your feelings weren’t one-sided.

“So you’ve been putting yourself out there and actually enjoying being single?” she asked. “Not just holed up in your apartment or at work, but actually out here living your life?”

You smiled sheepishly at her, nodding in response. “Yeah,” you admitted. “I’ve been getting out quite frequently.”

“Good,” she replied. “I’m happy for you. LA seems like it’s been good for you then. Because I know how tied to your job you were back in Hell’s Kitchen. And how…unavailable you often made yourself. You seem to be enjoying it here.”

Your smile faltered yet again this evening. Karen’s perceptive gaze immediately caught the small downward movement of your lips, though. Her piercing blue eyes narrowed back at you.

“What’s that about?” she asked, gesturing towards your face. 

"What?" you asked innocently.

"That look," she clarified. "You are happy here, right? Because you always make it seem that way when we talk to you, but…that was definitely a look that said there's more to the story."

You shifted on the couch, drawing your legs further into yourself under the blanket. Not wanting to lie to Karen, you decided to be entirely honest.

"I like it here," you answered truthfully. "I do. And I've been pretty content since I moved. This apartment is far nicer than the one I had in Hell’s Kitchen, and I actually have a savings account that isn't sad to look at. I've made some friends out here," you continued. "And I haven't had much issue when it comes to finding guys to, you know, sleep with. I mean there's…been a surprising amount."

"Oh my God," Karen said with a giggle on the other side of the couch. "I am dying to hear about all of those details while I’m here."

Nervously biting your lip, your fingers once again drummed along the side of your wine glass. You could feel the shift in Karen’s demeanor instantly, as if she had simultaneously picked up on the shift in your mood.

"But it's not what I want," you admitted quietly, shaking your head. "I don't want to keep sleeping around with a different guy almost every week."

"Shit," Karen whispered in disbelief. "Almost weekly? You've certainly been busy."

You sent her another sheepish smile which had her swiftly shaking her head and waving a hand quickly between the pair of you.

"Like I said, I'm proud of you for putting yourself out there," she explained. "No judgment whatsoever. Honestly? I'm envious because I've been too busy to even think about sex. But I'm guessing the reason it's not what you want has a lot to do with a certain lawyer with a questionable hobby back in Hell’s Kitchen?"

Exhaling a long breath, one of your hands began anxiously running through your hair. It had taken you this past month to fully come to that conclusion yourself. For a while you'd tried to tell yourself it was just because you'd wanted more from the men you kept seeing here, but soon it started to become glaringly obvious that you couldn't hide from the truth.

You were still in love with Matthew Murdock.

Moving to the other side of the country hadn’t magically gotten rid of your feelings for him. They were still there. And while that ache in your chest hadn’t hit you as often, and you weren’t sitting around constantly crying over Matt once you’d really settled into your life here, you couldn’t deny the truth. You missed him and you wanted him. These other men had only made that clearer for you.

"Yes," you replied. "Everything is great here, and I’ve been trying to be open-minded and meet new people. But I still have feelings for Matt. I tried hard to move past him, but I–I just can't. I love him, Karen. That hasn't changed."

Karen leaned forward towards you on the couch, sitting up a bit straighter. There was a small smile on her face as she gazed back at you. 

"Where do you…stand with all of that?" she asked. “With him?”

You shrugged a shoulder, shaking your head. "I don't know," you told her. "I'm still a little hurt about him letting me think he was dead for so long when he wasn’t–that all of you did, if I'm being honest."

"I'm sorry," Karen apologized immediately. "I didn't want to do that to you, but I didn't want you to get hurt. None of us did."

"I know you're all sorry and regret it," you told her. "I’ve heard the apologies countless times from each of you. And I believe you all, which is why I've forgiven you. All three of you, including Matt, because I think he grew from the situation and truly learned from it. But that doesn't erase the hurt it caused.” Shoulders sagging, your eyes dropped down to the glass of wine in your lap. You swirled the liquid, watching as it spun in a circular motion in the glass. “And then there's the whole thing with Erica," you continued quietly.

"He's not with her," Karen stated. 

A hopeful feeling blossomed in your chest at her words, your eyes slowly rising from the glass of wine to see Karen staring back at you. Had Matt really not gone back to her when you left then? He wasn't still thinking about marrying her? 

"He's not?" you asked timidly. 

Karen shook her head firmly. "No, he hasn't been with anyone. I think he's always hopeful you'll suddenly show up in Hell’s Kitchen again someday. He’s either always working on some case or another for the firm, keeping himself busy, or he’s out scouring rooftops around Hell’s Kitchen at night. He really doesn’t do anything else–besides mope, I suppose.”

“Oh,” you breathed out. “So he’s not…seeing anyone? Sleeping with anyone?”

“Nope,” Karen said, her smile growing wider.

Matt wasn’t dating. 

It had been nearing six months since you’d left Hell’s Kitchen–left Matt after his confession of having feelings for you as well–and he wasn’t dating. Which was unheard of. Because it was Matt . You’d always known him to be with someone, whether it was a one night sort of thing or him casually dating someone. Matt was always with someone.

But ever since you’d left he hadn’t been with anyone else.

“Why?” you asked her. “He’s usually always turning on the charm and getting attention.”

Karen dramatically rolled her eyes at you, her smile widening. “Are you seriously asking me that? Matt confesses he has feelings for you months ago, right before you hop on a plane, and then suddenly he has the most impressive lack of a dating history he’s ever had? And you can’t put two and two together?”

“Because of…me?” you whispered.

“Obviously!” Karen said, leaning forward and swatting your leg. “You know, the other week the three of us were out to lunch and this woman came right up and flirted with him at our table. And you know what he said?”

“Something witty accompanied with that damn charming smile of his?” you deadpanned.

“No!” Karen exclaimed. “He told her he wasn’t interested!”

Your brows drew together on your forehead. That wasn't like Matt. He usually loved the attention, or at least it always seemed like he did, and he would inevitably turn on the charm and flirt back even if he declined anything more. 

"You both still aren't talking, right?" Karen asked, a mischievous grin forming on her lips.

Your eyes narrowed at her suspiciously. "No, we aren't," you answered slowly. "He hasn't reached out to me and I wasn't sure why. And the more time that went by, the more terrified I became at the thought of reaching out myself. I–I figured he didn’t want to hear from me because I hadn’t heard from him."

"Well, Fog wanted me to do a video call with you while I was out here." She shrugged innocently despite the devious smile on her face only growing. "I figured we could call him Monday mid-afternoon their time because I know they both will be there at the office. It'd be a chance for you and Matt to finally talk again." She raised a brow at you. "What do you say?"

Chewing your lip, you felt nerves swirling in your stomach. You'd get to see Matt again, even if it wasn’t in person. Talk to him. Hear his voice. The thought alone had your heart racing.

"Yeah," you whispered. "Okay."

Sitting beside Karen on the stools at the breakfast bar in your kitchen, you were nervously chewing your thumbnail as you rested your elbows on the white quartz counter. She was dialing Foggy on her phone for the video chat that she'd mentioned the other day and you were feeling incredibly anxious. 

It had been months since you'd spoken to Matt at all, and with the way you'd left him back in Hell’s Kitchen, you weren't sure what to expect. Maybe he wouldn't want to talk to you at all. And with how you knew he felt about the people he loved leaving him, you wouldn't be surprised. 

But the longer you sat there, hearing the phone ringing as you waited for Foggy to answer, the more nervous you felt yourself growing. By the time Foggy finally answered the call, shouting your name in excitement when he first saw you, you felt ready to run to your bathroom and throw up.

Though that could also have been due to the aftereffects of your night out with Karen last night.

"Hey, Fog," you greeted him in return.

Despite the way your stomach was churning and roiling violently, making you feel sick and a little on edge, a large smile spread across your face at the sight of one of your absolute best friends. It hit you in that moment just how long it had been since you'd last seen him. You definitely had missed him and his words of advice and comfort that you'd come to rely on over the years.

"How are two of Hell’s Kitchen’s finest ladies doing out in LA today?" Foggy asked, a broad smile on his own face. 

"Tired, we were up late last night," Karen said with a laugh. "We actually only woke up about an hour ago."

Foggy glanced down at his watch, his face scrunching up. A second later his eyes closed as if he was thinking. 

"Isn't it about eleven in the morning out there?" Foggy asked, his eyes opening again. "So you both woke up around ten this morning?"

"Well we didn't go to sleep until after two," you informed him. "And we needed our beauty rest for another night out tonight."

"Ahh, so that's why you ladies look so lovely this morning," Foggy teased.

You saw Karen roll her eyes beside you in the small screen that was displaying the pair of you. But your mind was already on something else as you took in the sight of Foggy sitting in his office. Chewing your thumbnail nervously again, you worked up the courage to just ask. 

"Is Matt there?" you blurted, full well knowing he'd have heard you asking for him if he was. 

Karen immediately grinned at your question, waggling her brows playfully at Foggy who's mouth had dropped open. He looked stunned on the screen and that only had heat creeping up your cheeks.

Quickly trying to recover, Foggy nodded. "Yeah, he is," he answered. "He's just over in his office. Do you…want me to see if he's free to chat, too?"

You saw the hopeful, overeager look on his face and only felt your face heating further. You had a feeling Karen and Foggy had planned this somehow, trying to find a way to get you and Matt to finally reconnect after your move. But if it worked, you weren't about to complain about their scheming. 

"Yeah, if he's not busy," you answered nervously. "I don't want to bother him."

"Trust me," Foggy said, swiftly rising to his feet from his desk chair, "you're not going to be bothering him."

You watched Foggy make his way out of his office, eventually passing Karen’s desk before you heard the knock he made on Matt's office door. The camera was focused on the side of Foggy’s face when you heard Matt call out from inside his office in response, his voice just registering over the phone. You sucked in a nervous breath instantly–it had been far too long since you’d heard that voice. 

From beside you, Karen sent you a reassuring smile. It didn’t help to ease the knotting of your stomach though as you heard Foggy opening Matt’s office door. Shoving your thumbnail back into your mouth, your teeth began aggressively gnawing on it. You heard Foggy telling Matt that he was on the phone with you and Karen, though you had a feeling he already knew with his hearing. Admittedly you were glad his senses couldn’t pick up on much through the phone though, because you were sure your body was doing all sorts of things right now.

For a few seconds you saw the camera jostling around before both Matt and Foggy came into view on Karen’s phone screen. Your teeth bit down hard on your nail, your heart nearly exploding out of your chest at the bright smile on Matt’s face just beneath his familiar red glasses. He greeted you first, the sound of your name coming from his mouth making your heart stutter in your chest. It was a moment before he seemed to remember to greet Karen, too, which she was quick to tease him about. But you sat there feeling like you couldn’t breathe just at the sight of him.

Because there he was. Matt. Your Matt. In his white dress shirt and a dark red tie today, one that matched his lenses. The stubble was a bit darker on his cheeks than usual and his hair looked a little windswept, but there was a bright smile on his face, one that had the lone dimple in his right cheek visible. You found yourself suddenly overcome with the desperate urge to reach through the phone and hug him. 

You had definitely missed him. More than you’d apparently realized.

“Hey, Matty,” you finally greeted, feeling a little shy.

You were aware there was a massive, idiotic smile on your face that you were glad he couldn’t see. But unfortunately for you, Foggy and Karen could see it. Though Matt’s smile only seemed to grow wider across his face when you’d spoken, which only kept your eyes completely glued to him despite Foggy standing just beside him.  He actually seemed happy to be hearing from you and you soon felt foolish for thinking he'd feel otherwise.

"I hope you're enjoying your time with Karen," Matt said.

"Yes," you replied immediately, your face somehow heating further at your next words. "Though I–I wish you could have all come out to visit me."

You saw the looks both Foggy and Karen exchanged over the video at your comment, Foggy’s smile widening even further. Because they were aware of what that comment really meant. They knew what you were trying to say.

And judging by the look of surprise on Matt’s face, his dark brows rising onto his forehead for a long moment, he was surprised to hear you'd wished he could be there, too. When he recovered, the smile he sent you next had your heart racing. He was so handsome, your memory certainly hadn't done him justice.

"I wish we weren't so busy here at the firm," Matt told you. "We would have liked to join Karen if we could have."

"Well, I'm–I'm happy to hear the firm is doing so well lately," you replied nervously. "Though I've…definitely missed you all."

You saw Matt reach up, one hand pulling his glasses off of his face and revealing the soft, affectionate look in his hazel eyes as they focused just to the side of the camera. A warmer, sweeter smile had drawn itself across his lips, the sight causing your hands to grip your countertop firmly. 

"We've definitely missed you, too," he said quietly. 

"Okay, okay," Foggy cut in, waving a hand in front of Matt's face and the phone. "Just so everyone is clear, you're both saying you missed each other." He turned and looked at Matt, shooting him a pointed stare as he said firmly, "And she's saying she wouldn't mind if you visited her in the future." His head turned swiftly as he shot you a look through the phone, his eyes narrowed. "Right? Because I don't want any more miscommunication with you two. I've had years of it."

Biting your lip, you nodded nervously. "Yes," you replied shyly. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

Your heart felt like it flew into your throat when Foggy focused back on Matt. You weren’t sure what to expect of his reaction even after hearing his confession to you months ago.

"Okay, so are you on board with using your words now, Matt?" he asked him. "I know you're good with them, I see you in court all the time, buddy."

Matt chuckled lightly, nodding his head. You couldn't tell if it was the phone or not, but it almost looked like Matt was faintly blushing when he spoke.

"Yes, I'm saying I missed you," he confessed. "And that I wish I could have come to visit you, too."

"Excellent!" Foggy exclaimed. He threw an arm around a grinning Matt’s shoulders beside him. “The miscommunication finally ends! We shall forever call this moment the death of miscommunication! But you two can talk to each other on your own and catch up another time, because I want to hear about Karen’s time in LA so far. And I especially want to know why you girls were out until two in the morning on a Sunday night.”

A look of surprise washed over Matt’s face, his lips pulling up into a curious grin. “You know, I’d like to hear about this, too. I’m guessing it involved drinking?” he asked.

“It definitely involved drinking,” Karen answered, a grin on her own face. “And dancing.”

“Oh, well now this I’ve got to hear!” Foggy said excitedly.

The moment you saw Foggy turn and shoot Matt a smile, and you saw the smile that spread across Matt’s own face in return, you knew exactly what they were about to bring up. You groaned, rolling your eyes.

“Did she dance on any tables, Karen?” Foggy asked, his focus returning to the two of you.

“Belt out any songs?” Matt added.

Throwing your face in your hands, you groaned louder. Beside you, Karen was laughing and shaking her head.

“No, but I feel like there’s a story in there,” she said.

“Oh there most certainly is!" Foggy began enthusiastically. "So there was this night, just a few months after we first met her at Columbia, where we brought her to a party. She got really drunk. Like, I don’t know how many shots I saw go down this one’s mouth that night,” he said, pointing at you through the phone as you peaked at him through your fingers, “but holy shit. She was intoxicated . Almost immediately after us arriving.”

“I remember she was holding onto me for support the duration of the night,” Matt teased, a big smile on his own mouth.

"And I remember apologizing profusely the next day because I'd ruined your night," you grumbled.

"Nah," Matt said with a shake of his head and a broad smile on his face. "You didn't ruin my night."

"You had one beer the whole time!" you reminded him. "And Foggy said you spent the whole night taking care of me."

"I didn't mind," he said with a shrug, the smile still on his face. "I wanted to make sure you were alright. And it meant I got to spend the entire night with you clinging to me."

 Your bottom lip rolled back between your teeth at his words, a rush of warmth abruptly flooding you. You vaguely remembered that night, but you'd always felt bad about how it had gone. You’d always guiltily felt like you'd ruined Matt’s evening because you'd gotten so drunk. Always thought he'd felt obligated to take care of you, making it so he couldn't go back to anyone else's dorm for what you figured he usually did after parties, but apparently he was happy to have you attached to him that night. Which had been news to you.

"Besides," Matt continued, "even drunk, it was still a little hot watching you on that table."

Foggy snorted out a laugh as your face suddenly burned with embarrassment. Beside you, Karen let out a giggle as Matt continued to smile back at you through the phone screen.

"You only heard what Fog told you about it, Matt," you shot back. "You didn't actually get to experience it fully that night, so I don’t know how you think you can tease me about that."

A devilish smirk slid across his mouth, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Heightened senses, sweetheart,” he said smoothly. “I experienced it quite well, actually."

Your eyes widened in shock, your mouth falling open. He only chuckled when you cried out in further embarrassment before burying your face back into your hands.

"I don't want to reminisce anymore!" you shouted. “It’s vastly too mortifying knowing the things I know now!”

The three of them laughed as you tried to disappear into your countertop. You couldn’t even begin to imagine all of the moments you didn’t realize Matt was aware of more than you had known. Though a part of you did wonder what moments with Matt you’d misread all those years ago.

Settling onto your couch, you flipped on your television and skimmed absently through the channels. Your apartment felt empty now that Karen had left a bit ago to catch her flight back to New York. It had been a fun week having her here, especially because it felt like she’d brought a bit of Hell’s Kitchen with her. But now that she was gone, your apartment seemed oddly quiet and a little lonely. Even the noise of the television didn’t seem to help with that.

You’d done another short video call with her a few days after the first one, feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush the moment Matt joined Foggy on the call with his smiling face. The memory of him pulled at your heartstrings now, making you feel a little teary-eyed as you tried to focus on the television. You missed all three of them and Hell’s Kitchen, but you’d gradually started to make a life out here in LA. You had an amazing career here, one that paid exceptionally well. It wasn’t realistic for you to uproot back to New York on a whim just because you missed your friends. Even if you happened to have really strong, not-so-friendly feelings for one of those friends. This was your life now, at least for the time being. The feelings from Karen’s visit would eventually fade and things would return to how they were. 

For some reason that thought only made you feel worse.

Your phone vibrated on your coffee table, the brief buzzing noise catching your attention. Curious, you leaned forward and saw you had a text message. You figured it would be from Karen letting you know she was bored at the airport, or maybe Alicia wanting to meet up tomorrow for lunch. She’d certainly had fun meeting Karen the other night. But you were surprised to see it was Matt’s name that had shown up on your screen. It had been months since he’d reached out to you, and even though Foggy had claimed the pair of you had put your miscommunication to death the other day, neither of you had actually reached out to the other all week. You wondered if he ever would, or if it would be up to you to figure out what to say to break the strange lack of communication between the pair of you. 

Opening up his text, your eyes read over it quickly.

2:36PM  Matt: Foggy just told me Karen is at the airport now. Figured you were probably feeling a little down. Just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you.

Your eyes ran over the text multiple times, your heart beating a little faster as you did. He’d reached out to you. After months of silence, he’d actually reached out. It was only through text, but still, that was better than nothing. Your eyes reread the last line of his text a few more times, a small smile steadily growing on your lips as you did because he was thinking about you. You . No one else. Just you.

There were certainly things that Matt and you needed to discuss, things better discussed in person if there was ever the opportunity, but this was good. This was progress. This was you and Matt hopefully finding your way back to each other with honest communication. 

With a glimmer of hope building inside of you, your fingers flew across your phone as you began to type up a response.

[END NOTES]

I like end notes, alright? 🤣 For those who read FFTD over on AO3, y'all know the novels I write there.

So they're finally talking again!! And we see Reader fully acknowledge the fact that she still loves Matt, even if her life is still very much rooted in LA at the moment. Once again we can thank Foggy and even Karen for pushing the two to finally talk!

From here on out the angst slowly fizzles out, but it still exists because, well, there's clearly physical distance between Matt and Reader. But at least they're going to openly communicate with each other and be honest about their feelings. It only took YEARS for them to reach this point! Hopefully y'all are still enjoying this series as it now reaches the fluffy and eventually smut-filled installments! Is there a long distance relationship with Matty in the future? You'll have to wait and see...

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 10: "The Weight of Grief"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 5.4k

a/n: This one is quite heavy on the angst. Also--if you haven't realized already, the timeline and events of this series aren't exactly canon. Just for clarification. I split this installment into two parts so the next one is actually going to be titled "Last to Know." Feedback is always appreciated! And I have not published this to AO3 with whatever is going on, but I will whenever things have calmed down over there. I just didn't want to leave everyone hanging when I had updates ready!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705 @yourlocalbentspine

“How about you let me take you out for dinner Saturday night?”

Shouldering your phone against your ear, you continued to distractedly chop vegetables for the late dinner you were making in your kitchen. A smile made its way onto your lips at the prospect of a third date already.

“How bold of you, Adam,” you teased. “Three Saturday nights in a row? A girl might think you like her.”

“Maybe I want the girl to think I like her,” he teased back.

Pausing your chopping, you set the knife down on the cutting board before wiping your hands on the towel next to it. Grabbing your phone from your shoulder, you turned and rested your back against the countertop. Chewing your lip, you felt a faint blush rise to your cheeks.

You’d met Adam through a speed dating event that Karen had dragged you along with her to. That had been about a month ago now. You’d thought the whole idea was terrible and you’d made her promise not to say anything to Foggy or Matt, not wanting either of them to judge you for going. You figured it would make you sound desperate because you were sure Karen wasn’t really having trouble in the dating department. It was clearly a ploy to get you to go in the hopes of finding someone instead of Matt to think about.

And you and Karen had considered the experience successful because you’d instantly clicked with Adam that night. From the moment he sat down at your table and smiled at you, you’d been hooked. He was a veterinary technician with a big heart and a love of animals, something that had immediately won you over with him. He was cute, too. And funny. And he seemed like he was close with his family. With Adam, you found you weren’t actively trying to forget about Matt and push him out of your thoughts. Something that had you instantly drawn to him because no one else had ever accomplished that since you'd met Matt back at Columbia. 

And ever since Matt and Elektra had surprised you at your apartment a few months ago, you'd tried hard to let your feelings for him go. There would never be anything more between you and him, you knew that now. So now you were doing your best to focus on just letting Matt be your friend, especially while you tried to adjust to the new knowledge about his heightened senses and him being the masked man running around the streets of Hell’s Kitchen at night performing heroics. Though now he’d recently become known as Daredevil in the news ever since he'd gotten that protective new suit made for him. And you were glad he had because you'd worried a lot less about his well-being; he was visibly sporting less injuries at least.

But you didn't spend as much time with Matt as you used to, even if you had stopped actively avoiding him. He was often busy with his vigilante endeavors, and it just felt weird and uncomfortable being around him knowing he knew you had feelings for him that he didn't return. And from your knowledge, he had spent the past few months helping Elektra with something. You were certain they were back together again even if you'd never asked and had it confirmed. You didn't want to even think about it.

And as for what he was helping her with–you didn't ask about that either. You weren't as in the know about what was going on as Foggy and Karen seemed to be, and frankly you didn't want to be. Despite having come to accept Matt's secret alter ego, you didn't want to know about anything that involved Elektra. So whenever the topic of her came up, you usually asked about the bare minimum and found a way to quickly exit the conversation–especially when you’d later overheard that Elektra had died, but also apparently had been resurrected from the dead. Which had confused you too much to want to try to understand.

"Well I am free Saturday night," you answered Adam. 

"Should we try that new Italian restaurant?" he asked over the line. "You were talking about craving pasta earlier this week."

The smile on your lips grew wider. You'd told him that offhandedly on the phone three nights ago and apparently he'd remembered. 

"I would like that," you told him. "I'm–"

A few knocks on your apartment door interrupted you, your attention shifting to it across the room. A frown settled on your mouth. It was after seven on a Thursday night, who would be stopping by? You hadn't been expecting company. 

"Hey, Adam, someone's apparently at my door," you told him. "Mind if we finalize the details tomorrow?"

"Not at all," he told you, the smile apparent in his chipper tone. "I'll call you in the evening? After work?"

"That sounds great," you told him.

You exchanged goodbyes before hanging up, setting your phone onto your kitchen counter. Eyeing your door curiously, you made your way across your apartment towards it. It took you a few moments to unlock the door, unlatching the deadbolt before pulling it open.

Your eyebrows rose up high onto your forehead at the unexpected sight of Foggy and Karen standing there. Both of them had red, puffy eyes that were glistening with tears on their sullen faces. Heart beating harder in your chest, your hand tightened around the doorknob you were still holding. Whatever had brought them here couldn't be good, not with the way Foggy’s lips were suddenly trembling as he opened his mouth, clearly struggling to form a sentence. 

And that's when you knew what this visit had to be about. You'd felt the rumble and shaking earlier tonight when you'd been grabbing food at the store on your way home from work. Everyone had been saying it had been an earthquake at the time, but you'd later heard something about a building collapsing nearby in Hell’s Kitchen.

Something must have happened to Matt. There was no other reason for both of them to be standing there looking at you like they were. Not in the state they were in.

Tears immediately stung at your eyes, a feeling of dread washing over you as your gaze danced between the pair of them before you. It felt like your throat was closing up, making it almost impossible for you to swallow. Shaking your head, you felt the first tears fall. 

"No," you said, voice breaking on the word. "No, don't tell me he got hurt."

A choked sob fell out of Karen instantly, your heart feeling like someone had crushed it in their fist at the sound. One of her hands rose up to cover her mouth as she turned away, unable to look at you. Beside her, Foggy sent you an apologetic smile when your eyes met his, but he couldn’t hide the tears present and ready to spill over. 

"There was an–an accident," Foggy said softly. "Matt he was–was out helping those others like him. The ones we'd told you a bit about. They were over at Midland Circle." He paused, exhaling a shuddering breath. "Trying to destroy that Hand group. And they–they blew up the building."

Both of your hands flew to your face at the tremble in Foggy’s voice and the implication of his words. You felt like you were going to be sick.

"No," you repeated, shaking your head more firmly. "No, no he's okay. Tell me he's okay, Foggy!" you shouted.

Foggy said your name softly, stepping into your apartment slowly with his hands raised placatingly as if he was approaching a wild animal. A painful grimace was on his face as he approached you and you took a step back, still shaking your head as more tears streamed down your cheeks.

"He didn't make it out," he whispered. 

"No," you growled through clenched teeth. "No, don't you tell me that! Don’t you fucking tell me that, Foggy!"

"The others said he stayed behind," Foggy continued gently. "Trying to save Elektra."

It felt like you’d been barreled over by a city bus at his words. Matt had stayed behind…to save Elektra? He died for her? The heartless woman who’d only toyed with him? The woman who didn’t even know the beautiful, fragile heart she held in the palm of her hands? Who’d never truly loved him, abandoning him back at Columbia with a shattered heart? The very same heart you’d spent months trying to help him piece back together just for him to give it back to her years later to permanently destroy?

He died for her?

You collapsed to your knees, hot tears steadily pouring down your cheeks. It wasn’t until Foggy was kneeling on the floor before you, his hands gingerly grasping your shoulders and drawing you towards him, that you realized you were screaming. You fought Foggy’s attempts to soothe you, struggling against him as he tried to hold you still. The entire time you heard him repeatedly croaking out ‘I know, I know’ over and over, emotion thick in his own voice. 

“He’s not dead!” you wailed, still thrashing against Foggy. “He’s not dead! Matt’s not dead!!”

“Hey, hey,” Karen said gently, her voice breaking as she kneeled down beside you and Foggy on the floor. “I–I know it’s hard to hear,” she whispered, “but Matt he–he didn’t make it. They–they said they saw him stay behind.”

“Well maybe he made it out!” you cried hysterically, sniffling loudly as the tears didn’t stop falling. “They’re wrong! It’s–it’s Matt we’re talking about, guys! He’s–he’s like a goddamn superhero! He isn’t dead! He can’t be!”

There was no way you would believe Matt was gone. That his smiling face wouldn't still greet you if you headed over to his apartment right now. That he wouldn't be calling you tomorrow night to see if you wanted to grab drinks with him, Foggy, and Karen at Josie’s. That he wouldn’t be making one of his stupid blind jokes to you over a few beers.

He wasn't dead. You'd have known if he was. Felt it somehow.

Matt wasn’t dead.

You shook your head, pulling away out of Foggy’s embrace and roughly wiping the backs of your hands against your tear stained cheeks. Sniffling loudly again, you ignored the pitying looks on their faces.

“Was there a body?” you asked, trying to calm down.

“What?” Foggy asked you.

“Was there a body?” you repeated, forcefully enunciating each word.

“No, not yet,” he answered. “But they just started trying to sort through the rubble. The emergency responders said it could take days for them to sort through the mess.” Foggy’s frown deepened as he said your name again. “It doesn’t sound like he made it.”

“No,” you said firmly, rising back up to your feet and wiping at your eyes again. “I’m not believing it until there’s a body. He’s alive, I know he is.”

Karen sent you a sad smile, tears still falling down her own cheeks. “Okay,” she said softly with a nod. “Let’s give it a few days. Maybe–maybe they were wrong.”

You were kneeling, bent over the pew before you with your forehead resting against your clasped hands. You'd lost track of the time a while ago, unsure how long you'd been here. But your back was now stiff from however long you'd remained stationary in prayer, your knees aching. 

Praying wasn't something you did. You'd never been the religious type, though lately you'd often found yourself seeking solace at Clinton Church. Because it was Matt's church, the place where he told you he grew up going to. The place he had told you he frequented for advice from Father Lantom–who you'd met now with all the time you'd been spending here since Matt had gone missing. The orphanage he grew up in was just next door to this church, too. 

Coming here in the recent days since Matt had disappeared had always made you feel closer to him for some unexplainable reason. Like you could just feel him here in the walls of the church somehow. It was comforting to you, the only comfort you’d come to find over the past couple of weeks.

Despite the fact that everyone had told you he'd been in the building when it collapsed, and that he'd been missing for over two weeks, and the fact that you'd gone to a memorial service for him at this very church just a few days ago, you still absolutely refused to believe Matt was dead. There had never been a body found among the wreckage of Midland Circle–for him or Elektra. Which only cemented it in your mind that he was out there alive somewhere. 

But your friends were not of the same mind. They’d tried to grieve him at his memorial service, and they’d spent many conversations already trying to convince you that the facts all pointed to Matt having passed in the building’s collapse. Foggy had even asked you to explain why Matt wouldn't have reached out to let any of you know he was alive if he really had made it out of the building. All you could think was that he was lying horribly injured somewhere and unable to reach out. That had to be what was going on. 

Because Matt Murdock wasn't dead. He just wasn't. You didn't care that Foggy looked at you now with a different and more infuriating sympathetic look on his face whenever he saw you, one that wasn't just because you were in love with Matt and he didn’t return those feelings. He thought you were in denial and delusional now, unable to accept reality. 

Maybe you were, but you weren’t going to accept his death without proof of a body.

You heard movement nearby as someone came and sat down in the pew beside where you were kneeling. Almost immediately you recognized the scent of incense and smoke and you already knew who’d taken a seat–Father Lantom. Over the past few days he’d been stopping to chat with you, having recognized you from Matt’s memorial service and realizing you’d been showing up often. 

With a sigh you lifted your head, turning and glancing at Father Lantom in the pew. He was smiling at you, the expression somehow reassuring and comforting just like the church itself. Pushing yourself away from the kneeler, you settled into the pew beside him, your focus on your hands in your lap.

“You’re back again today,” Father Lantom observed.

“I come every day after work,” you muttered.

“You do,” he agreed lightly. “And how’re you feeling today?”

Your hands clenched into fists in your lap. “Furious,” you answered, eyes still focused on your hands. “I’m still angry. Probably more angry than anything lately.” 

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Father Lantom nod. He shifted in the pew, turning to face you more fully.

“Anger is a common reaction when a loved one is taken from us,” he told you. “Especially when the loss is so unexpected.”

Your head darted up, your eyes brimming with tears as you focused on the priest beside you. “He’s not dead,” you stated, shaking your head firmly. “I told you that. He’s not dead.”

Something flickered across Father Lantom’s face briefly before his lips pressed into a thin line, his expression becoming something neutral. He nodded his head just once. 

“So much like Matthew yourself,” he mused. “He was always stubborn. Ever since he was a boy, really. When he had an idea in his head you couldn’t shake it from him for anything.”

A tear slipped out of your eye, your hand darting up to quickly wipe it away as your focus shifted to the large crucifix at the front of the church. It was the one thing you didn’t like about Clinton Church–the way Christ was always staring back at you from within the sanctuary, battered and bleeding on the cross. It felt too much like Matt.

“I miss him,” you whispered, eyes falling back down to your hands in your lap. 

I still love him.

“Well,” Father Lantom began slowly, “the most we can do for those we’ve lost–however it is that we’ve lost them–is to keep on living. I believe Matthew would want that for you. To keep living your life. To move forward.”

“I feel like all I’ve done is move backwards,” you admitted quietly, your fingers twisting around each other now. “I barely sleep. I can’t focus at work. I broke things off with the guy I was seeing not too long ago because I just can’t–can’t pretend everything is okay. Because it’s not, nothing is.”

Father Lantom sighed loudly, shifting in the pew beside you to clasp his own hands in his lap. His mouth opened as if he was about to speak, but you saw his focus shift towards a nun, your own eyes following the movement. She looked quite stern as she eyed the priest beside you, almost like she was trying to tell him something with her eyes, but when her attention turned to you her expression softened. You swore she offered you a smile before you ducked your head, tears once again threatening to fall. 

You abruptly rose to your feet, the threat of tears urging you to seek the solitude of your apartment before you broke down publicly in the church. That was usually your cue to leave.

“Going already?” Father Lantom asked in surprise.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, turning away from him and making your way towards the other end of the pew. “I’m sure I’ll be back tomorrow, though. And the next day.”

Matt’s hand tentatively reached out, fingers brushing over the cool stone of the statue. He could feel the grainy texture of it under the pads of his fingers. Each and every little divot in the stone. His sense of touch hadn’t really been affected by the collapse of Midland Circle, not quite, but what a shitty and useless sense to have retained. All it did was make him further aware of how uncomfortable the cheap cotton clothes he was wearing felt on his skin, and how scratchy the little bed he attempted to sleep in every night felt underneath him. It only brought him further discomfort and pain to match his injuries.

His hearing hadn’t fully come back to him, either; it was often touch and go. Sometimes he’d hear a ringing in one or both of his ears if it didn’t sound like he was underwater. He also hadn’t regained his heightened sense of taste–didn’t matter what food Sister Maggie brought him, it all tasted like blood and ash. And his sense of smell was basically nonexistent. He hadn’t been able to smell a damn thing besides smoke since he’d woken up in the undercroft of Clinton Church. He was utterly and pathetically useless without his senses. Just plodding around clumsily with a cane and tripping over his own goddamn feet in the church’s basement.

Yet for some reason, he still found himself trying. Which is what he’d been up out of his bed trying to do now as he attempted to map out the space he was in. He had no idea what time of day it was–it’s not like he could hear much besides the room he was in to even gauge time–and he was becoming stir crazy trapped in this church basement trying to heal. So he’d been up the past few minutes wandering around, his cane left hanging off one of the statues somewhere in the room. He honestly didn’t even know where, which wouldn’t have been the case if he’d been back to his normal self. Something that only further pissed him off.

Matt took a handful of careful steps forward, focusing intensely on where he was going. But as he took one more step, his foot hit something solid and he lost his balance. He fell to the floor, his hands flying out to try to brace himself for the impact, but he’d cut his palm on the corner of something sharp before he landed roughly on his side. He groaned out, his eyes closing as he curled into a ball.

He wished he’d have died in that goddamn building. 

But that wasn’t quite true. What he’d really wished was that Elektra hadn’t been so dead set on getting her hands on what the Hand had been after. That she hadn’t become the Hand’s puppet when they’d resurrected her as the Black Sky. If she’d have just listened to him he wouldn’t have stayed behind. He wouldn’t have felt the need to try to save her. Because despite the hurt she’d put him through, despite the way she’d broken his heart those years ago, he couldn’t just leave her to die. That wasn’t him. But ever since he’d woken up after he’d been dragged out of that wreckage, he’d hated her for having made him make that choice. For not just leaving with him and everyone else. For choosing to die trying to get what she wanted, and in true Elektra fashion, dragging him down with her.

But it wasn’t Elektra he’d been thinking about when the building had collapsed and he knew he was about to die.

It was you.

Every moment he’d ever had with you felt like it raced through his mind in a matter of seconds. The first time he’d stumbled on you on campus, when you'd stopped to help that stranger pick up their spilled belongings and you’d been so unbelievably kind. All that time he’d spent searching Columbia's campus for a sign of you afterwards. The unexplainable excitement when he’d accidentally ran into you at the library and finally got your name and your phone number. And every good memory he had of you ever since then; all of those Saturday nights he’d spent with you and Foggy, and the times he got you all to himself when Foggy had inevitably passed out early in his bed. Every conversation at meal times in the dining hall. He recalled graduation night when he’d almost kissed you, almost told you he loved you–and he regretted it so much right now that he’d never just said it back then. 

He recalled every moment with you that he could–every single one of them. Because he wanted you to be his dying thought.

As the building fell around him, Elektra had been shouting something at him, trying to rile him up one last time, but he hadn’t been paying attention to her because he’d been trying to remember the way it felt when he held you in his arms. You’d always fit so perfectly against him. He’d tried his hardest to recall the scent of your shampoo–something faintly floral and sweet, but never overpowering–and the softness of your hair the times he’d been bold enough to press his nose into it. You almost always buried your face into his left shoulder when he embraced you, a small random detail, but one he always remembered nevertheless. Your arms always wrapped around him so hesitant at first, but then you’d almost melt into him for a moment, expelling the softest little sigh that he always wondered about, even then in that moment. 

And that’s what Matt believed would be his last thought. The memory of that soft, contented sigh that always confused him whenever you hugged him.

Except it wasn’t his last thought because he hadn’t died in the explosion. He’d somehow been spared. Saved. But all he could think about since he had woken without his senses was how absurd that was considering God had clearly turned his back on him. He’d been spared for what? What was the point of him without his heightened senses that he’d always thought God had bestowed on him?

So he’d decided to let Matt Murdock die at Midland Circle. He figured he would finally listen to Stick–he’d cut out the people in his life he cared about who cared about him in order to keep them safe. Foggy, Karen, and you.

You were all safer without him. Safer thinking he was dead and gone.

And then he would just be Daredevil. Nothing left to live for, nothing left to lose.

Matt heard the faint, muddled sound of footsteps hitting his ears as someone descended the church’s basement steps. The sound pulled him from his bleak thoughts. Gradually he pushed himself upright, leaning against the stone of whatever it was he’d tripped over. He wasn’t surprised when he heard Sister Maggie’s voice speak a moment later. It was only ever her or Father Lantom that checked on him down here to begin with.

“What on earth are you doing on the floor?” Sister Maggie asked.

Matt huffed out a frustrated breath from his place on the hard floor. He could hear Maggie’s footsteps approaching him and he tried to focus on them, attempting to lock on to her movement in the room.

“Falling, apparently,” he muttered bitterly.

He heard the way Sister Maggie sighed, the noise coming from nearby. He realized she’d lowered to sit on the floor next to him a few seconds later when he registered her body temperature near his right side.

“I brought you something,” she told him.

“I’m guessing food?” he asked flatly. “Not like I can smell anything still. Everything tastes the same too–like blood and ash.”

Matt felt Sister Maggie press something into his hand. It was long and cylindrical. Wrapped in something like a wax paper wrapping. 

“It’s a sandwich from the deli nearby,” she said. “Thought you might enjoy it more than the soup Sister Ethel made tonight for the children.”

Matt’s fingers ran over the paper wrapper for a moment, trying to ignore the stirring in his chest at the kind gesture from Sister Maggie.

“Thank you,” Matt murmured.

He heard her unscrew the cap of something next. It sounded like a pill bottle; the sound of a few pills rattled out of it and into her hand.

“Brought you water, too,” she continued. “And you need to keep taking these.”

Matt held out a hand expectantly, waiting for her to drop the two pills into his upturned palm as she came down here to do every few hours. When she did, he quickly tossed them into his mouth. Holding out his hand again, Sister Maggie handed him an opened bottle of water. He drank down the pills, frowning as he swallowed and stared blankly ahead. 

“How’s the hearing?” she asked.

Matt made a face, the fingers of his left hand absently fiddling with the sandwich wrapper again. “Still can’t hear for shit,” he replied.

“Well your body took quite a beating,” she told him. “Everything’s swollen. Maybe your hearing will come back when it goes down.” There was a brief pause before she added, “Or maybe it’ll come back when you finally take your head out of your ass.”

A sharp, bitter laugh fell out of Matt at her words. He hadn’t been expecting that, but she'd been full of crass and unexpected comments like that since he'd woken here. 

Humorless laughter subsiding quickly, a heavy silence fell around the pair of them. Matt didn't need his extra senses to know there was more she wanted to say. And he had a feeling he knew what it would be, too.

"What?" he asked. 

He briefly registered the sound of Sister Maggie’s shoes lightly tapping along the cement floor, almost like a nervous fidget. Matt's frown only deepened as he waited in silence. 

"She was back again this evening," she eventually said.

Matt's eyelids slowly lowered, his heart feeling like it sank to the floor beside him. She didn't have to even say your name, he knew she meant you. Father Lantom had told him he'd seen you every day here for over a week now. Always bent over a pew in prayer–which was odd because he knew you weren't religious and you weren’t a parishioner at Clinton Church.

"Who is she?" Sister Maggie asked curiously. "She comes here everyday grieving over you. I saw her at your memorial service with those friends of yours that you refuse to call friends.”

“Just someone who used to be a friend, too,” Matt mumbled morosely.

“Seems like more than a friend with how often she frequents this church because of you,” Sister Maggie replied. “Paul seems to think so, too.”

Matt’s head darted towards her at her words, his brows furrowing. “Father Lantom has spoken with her?” he asked. “He’s never told me that.”

“Mmm, oh yes,” Maggie answered. “Often. She comes around the same time every evening. Just after work. Always praying silently in the same pew. Paul says she doesn’t believe you’ve actually died.”

Matt’s brows drew together even further on his forehead, his mouth going dry. “What?” he breathed out.

“She refuses to believe you're dead without a body,” Sister Maggie explained. “And she’d be right, because you aren’t dead. But you are stubborn as hell, though. Tormenting your friends like this. Letting them think you’re dead and forcing them to mourn the loss of you. Letting that poor young woman up there put her life on hold–”

“She’s not putting her life on hold,” Matt cut her off sharply. “She’ll move on soon enough.”

Sister Maggie drew in a deep breath, silence once again falling between the pair of them. Matt’s attention shifted back to the space in front of him. His fingers were still absently fiddling with the sandwich wrapper.

Why were you coming here every day praying for him though? Refusing to believe he’d died? Why not just mourn with Foggy and Karen and move on already? Just forget about him. He wasn’t any good for you anyway. You deserved a better friend, one who wasn’t in love with you and keeping your secret from Foggy just because he was selfish.

“Was she more than your friend, Matthew?”

The question broke through his thoughts, Matt’s face scrunching together in confusion at the unexpectedness of it. Why would she even ask that?

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “She’s just a friend. From Columbia.”

“Hmm,” Sister Maggie hummed curiously. “But you love her, don’t you?”

Matt’s teeth grit together, his jaw clenching in frustration at that question. He had been trying his best to ignore those feelings. And also–how the hell could she possibly know that?

“You flinch everytime Paul or I say her name,” she clarified. “Every time we tell you she’s been by the church crying again. It hurts you that she’s hurting. I can see it plain on your face, Matthew. It’s killing you.”

“She’s not safe being around me,” Matt ground out.

Sister Maggie scoffed loudly. “That’s bullshit and self-pity talking,” she shot back. “Clearly the woman loves you, too. Why keep up the lie? Why keep hurting her?”

Matt shook his head, his fist tightening around the bottle of water in his right hand. “She’s in love with our mutual best friend. She’s told me that already,” he gritted out. “And she’ll move on from the loss of me.”

He heard the frustrated sigh come from the nun beside him, vaguely aware of her rising back up to her feet. For some reason the thought of her leaving him alone again down here had him grinding his teeth harder together. He didn’t want to be alone. But it was better if he learned to live like that.

“I think you’re being foolish and stupid,” Sister Maggie stated bluntly. “Causing undue harm to those you love most–and it's only going to backfire on you. And if you really think that young woman repeatedly coming here doesn’t have feelings for you, you’re more foolish than I ever thought.”

Sister Maggie’s steps slowly grew fainter and fainter until he could no longer hear them anymore. His focus shifted down to the sandwich in his lap that she’d brought him, his fingers carefully tearing the paper open.

She didn’t know what she was talking about, he thought angrily to himself. Sister Maggie couldn’t possibly understand the decisions he’d made or why you kept coming to Clinton Church. He’d been one of your best friends–a shitty one, truthfully–and you were grieving. That was all.

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 14: "Day Late Friend"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 5.6k

a/n: I feel like it goes without saying that this one will probably hurt. There's like a tiny bit of comfort in here, but I think everything else vastly outweighs that. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705 @yourlocalbentspine @harperdoodle @hollandorks

Sitting on the countertop in your kitchen, you were hunched over your phone scrolling through this morning's current news articles. You were exhausted and your entire body ached from having spent last night at Karen’s place sleeping on her couch because your apartment was entirely empty now. 

Most of the furniture you’d had at your apartment had been donated because you did not want to deal with the hassle of moving all of it across the country. It’s not like you couldn’t afford new things with the massive pay increase you were getting with your new position, even if your new LA apartment’s rent was a bit more expensive than your Hell’s Kitchen apartment had been. Though you’d had movers pack up a handful of your items the other day, along with whatever you had packed in boxes that you hadn’t kept in the luggage bag you were going to check with you on the plane when you left. Your things that were being transported across the country via moving truck were supposed to be at your new place by this afternoon. 

Because today was the day. You had a very long flight to LA soon that you were about to catch–a little over a six hour flight to be exact. You’d ordered a car to take you to the airport just a few minutes ago and now all you were doing was waiting, trying to kill time while you ignored the sinking feeling in your gut. You were going to miss New York and the friends you had here–including Matt, even if you were still incredibly pissed at him. But you'd promised yourself repeatedly that you would make this move no matter what because you needed it.

Last night you’d spent the evening at Karen’s, though Foggy had come over for a bit while you’d been there. But you’d made it clear that you wanted neither of them to invite Matt, still not wanting to see him after what had happened at Josie’s. Foggy had tried to convince you otherwise a few times, urging you to tell Matt it was your last night here because he said Matt had been needing to talk with you. Foggy was practically begging you to give Matt a chance to say goodbye, but you just couldn’t do it. After hearing him just days ago talking about the idea of marrying Erica, and then being so cruel to you in return when you’d pointed out how little he’d thought it all out– especially after everything he’d put you through knowing you’d always been in love with him–you felt he didn’t deserve your time. Why put yourself through more heartache for his sake? You weren’t planning to see him ever again anyway. You figured it was time to look out for yourself.

The whole evening you figured Foggy was shooting Matt texts on and off with the way he’d been on his phone. You’d done your best to ignore it, though part of you felt bad for not offering Matt a chance to see you one last time. He’d probably wanted to apologize for his behavior at Josie’s the other night, but what did it matter? You always caved when it came to Matt; you knew you'd ultimately accept whatever apology he gave you. You loved him–sometimes without a care to yourself and your own feelings. 

And that had to change.

With a sigh you opened another news article, your eyes briefly flicking up towards the time on your phone. It felt like time was dragging on this morning. Your ride to the airport was still another fifteen minutes away and you internally cringed. Admittedly you were getting anxious sitting here with nothing to do but wait and sit in your thoughts. 

A series of frantic knocks came from your apartment door, the noise breaking through the silence in your apartment and drawing your attention from your phone. You frowned, turning and looking at your door all the way across the apartment from where you sat in the kitchen. Who would be stopping by your place right now? Unless it was your overly friendly neighbor next door, the elderly Mrs. Meyers. You’d already told her goodbye three times yesterday, but maybe she’d somehow forgotten again. 

Sliding off the counter, you slipped your phone into your jean pocket and made your way over. But the moment you heard Matt’s voice desperately calling your name from the other side of it, you immediately froze on the spot.

What the hell was Matt doing here?

A mix of emotions immediately flooded you–anger, sadness, heartache, guilt. But worst of all of them was that stupid little sliver of hope. You flinched when you heard him call your name through your door again.

"Please," he begged. "I know you're in there. Just let me talk to you. Please. Give me five minutes. Just–just five minutes, please ."

This wasn't exactly the way you wanted to leave New York. That familiar ache was in your chest again and the feel of it hurt . Arms crossing over your chest, you nervously hugged yourself tight as if that would somehow help keep that ache from spreading through the rest of you.

"Matt, I don't want–"

" Please ," he pleaded.

His voice had sounded so small and weak from behind the door, the sound of it causing your eyes to close. Your hands gripped the fabric of your shirt as you fought the urge to cry. Something you'd become all too familiar with when it came to Matt. 

"There's something you need to know," Matt tried again, his voice filled with emotion. "And I don't–don't want to say it to your door."

With a shuddering exhale, you opened your eyes and tried to brace yourself for whatever was about to happen. Crossing the rest of the way to the door, you gradually unlocked it before pulling it open. Matt stepped back instantly, as if he’d been pressed up against it waiting for you. You were surprised to see his glasses were hanging from the collar of his dark green tee-shirt. Matt always wore them around you lately, so it had been jarring to be immediately greeted with the open vulnerability on his face and in his eyes. 

"You have five minutes," you told him, stepping aside and waving him in. 

And really he did, because your car would be here in probably ten minutes.

Matt made his way inside, a pained look on his face as he stepped past you. You grit your teeth together as you shut the door behind him, turning and squaring your shoulders as you faced him. You didn’t know what to expect, but you had a strong feeling whatever it was he needed to tell you was going to leave you in tears.

Matt said your name again, that vulnerable look on his face. "I am so unbelievably sorry about the other night," he began in a rush, emotion heavy in his voice as he spoke. "I shouldn't have spoken to you like that, it was wrong. I was out of line. You had every reason to yell at me like that. I deserved it–I deserve worse . I had–had no idea how much you were hurting and how awful what I’d said really was. It was insensitive and stupid of me and I–"

He abruptly cut off, his brows drawing together in what looked like confusion. Your own face slowly contorted into a look of confusion itself at the words in his apology. How could he not know how much you'd been hurting? He knew you loved him, of course him saying those things had been hurtful, especially considering what he’d told you right before about Erica.

Matt's head snapped to the side and your eyes narrowed as you watched him, his curious movements interrupting your thoughts. You watched as his head darted around a few times, his eyes beginning to water as you saw them scanning your completely empty apartment. 

"No," he whispered, his watery gaze returning to you. "No, don't tell me your things are gone already? You've already packed?"

"I'm moving, Matt," you stated flatly, trying to ignore the way that look on his face was affecting you. "Of course my things are gone."

"When?" he pressed. "Saturday? Sunday?"

You swallowed hard, a lump forming in your throat at the blatant look of panic quickly crossing his features. Why did he look so scared?

"In ten minutes," you answered, tone softening. "I have a car coming to bring me to the airport soon. My flight is at eleven."

Surprise briefly flickered across his face, his dark brows rising up onto his forehead as his lips parted. But then you watched as his face completely crumpled in on itself, tears streaming out of his eyes almost instantly. You stood there in stunned silence, unsure what to make of his reaction. You knew he would be upset about you leaving, but the only time you’d seen Matt cry like this before was when Elektra had broken his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step closer to you. “I thought I had more time. I’m sorry.”

With the sight of Matt standing there and crying before you, you couldn’t fight the tears that had begun to slowly burn in your own eyes. You wiped a hand at them, trying to erase them before they could fall. 

“Foggy said he told you I was leaving,” you pointed out. “You knew I was leaving, Matt. That I had taken a new position and was moving.”

He nodded solemnly, sniffling hard. “He did, but he never told me the day. Just told me I had to see you this morning. And now I–”

You watched in utter confusion as Matt’s sentence broke off right in the middle, his hands coming up as he rubbed the heels of them against his eyes. What sort of a goodbye apology was this? 

“I was wrong all this time,” Matt began, his hands still rubbing at his eyes as if that would make the tears stop. “It’s all my fault. I have spent the past few days going back and trying to make sense of it all– everything . For years. Just–just all of it. Every moment.”

Your brows drew further together on your forehead as you stared back at him. What the hell was he talking about? Why had he come barging over to your apartment spouting nonsense? Why was he so emotional?

“I thought it was Foggy,” he said firmly, his hands lowering from his face. His sightless eyes locked on you as he continued. “I always thought it was Foggy .”

“What?” you asked him. “What’re you talking about, Matt? You thought what was Foggy?”

“The friend you were in love with,” he replied earnestly. “The one you’d told me about a few times at Columbia. The one I knew you were hurting over, that you hadn’t ever gotten over in years . Who you’d cried about that night in the alley when I’d found you drunk and hurting. I always thought it was Foggy .” He winced, shaking his head as he whispered, “I never thought that it was–that it even could be me .”

His words hit you hard and you stood there in absolute shock–Matt thought you’d loved Foggy all of this time? Your mouth fell open as you gaped at him, your brain only wondering one thing.

“ How ?” you asked in confusion. “With what you can do, how did you think I was in love with Foggy?”

Tears were still falling down his cheeks as he took another step towards you, one hand reaching up to wipe them away as his eyes never left you. You still stood frozen on the spot, your arms even further tightening around your chest in response to everything he was telling you. Because what did that mean ? Why had he come here to tell you this? Why now?

“I–I misread so much,” he told you. “When I first ran into you in the library, I picked up on your physical attraction to me–all the telltale signs. And when you gave me your number and agreed to meet up, I thought it meant you liked me. But then that night you came over and Foggy was there–you both hit it off. I tried to give it some time, hoping I was wrong somehow, but it felt like your body was reacting to him . Or at least, that’s how it seemed to me.” Matt shot you a sad, watery smile. “I was still very new to understanding women and relationships, I’ll be honest. I was fresh out of a Catholic orphanage when I went to Columbia. Besides picking up on signs of obvious physical attraction, I’ll admit, I was clueless. And I–I clearly read you very wrong the whole time.”

“But–” you began, pausing to piece together everything yourself. “But Matt, how did you not know? I tried to flirt with you that night when I first came over to your apartment with Foggy and Karen for dinner. It was a terrible attempt but I thought it was pretty fucking obvious. I mean, for fuck’s sake, you heard me at Clinton Church for weeks crying over you. You , Matt, not Foggy. How did it never suddenly click ? How did you never realize you’d gotten it wrong?”

“Because Elektra had often put it into my head that you were always staring at Foggy like you were in love with him,” Matt answered vehemently. “And it’s not like I can see otherwise. I trusted her–and I realized far too late that I shouldn’t have, but I did. Her words about you being in love with him only further proved in my mind that it was true.” His tongue darted out nervously to wet his lips before he continued on in an emotional rush. “And that night you came over more than a year ago, I wasn’t sure if you were flirting with me or not. Something had seemed off with you that day. There was a–a part of me that hoped you were, but I couldn’t be sure. I tried to reach out to you, but you’d distanced yourself from me for weeks after. I figured I’d misunderstood the situation. And…by the time everything happened with Midland Circle, I’d thought you’d already admitted to me that night you found out about my secret that you loved Foggy all this time.” He shrugged weakly, his face further falling. “After that night, I never bothered to question it again.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest so hard you swore you could feel it. Each and every sharp and thundering pound of it. So Matt hadn’t known you’d loved him all this time. Which meant he’d found out when you’d yelled at him the other night at Josie’s. Eyes immediately going wide, you sucked in a breath.

“Holy shit, so you didn’t–” you paused, taking a mortified step back from him, “–you didn’t know? And I–I blurted it out the other night?”

The sad, watery smile was still on Matt’s face as he nodded slowly in response. Something like a strangled cry fell out of you as you spun on your heel, burying your face in your hands. Embarrassment burned through your entire being. Shrinking in on yourself, you wished the floor would just swallow you whole. 

“Why’re you coming here to tell me this?” you cried out, that sharp pain in your chest slamming right into you. “Fuck, this is so incredibly embarrassing , Matt. I thought you knew !”

“Sweetheart,” Matt said softly. 

You stiffened at the term of endearment. He’d called you that once before, that night you’d found out about his big secret. The sound of his footsteps grew nearer but you kept your face buried in your hands.

“I came here to tell you that I have wanted you for years,” he whispered, his voice sounding like it was coming from just behind you. “The first time I stumbled across you it wasn’t at the library–I stumbled on you almost two months before that. On campus. Someone had dropped all their books and papers on the sidewalk and you’d stopped to help them. And I–I don’t know what it was about you, but I couldn’t get your voice and your scent and your kind words out of my head.”

Matt’s hand landed on your shoulder, the touch incredibly light and barely there. It felt like he wasn’t sure he could touch you. As he continued on, your heart only further beat wildly against your ribcage at his words.

“I spent weeks trying to run into you again,” Matt confessed. “Trying to just find you again–any trace of you at all. I couldn’t let you go. That day I met you in the library felt like sheer luck. I had been so stunned myself that you’d appeared to me finally that I’d accidentally ran into you.”

Your hands slowly lowered from your face, your head gradually turning over your shoulder to look at Matt just behind you. That sad smile crossed his lips again when he realized you were looking at him, tears still glistening in his eyes.

“What’s that mean, Matt?” you whispered.

“It means I’ve always wanted you,” he replied just as softly. “You’re the only one I’ve always wanted.”

Goosebumps rose along your arms at his admission. How long had you desperately hoped for him to say those words to you? How many times had you pictured this moment in your head? Wondered what it would feel like for him to want you back? 

“What about Elektra?” you whispered. “And Erica? You were just telling me you wanted to marry her, Matt. How the hell do you say that and then come here and tell me this?”

“I fell hard for Elektra in college,” Matt admitted. “I thought maybe I loved her. She was the only one who knew about that other side of me. What I could do. I thought she–she got me. Understood me. But my feelings for you had never gone away, and I thought maybe I could try to make them disappear with her. But it turned out she didn’t understand me at all, and clearly she saw how much you meant to me because she fed me lies about you loving Foggy.”

“What about the second time you were with her?” you asked, cringing at the question.

Matt immediately shook his head, his sightless eyes still focused along your face. His hand gripped your shoulder a little firmer.

“I was never with her when she came back,” he assured you. “ Never .”

“And Erica?” you pressed.

Your back was still turned towards him as he spoke, but you saw the frown settle onto his face. It felt like your heart was in your throat as you waited for him to explain.

“You had been with Adam for awhile,” he began, hurt clear in his tone. “So I thought maybe you’d finally gotten over Foggy, because you seemed happy with him. And as much as it broke my heart seeing you with Adam, I was truly happy for you. He was a nice guy. He treated you well. And as much as I wished it could’ve been me in his place, I was glad that you weren’t hurting anymore–or at least, I thought you weren’t.” He sighed, his eyes dropping down to the floor as he released your shoulder, his hand running across his forehead instead. “But I knew I’d never have you and I was lonely. That’s when Marci introduced me to Erica and we–we got along. Eventually I developed feelings for her–nothing that even remotely compared to how I feel about you, but I figured I’d never find that again. And things were…admittedly convenient ,” he said with a shameful grimace. “She was often working so she had no clue about me being out most nights as Daredevil. Which meant for once, Daredevil wasn’t an issue in my love life.”

“But Matt–”

“Look, I know it was stupid to think I could continue in a relationship like that, but I was hopeful,” he confessed. “I was lonely and I was hopeful that I’d have time to make things work with a long engagement. And as much as I–I wanted you , I was positive I’d never have you. And what I had with Erica seemed like it–it wouldn’t be so bad as an alternative. So I’d been thinking about proposing and that was why I was hoping to talk to you and Fog.” He shrugged a shoulder lightly, a deep frown on his face. “I was hoping both of you would help me look at things realistically, because you’re both my best friends. You know me.”

Your eyes narrowed at Matt as you finally turned partially towards him. “Then why did you get angry at me when I told you how ridiculous it all sounded?” you asked. 

“Because I could feel your anger,” he whispered. “And I didn’t understand it. I got defensive because it–it hurt hearing you say those things to me. Because I have–have loved you for so long and you were the one I wanted and couldn’t have. But I shouldn't have said those things to you in anger and I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I was hurt and I was stupid and I reacted without thinking.” His lips pressed together, the tears that had been glistening in his eyes quickly spilling forth. “I’m sorry I’ve hurt you so much over the years.”

You were struck speechless, still stuck on the part where he’d admitted to loving you. Matt was in love with you?

“I ended things with her, too,” he continued, the tears still falling. “The first chance I got after that night. Because I want you.”

Almost as if in slow motion you watched as Matt’s hand reached up, very carefully reaching out to gently cradle your cheek in the palm of his hand. You could feel your entire body trembling at the affectionate touch–it was so far from friendly. It reminded you of the night you’d been with him after graduation when he’d touched you so similarly. You understood now what had almost happened that night, and the fact that nothing had only added to the heartache. Because you were quickly realizing that you both had come close to admitting the truth so many times before only to end up here–with years wasted and hearts hurting.

“I want you,” he breathed out, his thumb lightly stroking your cheek. His eyes were slowly scanning your face, as if somehow committing you to memory in his own way as his lips pulled into that sad smile again. "I've only ever wanted you, sweetheart."

A sob fell out of you as you turned fully towards him, your arms immediately wrapping around his waist and drawing yourself into him without a thought. Matt was quick to encircle his own arms around your shoulders, holding you tightly to the front of himself as you felt him burying his face into your hair. Your fingers clawed at his back through the thin fabric of his tee-shirt, desperately holding onto him as you cried. From the pocket of your jeans, you heard your phone alert you to a notification you'd received. No doubt it was the car you’d ordered finally arriving, ready to bring you to the airport. That thought only had you clinging tighter to Matt as you sobbed against his chest.

“Why did you wait so long?” you cried out, face buried into his chest. “Why now, Matt? Why did you have to tell me all of this when I'm leaving?”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, voice breaking on the apology. “I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes snapped shut tight, tears soaking the front of his shirt. Your nails were digging into Matt’s back, clawing at him with how hopelessly you tried to hang on to him. 

“I–I want to ask you to stay,” he whispered, his face still buried into your hair where his tears were dampening the strands. “I want to beg you to. Tell you I would do anything to keep you here–because I would. Happily. Ten times over. But I know I have no right to ask that of you, sweetheart.”

"You're right," you breathed out, your body molding itself to the front of him. "You don't."

You hated that you'd found out Matt had loved you all of this time at this exact moment instead of weeks ago–months or even years ago when things could have gone differently. Because you had already accepted that job and you'd already gotten that apartment. You'd repeatedly told yourself you were leaving and doing this for yourself no matter what. And Matt coming here telling you all of this right now, as much as it made you want him even more because you now knew your feelings were returned, didn't change the fact that he had just ended a relationship with a woman he had considered proposing to only days ago. That he'd let you go on believing he was dead for months not that long ago–and that hadn't stopped hurting even if you'd forgiven him for it. And it certainly didn't change the fact that you had cried over him for years.

You'd needed a change. You needed time away. You needed space to figure things out for yourself without the constant heartache.

"Matt, I–" your eyes tightened further closed, tears still coming as your fingers desperately gripped his back, "–I have to do this. I have to move to LA. For me.” Your face remained pressed to his firm chest as you spoke, pausing just long enough to breathe in that familiar clean scent of him. You hoped you’d never truly forget it. “You just ended things with Erica days ago,” you continued quietly. “This–this isn't how I would want to start things with you. It's not right."

You heard him inhale a shuddering breath, his mouth beside your ear as he did. His hands slid down to wrap firmly around your back, his palms pressing you securely to himself. You could feel his own fingers digging into you through your shirt, his own desperate need to keep you close only making your tears fall faster. In that moment, you knew he’d been hurting just as much as you always had been. Somehow you could feel it in the tears of his that fell, mingling with yours along your skin, and the sharp, ragged breaths he was clearly trying to control. 

"I know," he whispered, voice strained. “You deserve better.”

Reluctantly you slowly pulled away from him, your heart twisting in your chest at the absolute broken state of Matt before you. With a loud sniffle, you pulled your phone from your pocket and saw that you did have a notification for the car you’d called. You responded to it, pressing your trembling lips firmly together as you tried to compose yourself. You needed to leave or you’d miss your flight.

“The car is here to take me to the airport,” you whispered, slipping your phone back into your pocket before glancing up at Matt. “I–I have to go, Matty.”

Matt nodded, his hands roughly wiping at his eyes. “Can I walk you out?” he asked. “Please?”

Swallowing hard, you nodded. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I just need to grab my bag.”

Walking past Matt, you made your way towards your kitchen to the lone piece of luggage that was sitting right where you’d left it. You slid the handle of it out before turning and shuffling your way across the room and back over to Matt. He was clearly trying to take the moment to compose himself, but he didn’t seem very successful with the way his tears were still falling. When you neared him, he timidly held out a hand towards you and you paused, staring at it as your heart unsteadily beat in your chest. A second later you hesitantly reached out, slipping your hand into his. Matt’s face momentarily lit up as he tried to smile at you, his large hand reassuringly squeezing yours.

You sent him a small smile in return before you guided the pair of you out of your apartment, leaving it for the last time. The sound of the door closing behind you both was louder and harsher than usual as you led Matt down the hall and towards the elevators. Neither of you said anything as you waited for it to reach your floor, and neither of you said anything as you both stepped inside. Though as the elevator doors slid closed, Matt’s fingers entwined with yours, as if he was finding any way he could to hold onto you just a bit tighter for just a bit longer. Somehow that hurt, too.

Gradually the elevator lowered until it reached the lobby and you stepped out, your stomach roiling with nerves at the final goodbye that you could feel fast approaching. In silence you led him over towards the car that was waiting for you, politely greeting the driver who took your bag from you and stowed it in the trunk of the car. As they were getting back into the driver’s side, you finally turned and focused on Matt, your hand still enjoined with his.

The sight of him alone had your heart breaking–he still looked just as broken as that day you’d found him crying over Elektra. Except now it was because of you . Instantly the tears began streaming down your face and briefly you wondered how the hell you had a single tear left to shed after all of this time. Matt tried his best to smile at you, his other hand reaching up to wipe away your tears as they continued to fall. 

“Please don’t cry, sweetheart,” Matt said gently, the calloused pad of his thumb still wiping away the wetness on your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you choked out. “I’m sorry for leaving you, Matty. For hurting you.”

Matt shook his head, that sad smile still lingering along his lips. “Don’t apologize,” he whispered. “If this is what you need, if it’ll make you happy, then I–I support you. Even if it hurts. All I want is to know you’re happy.” His thumb slid down, lightly brushing beside the corner of your lips as his sad eyes focused there. “But I’m–I’m sorry my timing with telling you how I felt was so terrible. I should have told you on graduation night like I planned to. Maybe we wouldn’t be here now.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you whispered. 

Matt grimaced briefly, the corner of his mouth turning downward. “Your driver sounds irritated. I should probably uh, let you go,” he said, the last word coming out a little choked.

Stepping towards Matt, you once again wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face against the damp spot your tears had created on his tee-shirt. His own arms immediately held you to him again, his face now burying into the side of your neck. The pair of you stayed like that for a long moment, neither of you clearly wanting to let go. Your eyes closed and you relaxed into him, breathing in the scent of him. If you pushed aside what was happening right now, you could feel whatever it was you’d always felt when you hugged Matt washing over you. That warm, comforting feeling you’d told Foggy about before. The feeling you always experienced when you hugged Matt. You knew what it was now.

He felt like home.

Fresh tears welled in your eyes as Matt slowly pulled away from you, your arms once again coming to wrap tight around your chest as if that alone would keep you from shattering to pieces on the sidewalk. 

“I don’t want to say goodbye,” you admitted weakly.

He reached a hand out, tucking some hair behind your ear as his watery gaze focused along your chin.

“Then don’t,” he replied softly. “I’ll see you again another time, sweetheart.”

His fingers lingered along your cheek, once again lightly wiping away the tears that were falling. Your heart clenched in your chest when you finally found the nerve to speak.

“I’ll miss you, Matty,” you confessed. 

“I’ll miss you, too,” he whispered, his hand falling from your face.

You stood there for a few seconds longer, trying to commit the memory of Matt to your mind. You didn’t want to forget him. Truthfully you didn’t want to leave him. Though eventually you finally turned and opened the car door, slipping into the backseat. You pulled the door shut after yourself, confirming with the driver that you were heading to the airport as you put your seatbelt on. Your attention shifted back to Matt out of the window to where he was standing on the sidewalk. His glasses were back on his face as he began unfolding the cane he’d had folded up in his back pocket. 

When the car finally pulled out into traffic, your eyes remained on Matt through the back window. His face was turned towards you as the car drove away, and you swore you saw his lips moving as if he’d said something, though you couldn’t make out what. You tried to remind yourself internally why you were doing this as the sight of Matt standing on the edge of the sidewalk slowly became harder and harder to see. But when he finally was entirely out of your view, you felt something sharp hit you right in the chest. Raising a hand up, you absently rubbed at the spot just over your heart, eyes still focused out of the back window as tears filled them yet again.

[END NOTES]

End notes again, because I feel like y'all need them. Again.

Matt finally confessed!! He explained quite a bit to Reader but inevitably, she left to LA. I mean, she'd already accepted the job and had no place to stay in Hell's Kitchen for starters, but also, she did really need to take a step away from Matt and try to live her life. And it certainly wouldn't be fair to Reader to try to jump into a relationship with Matt literally days after he'd been having a discussion about possibly proposing to someone else. So Reader is leaving anyway. And there was NO KISS because honestly, I feel like kissing in that moment would just hurt both of them even more. So you're still going to be waiting on that. But I will say the beginnings of comfort will probably start after the next installment for those of you literally hanging by a thread reading this. But there will be a happy ending to this fic so things will slowly begin to turn around soon!

But now for real, I need to focus on my other fics this week. Preferably things that are less angsty like FFTD.

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 13: "Breaking the News"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 7.6k

a/n: This installment is quite painful and there is still no comfort to be had in this series quite yet, friends. But hey, it's the long anticipated moment where Matt learns the truth, right? And you get a Matt POV at the end. Plus this one is LONG. I hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705 @yourlocalbentspine @harperdoodle @hollandorks (some of you I cannot tag so please check your settings!)

Shifting back and forth on your feet outside of Foggy’s apartment, you anxiously waited for him to answer the door. Both of your now sweat-slicked hands were firmly gripping the six pack of beer you’d picked up on your way over, hoping it would help ease the sting of what you were here to tell him. You were beyond terrified of his reaction and just hoping he would take the news as well as you figured he could.

You could hear Foggy’s muffled voice as he made his way through the apartment, the door swinging open a few moments later. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably in knots as Foggy’s beaming face came into view. You felt terrible that he had no idea why you’d asked to stop by tonight, and judging by the look on his face, he clearly thought it was just a friendly social visit.

“Hey!” he greeted brightly, saying your name. “Come on in!” 

“Hey, Fog,” you greeted him back nervously.

Stepping inside, you awkwardly slipped out of your shoes as Foggy closed the door behind you. The rapidly beating thrum of your heart felt loud to your own ears as you sent him a tight smile. Foggy’s attention dropped down to the beer in your hands, his eyes further lighting up.

“Oh man, I am so glad you actually brought some beer because you know what?” he began, making his way towards the worn gray couch in his living room. “This whole week has been rough. Like an absolute shit show at the office. I could’ve started drinking hours ago.”

Hesitantly you followed after Foggy, making your way over towards his couch and watching as he sank down onto a cushion. Feeling even worse after hearing that his week had been difficult already, you awkwardly set the beer on his coffee table before sliding out two bottles and handing one to him. He thanked you before twisting off the cap, tossing it next to the six pack on the coffee table. Feeling slightly sick to your stomach, you opened your beer before settling onto the couch. Immediately you took a long pull from the bottle, swallowing the alcohol down and hoping it would quickly help dull your nerves. Except when you lowered the bottle to your lap, spotting Foggy across from you on the couch rubbing at his temples, your nerves only increased.

“So uh, bad week?” you asked lamely.

Foggy nodded enthusiastically. “That’s an understatement,” he replied. “We almost lost the trial yesterday. The whole thing was a massive headache. Matt has been a little too distracted this week with who the hell knows what, but he was off. Like way off this week. He was nothing like his usual self.”

“Oh,” you whispered, not wanting to think about Matt right now.

“But anyway, it’s Friday tomorrow and things should hopefully be looking up,” Foggy concluded, the smile returning to his face. “I’m going to try to remain optimistic that tomorrow will be better. But what about you? How’s work been going for you? And how’re things with your man? I haven’t seen him in a bit.”

Gripping the bottle of beer a little tighter in your hands, you took a deep breath and tried to prepare yourself for the news you were about to break.

“Well, Adam and I…broke up,” you admitted slowly.

Foggy’s eyes grew wide immediately, one hand lowering the beer from his mouth before he could even take a drink. He was leaning towards you on the couch, his mouth open in shock. You watched as he struggled to take a moment to process the information.

“You–you guys broke up? When?” Foggy asked.

Biting your lip, you looked away. Your cheeks were burning from the guilt at having kept Foggy in the dark for so long, but you hadn’t been ready to tell Foggy the full truth about why you’d broken up and that you were possibly moving. And there hadn’t really been a way to explain things away to him without lying in front of Matt–which you knew Matt would’ve called you out on. 

“It’s been a few months now,” you told him. 

“What?” he asked in shock. 

Foggy was quickly sliding over to you on the couch, reaching over to set his beer on the coffee table before his focus fully turned on you. You could already feel the tears forming when you saw that damn sympathetic look on his face again.

“Dude, hey, what’s going on? Why didn’t you tell me you and Adam broke up?” he questioned. “You tell me everything . What happened?”

“He wanted more from me than I could give him,” you confessed, lips trembling. “Because I–I'm still…”

Foggy’s face instantly fell, knowing exactly what you meant without you even needing to finish your sentence. He nodded slowly.

“Matt?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Matt.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Foggy said, one of his hands landing comfortingly on your shoulder. “I really thought maybe Adam had been the one to get you past your feelings for him. You both seemed so happy together.”

“We were, to an extent,” you told him. “Until Erica came into the picture and reminded me that I can’t just push my feelings for Matt under a rug.”

“So that’s why you broke up then?” Foggy asked. “Because you still have feelings for Matt?”

“Well,” you began slowly, your mouth suddenly going dry, “there was…something else.”

Foggy straightened on the couch instantly, his eyes narrowing curiously back at you. You felt his hand tighten on your shoulder just a bit.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Did he–was he…?”

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “No, he wasn’t cheating. But I–I was offered a new position at work a few days before we broke up.”

You swore Foggy’s entire body had frozen on the couch. It didn’t even look like he was breathing anymore. 

“It uh, it has a huge pay increase–almost double my current salary,” you continued, your stomach nervously churning as you did. “But it’s–it’s out in L.A. And Adam didn’t want to leave his job and his family here. Which is why he mentioned things like moving in together and–and possibly marriage down the road. He wanted me to stay for him. But I couldn’t see those things with him. And I tried really hard to, but I just–just couldn’t. So we broke up. And then afterwards I’d been…considering the job offer.”

Foggy’s lips thinned out, tears shining noticeably in his own eyes as he sat so still beside you. You could feel your own tears ready to fall at the way he was looking at you.

“You're taking it, aren't you?” he whispered. “You’re taking the job?”

Swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, you nodded. “Yeah, Fog,” you answered. “I accepted it. They offered it months ago and I’d been waiting until it was a sure thing before I told you.”

Foggy sniffled loudly, his hand releasing your shoulder to wipe the heel of it across his watery eyes. “So you’ve known for a while?” he asked.

“Like I said, it wasn’t a sure thing,” you told him. “My company was still trying to get their new office set up out there for the past couple of months. But I officially accepted the offer at the beginning of this week. I uh, I’m flying out this weekend to find an apartment, but I’ll be back on Monday for work.”

“Fuck,” Foggy swore, turning and slumping defeatedly back into the the couch. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

Licking your lips nervously, your attention dropped down to the beer in your lap. Your fingers were drumming along the brown bottle as you heard Foggy curse again. Slowly you tried to inhale a deep breath, struggling to keep your resolve. You knew this was going to be difficult, but you also knew you needed to do this.

“Why are you leaving?” Foggy asked, breaking the silence that had fallen.

“I told you,” you began, “I was offered a position that–”

“No,” he said, cutting you off firmly and sitting upright again, the movement and tone catching your eye. “No, that’s not why you’re leaving. It’s because of this thing with Matt, isn’t it? You’re leaving because of him.”

Stunned, your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to form a sentence. Were you that transparent?

“Fog, I–”

“You’re running away, aren’t you?” he pressed. “Admit it. You’re running away from him.”

“Foggy, I can’t do this anymore,” you confessed, a few tears finally spilling over. “Yes, okay? Yes, I’m running away from Matt. Because I love him and he knows it, but what he feels for me isn’t the same. It’ll never be the same.” 

You brushed a hand absently over your cheeks to wipe away the tears that had slipped out. Fuck, you were so sick of crying.

“I love him, Fog,” you said, voice breaking on his name. “And it hurts so fucking bad. Do you have any idea what that’s like? To be in love with your best friend for years ?”

Tears were openly streaming down Foggy’s face now as he listened to you. He kept dabbing at his eyes with the back of his hand, but more tears kept coming in their stead. The sight of him crying was only further causing more of your own tears to fall.

“I see him all of the time, Foggy,” you continued, emotion thick in your voice. “It hurts to even hug him knowing it means something else to me than it does to him. And it’s like I swear I feel something everytime we do. It’s like this–this warm, happy, safe feeling washes over me. Like I could just–just stay there forever. But then I have to remind myself he’s just my friend and it hurts .” Sniffling loudly, you tried to keep your voice even as the words continued to pour out of you. “Now he’s with Erica. And you’ve seen him with her, Fog. He’s got that lovesick puppy look around her all of the time. He’s been crazy about her for months. It’s like Elektra all over again, except Erica isn’t necessarily bad for him. Their relationship, despite how busy Erica always is, is one that I could see becoming something more, you know?”

“Marriage?” Foggy asked.

Grimacing, you nodded. “Yeah,” you whispered. “And if it’s not her, it’s going to be someone else. Someone who isn’t me. And Fog, I–I can’t–can’t–”

The words got stuck in your throat, and no matter how hard you tried, it was a choked sob that fell out of you instead. Foggy was quick to wrap his arms around you and pull you into a hug. Burying your face into his shoulder, you openly wept at the thought of having to witness Matt get married to someone else. It had been painful for years to see him sleep around with countless women at Columbia, even worse when he’d been so stuck on Elektra with how awful she was for him. And then it stung watching him date and sleep around even more after that. But seeing him in a relationship now that might be eventually going towards something serious down the road? That had been the line you had to draw.

“I can’t be here to see that,” you choked out, shaking your head against Foggy’s shoulder as the tears continued to fall from your eyes. “It would–would kill me, Fog. I can’t–can’t see him marry someone else. I can’t do it. I can’t .”

“But why do you have to go?” Foggy whispered. “Why do you have to leave me, too?”

“Because Matt will always be here,” you answered softly. “And as long as he’s within reach, I’ll always be reaching for him.”

Pulling away from Foggy, you wiped roughly at your eyes. His arms released you slowly, coming to wipe at his own eyes that were still watering.

“I’m sorry, Fog,” you whispered. “But you can still come visit. So can Karen. And–and maybe someday I’ll come back and visit you here. It’s not like we’ll never see each other again.”

“Have you told Matt?” Foggy asked.

The question felt like a punch to the gut. You winced at the mention of Matt, that ache in your chest painfully growing. You wondered if anything would ever get rid of it. 

“No,” you answered, shaking your head. “I haven’t.”

“How long until you leave?” Foggy asked.

Your focus dropped down to the beer in your lap. Fingers fidgeting nervously with the label, you refused to look at Foggy when you spoke next.

“About three more weeks,” you said.

“Shit,” he breathed out. “So when–when are you going to tell him?”

Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, you shook your head. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I don’t even know how to look him in the face and tell him this. I don’t know how I’m going to–” you paused, eyes snapping shut, “–to say goodbye to him.” 

“He deserves to know,” Foggy pointed out. “He deserves a chance to say goodbye to you.”

“I know,” you breathed out. “I know.”

Turning the corner, your eyes landed on the red neon sign for Josie’s bar. Your arms wrapped anxiously around yourself, hugging your body tight as you made your way down the sidewalk towards it, maneuvering through the evening foot traffic on the sidewalk. 

Tonight was the night. You'd asked Fog and Matt to come out with you to Josie’s. It would be just the three of you this evening, no significant others. Just like old times. 

And you were going to tell Matt you were moving in three days. 

You'd admittedly cried a lot back at your apartment while you'd gotten ready to come out. Just thinking about what you were going to say to Matt and knowing how soon you would be saying goodbye had gotten you instantly emotional. And you knew Matt was going to be upset with you tonight. You were telling him just days before you left. It hadn’t been intentional, you’d certainly tried to tell him over the weeks before, but you had kept putting it off because you'd been too much of a coward, too afraid to tell him so many other times before. But now that your flight out of New York City was literally days away, you knew you didn’t have a choice. You couldn’t keep putting it off.

Opening the door to Josie’s and stepping inside, you were instantly hit with that musty, moldy smell that always seemed to mix with the scent of alcohol and sweat here. It wasn’t much cooler inside than it was outside tonight you noticed, your eyes scanning the bar for a sign of Matt and Foggy. You spotted them by a table at the far back of the bar, your eyes connecting to Foggy’s almost instantly. He sent you a sad smile, waving you over. You tried your best not to look miserable in return as you approached the table.

“You finally made it,” Matt said, shooting you a wide grin. “Was wondering what was taking you so long.”

The smile you tried to return him probably looked pained, but you knew despite his senses he couldn’t quite tell that. For a moment you stood there standing beside the table, your eyes scanning Matt over where he sat. That handsome, charming smile was still spread wide across his face. You noticed his beard was a bit darker and thicker than usual beneath his red glasses tonight, and he was dressed in his usual white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his muscular forearms on display as he rested his arms on the table. 

The sight of him alone felt like a stab to the heart. Blinking hard, you forced yourself to look away as you situated yourself in the chair across the table from him. Turning, you focused your attention on Foggy to the left of you instead. You needed a moment to try to collect yourself.

“Yeah,” you said, finally responding to Matt. “I was running a little late, sorry. I hope you guys weren’t waiting too long.”

“Just a few minutes,” Matt replied. “Not a big deal. I grabbed you a beer, hope that’s alright.”

He slid a bottle across the table towards you, your eyes following the movement of it. For some reason the little act of thoughtfulness had your heart squirming in your chest. It was just a beer, after all. It didn’t mean anything. It’s not like you all hadn’t bought drinks for each other many times in the past.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

A silence fell across the three of you when Matt drew his own beer to his lips for a drink. Your eyes landed on Foggy, noticing him shooting you a pointed look. He’d been on your ass about telling Matt you were leaving for weeks now, and it was apparent on his face that he was mentally screaming at you to rip the bandaid off and just tell him already. 

“So uh, how’s work been?” you asked.

Foggy’s eyes narrowed at you and you quickly glanced down at the table, ignoring the sharp look on his face. You didn’t want to just sit down and drop the news in Matt’s lap the moment you showed up. You, at the very least, needed a minute to prepare yourself.

“Busy,” Foggy replied simply. “How’s work been for you?”

Nervously your tongue darted out, wetting your lips. You knew what he was doing. It felt like your throat was closing up at just the thought of saying ‘I’m moving in three days’ to Matt.

“Good,” you answered.

Foggy’s eyes only narrowed further at you. Unable to stand the weight of his glare, you glanced across the table to Matt. But that had proven to be a terrible idea because he was focused straight on you, his head tilted a bit to the side. His dark brows had furrowed together, slightly drawing down below the red lenses he wore.

You knew that look. Ever since you’d learned that Matt was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and you’d been informed about his heightened senses, you’d come to recognize when Matt was picking up on something. Zeroed in on it. And right now he was very focused on you. That alone had your pulse increasing, wondering how much he was picking up on– what he was picking up on.

“You doing alright?” Matt asked you.

Clearing your throat, your attention dropped back to the table. Saying yes was an obvious lie. Saying no would leave you telling Matt the truth right here and now and you weren’t sure the words were going to come out yet. You weren’t sure you were ready for the way he’d surely be upset with you at the news. 

“I’m just stressed,” you said–not technically a lie.

There was a brief pause. You could feel both men staring at you and you felt yourself shrinking further in on yourself in response.

“Stressed about what?” Matt pressed.

“Work,” you answered simply.

“What about work?” Foggy pushed.

One of your hands grabbed onto your beer bottle, squeezing it tight in your fist. You felt like you were going to explode, your heart pounding hard in your chest.

“Why don’t we talk about work a little later?” you suggested, teeth gritting together.

Your focus flew up to Foggy, the pair of you locking eyes. There was a very disappointed expression currently resting on his face. For some reason when you saw his mouth open, your own did, too. But instead of blurting the truth to Matt, you found yourself blurting something almost as bad before Foggy could speak.

“How’re Marci and Erica?”

You cringed the moment the question left you, realizing you’d asked Matt to indulge you with details about his relationship. That was not what you wanted. Even Foggy’s expression softened at your question, aware of your mistake.

“Marci’s been busy with work, but doing good,” Foggy answered.

“Great,” you replied stiffly.

Grinding your teeth together, you turned your attention to Matt. There was no backing out of enduring this tidbit about Erica because you’d asked for it. You were just going to have to force the strained smile to stay on your lips as you waited for Matt to stab you in the heart yet again.

“Uh, she’s doing well,” Matt answered slowly, his focus seeming to shift between you and Foggy for a moment.

“Fantastic,” you stated, the strained smile still on your mouth.

You drew your beer up to your lips for another drink, feeling like you desperately needed it. When Matt suddenly spoke again, you hadn’t been expecting it. 

“Actually,” he said, his tone a little off, “there was something I was hoping to talk to you both about. Since it’s been quite some time since we’ve been together like this. Just the three of us. I figured I’d tell you both something that’s been on my mind recently.”

Swallowing down your beer, you slowly lowered the bottle to the table. Your attention shifted to Foggy, one of your brows raising curiously. He made a face, lightly shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head in return. He looked just as confused as you were.

“It’s about Erica,” Matt began.

You sucked in a breath, holding it as your eyes flew back to Matt and you waited in anticipation. Had they broken up? Had Matt finally told her the truth about himself and she couldn’t handle it? Was she…cheating on him?

“Look, I know it’s not been quite seven months yet, but I’ve been thinking about just taking the plunge,” Matt continued on, his words tumbling out rapidly. “She’s really great. And she’s an intelligent, driven, successful woman. And we get along so well. I–I’ve found myself thinking about marriage lately.”

It took your brain a few seconds to process what Matt had just said, but when you did, your jaw literally dropped. He hadn’t been with Erica for quite seven months yet, but he was already thinking about marrying her? 

Your breath literally caught in your throat as you sat there in absolute shock. You couldn’t breathe. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Foggy’s head instantly whip in your direction. His eyes were wide, his mouth also hanging open in complete surprise.

“Guys?” Matt said nervously. “Care to say something?”

He wanted to marry Erica.

He wanted to marry her .

He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her .

Your right hand flew up to your chest, clutching the fabric of your shirt roughly in your fingers. There was a sharp pain shooting straight through your heart in a way you’d never felt before. Were you about to have a panic attack? A heart attack maybe? Was that what this was? 

You might actually throw up. 

“That’s uh…” Foggy said, voice trailing off as he tried to search for words.

“A good thing?” Matt suggested.

You could hear your pulse hammering in your own ears as you tried to inhale a shaky breath. Fuck, why was it so hard to breathe? Across the table, Matt focused back on you, saying your name with a note of concern.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked slowly. “You don’t sound…alright.”

He just fucking told you he wanted to marry Erica when he knew you were in love with him. Of course you weren’t fucking alright . You were the farthest goddamn thing from alright .

“Does she know?” you breathed out.

“Well…no,” Matt answered slowly. “I haven’t bought up the topic quite yet but I–”

“Does she know who you really are?” you pressed, cutting him off as your hand clutched your chest tighter. “ Does she know ?”

You swore you saw his eyes narrow behind his glasses in the dim light of Josie’s. His lips pressed firmly together in what appeared to be a hint of irritation.

“No,” he answered, his tone darkening a bit. “She doesn’t know that yet, but I don’t think it will be a problem at the moment. She’s mentioned always wanting a long engagement, so I’d have plenty of time to figure it out with her. I don’t think it would be an issue, and until then, she’d want to probably stay at her place near her work. Which means I could keep doing what I’ve been doing. We’d just have to figure that all out later. We’d make it work.”

A bitter laugh fell out of you before you could stop it. Didn’t he hear how stupid that sounded? What the hell sort of hold did she have on him? Why was he so stuck on her? He deserved so much better than being with someone who didn’t know him. He deserved someone who saw all of him and wanted him still. Who loved him for the man he was, crazy and frustrating as he could be sometimes. 

Someone like you.

But of course you were never good enough. He'd rather propose to a woman that didn't know he could smell what she'd eaten for lunch when she saw him after work. That had no idea he was risking his life most nights to save the people in the part of the city he loved so dearly.

“She will never move to Hell’s Kitchen with how much she dislikes it, and you’ll never leave it,” you stated sharply, anger quickly growing within you at how ridiculous this whole situation was beginning to sound. “How does that work, Matthew?”

Matt’s brows entirely pulled together behind his lenses, his jaw clenching as he stared back at you. “Well I don’t see how that’s any of your concern,” he shot back, a sharper edge to his tone. “You’re not part of this relationship.”

You gaped at him, momentarily stunned and hurt. A second later your eyes darted over to Foggy, seeing him sitting there in absolute mortification at whatever was happening between you and Matt. He looked like a deer in the headlights.  

“Well, Matthew ,” you said bitterly, focusing back on him across the table and not even bothering to hide your anger at this point. What did it matter anymore? You were leaving in three days anyway. “I think it’s a bit absurd that you want to propose to a woman who doesn’t even know you, when you have absolutely no fucking idea where you both would even live together, after not quite seven months of dating. Doesn’t sound like you thought more than three seconds about this whole thing.”

“Excuse me?” he snapped, his dark brows shooting up onto his forehead. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I think it sounds like you’re clinging to her like you clung to Elektra,” you snapped. “For whatever fucking reason you did.” 

Matt sat back in his chair, a look of surprise mingled with hurt written on his face. Part of you felt bad for that low blow, but you didn’t have long to feel that way before Matt was leaning forward again, his face set in a firm expression.

“Just because things didn’t work out how you wanted for yourself, doesn’t mean the rest of us have to sit here stuck in one place,” Matt shot back.

His words felt like a slap to the face. You sat there for a moment, the tears burning in your eyes at the audacity of him saying that to you. Of him knowing how you felt about him, telling you he wanted to marry another woman, and then throwing your feelings back at you like that.

Swallowing hard, you abruptly pushed your chair back and rose to your feet. Matt was still sitting and seething on the other side of the table, focused on your movements. Foggy’s face looked like it was permanently stuck in a mixture of shock and horror as he sat in utter silence.

“Fuck you, Matt,” you growled. “I never thought you were that much of an asshole to throw my feelings for you like that back in my fucking face.”

Matt straightened instantly in his chair, his expression shifting rapidly. “What?” he asked.

“I said fuck you ,” you spat, tears starting to make their way down your cheeks. “For knowing I’ve had feelings for you all these fucking years,” you barreled on, watching as his mouth immediately dropped open and his eyebrows shot up high onto his forehead, “and letting me think you were fucking dead for months and now making me listen to your bullshit desire to marry Erica. You’re not worth the goodbye. So fuck you, Matthew Murdock.”

You didn’t bother to wait for him to recover from the shock of your outburst, his body pin straight in his chair as he gaped at you in stunned silence. Turning on your heel, you stormed off out of Josie’s, fuming internally as you pushed the door open and made your way out into the night.

Matt sat in his chair, his mind racing as he listened to you making your exit from Josie’s. He could taste the salt of your tears and the venom of your anger in the air right before you'd left, but it was what he'd thought he'd heard you say that had him sitting dumbfounded in his seat. 

Had you said what he'd thought you'd said? Had that really happened?

"Shit, Matt," Foggy groaned out. "What the hell was that?"

Matt's head spun towards Foggy, shock still coursing through him. He could feel his hands shaking as they reached up, pulling his glasses from his face and lowering them to the table. 

"What did she just say?" he asked Foggy in disbelief. 

Matt could hear the way Foggy’s mouth dropped open yet again and the way his eyes had widened on his friend's face. Though Matt was more focused on the feel of his own racing heart in his chest as he tried to understand what had just happened.

"I think she said it pretty loud and clear, buddy," Foggy told him. "She's pissed at you. And I don't blame her one bit."

"No," Matt breathed out, shaking his head at Foggy. "Not that. The other part. The part about having feelings for me."

"I mean…yeah," Foggy replied matter-of-factly. "She's had them for you forever, dude. You knew that already though."

" What ?" Matt whispered in shock.

You…you'd had feelings for him? For Matt? For years ? And you both for some reason thought he knew that?

"Yeah, Matt," Foggy continued. "She's been crazy about you practically since she met you. She said you guys talked about this when she found out about your big secret. That was a while ago now. She said you'd told her you always had known she liked you because of your senses."

"I–what?" Matt stammered.

"Dude," Foggy said in exasperation. "Why are you acting like this is such big news?"

"Because it is , Fog!" Matt exclaimed. "She told me she was in love with you !"

Foggy froze, his mouth once again hanging wide open. Matt could feel the confusion practically rolling off of him in the chair beside him. Then he noticed Foggy quickly and firmly shaking his head. 

"What the fuck are you talking about, Matt?" he asked. "When the hell did she tell you that ?"

"That night!" Matt shouted. “She told me that night!”

“No,” Foggy said, still shaking his head. “No, there’s no way, dude. Did she expressly say ‘Hey, Matt I’m in love with Foggy?’”

Matt opened his mouth, about to tell him yes, but then he stopped short. Because no, you hadn’t in fact said Foggy’s name exactly. You had never actually told him you had feelings for Foggy. He’d always just thought that’s who you’d meant and it had made sense. Even Elektra had been pushing that idea onto him, telling him that you were always pining after him. How obvious it was with the way you looked at Foggy. He’d always thought that was the truth.

Had he been wrong this whole time?

“No,” Matt breathed out. “She–she never said your name. She never said any name.”

It felt like his entire world was falling apart around him. You’d never actually told him you liked Foggy. Never explicitly said his name. He’d just let Elektra’s words and his senses paint a story for him that he’d believed for so long. Which meant that night, over a year ago now when Elektra had dropped him off at your apartment, you’d been thinking he knew that you'd always had feelings for him because of his senses, when Matt had thought you had confirmed you'd always had feelings for Foggy this whole time. And that also meant that night when you hadn’t known who the masked man was and he’d found you drunk in that alley after your asshole ex had cheated on you–it had been him you’d really been crying over. You had both held each other tight that night crying over your feelings for each other in the rain.

All of this time he had been the friend who you’d had feelings for? How could he have been so fucking unaware? 

“Holy shit, you really didn’t know, did you?” Foggy asked in surprise. 

“No,” Matt repeated vehemently, his focus returning to Foggy. “No, Fog. I swore I thought she was always in love with you! Ever since she met you the pair of you just clicked! You were always spending so much time together. Both so alike. And her body was always reacting like crazy around you–but it…” he trailed off, blinking hard a few times. “It was me?”

Foggy reached out, placing a hand on Matt’s shoulder. He felt his friend give it a reassuring squeeze as he tried to process the influx of information suddenly rushing back to him. Every time he’d thought he was reading you reacting to Foggy, it had been him. How could he have read you so wrong for years?

“Fuck, I almost told her on graduation night,” Matt recalled, tears filling his eyes. “You’d fallen asleep and she was–was right there . I had been about to tell her I had feelings for her–about to kiss her–but then she suddenly panicked and I felt her fear. I thought it was because she knew I was going to and she had gotten scared. Because she wanted you .”

“Dude, no,” Foggy said, squeezing Matt’s shoulder again. “She probably was hoping you’d kiss her but afraid she was misreading the situation. That’s probably the fear you picked up on. She thinks you’ve only ever seen her as a friend, Matt.”

Matt ran a hand through his hair, his mind reeling. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

“All this time I’ve just been–been misreading everything ?” Matt asked in shock.

“Clearly. But how the hell does that even happen with you? With what you can do?” Foggy questioned him. “And also–what the fuck, Matt? You’ve had feelings for our best friend all this time and you never fucking told me ?”

Matt’s attention returned to Foggy beside him, his sightless eyes intensely focused on him. “Do you remember that fall semester?” Matt asked earnestly. “That girl I told you I’d ran into?”

“Matt,” Foggy said with a sigh. “You ran into many girls.”

Matt shook his head quickly. “No, not like this. Not her. The one we called the White Whale?” he pushed.

Matt could hear the way Foggy’s brows drew together on his forehead. His hand fell away from Matt’s shoulder and instead came to run across his mouth as he took a moment to think back.

“Yeah,” Foggy eventually answered. “The girl you spent weeks looking around campus for. The one you were dying to meet. We came up with a bunch of ridiculous ways you might meet up with her over winter break.”

“Yes, her,” Matt replied in a rush. He whispered your name, feeling his heart twisting at the sound of it. “That was her . She was the White Whale, Fog.”

Foggy sat speechless for a moment, his hand still raised to his mouth as if he’d been taken off guard by Matt’s admission. Matt could hear Foggy’s heart rate elevating even further in his chest as he processed that information.

“You–you told me you met the White Whale and things hadn’t worked out, Matt,” Foggy pointed out. “You told me that.”

“Because I thought she’d fallen for you!” Matt shot back, gesturing a hand roughly at Foggy. “So I never told you it was her because I figured it didn't matter anymore. And I was–was an asshole and selfishly never said anything about the feelings I thought she had for you because I–I didn’t want to see you two together.”

“Fucking hell, Matt,” Foggy groaned, running a hand down his face. “What a fucking mess. So all this time you two idiots have had feelings for each other and nothing happened because no one fucking said anything?”

“I had no idea,” Matt whispered. “I had no idea she felt that way about me.”

“Ugh!” Foggy exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in frustration.

Matt heard the way both of Foggy’s hands flew up to cover his face soon after, his hands rubbing agitatedly at his eyes. He could feel the irritation and frustration coming from his best friend, and he could feel something else exuding from him, too. But Matt didn’t take a moment to even wonder what it was as a thought suddenly struck him.

He shoved his chair back, swiftly rising to his feet. He was going to go after you. He had to. He had to tell you the truth. But Foggy’s hand abruptly grabbed onto his arm and it caused Matt to stop before he could even leave the table.

“What’re you doing?” Foggy asked him.

“Going after her,” Matt answered as if it was obvious. “I can’t leave her like that, Fog. I can’t let her continue thinking I knew all of this time that she had feelings for me and that I never felt the same. Because that’s not true. And I can't let her keep thinking that.”

“Matt, buddy, no,” Foggy replied quickly, tugging on his arm. “You just told her minutes ago that you were considering marrying someone else. And need I remind you–you’re still dating Erica. The woman you just told her you wanted to marry. You can't chase off after her in some grand romantic pursuit and tell her you have feelings for her. Not like this. She deserves better, Matt.”

A pained expression pulled at Matt’s face. He didn’t want to let you go back home feeling like this.Thinking what you were thinking. He didn’t want that. Especially knowing what he now knew. 

"What're you saying?" Matt asked.

"You want to tell her this?" Foggy questioned back. “That you have feelings for her?”

Matt nodded immediately. "Yes, Fog. Yes. I've wanted to tell her for years. I’ve come so close so many times," he confessed.

"Then do it when you're single, Matt," Foggy stated. "Don't you dare go chasing after her and telling her you have feelings when you're dating another woman. When you just finished talking about marrying another woman. Don't you do that to her, man. Because so help me, Matt, I don't care how well you throw a punch, I will hit you."

Matt's face slowly fell as he gradually slumped back down in his chair. Foggy was right. He had just dropped this idea of proposing to Erica on you–and God what an asshole he felt like now knowing how much that had to have hurt you to hear. No wonder you’d gotten so angry and your body’s stress levels had risen so quickly. And now he would sound like an ass chasing you down after that. But knowing how much pain he’d just caused you only increased that familiar heartache of his own that was currently twisting and constricting in his chest. He’d hurt you tonight. And probably countless nights over the years. How often had you been crying because of him ? He wanted to slam his fist through the table at the thought.

"Why the hell do you want to marry Erica anyway?" Foggy asked. “That seems so out of nowhere, man.”

"Because we–we get along," Matt answered lamely. "And she's always so busy so me being Daredevil has never caused an issue. It’s never been a problem. And I–I don't want to be alone,” he admitted, aware of how pathetic he sounded. “I figured Erica and I would figure things out later. That maybe she'd understand. I wasn’t really thinking things through, I admit that."

"Matt, Erica doesn't even know about your heightened senses," Foggy pointed out. "You can't get that serious with someone out of convenience and fear of being alone, buddy. It's wrong and it won't work out. That’s not fair to Erica, either."

"I know," Matt murmured, running a hand over his forehead. "You're right. You’re both right. I just–just thought I'd never have her and I was lonely. And when I was with Erica, she made me feel less lonely."

Foggy was shaking his head again. "That's not right, Matt. You can't do that to Erica."

"I know," he whispered, shamefully burying his face in his hands. "I'll talk to Erica tomorrow after work. I'll end the relationship. And then I'll talk to her." He whispered your name, his voice muffled by the hands over his face. He could feel the tears burning in his eyes. “I’ll tell her the truth. Everything.”

God did he want to tell you the truth so badly, too. He wondered how pissed at him you would be when you heard it. He wondered if there was anything he could do to make this whole situation salvageable. To fix all the things he’d fucked up, knowingly and unknowingly. He would do anything at all. Whatever it took.

"Well if you're going to tell her about your feelings you better hurry, Matt," Foggy said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re running out of time.”

Matt's brows drew together on his forehead. Something you'd said just before you left ran through his mind again. Something about him not being worth a goodbye. Matt felt his chest tightening further, a few tears slipping out of his eyes as he instantly drew his face from his hands and focused back on Foggy beside him.

"What's going on, Fog?" he asked anxiously. "You said she had something to tell me tonight. I'm guessing this wasn't it. So what is it?"

Foggy expelled a deep sigh, his grip on Matt’s shoulder growing a bit firmer. Matt felt his heart beating a bit erratically in his chest in the silence that followed, especially with the nervous sounds Foggy’s body was making right now. 

"She was offered a new position at work," he finally told Matt. "Really amazing pay–almost double her salary. But the job is in L.A. where her company is opening up a new office."

It felt like someone had ran Matt’s heart straight through with a knife. He had endured a lot of physical pain over the past few years running around the city at night, his body taking a lot of abuse. But the way those words struck Matt hurt more than any injury he'd ever sustained.  

"Is she–did she…?"

Foggy nodded solemnly. "Yeah," he answered. "She accepted it. She moves at the end of the week."

Matt's tongue felt heavy in his mouth, unable to swallow or form words as his lips began to tremble. You were leaving him. He just found out the truth–that you felt the same way after all this time–and you were leaving him. Moving to the other side of the country in a matter of days and he had no idea until just now. Days before you left.

"What–what about Adam?" Matt breathed out.

"They broke up months ago," Foggy replied. "She realized when you were with Erica that she just couldn't get over you. She hoped Adam might’ve been the one, but apparently he wasn’t.” Foggy sighed, his hand still comfortingly on his friend’s shoulder. “That's why she took the job, Matt. She's running from you. Running from her feelings for you."

Matt’s gaze dropped down to the table, more tears slowly sliding down his face. He’d done that to you, then. Hurt you so badly that you wanted to run from him. Put an entire country between the both of you. Now you didn’t even want to say goodbye to him. He winced at the pain of that thought.

"What if–if I told her?" he asked Foggy desperately, his focus returning to his friend. "What if I told her how I felt, Fog? Would she stay? Do you think she wouldn’t leave then?"

He heard the way the air shifted as Foggy shrugged in answer. The gesture didn't ease the constricting pain in Matt’s chest at all. Warm tears kept falling down Matt’s face as the weight of losing you slowly settled in his heart. 

"She can't–can't leave though," Matt croaked out, voice breaking as he shook his head. "She can't leave us–she can't leave me ."

Foggy rose slowly from his chair, crossing the space between the pair of them before wrapping Matt in a hug. Without hesitation Matt clung to his friend as a sob fell out of him, his face contorted in pain.

"She can't leave," Matt choked out. “She can’t , Fog.”

"I know, Matt," Foggy said, emotion thick in his voice. "I don't want her to go either."

"I lose everyone," Matt whispered. He clutched at Foggy’s dress shirt, entirely uncaring of who was watching the scene in Josie’s as he sobbed on his friend’s shoulder. "I can't lose her, too. I can't. I–I love her, Foggy. I love her."

"I’m sorry, Matt," Foggy replied, crying along with him. "But I don't know if there's anything either of us can do now."

[END NOTES]

More end notes this time because I often feel like this series needs it.

Matt now finally knows that Reader is not in love with Foggy! It only took YEARS for him to realize that--and it's only because Reader blurted it out in her anger at Matt having stupid thoughts about marrying someone who didn't even know all of him. Clearly he was clinging to Erica because he didn't think he could ever have Reader and he was trying to latch onto someone who made him feel good in the moment. Matt now also knows that Reader is leaving New York in just a matter of days, too. But, despite Matt now knowing the truth, Reader still has absolutely no idea that Matt has feelings for her. So what happens next? Does Matt chase after her and she stays? Does he miss her and she leaves? Something else? You'll have to wait for the next installment to find out...

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 12: "Considering the Offer"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 3.5k

a/n: Another painful installment that is about to bring us to what I consider to be the worst angst of this whole series next. This one certainly hurts, though. Feedback is always appreciated--and so are theories about what happens next even if my lips are sealed!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705 @yourlocalbentspine @harperdoodle @hollandorks

“Look at us!” Foggy exclaimed, raising his beer bottle high up in the air, clearly still wound up from the win in court earlier today as his eyes scanned over everyone around the table. “All of us together again tonight! How often does that happen?”

“Well, not all of us,” Karen pointed out, nudging you beside her with her elbow. “We are missing Adam tonight.”

Foggy held up a hand, shooting you an apologetic smile as he shook his head. Internally you cringed, your heart aching at the mention of Adam, but you bit your tongue and kept your mouth shut. You weren’t about to correct anyone, not tonight. Especially when you weren’t prepared to come up with a partial truth as to why he actually wasn't here, because you needed some reason that would make it past Matt’s human lie detector abilities that you always kept in mind if you were to tell them the truth. And currently you weren’t in the mood to think of one.

“You’re right, Karen, I’m sorry. We aren’t all fully together tonight,” Foggy amended. “We are, unfortunately, one person short this evening.”

“Though you did manage to wrangle me back to Josie’s,” Marci said, her arm still wrapped around Foggy’s waist. “And how you managed that again remains a mystery.”

Marci’s eyes dropped down to her glass, openly studying it with distaste. She’d often made it clear she wasn’t a fan of coming out to Josie’s, preferring that you would all someday make your ritual hangout place at a nicer bar.

“At least this time I wasn’t the one who was unavailable,” Erica said, her slender arm casually draped over Matt’s shoulder. 

Inevitably her voice drew your gaze all the way across the table. Her attention was focused on Matt, a smile crossing her pretty face. A sharp pang of jealousy struck you like a white hot fire in your veins when you saw Matt turn his focus on the beautiful dark blonde sitting beside him, a large smile forming on his own lips underneath his glasses as he leaned in towards her.

“You’re right, for once I got you out of the office and all to myself,” he playfully teased. “Which certainly doesn’t happen often enough.”

He leaned in to place a lingering kiss on her cheek and your eyes quickly dropped down to your beer before you, your fingers running along the condensation of the bottle. You did your best to try to ignore the sound of Erica’s giggle and the feel of your erratically beating heart at what was happening across the table. Pressing your lips firmly together, you fought hard to keep them from visibly trembling. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Karen was looking at you, but you tried your best to ignore that, too. 

It had been a little over four months now since you’d learned Matt wasn’t dead, having found out when you’d seen him sitting and having a drink with your friends at Father Lantom’s wake. It was only a couple of months after that when Marci–who’d begun dating Foggy recently–had introduced Matt to one of the lawyers at her firm. Erica Kaminski. And he’d quickly grown fond of her real fast.

You'd met her a few weeks after you'd heard Matt first talking about her. She was apparently an impressive defense attorney herself, one who was incredibly busy and very focused and passionate about her work. She was sweet, too. Nice. Which made it absolutely impossible to hate her despite how beautiful, confident, charismatic, and successful she was. She was practically Matt's perfect match, even if she wasn't necessarily as crazy about taking on pro bono cases like he was. 

They looked perfect together, too, with his dark hair, handsome face, and the strong build not very well hidden underneath his suits next to her lithe and leggy form and her model-like face and perfect hair. They looked like some sort of power couple and it physically pained you to see them together whenever you did. Especially whenever you saw Matt leaning over to give her sweet kisses to the cheek or the forehead–even worse when you had to witness a passionate kiss on the lips. Every single time it always felt like your heart was further withering inside of your chest, gradually shriveling up into a goddamn raisin. 

She didn’t know about Matt’s alter ego, though. Nor did she know about his heightened senses. And Matt had made it very clear that none of you were to say anything about it to her. You’d understood why at first, but as the weeks wore on and Matt seemed further smitten with this woman, you’d started to wonder how things were going to continue on if he didn’t tell her the truth. How could he have a relationship with someone if they didn’t really know who he was? How could he know she really wanted to be with him– all of him–if she didn’t know there was more that he wasn’t telling her? You’d kept your mouth shut about it, but you’d always bitterly thought he was making the wrong decision by planning to keep her in the dark. Not that you felt she needed to know everything after only two and a half months, but with the way these two seemed to be going–at least with how Matt talked about her–you had a feeling she’d be reaching a point where she deserved to know the truth. And Matt deserved to be with someone who loved that other side of him, too. 

Though admittedly, you felt like Matt was far more into Erica than she was into him. Not necessarily in a bad way on her part, but you often got the she’s-very-married-to-her-career sort of vibe from her. She was often unavailable to make plans with Matt, usually too focused on something with work. Sometimes work would even call her away when she’d been out–even if she was on a date with Matt. Whereas Matt had latched onto Erica like he’d had back at Columbia when he’d met Elektra. It almost seemed like some level of an unhealthy co-dependency he’d formed with her that you couldn’t quite make sense of, though of course you would never ask him about it. You figured it had something to do with whatever had happened to him after Midland, but he always seemed so happy with her that you’d tried to ignore it.

But as you spotted them kissing across the table out of your peripheral, you felt like you were about to be sick. As if she noticed exactly what was going on, Karen leaned over towards you.

“Want to grab another drink with me?” she asked.

You nodded, lips still firmly pressed together as you instantly pushed your chair back. Sliding off of it, you maneuvered around Foggy and Marci before making a straight line for the bar counter, your eyes locked on Josie pouring out a beer behind it.

“Something’s going on with you,” Karen pointed out as she fell in step beside you. “It’s written all over your face.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered.

Karen snorted, shaking her head. “Okay, I may not be Matt, but even I know that’s a lie,” she shot back.

You sighed as the pair of you reached the counter, leaning forward to rest your elbows up onto it. Turning, you glanced at Karen’s inquisitive and concerned face beside you. One of her brows rose onto her forehead in a silent question. Your eyes slowly slid back to the table your friends were at, a frown slipping onto your face as you spotted Foggy and Matt both focused on their girlfriends. Really, though, the nauseous feeling in your stomach was due to the intense focus Matt had on Erica and the hand he had on her knee as he was talking to her. Biting your tongue, your focus returned to Karen.

“Are we still grabbing brunch tomorrow?” you asked her.

She nodded quickly. “Yeah, I was planning on it,” she answered. “Why?”

“I’ll tell you everything then,” you told her, your focus shifting on Josie as she made her way towards the pair of you. “When it’s just us.”

The waitress placed the plate of eggs benedict in front of you and you thanked her softly as she did. The food looked good–as it always did here–but admittedly your stomach was churning a little at the conversation you knew you were about to continue. Eyes glancing back up, you saw Karen across the booth from you still staring at you unblinkingly, her mind clearly still on the conversation that had been interrupted just now. When the waitress placed Karen’s food in front of her, Karen muttered a ‘thank you’ quickly, but her gaze never left you.

“Is there anything else I can get for you two?” the chipper waitress asked, her focus darting between you and Karen.

“I think we’re good,” you answered, shooting her a tense smile. “Thank you.”

She nodded before turning and heading off to a nearby table. Karen immediately leaned forward across the table towards you, her blue eyes intense as she ignored the steaming plate now between where her elbows rested on the table.

“Okay, let’s back up and go back to where we were,” she said. “You were offered a new position?”

“Yeah,” you said, picking up your mimosa. You felt like one was not going to be enough for this conversation. “My boss has loved my initiative ever since…well, you know.”

Karen’s face fell immediately, a frown pulling at her lips. “I’m sorry about that,” she apologized, her eyes softening from the piercing stare she’d had for the past few minutes. “I really am, we shouldn’t have–”

You waved a hand, cutting her off as you clutched your mimosa tighter in the other. “Hey, it’s over, right? What’s done is done. None of you can take it back and you and Foggy have apologized like a thousand times already. And Matt probably ten times as much,” you muttered, drawing the glass to your mouth for a drink. Swallowing the cold liquid down, you added, “It is what it is at this point. I know why you all did it, but that doesn’t make it hurt less when I think about it.”

Across the table, Karen sat back in the booth. A look of guilt had taken residence on her face and you felt bad, but you weren’t about to console her for what had happened. Because admittedly that image of the three of them in Nelson’s jovially chatting when you walked in still plagued your mind some nights. As did the image of Matt and Erica kissing.

“But yes, my company has been doing well this past year and they’ve been focused on expanding,” you continued, bringing the conversation back around. “My boss has been loving my dedication to my work and the things I’ve been producing for the company, so he wanted to offer me the new position opening up first.”

“What’s it include?” she asked carefully.

“A massive pay increase,” you told her. “Like...almost double my salary now.”

Karen’s eyes grew wide across the table, her jaw dropping. “Are you fucking serious?” she breathed out. “You already make a good living–and they would almost double that?”

You nodded, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. Karen’s eyes immediately caught the movement and they instantly narrowed at you.

“What else does it include?” she asked.

“Well, like I said,” you continued a little nervously, “my company is expanding. Outside of New York City.”

You saw the moment realization dawned and her face fell across from you, her shoulders dropping at the information. “How far outside of New York City?” she asked.

Biting your lip, your focus dropped down to your plate of untouched food. Nervously your fingers fidgeted with the fork on the table. Karen was the first of your friend group you were telling all of this to.

“Los Angeles,” you told her.

You winced at the sharp intake of breath across the table, your eyes slowly making their way back up to her face. One of her hands had flown up, covering up half the look of shock now present there. Your stomach felt like it dropped to the floor, your appetite quickly leaving you. 

“So you’re leaving?” she whispered.

You shrugged a shoulder lightly in response. “I mean, I haven’t accepted anything,” you replied. “They offered me the position two weeks ago. They aren’t exactly in a rush right now for an answer because they’re still getting the new office together out there. But they really want me for this position. I’m pretty sure my boss is prepared to beg.”

“That’s–that’s incredible,” Karen said, a sad smile on her face as her hand fell back to her lap. “Really, that’s amazing.”

“Thanks,” you muttered.

“So–so what’re you thinking, then?” she asked. “I imagine you’ve been thinking about it for a bit now.”

“I–I’m considering it,” you confessed, heart hammering in your chest as you did. “Really considering it, actually. That’s a lot of money. I’ve never been that far west, either.”

“What about Adam?” Karen immediately asked. “What’s he say about all of this?”

Taking a deep breath, you sat back in the booth now, entirely ignoring your plate of food. Exhaling roughly, you prepared to drop another bomb on Karen.

“We broke up,” you told her.

“ What ?” she asked in disbelief. “Why? When? You two were doing amazing, what happened?”

Your eyes dropped down to your lap. Nervously you were wringing your hands together, your chest feeling tight.

“Almost two weeks ago,” you answered. “Shortly after I got the offer. I was thinking about it for a few days, mulling it over, you know? And I knew I needed to tell him about it because it’s not like I could just make a big decision like that on my own. But he–he really didn’t want to leave New York. His family is here and he loves where he works.” You paused, your eyes still unable to meet Karen’s. “He asked me to stay here with him. Wanted me to move in. Talked about…wanting more with me.”

Karen once again sucked in an audible breath across the table. Your fingers only fidgeted faster in your lap at the sound.

“He wanted to marry you?” Karen asked.

Swallowing hard, you nodded. The far too familiar sting of tears were in your eyes again and you fought to blink them back.

“I liked Adam a lot,” you admitted, your focus finally returning to Karen. “I really did. He’s an amazing man, really. And I–I tried to love him.” You sniffled, trying to fight down the emotion you felt rising inside of you. “I really, really tried with him. For a long time in the beginning when I was with him, I didn’t think about Matt. And it was nice. But then Matt he–he met Erica a couple of months ago and hearing him talk about her, seeing them together–”

You broke off, your eyes closing as a few tears fell down your cheeks. Shaking your head, you tried to continue.

“It made me realize I still love Matt,” you admitted. “After all of this time, no matter what I do or what he does, I can’t seem to stop loving him. And I’d been feeling that for a couple of months now but I just–just kept trying to push it down. But when I was offered this position and I needed to talk to Adam and he wanted those things with me…I realized it wasn’t him. He’s not the one I wanted those things with.”

Karen said your name softly, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“And then I–I remembered what you said,” you continued, a few more tears running down your cheeks as you spoke. “Last year. About moving away and I–” the words felt like they were getting stuck in your throat as you tried to force them out, “–I think you were onto something. Because I can’t live like this, Karen.”

A few tears fell down her own cheeks as she listened to you, one of her hands darting up to wipe them away. Shaking your head roughly, you continued on.

“I can’t stay here being in love with someone who will never love me back,” you told her. “I can’t continue to watch him with Erica anymore. Every time they kiss I feel like my heart is being torn to shreds. I just can’t do it anymore. And seeing him with her made me realize that if–if he were to propose to someone, I think it would kill me. So I…think I need to leave before that happens.”

Across the table, Karen inhaled a shaky breath. A few more tears slipped out of her eyes and you watched as she tried to blink them back, her focus shifting to the window beside the two of you.

“It sounds like you’re already decided then,” Karen said softly.

Pressing your lips together, you nodded. “I think so,” you admitted. “My heart is begging me not to go, I can feel it, but my head is telling me to get out. It’s been years of this pining and it’s–it’s keeping me from really being happy, you know? It’s not right to be this in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same way. And this incredible opportunity just fell into my lap and I–I think I should take it.”

“Does Foggy know?” she asked, her attention returning to you. “Judging by how happy he was last night, I’m guessing he doesn’t.”

You shook your head slowly. “No,” you told her. “So far I’ve only told you. I knew you’d be upset but…I know Foggy is going to have a hard time with this.”

Karen huffed out a humorless laugh, nodding as she wiped away a few tears on her cheeks. “Yeah, he’s definitely not going to handle this news too well,” she agreed. 

“I might not tell him quite yet,” you admitted with a wince. “So if you could just keep this between us for now, I’d appreciate it.”

Instantly her eyes narrowed back at you. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat under her piercing gaze.

“I plan to tell him when I’ve gotten things more finalized,” you assured her. “You know, once I’ve accepted the offer officially and am actually looking at apartments out there. There’s no need to upset Foggy too soon in case something falls through. I just…don’t want to say something unless I know it’s for sure happening. But I needed to talk to someone about it.”

Karen’s expression softened as she offered you another sad smile, nodding as she did. “I understand,” she said. “So I’m guessing you’re going to tell Matt at the same time as Foggy then?” she asked.

Heart twisting in your chest at her question, you felt that all too familiar hollow ache gnawing at you. You honestly didn’t know how you were going to tell Matt this news, let alone actually say goodbye to him. It wasn’t something you wanted to think about because it hurt too much.

“Probably not at the same time, no,” you whispered, eyes dropping down to your still untouched plate of food. “He's been so happy lately with Erica. Happier than I've seen him in awhile. I don’t want to ruin that for him. And I don’t–don’t know how I’m going to tell him, either. He deserves to know at some point but I–I don’t even know how I’ll have the strength to tell him I’m leaving. To actually say goodbye to him.”

The tears were welling up again in your eyes and you fought hard to blink them back down. The thought of permanently saying goodbye to Matt felt like a small death in itself. Like you’d be leaving your heart in New York and dragging a shell of yourself across the country to L.A. 

But what other choice did you have? Did you really want to stay here and watch him fall in love with Erica? And if it wasn’t her, surely it would be someone else. Could you really just sit there and watch it happen? Watch him tell some other woman that wasn’t you that he loved her? Hear that he’d gotten engaged? Attend his goddamn wedding and be forced to watch him join his life to someone else's forever in front of your very eyes? 

You knew the answer was no. You could never do that. What you’d said to Karen was the truth–watching Matt marry someone else would absolutely kill you. With how long you’d spent wanting him– loving him–there was no way you could watch him make a life with someone else. No way that you could pretend he was only your best friend. 

Leaving New York was the only option left that you hadn’t tried yet.

“I’ll tell him eventually,” you promised, both to Karen and yourself, “but not yet. I–I can’t talk to Matt about this just yet.”

[END NOTES]

I'm sharing end notes again on this series because I feel like y'all need it. Especially because I literally wrote this one up really fast today and hope everything came across!

So Matt is dating Erica and seems quite into her. And Reader has once again ended things with Adam despite how good things were going with him because she's still in love with Matt. All it took was her seeing him so crazy about someone else for her to realize she still has feelings for him. But that little seed of thought Karen planted awhile back never truly went away and now Reader is being offered an amazing new position in L.A. in the coming months that she's planning to accept. Which means bye bye Hell's Kitchen, hello California. And in turn, bye bye Matty.

So what happens next? Because Matt is about to learn VERY soon who Reader has really been in love with...but will she stay or will she go?

The next installment is titled "Breaking the News" and I do have a title for the one following, but I think I'll hold onto that until y'all get the next installment. Because I want to keep you guessing where this is going. I'm cruel like that 🙃

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 11: "Last to Know"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 6.9k

a/n: This is another longer installment that brings us through season 3 (I'm planning a different angsty fic to really focus on season 3) and begins to bring us closer to the end of angst...but we're not quite there yet. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705 @yourlocalbentspine @harperdoodle @hollandorks

Sitting across the table from Foggy and Karen, you drew your steaming latte to your lips for a drink. You were partially listening to Karen discuss the new article she was working on for the Bulletin, the newspaper she'd inevitably started working for shortly after Matt had disappeared and Foggy had disbanded their law firm. He had taken a job over at Hogarth, Chao, & Benowitz so he could continue to pay his bills, unable to continue to afford to work at Nelson and Murdock with the other half gone. You had recently thrown yourself into your own work over the last few weeks, gaining a new position with a pay raise and the ability to work from home for your company. Which had proven too convenient because you usually rolled right out of bed and stayed in your pajamas all day, showering after work just to throw on another pair of pajamas. 

It had been almost two weeks since you'd stopped going to Clinton Church now, too. You barely left your apartment anymore since you didn’t need to leave for work. Oftentimes you lost track of time and had been clocking in hours and hours of overtime at your computer. You’d had nothing else going on and you didn't want to think, so you’d found yourself hyperfocused on coding. Your boss had certainly been praising your initiative.

This morning was actually the first time you’d left your apartment in days. You hadn’t even left for groceries, having ordered them and had them delivered to your apartment a few days ago for convenience. Foggy and Karen had been worried about you, frequently telling you as much over texts lately. Which was why you'd eventually caved and met them for coffee this morning. But if you were being honest, you weren't mentally fully present with them. 

Your attention had shifted outside the window as Karen continued on with her animated conversation, Foggy just as enthusiastic as she was with whatever they’d been talking about. You’d unintentionally lost your focus as you often did outside of work lately, your eyes absently lingering on the place outside the window just above Karen’s shoulder. The sidewalk outside the coffee shop was busy with the usual Saturday morning foot traffic and you blankly watched as a multitude of colors swam by. You weren’t sure how long you’d sat staring out the window like that before you realized Karen was snapping her fingers in front of your face. Blinking a few times, you snapped out of your daze and focused back on her and Foggy. Worry was written clear across both of their faces as they stared back at you.

"What?" you asked.

"I was trying to ask you how you liked your new position," Karen said. "I asked you like four times now."

"Sorry, I uh, I was distracted," you replied, sitting up straighter in your chair as both of your hands wrapped around your warm coffee cup. "It's good. It's going good. Working at home is–is good."

Foggy leaned across the table towards you, concern still clear in his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked gently. "Because you've been distant ever since…"

"I'm fine," you answered automatically, forcing a smile onto your face. 

Foggy and Karen turned and exchanged a look with each other for a moment, your eyes narrowing as you watched. The strained smile on your face was quickly growing uncomfortable. When Foggy focused back on you, he shook his head slowly. 

"No," he disagreed, "you're not. You haven't been fine for a long time. What's going on with you?"

"Nothing," you replied defensively. 

From across the table, Karen sent you a sympathetic look. You knew the one. You'd seen it plenty of times now. 

"It's because of what's been popping up in the news, isn't it?" she asked. "The little rumors."

Your head tilted to the side as you eyed her curiously. "What little rumors?" you asked back. 

Karen's gaze flickered to Foggy before it returned to you. Her fingers began drumming on her coffee cup nervously. 

"About the man in black?" she said, voice lowered. 

You sucked in a sharp breath, your back straightening further in the chair. Hope filled you instantly as your eyes searched Karen’s face for answers.

"Matt?" you whispered. 

She opened her mouth to speak but Foggy raised a hand, waving it firmly in the air between the pair of you. The gesture instantly cut her off before she'd even begun.

"It's not Matt," Foggy stated sharply. "Hell’s Kitchen has become ground zero for all kinds of copycat vigilantes lately. It's not him, so don't go giving her false hope, Karen."

Your eyes further narrowed at Foggy. "How do you know it's not him?" you challenged. 

Foggy’s expression softened, a hand running across his forehead. "Because," he answered softly, "if it was Matt, he'd have reached out. Told us he was alive. You know he would. It's been just over a couple of months now, he's had plenty of time to reach out to tell us he survived Midland Circle and he hasn't." He sighed deeply, shaking his head at you. "You need to accept it. He's gone."

"Foggy," Karen gently reprimanded, "that's not–"

"No," Foggy countered firmly, his focus shifting to Karen. "She needs to hear this. She needs to accept it and stop doing what she's been doing to herself! And whatever this bullshit in the news is–it's not Matt." Foggy’s attention returned to you, his eyes pleading. "You have to let this go. You need to accept the fact that Matt–” Foggy winced, “–he's dead.”

Your throat felt like it was closing up, tears welling in your eyes. How could Foggy just accept that as fact so easily? How could he just give up on Matt like that? He had been both of your best friends for so long. Wasn’t there any part of him that had hope?

“Foggy, that’s a little harsh,” Karen chastised. “You’re being really unsympathetic here.”

Foggy shook his head, once again rounding on Karen. “She’s been denying the facts for almost three months now!” he exclaimed. “And look at how she’s been doing! She’s clearly not handling it alright. It looks like she’s barely sleeping and taking care of herself. Every time we see her she’s barely present. And she’s been paying for his apartment for months now!” 

His head spun in your direction, startling you at the abruptness. Your lips were quivering as you sat there, feeling like you were about to break down in the middle of the coffee shop with everything he was saying. 

“You can't keep paying for his apartment and holding onto his things. It's not good for you," Foggy stated sharply. “It’s not sustainable for you to pay for two rents, either. You need to let this go!”

“Foggy–”

“ No !” Foggy growled at Karen. “I’ve already lost Matt, I’m not losing her, too!”

Sniffling loudly, you swiftly rose from the table and wiped the back of your hand across your tear stained cheeks. Both Foggy and Karen’s attention shifted to you instantly. Karen mouthed an apology as Foggy’s face fell beside her.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Home,” you croaked out.

Ignoring Foggy’s pleas to stay, you quickly turned and left the coffee shop with your coffee clutched between both hands. You did your best to duck your head, trying to hide your face as you silently cried the entire walk back to your apartment. 

What a shitty past few days it had been. 

While Matt had been out last night, he'd been stopped in his tracks the moment he realized his hearing had fully come back to him. He could hear the sirens of ambulances approaching where he’d just stepped out onto the street, the sounds of the city around him, the buzz of a neon sign nearby, and the commotion in front of the hospital he’d just exited. He had been stunned, a wave of gratefulness washing over him in that very moment because he could fully hear again . But what were the first words he’d heard in the commotion around him when God had finally decided to restore his hearing?

The FBI had let Wilson Fisk out of prison.

Could God have been laughing at him any more than he already had been? What a fucking cruel joke to restore his hearing just in time for him to hear that Fisk had been released. Matt had been furious . Even more furious at God than he had been lately. But despite his rage since that moment, he knew there was something he needed to do tonight.

If Fisk was free from prison, in any capacity, he knew he’d be seeking revenge on himself, Foggy, and Karen for having put him away. And while Matt Murdock was safe from his vengeance because he was supposed to be dead, Foggy wasn’t. And neither was Karen.

Which was why Matt had donned his winter coat, the baseball cap, and some sunglasses before making the long trek to the bar he knew Foggy frequented near his new place of work outside of Hell’s Kitchen. Despite wanting to have his friends continue to think he was dead, knowing it was safer for them, Matt had admittedly kept tabs on Foggy on and off for weeks now. He didn't let himself ponder the reasoning, though.

But it had only been Foggy he’d checked in on. He couldn’t bring himself to see what you were getting up to. He’d known you’d stopped visiting Clinton Church not too long ago. The last few times you’d visited he’d heard you from the church basement. You would always end up softly sobbing to yourself before you left. And each time you had, Matt had curled up on the basement floor just beneath the pew you’d been sitting in, just to feel some semblance of being near you again, and he cried with you. When night had fallen those nights, he’d immediately gone out as the man in the mask and let the Devil take over, not wanting to feel anything. 

But he hadn’t gone anywhere near your apartment. He couldn’t bring himself to.

And now he was standing outside the bar Foggy was sitting inside at this exact moment. Matt could tell Foggy was upset by how much he’d already had to drink, having known the amount because he’d been standing outside in the alley from the moment Foggy had first showed up and stepped inside. He’d been struggling to get up the nerve to go inside and talk to him, to warn Foggy about staying away from Fisk and letting him deal with things. Because clearly the law wasn’t going to achieve anything on its own at keeping Fisk where he belonged, so it was up to Matt to make things right.  

He knew it wasn’t going to be easy going inside and talking to him, though. Just standing in the alley and knowing he was about to go in there and reveal to Foggy that he wasn’t dead, that he’d been lying and would need Foggy to yet again lie for him–to people both Matt and Foggy cared about– hurt . 

Matt needed to keep his distance to keep you all safe, though–now more than before. Fisk was dangerous, and he was certainly going to come after Foggy and Karen, so Matt needed to make sure both of them stayed out of Fisk’s way. He certainly didn’t need Karen to go chasing after him as the reporter she’d become and further put herself on Wilson Fisk’s radar. She didn’t need to end up like Ben Urich. And he didn’t want Foggy going after Blake Tower for signing off on the FBI’s decision to release Fisk for information–that would certainly garner Fisk’s attention.

But you–Fisk didn’t know about you. You weren’t a part of Nelson and Murdock. Fisk had no reason to know about you, which meant you needed to stay far away from Matt and the Devil so your name would never cross Fisk’s lips.

Which was why he could only go to Foggy. He knew he’d keep the secret in order to keep his friends safe, even if he would absolutely hate Matt for asking that of him. 

And he also needed to steal Foggy’s wallet for his New York State Bar Association license for what he planned to do tomorrow. 

With a sigh, he pushed off of the wall and forced himself to turn the corner and enter the bar. It wasn’t very busy for a Tuesday evening, so Matt easily made his way over near where Foggy was drinking at the counter. He paused when he was just a few feet behind him, nerves twisting in his gut. Foggy was entirely oblivious to Matt’s presence, though, still swirling the alcohol in his glass absently. Squaring his shoulders, Matt steeled himself for the emotional pain that he was about to inflict on both Foggy and himself.

“Fog,” he called out softly.

Matt heard the way Foggy’s head slowly turned towards him, his brows having drawn together in confusion. For a moment Foggy just stared at Matt in perplexed silence. Matt could practically hear the moment when Foggy realized who was standing before him in his slightly intoxicated state. 

“This isn’t real,” Foggy said. "You're not really here."

Matt’s teeth ground together as he gave a single nod at him. “It’s real,” he said softly.

He could hear the way Foggy’s lips drew into a big smile, the only one that had been on his face in the hour that Matt had been standing outside. The bar stool Foggy had been sitting in slid back on the floor as Matt heard Foggy rise to his feet just moments before he felt his friend embrace him in a tight hug. Instinctively Matt’s hands flew up, hugging Foggy in return. He could smell the salt of his unshed tears in the air.

“Hey, Fog,” he greeted quietly.

“How?” Foggy asked in disbelief, still clutching Matt tight. “Where? We thought you were dead!”

Foggy abruptly pulled away from Matt, clearly taking a moment to scan him over. Matt’s hands returned to his cane, fidgeting nervously with it as he practically felt Foggy’s eyes roving him. Seconds later, Foggy said your name and Matt’s heart felt like it shattered instantly. 

“Does she know you’re alive?" he asked. "Does Karen?” 

Pressing his lips tight together to keep from crying, Matt reached a hand out and gently grabbed Foggy’s shoulder.

“Take a seat, Fog,” he ordered.

Foggy did as directed, returning to the bar stool he’d just been seated at. Matt slowly lowered into a stool near him. He braced himself for what he was about to have to say and do now.

“I’m not back,” Matt told him firmly.

Matt heard the smile once again spread across Foggy’s face and the joking tone when he spoke next.

“Well I know I’m not drunk enough to be hallucinating quite yet,” Foggy teased.

Matt shook his head once. “I’m not back,” he repeated. “Matt Murdock isn’t going to be a part of me anymore. I’m…leaving him behind. He isn’t who I am.”

The smile quickly fell from Foggy’s face. “What?” he asked.

Swallowing hard, Matt tried to keep the waver and emotion out of his voice. “The only reason I came here was to warn you and Karen about Fisk now that he’s out. You’re both in danger.”

“Dude–”

“I’m going after him, Foggy,” Matt continued briskly, cutting him off. “I’m going to bring Fisk down. But I can only do that if I know that you and Karen are safe.”

“Hang on, hang on,” Foggy said, waving a hand. “I’m still trying to process the fact that you’re here. Alive .”

“I know that you and Karen are going to want to get involved,” Matt told him, his foot tapping lightly on the bar floor. He needed to get out of here soon before he lost his resolve. “To try to fight him in some way, but I’m telling you that I need you both to stay out of it and leave it to me.”

There was a brief pause after his words. Matt heard the way Foggy slowly shook his head in response. 

“No,” Foggy told him.

“No?” Matt asked in disbelief. 

“No,” Foggy replied more forcefully. “You don’t get to show up after months of me–all of us–thinking you’re dead, say something like that to me, and then just–just expect me to be cool with it. You’re my best friend , asshole!”

Matt’s heart tightened in his chest at the hurt in his best friend’s voice. Foggy’s words stung despite how much Matt knew he deserved them–truthfully he deserved a bigger verbal lashing. But he needed to end this and get out of here. Now.

“I was wrong to become your friend, Foggy,” Matt told him, ignoring the way his own heart beat irregularly at the lie as it left his lips. In time he'd make himself believe it. “I put you in danger and it was selfish of me. While I can’t change the past, I can stop making the same mistake. We’re done, buddy,” Matt said, quickly rising from the bar stool. “It’s over.”

“There’s something seriously wrong with you,” Foggy snapped, his voice cracking.

“Yeah, I know,” Matt agreed, once again fighting the emotion from creeping into his words. "Just stay clear of Fisk. Tell Karen to do the same," he ordered. "And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell her you saw me.”

Matt turned to go, desperate to get away and attempt to control his own emotions. He felt close to tears himself and was grateful for the sunglasses hiding his eyes. He managed two steps before he heard Foggy once again call your name after him. Matt winced at the sound of it, his feet inevitably coming to a stop as his back remained turned to Foggy.

“What about her, huh?” Foggy asked. “You know she’s been a mess since you’ve been gone? She refuses to believe you’re dead, Matt. Am I just supposed to let her continue thinking that now that I know it’s a lie?”

Behind the sunglasses, Matt’s eyes clamped shut. He felt a tear escape and he tried to hide wiping it away as he ran a hand over his mouth. Exhaling a shuddering breath, he tried to keep his voice steady when he answered.

“Yes,” Matt replied, voice softer. “She can’t know.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Foggy roared at his back. “You’re going to do that to her? Make me do that to her?”

Matt sighed, shaking his head but still refusing to turn around. “Fog, she can’t–”

“She’s paying your fucking rent, man,” Foggy spat bitterly. “For months now she’s been paying it. She thinks you’re still out there. Alive. That you’re too injured to find a way to reach out and that’s why it’s been months of us not hearing from you. But no,” he continued, anger clear in his voice, “you’ve been intentionally letting us think you’re dead all of this time.”

Matt couldn’t speak, his throat feeling like it was closing up on him. His hands gripped his cane even tighter. You were paying his rent?

“Why?” he managed, the word breaking.

“Why?” Foggy repeated in disbelief. “Because she cares about you, you idiot! She misses you! You’re one of her absolute best friends, man. She doesn’t want to believe you’re gone.”

Matt tried to swallow but his tongue felt thick and heavy in his own mouth, the gesture feeling near impossible. Fuck, he didn’t want to do this to you. He really didn’t. But he didn’t have a choice, he needed to keep you away from himself to keep you safe from Fisk. From whoever it was that came after Fisk if Matt survived this. It was for your own good.

“Tell her to stop paying for the rent,” Matt told him.

“ I have ,” Foggy ground out. “And you know what she did? She ran home crying and hasn’t answered my calls in days because of it.”

A grimace pulled at Matt’s face. Why were you holding on so tight to him like this? Why couldn’t you just let him go? He wasn’t that great of a friend. He was nothing special. Why couldn’t you just mourn him and move on?

“She–she can’t know,” Matt repeated. “She’ll find some way to get involved or Fisk will figure out she’s close to us and she’ll get hurt. Right now, Fisk doesn’t know who she is, Fog. She can’t know I’m alive.”

“So that’s it?” Foggy asked defeatedly. “I just continue to lie to her for you?”

Matt felt like he couldn’t stay here any longer, he could feel the dam holding his own emotions in check about to burst. He wanted to turn back around and embrace Fog, to apologize and tell him he was wrong for everything he’d done since Midland. He wanted to run to your apartment and beg your forgiveness on his knees for making you think he was dead. To feel you wrap him in your arms and tell him everything was okay and that you forgave him. 

But that couldn’t happen.

“I–I have to go,” Matt muttered.

Without further hesitation, Matt made his way out of the bar, ignoring the way Foggy was shouting his name after him. He hurried down the alley he’d initially been hiding in, pausing at the end of it when he didn’t hear Foggy pursuing him. 

Burying his face in his hands, he sank to the dirty ground and broke down in tears. 

Opening the door to Matt’s apartment, you stepped inside and were instantly hit with a chill. You shivered as you shut the door behind yourself before bending down and picking up the stack of mail that had been shoved under the door for this week. You frowned when you saw a few more overdue bills. Even with the raise you’d received, you were starting to really struggle under the weight of two rents and all of your own bills. 

With a sigh you made your way into the empty apartment, heading straight to the coffee table where you’d neatly organized Matt’s mail in separate piles. Taking a moment, you sorted the mail in your hands into the appropriate stack before you unbuttoned your coat. You slowly slipped it off of yourself before draping it over the arm of Matt’s leather couch. 

The emptiness of Matt’s apartment was only further making you feel the weight of loneliness you’d been experiencing lately, your eyes dancing across his sparsely decorated and overly spacious apartment as your eyes watered. Foggy and Karen had been avoiding you lately, always too busy with something to make time for you. They’d been acting strange for the past few weeks and you didn’t understand why. And it had only added to the hurt you'd been experiencing after everything with Matt.

Foggy had suddenly decided to run for District Attorney, which you’d been shocked about but excited for him nevertheless. But he was always claiming he had something to attend and he’d get back with you later. Karen had been saying she was busy with some story she was following, never having time to even chat on the phone. Though recently you'd heard she had been fired after the attack from a fake Daredevil killing people at the Bulletin–and that in itself had further confused you, but both of them had said it was something to do with Fisk and wouldn’t tell you anything more.

You’d been so lonely you’d finally called Adam back up and eventually gotten together with him for drinks last week. He’d been understanding all those months ago when you’d ended things because of Matt’s supposed passing, claiming you just couldn’t focus on a relationship after the unexpected loss of one of your closest friends. Though now it felt like Adam was all you had left.

And Matt’s apartment. Empty as it always was.

You stepped around the leather couch, your fingers running along the red plaid blanket neatly folded over the back of it as you walked. Stomach sinking as your grief once again hit you, you continued your usual tour of Matt’s place, the same as you did when you stopped in every week to collect his mail and check on the bills you needed to pay for him.

You always started in the living room first, pausing to appreciate the obnoxious billboard you’d grown fond of outside of the windows. Then you’d make your way into the kitchen, marveling at how little he actually had in there. Though you supposed it made sense that he hadn’t cooked much with what he spent his evenings doing. Eventually you’d make your way to his bedroom, pausing in the doorway and wondering what it would be like to be standing there in your pajamas in the morning, a cup of coffee in each hand. One for you and one for Matt. Imagining him waking up in his bed, his hair a ruffled mess and a sleepy smile on his face just for you as morning light seeped in through the windows.

Your heart twisted at the thought and you quickly pushed the mental image away, continuing on. You made your way to his closet where his suits were still all neatly hanging, fingers running along the braille tags on each hanger. With a heavy sigh, you turned to leave the room, but your eyes fell on Matt’s dresser. Coming to a stop, you paused as you eyed it for a moment. As if your feet were moving on their own, you made your way over, pulling open one of the drawers. A handful of neatly stacked, neutral colored shirts met your eyes. Fighting back the tears threatening to spill over, you ran a hand over a worn, dark gray tee-shirt on top. It was incredibly soft.

You didn’t know what it was that came over you, but you found yourself pulling the shirt out of his drawer and bringing it up to your nose. It still smelled like him–that clean detergent scent you loved. A choked noise fell out of you as you buried your face further in the material, wishing it was on Matt’s body and not just crumpled between your desperate fingers.

It was a few minutes before you'd managed to regain your composure and collect yourself. But as you closed his dresser drawer, you still held onto the worn tee-shirt in your hands. And even as you slipped your coat back on in the living room before exiting his apartment, locking it up behind you, you never parted with it. 

You'd spent so much time going back and forth on whether or not you would attend the mass for Father Lantom’s funeral this afternoon that you'd ended up showing up just as people were milling out of the church afterwards. You'd felt bad for having missed it, even if you'd only had a few conversations with him after Matt's memorial service before you'd stopped going to Clinton Church entirely. From your brief time with Father Lantom, and from what Matt had always said about him, he sounded like an amazing man. What had happened to him–whatever it was that had someone attacking a church –had been absolutely horrible. 

But you knew there was a wake being held at Foggy’s family's butcher shop nearby from the announcement you had read in the paper. You hadn't spoken to Foggy or Karen in almost a week now, but you figured you'd end up at least running into one of them there. As you neared the shop, you wondered if they'd continue to ignore you like they'd been doing for weeks now. 

Their silence had only opened a new wound for you, causing you even more pain in Matt's absence. You'd ended up growing closer to Adam over the weeks since they’d been avoiding you because of it, often spending a few evenings a week together. He didn't have answers for why your friends had been ghosting you and cutting you out of their life, but he at least offered the much needed comfort you'd been craving for months. 

Outside of Nelson's, you spotted a few people lingering on the sidewalk talking in small groups. They were dressed in all black and had clearly just come from the mass for Father Lantom at the church. You slipped around a group outside, offering a soft apology as you reached for the door handle beside them. Pulling it open, you stepped inside and immediately side-stepped out of the way of a couple who sent you friendly smiles. As your eyes scanned the busy shop around you, you eventually spotted Karen and Foggy at a table nearby with drinks in their hands laughing with–

Eyes going wide, you swore your heart entirely stopped beating in your chest. You couldn't breathe. Even your brain felt like it hit reset at the sight before you.

Foggy and Karen had been sitting at the table laughing and having drinks with Matt as if he hadn't been missing and believed dead for the past few months. 

Entirely frozen on the spot, all you could do for a moment was stare in shock at Matt laughing at something Karen had said. Mouth dropping open, you watched as all three of them raised their glasses as if in a toast before clinking them together. 

That's when the tears came. Watching all three of them sitting there as if they'd known Matt had been alive for longer than five minutes. As if they were celebrating something. 

And you'd been entirely left out of whatever it all was. 

Heart beating harder in your chest, a small, strangled whimper fell out of you. At the table, Matt's head immediately darted in your direction, the smile falling from his lips as his focus landed on you. Karen and Foggy’s attention soon turned towards you next, curious as to what had caught Matt's attention. Abruptly you turned and pushed the door to the shop open, hurrying out onto the sidewalk.

Throwing a hand over your mouth, you felt the tears steadily falling as you darted away from the building. You ignored the groups of people outside curiously eyeing you as your breath came in fast and sharp. Vaguely you heard Foggy calling your name as you briskly walked down the sidewalk and headed away from Nelson's. Your pace didn't slow as he continued to call after you.

Matt was alive.

Matt was alive .

You had been right. All this time and you'd been right. But why the hell had Karen and Foggy been so adamant about him being dead–wanting you to let him go–when they knew he wasn't? How long had they known and not told you? How long had they known and just continued to let you grieve? To let you keep paying for his apartment? To keep scouring the news about the man in the mask? They’d been telling you it wasn’t Matt despite you noticing the strange fake Daredevil in the news in relation to Fisk’s prison release. They’d made you feel like you’d been going crazy.

And why had Matt not let you know he was alive? Why had he let you continue on thinking he was dead but not Foggy and Karen?

Did you mean so little to him?

Foggy’s voice loudly shouting your name broke through your thoughts and you stopped, spinning on the spot towards him as your tears continued to fall. Foggy caught up to you quickly, his own face filled with guilt and shame. Behind him, you could see Karen escorting Matt, the pair of them rapidly nearing where you'd both come to a stop.

"How long?" you asked Foggy, voice cracking. "How long did you know?"

Foggy winced at the question, his face growing even more solemn. "A few weeks now," he answered softly. 

Your eyebrows rose up onto your forehead, eyes once again widening. Mouth opening and closing for a moment, you tried hard to search for words. 

"You–you knew?" you breathed out. "You knew for weeks? And you just didn't tell me he wasn't dead?" 

"I wanted to!" Foggy replied in a rush. "Believe me, I did! But it wasn't safe for you to know!"

"Are you–" you paused, pinching the bridge of your nose as a multitude of emotions fought to rise to the surface. Anger and relief were fighting at the forefront. "I don't fucking care if it wasn't safe!" you eventually roared at the three of them, Karen and Matt stopping beside Foggy now. "You let me think he was dead for weeks when you knew he wasn't! You both ignored me for weeks!" you yelled, fresh, hot tears rolling down your cheeks. "Left me to grieve the loss of Matt and my friendship with the both of you on top of it!"

"I–"

"No!" you raged at Foggy. "Do you know how much that fucking hurt? To feel like I’d lost all of you? And then I come here and see you all just laughing and having fucking drinks and I'm still in the dark about everything ?"

"We were going to tell you today!" Karen cut in quickly, her voice catching your attention. "We were dealing with Fisk’s release. That was why we knew Matt was back–and he had been a very closed off asshole, too, for the record,” she told you, Matt frowning deeper beside her. “But we were trying to keep Fisk from learning that you were connected to any of us. To keep you safe from him." 

"What?" you asked her.

"Fisk wanted revenge," Matt said.

Your eyes flew directly to him. His voice, after months of wondering if you'd ever hear it again, managed to slightly calm you. For a moment your eyes took in the sight of him standing there–something else you’d thought would never happen again. He was wearing one of his nice suits and his usual red glasses, which meant he must have stopped by his apartment at some point. The one you’d been paying the bills for him for. There were a few cuts bandaged along his face and his knuckles looked torn and bruised, but he was alive. 

He was alive.

“He tried to kill me when he realized I wasn’t dead,” Matt explained. “Tried even harder when he learned who I was. He was trying to go after Foggy, too–which was why he ran for the D.A. position, to make him more of a public figure. And he went after Karen.”

“The Bulletin?” you asked, eyes darting to Karen. “That was…?”

Karen nodded. “And what happened at Clinton,” she told you.

“It wasn’t safe,” Matt said, taking another step towards you. “I only told Foggy because I wanted him and Karen to let me handle Fisk. But he didn’t listen to me and told Karen.”

“Because she was in danger and needed to know,” Foggy snapped at Matt.

Matt’s mouth twitched at Foggy’s words but he didn’t respond to him. Instead he kept his focus on you as he spoke.

“But you weren’t a part of Nelson and Murdock,” he continued, shaking his head. “Fisk never knew who you were. I wanted to keep it that way. Initially I wanted to let you all think Matt Murdock had died so I could go out and be Daredevil without worrying about putting any of you in any more danger. But…” he trailed off, sighing as his shoulders dropped. “I couldn’t do it. I–I need you all. As my friends. To keep me from losing myself to that other part of myself.”

Wiping the heels of your palms over your cheeks, you tried to wipe away the tears. A few were still falling as you stood there. Admittedly you were still pissed–at all of them. Karen and Foggy for keeping his secret even if it was to keep you safe, and you were pissed at Matt for letting you spend months wondering if he was dead or not. 

“I’m sorry,” Matt said softly.

“I’m sorry, too,” Foggy added quickly. “I didn’t want to lie to you. I hated every second of it. You have to know that.”

Swallowing hard, your eyes flew over to Karen when she spoke up.

“I didn’t want to lie to you either,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, too. We really were going to tell you today. After Father Lantom’s wake. We just wanted to make sure the threat of Fisk had passed first.”

“This isn’t how I wanted you to find out,” Matt assured you.

Foggy’s arms raised, opening wide towards you as he shot you a hopeful look. “Can you forgive me, bestie?” he asked. “Hug it out?”

Chewing your lip, you took a step backwards. Collectively all three of their faces dropped at the gesture. Slowly, Foggy’s arms lowered to his sides.

“I just–just need a bit to process this,” you muttered. “I can try to understand why you did it but–but it still hurts.”

Both Foggy and Karen nodded, but between them, Matt’s frown somehow continued to deepen. Your eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, committing the sight of him alive and breathing to your memory before you turned and made your way back down the sidewalk. You wanted to go home and cry before you tried to make sense of all of this. It didn’t help that your body’s reaction was confusing you. You were overjoyed and grateful, but also incredibly pissed and deeply hurt. You wanted to scream at Matt but you also wanted to hug him and never let him go.

You’d barely made it a few steps before something had latched on to your wrist and you froze, head turning to glance down at what it was. Matt’s large and battered hand was encircling it firmly, clearly not about to let you go. Pressing your lips tight together, you tried hard to refrain from crying as your gaze slowly made its way up to his face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. After that building fell on me and I somehow still woke up alive…I’d lost almost all of my senses. I was in a dark place. And when my senses came back, Fisk had been released and I found myself in an even darker place.” He sent you a sad, apologetic smile. “I didn’t want to lie to you. Didn’t want you to keep believing I was dead. I swear I didn’t. It was just to keep you safe.” 

Your watery gaze tried to focus on Matt’s eyes behind the red lenses. You could feel the tears once again getting ready to spill over in your own eyes.

“I visited Clinton Church every day for weeks after you disappeared, Matt,” you admitted softly.

“I know,” he whispered, that sad smile still on his lips. “I was recovering in the church’s basement that whole time.”

You winced at his words. He’d known? He’d known you’d been there crying over him all this time? Day after day praying he’d come back to you? And he’d been there this whole time? Fresh hurt and anger burned in your veins, another wave of tears spilling out of you.

“You knew that too?” you breathed out. “You were right there and never said anything?”

He nodded slowly, shame and guilt written across his features. As the tears fell yet again, you finally gave in to the mix of emotions fighting inside of you to reach the surface. Your hand slipped out of Matt’s hold before you reached out and pushed against his chest roughly. For a moment he looked taken by surprise at the gesture, but his surprise quickly vanished as he stood there and allowed one of your fists to weakly slam onto his chest.

“Fuck you, Matt,” you cried out in a broken voice. “Fuck you for making me go through that knowing how hard it was on me.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his own voice breaking.

Your fist slammed onto his chest again. “Fuck you for hurting me like that,” you continued. “For making Foggy and Karen hurt me like that.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“How could you?” you wailed. “I thought I mattered to you!”

Matt’s hands were on your shoulders, gripping them firmly as he tried to pull you towards him. You tried to shake him off, struggling against his hold, but he only held on tighter as your fist slammed down onto his chest again, tears endlessly streaming from your eyes.

“You do matter,” he croaked out. “More than you know. You do matter.”

“Fuck you,” you sobbed, your fingers grasping onto the lapels of his suit coat. “Fuck you, Matt.”

Matt’s hands released their hold on you, his arms swiftly wrapping around your shoulders as he drew you into himself. You didn’t fight him this time, burying your face into his dress shirt and tie and letting yourself break down against him. Relief and heartache and love and anger all poured out of you simultaneously as you clung to him, your body shaking with your sobs. Matt had buried his face against the top of your head, clearly crying himself as he clung to you just as tight. You could feel his tears dampening your hair and hear the muffled sounds of his own choked sobs filling your ears. 

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” you begged, shaking your head against his chest. “Don’t make me go through that again.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “I won’t ever leave you again.”

[END NOTES]

I'm leaving end notes this time because I feel like they're needed (but if you read my fics over on AO3 I always give quite detailed end notes that I don't usually share on tumblr because it's just extra time I don't have trying to get two posts together).

So much happened in this installment though because we practically sprinted through season 3! This fic isn't meant to delve into that season though, but I wanted to include the angst of it in here (don't worry, I have another angsty fic planned for season 3 for another day). Reader was clearly struggling with the loss/absence of Matt for the months he'd been gone in this one. She was also the one paying for his apartment and his bills because she didn't believe he was dead. But she was also the last one to know he was alive--hence the title of this installment! And shit did that hurt when she didn't know why Foggy and Karen were pushing her away for weeks, which only led her back to the attractive vet tech, Adam (in case you didn't catch that). And then she didn't find out Matt was alive until she saw him at Father Lantom's wake at the Nelson's butcher shop. Despite being able to understand why they kept her in the dark, she's still pretty hurt and pissed. Especially at Matt. But clearly, Reader will never stop loving Matt.

I have a couple more angsty things up my sleeves that are getting closer to punching you in the gut next, so be prepared, friends! The angst isn't over even if the confession of feelings draws nearer... I currently don't have a title name to tease for the next installment yet either because this almost 7k beast of an installment took up all my brain space for two days, but I'll share a post about it when I do.

Feel free to scream at me now 🙃

[bellaxgiornata]

You're Safe With Me [Chapter Six]

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5.8k

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of chapters for You're Safe With Me here.]

a/n: Finally we get the next chapter! There's a surprise in this one; can y'all catch it? Things are starting to get even more interesting...and dangerous, maybe. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @lunaticgurly @allaboardthereadingrailroad @linamarr @hollandorks @sleeperthelazy @marcysbear @mattkinsella @mattmurdocksstarlight @xxdrixx @v4leoftears @aoi-targaryen @danzer8705 @anon-cat-posts @heimtathurs @kmc1989 @thepunisherfrankcastle @agirlcandream84 @americaarse @desert-fern @youmakelovinfun @callmebrooklynbabes @jooheoniesdimples

"What are you doing?" you asked in confusion. 

Looking out of the front windshield, you watched as Frank pulled off onto the exit ramp on the side of the interstate. Frowning, you glanced over at him in the driver's seat beside you. He was focused on the road, his face set in his typical flat and stern expression as he drove with one hand on the wheel. His other arm was resting against the window beside him, his hand absently running across the firm set of his lips. 

"Takin' a detour," he replied simply, eyes remaining fixed ahead. 

"A detour to where?" you pressed.

Frank’s attention shifted to you for a moment, his eyes briefly scanning the inquisitive look on your face before his focus returned back to the road. Eyebrows rising up onto your forehead, you impatiently waited for a response of some sort from him–anything at all–but he remained mute. Not even a grunt of acknowledgement. 

With an irritated huff you glanced back out of the windshield, noticing the van was now gradually rolling to a stop at a stop sign. Eyeing the shops and gas stations around the area, you were still confused as to what would make Frank take a sudden detour. You thought he'd said this morning that he was trying to put as much distance between you and what had happened back at that motel you’d been ambushed at the other night as fast as he could. He wanted to make it as difficult as possible for the Patriot Militia to pick back up on your trail.

So what the hell was he doing stopping? It was still a bit before dinnertime and therefore still earlier than when he usually stopped for a motel. A look at the van's gas gauge showed you that the tank was just over half full. If he was stopping for a bathroom break he usually just said so because he always warned you not to 'fuck around,' always eager to just get back on the road.

And really, you couldn't have him stopping. Not here. Not right now. Not after yesterday.

"A detour to where ?" you pressed further.

"To Walmart," he finally answered.

One of your brows quirked up onto your forehead at the simple response. As if a detour to Walmart was the most obvious thing in the world right now while you were driving state to state with the Punisher trying to stay alive. When he predictably didn’t elaborate, you pushed for more information. 

"What's at Walmart?" you questioned.

Frank’s focus remained on the road as he drove, a muscle twitching in his cheek. "You need a phone in case of emergency," he replied, his tone a bit clipped. "And I'm guessin' you need some things since you left your place so quick." He shot you a look over his shoulder as he added, "You don't even have a coat. It's gettin' cold in some of the places we're driving through."

At his response, you sat in the passenger seat completely stunned, entirely forgetting about your current location and the shooting you'd seen on the news last night for the first time today. He was making a detour just for you ? So you could get things you needed because you hadn't had a chance to properly pack before you'd slipped out of your house?  

"You're taking me shopping?" you asked incredulously. 

Frank shot you a firm, stony look as he pulled up to a stoplight. "Let’s get one thing straight right now. I am not taking you shopping, Spunky," he snapped. "It's a Walmart, not a goddamn mall. You're going to quickly grab whatever the hell it is you need while I grab you a prepay. This isn't a fun stop. Got it?"

You nodded, still in shock that Frank was actually taking the time to do this for you, even if Walmart was not the first place you'd want to stop and buy clothes at. But if you were being honest, with the way he'd been treating you so far, you figured you'd be begging him to let you find a laundromat just to wash the few clothing items you had. Yet here he was letting you grab some necessities–and you certainly were going to make sure you grabbed some tampons while you were there. 

The light turned green and Frank continued to drive, turning farther up ahead and navigating his way to the nearby Walmart. Your eyes were staring out of the windshield as your mind raced, quickly trying to make a mental list of everything you needed while attempting to ignore other thoughts. You weren't about to test Frank's patience; you were sure he wasn't kidding about not wanting you to spend a lot of time there so you had to prioritize what you absolutely needed.

A few minutes later he'd pulled the van into a parking spot in the Walmart parking lot, your eyes still glued to the window as you took in the sight of all the other parked cars around you. Frank cut the engine before shifting in his seat, the movement of him reaching towards the center console and grabbing his wallet catching your eye. Wordlessly he opened it, pulling out a stack of bills and counting some out. Folding the stack in half, he held it out towards you and you froze in your seat, eyeing the cash.

"Take it," he ordered. "It's two hundred. Should be more than enough for a coat and a few things. Can't have you usin' a credit card or anything for them to track."

For a moment you just stared at the cash, feeling awkward about taking it but also increasingly aware that it meant you and him would be splitting up inside the store. Nerves shook loose in your stomach as that realization fully hit you, but when he held the cash out further towards you with an irritated grunt, you hesitantly reached out, accepting it from his hand. Though it still felt weird taking the money from him even if he'd told you that this little road trip was being funded by the government. 

"Should probably get yourself a hat and some sunglasses," Frank added. "To help disguise yourself. Might be useful at some point while we're running."

"Okay," you replied softly, mentally adding it to your checklist. 

Frank held your eye, his stare making you a little uncomfortable with how hard it was. Especially with the way your palms had begun to sweat at the thought of him not being right beside you in the store. Ever since he'd tossed you into the back of the van at Ruby’s Diner he hadn't left your side for longer than a quick bathroom break.

"We don't have long," Frank told you. "I'll give you twenty minutes. Get the necessities. Take a piss. Meet me at that exit–" he said, gesturing to the doors nearby, "–in exactly twenty minutes. No later."

"But what if–"

"No later," he reiterated firmly. 

"Alright, Sunshine," you grumbled, unbuckling your seatbelt.

Opening the van door, you slipped out of the seat and onto the pavement, pocketing the cash and carefully surveying the parking lot around you yet again. There were a handful of parked cars–about the amount you'd expect in a small town a little after two in the afternoon on a Monday–but no one was wandering around outside. Though that didn't stop the prickle of fear beginning to form low in your gut as you anxiously hugged your arms around yourself, increasingly becoming more nervous. 

You knew exactly where you were right now. Ever since you and Frank had gotten on the road this morning and left the Happy Lodger Motel, you'd made a point to pay attention to the road signs and read the maps posted at the rest area stops. You were currently on the outskirts of Harrisonburg, Virginia. Which was very near Glen Allen–the place where the shooting had happened just yesterday afternoon. Meaning you were currently very near recent Patriot Militia activity.

And Frank had no idea.

Frank's form appearing around the front of the van startled you, causing you to jump on the spot. His eyes narrowed at you curiously as he paused mid-step. He had clearly caught the way you'd frightened just now. You knew that he'd noticed something had been going on with you today with the way he kept watching you with those perceptive eyes of his. He had asked you a couple of times now if you were alright, but you'd always simply lied and answered yes. He hadn’t said anything past that, but the way he continued to silently stare at you with a look of disbelief on his face was unnerving. It was as if he was waiting for the right time to pull the information out of you. 

Truthfully you knew you probably needed to tell him exactly what was going on because clearly Madani hadn't told him much herself. If there was possible danger nearby, you knew he should be made aware of it. For both your sakes. But Frank was still hard for you to read. Would he think you were far more trouble than you were worth to protect if he knew the full story? If he knew what was actually going on? Is that why Madani hadn't already told him herself? Because as much as you didn't like the killing he did, you had to admit, you'd be dead without him. You needed him. You couldn't have him bolt on you and leave you an unprotected target for an entire militia with members that spanned the countryside.

The thought of you on your own without Frank had your fists curling around the fabric of your shirt, arms hugging your chest a bit tighter. You were too terrified right now to question when your fear of Frank had shifted to a fear of losing him in just a matter of days. 

"You good?" 

Drawn back to the moment, your eyes darted over towards Frank. He was standing there with that hard to read expression on his face, but it felt like he was seeing right through you. He knew you weren't good. But instead of telling him the truth, that fear of him abandoning you to fend for yourself in a Walmart parking lot so close to a place you knew there were militia members, you simply nodded and hummed out an affirmative. Frank's eyes narrowed further, his lips thinning out. You forced a smile onto your mouth, but even you could feel how tense it was.

Without another word, Frank turned and headed towards the entrance of the store. Sucking in a deep breath you followed after him, each step further increasing your panic. By the time the pair of you stepped inside, Frank was gruffly reminding you that you had twenty minutes to meet him back here before he walked off. And then you were alone and fully panicking. 

Ducking your head, you tried to keep your breathing even as you hurried towards your right. You were going to try to focus on why you were here and not on where you were. Attempting to remain calm, you prioritized grabbing tampons first because the thought of asking Frank to stop and let you buy some later was absolutely mortifying. 

For a few minutes you navigated the Walmart, trying to orient yourself and read the aisle signs as you went. The store was massive and all the aisles looming above you felt suffocating right now. Internally you kept repeating the items you needed, listing them off in your head as you tried to ignore the racing of your heart and the way your breath was starting to come in faster each time someone in the store made eye contact with you. 

You wished you could say you felt safe in the semi-busy public place, but you knew better. The Patriot Militia clearly had no qualms with opening fire in public and killing innocent people. The only place you felt safe anymore was at Frank's side. But as your jaw clenched tight, you fought the surge of fear roiling in your stomach at the reminder that Frank wasn't by your side right now.  

Grabbing the box of tampons from the shelf, your hand nearly crushing the side of it with how tight you were holding on to it, you turned and headed back out of the aisle. You needed to find a hat, sunglasses, and a winter coat. If you had time, you'd find a few more clothing items for cold or hot weather. Since you and Frank were going to be all over the country, you knew you needed to be prepared for all types of weather wherever you found yourself with him. 

As you continued your shopping, trying to keep track of the time with a clock that was on the wall just past the registers, you felt that gnawing guilt since watching that news segment last night at the bar return to you. Somehow it crept its way past the fear still holding you in a vice and you suddenly froze, overcome with that guilt that had been steadily chipping away at you all day until it abruptly drowned you in it. Your hand fiercely clutched the hanger of the tee-shirt you were holding, your left arm crushing the other items you had to your chest as the thoughts hit you again all at once.

You'd heard them talking about Glen Allen at the Patriot Militia rally where this whole nightmare had begun. At the time, the city hadn't rung any bells in your mind because nothing had happened there. But you'd told Madani about it and your fears, and you knew she'd obviously heard it mentioned on the recording you'd sent her. But still, the shooting still happened. People had still been injured and killed. The proof of that was on the news last night at the bar you'd been at with Frank. And somehow it felt like it was partially your fault for not doing more to stop it. For not finding a way to warn everyone in Glen Allen or finding a way to stop the shooters ahead of time instead of just running and hiding and saving yourself.

Your hand began to shake, gripping the hanger even tighter in your fist. Your breath was coming in even faster and sharper now than it had when Frank had initially parted ways with you at the store entrance. Eyes closing, you tried to fight the lightheadedness washing over you. But the longer you stood there, guilt and fear mingling together and clawing at your mind as it spiraled further, the more you felt yourself freeze up and your feet root themselves to the floor.

You weren't going to survive this. Eventually these people would find you and kill you. And all the deaths and terror they caused before and after that would partially land at your feet. You were a news anchor, you could have reported this. Tried to stop them somehow. Maybe even told Frank ahead of time and been in Glen Allen and he might have been able to stop them. 

But you'd done nothing instead. 

Your hand tightened so hard around the hanger that you felt it snap in your fist. Feeling like you could barely breathe, your eyes clenched closed tighter as your thoughts continued to spiral further and further, your chest constricting firmly around your lungs and your heart. You were hyperventilating now, having a panic attack in the middle of the Walmart.

Something grasped onto your shoulder and you gasped, eyes flying open. Frank was standing just beside you, concern written clear across his features. Those warm, dark brown eyes of his were boring into you, but instead of fear, you felt relief flood you at the sight of him. 

"C'mon," he urged softly, gesturing his head towards the registers. "Let's get your things and go."

He gently pried the shirt you'd been holding onto–the one you'd snapped the hanger on–from your hands. And then slowly, he carefully took all of the items from you without a word before making his way towards the registers. You followed after him easily, the promise of safety in his presence quickly quelling the panic in your mind as your breathing became less shallow.

Once again you'd wrapped your arms around your chest, nervously hugging yourself as you stood next to Frank. He was focused on ringing up all of the items you’d had, his face expressionless as he used the self-checkout. You were far too relieved that he’d found you when he did to care that he was currently ringing up your box of tampons.

After he’d bagged all of your items into three bags, Frank grabbed them all into one hand before he turned towards you. His left hand reached out, landing on the middle of your back and surprising you with the touch. Gently he began to guide you out of the store without a word, though you knew plenty of them were soon coming. For now you focused on keeping in step with him, surprised to discover yourself relaxing even further underneath that large, warm palm of his on the center of your back. 

It was a minute before you were both back at the van, Frank opening the back doors of it and setting your bags onto the floor of the vehicle. You had significantly calmed down in his presence and under his gentle, reassuring touch by now. Whether Frank had noticed that was unclear because he had quickly focused his attention on a cellphone he had retrieved from one of the bags, typing away on it as he sat down on the edge of the van.

"You gonna tell me what's actually goin' on now?" Frank asked, breaking the silence as he continued to focus on the phone in his hands. "Or you just gonna keep pretending you're alright?"

Exhaling a breath, you leant up against the side of the van opposite him, your eyes continuing to survey the parking lot. Thankfully the pair of you still seemed to be alone. Though you figured Frank was currently more aware of your surroundings than even you were despite it appearing that he was currently distracted. 

"Wondered when you'd push," you whispered.

"Been in your head and jumpy ever since you saw that news story at the bar last night," Frank observed. "That story that upset you and made you want to leave last night." He glanced up from the phone, holding your gaze. "Guessin' that shooting’s got something to do with why you're on the run from this militia. Got me thinkin' there's some things I should probably know that you're not tellin’ me."

Guiltily you focused down on your shoes. Of course he’d picked up on all of that. Frank was smart and perceptive.

 "Madani told you I'm running from the Patriot Militia then?" you asked softly. 

"Said you accidentally stumbled on some information that proves they're a terrorist organization," he replied, attention returning to the phone. "And that there's some big names involved in the mess, too. Making it so she can't trust everyone in Homeland and any other federal departments."

"Yeah," you admitted nervously, looking up at him through your lashes. "That–that shooting on the news last night? That was them. The militia."

Frank's hands momentarily paused what they were doing, his jaw tightening as he glared at the cell phone in his hand. A second later he locked the phone screen, his attention entirely shifting to you now as his hands lowered to his lap. There was a hard set to his eyes, but you could also see the way he was trying to piece things together with that soft furrow between his dark brows. 

"The shooter?" Frank clarified.

"Yeah," you told him with a nod. "Things must not have gone as planned because the shooter was apprehended by police, but he was supposed to be shot by a bystander. Like some of those other shootings going on around the country lately." Feeling your guilt beginning to creep back into your mind, you could feel the sting of tears in your eyes as you continued. "The–the bystanders who shoot the assailants in these mass shootings are also Patriot Militia members. It's all planned out, meant to paint them as heroes for carrying a gun and using it for protection. The others–martyrs for their cause."

"To push some rich political bastard's agenda, I assume?" Frank asked. “Considering there’s federal officials involved in this.”

" Many rich political bastards' agendas," you replied, nodding. "But I–I overheard them talking about Glen Allen, Virginia at that rally. I knew they were going to hit that city somewhere like this and it's–it's my fault it wasn't stopped. Its my fault–"

"Stop," Frank said firmly. "Stop it."

You froze, mouth still half open as you stared back at Frank. He was shaking his head as he looked back at you, his expression softer than it had been a minute ago. 

"'S'not your fault," he repeated. "What those assholes are doing is not on you. You did what you could–you took this to Madani. She's dealing with this now."

"But I'm a news anchor," you continued, the tears further building in your eyes. "I could have gone on the news. Warned people. Outed them. Something more than just running and hiding."

"Doubt your station would let you air that," Frank told you. "And you'd have only ended up with a bullet right here," he said, pressing a finger to his forehead, just between his eyes. "Because you'd have had them on you instantly. If there's big names involved in this, I can guarantee you there's worse out there looking for you than these half-assed organized militia members, Spunky. People like me. Maybe worse. You’d have had them on your doorstep so goddamn fast if you’d have taken this public."

And that was what did it. The thought that there was possibly something or someone worse than an entire militia after you right now sent the tears running down your cheeks, hot and wet. Frank winced when he spotted them, running a hand across the top of his head.

"Shit, I didn't mean to scare you," he said. "'M'sorry. I just meant this isn't on you. You're doing your part to try to stop them. You can't control what those assholes are doing out there."

"Except you're probably right, though," you choked out. "There probably are others out there after me right now. And I–I can’t outrun them forever. Not if they’re all out looking for me.” 

Almost immediately that tightness in your chest returned and you pushed off of the van, turning your back to Frank and burying your face in your hands. You couldn’t fight the sobs that wracked through you, ashamed that you were breaking down like this in front of Frank. But his words had set a new fear loose in you, one that felt like it confirmed the fact that you were on borrowed time.

Tentative hands were on your shoulders, your body going rigid at the touch. The tears continued to stream down your cheeks behind your hands, but you tried your best to hold back your sobs, though they kept coming out in strangled hiccups.

“Hey, hey,” Frank’s soothing voice said, his hands on your shoulders very gradually pulling you in towards himself. “You’re alright. Everything’ll be alright.”

“They’re going to kill me,” you breathed out, your hands muffling your words.

“No they won’t,” Frank said firmly. “I won’t let them. They’d have to get through me first. And I’m a stubborn asshole.”

You couldn’t resist the laugh that slipped out of your lips, Frank’s deep chuckle that followed somehow soothing. Slowly you lowered your hands down your face, the tears beginning to fall a little slower. Frank had somehow wrapped you in his arms, one of his hands soothingly rubbing back and forth across your upper back. The feel of it had you relaxing into him, though it didn’t help that you were now quickly becoming aware of your proximity to him.

“Told you I’d keep you safe,” Frank murmured. “And I’m gonna do that. You’re gonna help Madani take these assholes down. And I’m gonna make damn sure you’re alive for that. You hear me, Spunky?”

A slow smile spread across your lips at his words. You nodded, your forehead brushing lightly against his firm chest as you did.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“Good,” he stated, unwinding his arms from around you.

He turned back towards the van, grabbing the cell phone he’d set down when he’d gotten up to comfort you. With his back turned for a moment, you hurriedly wiped the back of your hands over your cheeks, trying to wipe away the tears that had fallen. If you were being honest, you were still terrified of the nameless and faceless people out there after you, but Frank’s determination and confidence to keep you alive was certainly comforting.

“Here,” Frank said, turning back around and holding out the phone to you. “Already programmed mine and Madani’s number in there. Don’t think you’ll ever need it, but just in case you do, you have it.”

“Thank you,” you said.

Reaching out, you accepted the phone from his outstretched hand. Your other hand slipped into the pocket of your jeans, pulling out the cash he’d given you earlier. When Frank saw it he immediately shook his head, waving a hand at it.

“No, keep it,” he told you. “Probably makes sense you have some cash on you in case we’re ever separated.” When he saw the way your eyes widened he immediately added, “Which we won’t be, but it’s better to take precautions. Don’t need you stranded somewhere without money, right?”

“Right,” you whispered weakly, slowly returning the cash to your pocket.

Frank’s eyes narrowed at you for a moment, studying your tear stained face. You noticed his expression wasn’t as hard as it usually was at the moment. 

“How far from that shooting are we?” he asked curiously. “I’m guessin’ you’re aware.”

“Less then two hours away,” you answered instantly.

Frank let out a grunt at your response before he turned, closing the doors to the van with two solid bangs that echoed in your ears. Your eyes followed his movements as you stood there quietly, grateful that the urge to cry in front of him again had disappeared for the moment. Though at some point you knew you were going to have to unpack whatever that unexpected moment with him was when he had yet again comforted you.

“Next time, tell me this information,” Frank said, turning around and facing you. “That’s the kind of shit that I need to know to keep us both alive.”

“I was–was worried you’d think this whole thing was too big for you to want to deal with,” you admitted awkwardly. “Was afraid if I told you that you’d…leave.”

Frank’s eyes fell closed, his expression briefly looking pained. A second later his eyes opened again, focusing back on you. The look in them was almost pleading when he spoke.

“I’m not gonna leave you behind,” he assured you. “Can you just–just please trust me on that? I’m here to see this through to the end with you.”

You nodded slowly. “Okay,” you whispered.

“Okay,” Frank confirmed. He gestured his head at the front of the van. “Get in. I’m gonna drive a bit in the opposite direction before we grab an early dinner and a motel. We’ll be on the road first thing tomorrow morning and puttin’ as much distance between us and this Glen Allen as we can. Alright?”

You nodded again in response. “Alright,” you agreed.

“Let’s get the hell outta here, then,” he said, turning and making his way towards the driver’s side.

Silently you made your way over to the passenger side, suddenly realizing that you were beginning to really trust Frank. And maybe you were even beginning to like him a bit.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Standing beside Frank in the motel lobby, your hands held the greasy bag of fast food that you’d both picked up just before stopping at this shady little motel, your duffle bag slung over your shoulder. Just like he’d said he would, Frank had driven a couple of hours in the opposite direction of Glen Allen, trying to put more distance between you both and that city. The pair of you were planning to get a room and call it an early night in the hopes of getting back on the road early tomorrow morning and putting even more distance between you and here.

Though neither of you had expected to be waiting in a line at this motel, something you could tell was irritating Frank with the way he kept impatiently running a hand across his mouth. You also noticed it wasn’t just you who’d been eyeing the young blonde with the long curls that were pulled into a pony-tail booking a room in front of you with interest, either. Frank had also been curiously eyeing her, something like concern written on his face. She looked barely eighteen–if she even was–and that combined with her staying in a place like this was admittedly strange and a little worrying. You couldn’t help but wonder what the hell she was doing here.

As if she could feel the weight of both sets of eyes on her, she glanced over her shoulder back at you with distrust on her face as the woman behind the desk filled out some paperwork. The blonde’s eyes narrowed, especially when they landed on Frank just at your side. She gave him a quick once over, her nose wrinkling in distaste as she did.

“What’re you looking at, rough road?” she snapped.

“What?” Frank asked her, head cocking to the side as surprise washed over his features.

“Why don’t you stop staring at me?” she shot before abruptly turning back around.

Frank’s attention shifted towards you as he sent you a look of confusion at the interaction, his dark brows pulling together. You shrugged wordlessly in response, shaking your head at him. Though you had to admit, part of you wanted to laugh at her comment. Not even knowing who Frank was, he already looked intimidating as hell for someone like her to just say something so brazenly.

It was a minute later that the girl had grabbed her key from the woman behind the desk, turning and storming off out of the motel lobby, giving you and Frank a wide berth as she went. Frank briefly watched her leave, a frown on his face before he returned his focus on the woman behind the desk who was looking rather bored.

“Can we get a room?” he asked, approaching the desk and pulling out his wallet. “Two queen beds.”

The woman immediately began to shake her head at him. “Uh uh. Don’t have any more of those,” she replied, gesturing a hand at the door. “She just took the last one for her and her father. All I’ve got is a single queen left.”

You heard Frank swear under his breath, running a hand in frustration through his short hair before he reluctantly agreed to take it. As he paid for the room, you nervously clutched the bag of food tighter in your hands, wondering what having only one bed was ultimately going to mean in a place like this. A moment later the woman was handing Frank the room key before you were following after him out of the motel lobby, silently making your way past the rows of doors while looking for room eleven. 

As you approached the door behind Frank, you watched as he stuck the key inside and unlocked it. Awkwardly you stepped into the room after him, your eyes immediately falling on the single queen bed in the center of the space. Glancing around, you noticed that the only other piece of furniture was a very uncomfortable looking armchair and a small table beside it.

“You can take the bed,” Frank said, closing and locking the door after himself.

“And where do you plan to sleep?” you asked, looking over at him.

Frank turned, taking in the room himself. His mouth pressed into a firm line before he gestured to the armchair.

“I’ll just sleep here tonight,” he answered.

“That thing looks way too small for you,” you pointed out.

“Then I’ll sleep on the floor,” Frank shot out with a shrug. “Don’t care.”

Your eyes dropped down to the worn and very dirty motel carpet. You weren’t entirely sure what color it had been initially with how faded and stained it was. You cringed at the thought of him laying down and sleeping on it. Gradually your eyes returned to the single bed as Frank shrugged out of his coat, laying it along the back of the chair.

“We could…share the bed,” you said awkwardly, not entirely sure why you were suggesting that idea.

Frank stiffened beside the armchair at your words, his head slowly turning back towards you. One of his dark brows rose onto his forehead as he studied you questioningly for a long moment.

“You sure you’re good with that?” he asked.

Feeling heat creep into your cheeks, you stepped over to the coffee table and set the bag of food down onto it before dropping your duffle bag to the floor. “I mean I trust you’re not going to do anything other than sleep,” you muttered. “You’re doing all the driving and–” you broke off, shuddering as you continued, “–protecting. You need to get decent sleep. I’d give you the bed and sleep somewhere else, but…admittedly I don’t really want to sleep on that floor or that chair, either. So…we could just share the bed?”

Hesitantly you glanced over at Frank beside the chair, anxiously chewing the inside of your cheek as you waited for his response. He was still studying you with one of his usual impossible to decipher expressions on his face. Eventually you saw him give a single nod in answer.

“Alright,” he agreed. “If you’re sure. Should probably eat though and get to sleep. I want to get outta here early tomorrow.”

With a sigh you turned, opening the bag of fast food and grabbing the chicken sandwich you’d ordered out of it before making your way to the edge of the bed to eat. As Frank rooted around in the bag for his burger, your eyes lingered on the muscles in his back and the way his shirt was straining against his thick arms. For a brief moment you wondered how it would feel to curl yourself around his hard body in that bed tonight, having him wrap those strong arms around you while he comforted you yet again.

Though you quickly shoved that thought aside, blinking rapidly as you averted your gaze, beginning to unwrap your chicken sandwich. You were both just going to sleep in that bed tonight, and whatever those thoughts were that you occasionally found yourself having about Frank needed to stop.

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 9: "A Truth Revealed"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 4.5k

a/n: After the entire fiasco with my cat destroying my previous keyboard, I am pleased to say I managed to buy a new one and still managed to get this up in time to hurt/frustrate you all a little more. We're inching closer to some comfort though! I believe the next installment will be titled "The Weight of Grief" for this series. Enjoy the angst and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705

Curled up on your couch, you were comfortably cocooned in a blanket and completely focused on the book in your hands. Over the last few nights after work you’d been reading it, taking some time to escape into a romance that actually had a happy ending–unlike your love life. You’d been looking forward to having a quiet night in tonight, especially after the long and stressful day you’d had at work. 

And also because you’d gotten another call from Matt earlier today. 

After the dinner at Matt’s apartment with your friends almost three weeks ago now, you’d really tried to consider what Karen had said. Maybe it was time to try to distance yourself from Matt. If he wasn’t interested in you as more than a friend, you really couldn’t keep torturing yourself over him. You needed to try to move on, to put some space between the pair of you, but you certainly couldn’t do that if you kept jumping at every opportunity to spend time with him. Which is what you’d always done when it came to Matt.

So you’d been distancing yourself from him. Avoiding him lately until you finally thought you might be ready to see him again. You felt bad for doing it though, especially because the calls from him seemed like they’d oddly increased over the past few weeks since that night. You had explained to Foggy and Karen what was going on and what you were doing. The pair of them had been happy to help keep Matt off your back and to keep him from thinking too much into things, though every time his name appeared on your phone screen you felt guilty for all the times you let it go to voicemail. Or the times that you’d lied and told him you were busy and couldn’t talk. 

You needed this though. You needed to find a way to let him go before your feelings drove you insane. Because Karen’s question that night had made you suddenly very aware of the fact that you hadn’t been happy for a long time. Not really. You’d been pining after Matt for years now, clutching onto the hope that maybe he liked you, or that maybe someday his feelings for you might change into something more. You’d held onto that hope with a death grip for so long that you’d realized it was gradually dragging you further and further down. And you couldn’t do that to yourself anymore. That other night a few weeks ago, when you’d flirted with Matt and made a complete ass out of yourself only to receive nothing in return from him that even so much as hinted at the fact that he was flirting back, you’d realized that you’d needed to finally release that hold on your hope. 

Matthew Murdock was never going to love you as more than a friend.

It was a line you said to yourself almost daily lately. Anytime the feelings would randomly crop up, you repeated that over and over in your head. It was a reminder that you needed to actually try to move forward this time.

Which was why this weekend you were letting one of your coworkers set you up on a blind date. You’d spent this past week trying to get yourself excited about it. Stephanie certainly seemed to think you and this Alexander would be a great match, and apparently he was an incredibly sweet and charming guy. Which was good. You needed to find someone nice. Someone who would be good for you. Alexander wasn’t going to be Matt but you were going to be open-minded when it came to that date.

Another thing you kept repeating to yourself daily lately.

Turning the page of your book, you were so engrossed in it that you almost didn’t hear the noise outside of your window nearby. Except you had. It was a faint, muffled noise that sounded like it came from your fire escape. You lowered your book, eyes narrowing as your head slowly turned towards the window.

Immediately you screamed, your book flying out of your hands and falling to the floor. There were two figures standing on your fire escape right outside of your window–one in all black and the other in red. Both of them had their faces obscured and it took you a moment to recognize the one in black as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, but you didn't recognize the other beside him who looked like they were struggling to hold him up. At least, you didn't recognize them until they'd reached a hand up and slid the mask down their face and leaned forward, knocking on your window. 

Your jaw dropped at the sight of Elektra Natchios in the flesh, smirking at you on the other side of your living room window. 

"Knock, knock, darling," she called out, voice muted by the glass. "Open up."

You froze on the couch. Letting Elektra into your apartment was the absolute last thing you wanted to ever do. You absolutely loathed her. And you also had no idea why she was toting Hell’s Kitchen's vigilante on her arm, either, but you figured the reason couldn't be good. 

"You're not welcome here," you called back, sitting upright on the couch. "We aren't friends, Elektra."

Her face contorted into a look of faux sadness and offense at your words before it quickly returned to its previous smugness. "I don't particularly care what you think of me," she replied, "but I'm sure you wouldn't want your friend here suffering outside in a dumpster."

Your face twisted in confusion as your focus shifted to the masked man clinging to her, his head hanging forward over his chest. He looked like he was in pain from the way he was slumped over. But why would she call him your friend? You'd met him once and you had been drunk–and managed to get even drunker after that encounter. He wasn't exactly your friend.

"I don’t even know him," you shot back, eyeing him through the window. "Take him to a hospital where he can actually get some help."

“Aww,” she cooed through the glass, one hand reaching up towards his black mask. “Are you sure you don’t know him?”

Your mouth opened to once again tell Elektra off, but before the words could even form she’d pulled back the black fabric from the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’s face. At first all you could see was a mess of dark hair, but then her hand still holding the mask grasped underneath his chin, raising the man’s head up so you could see him better.

You audibly gasped, jaw dropping wide open as you stared at Matt’s face on the other side of the window. For a long moment your brain became entirely devoid of thoughts as you sat on your couch staring at Matt on your fire escape dressed as the masked man.

“Still want to say you don’t know him?” Elektra questioned.

It took you a minute to slightly recover on the couch, your mouth finally closing but your wide eyes still staring in shock at the sight of Matt–the same Matt who you’d drank beers with, the one who you’d shared your insecurities pre-graduation with, who’d cried on your shoulder when he’d told you about his father–as the masked vigilante running around Hell’s Kitchen. The very same one who you’d seen grainy video footage of in the news with superhero-like fighting skills. 

“Can you open up already? He’s getting a bit difficult to hold onto,” Elektra called out.

“Matt?” you whispered.

On the other side of the window, you saw Matt’s lips twist into a small, apologetic smile. He nodded his head just once in response. 

Still in shock, you unraveled yourself from your blanket and rose from your couch, making your way to the window. You unlocked it, sliding it up and watching as Elektra tried to help Matt through the opening. Reaching out, you grabbed onto Matt’s shoulders and attempted to help her get him inside. Matt’s own hands darted out to grab onto your upper arms in return, groaning as he made his way through the window and into your apartment. 

You hadn’t been expecting him to lose his balance though, and he’d stumbled straight into you. You toppled over easily, his body falling with yours and pinning you to the floor beneath him. Matt’s hands had flown out just in time to catch himself so he didn’t fully crush you under his weight, his face hovering just above yours. You could see a few bleeding gashes across his forehead and cheeks as his sightless eyes focused along your right cheekbone, a pained expression on his face. 

A plethora of emotions raced through you in that moment. Part of you, a very small part, wanted to lean up and kiss him. You’d never been in such a compromising position with him before, and you certainly wished it was under different circumstances–though you knew you shouldn’t be feeling that way and you quickly tried to divert your thoughts. Especially because this was certainly not the time for those types of thoughts.

For the most part you were hurt and confused, though. Matt had been lying to you all this time about those injuries he’d been getting. He’d been going out and intentionally putting himself into danger. And it hurt you that he’d hid that truth from you, that he didn’t trust you with that information. 

But not only that, how the hell did Matt go out blind fighting bad guys like the masked man did? Clearly someone taught him to fight like that, something he’d never told you about before–more secrets he’d been hiding from you. But you knew he was blind, so how could he do the things the masked man did? That you’d seen actual video evidence of? How was that Matt?

And why the hell was Elektra in a similar crime-fighting ensemble? What pieces of the goddamn puzzle had you been missing all along without even knowing it? 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

With a grunt, he pushed himself back onto his knees before Elektra was at his side. She grabbed onto his arm and roughly tugged him up, Matt hissing in pain as she did. You winced at the sound, slowly rising back up from the floor after him. 

“He needs somewhere safe to stay while I finish…dealing with some things,” Elektra told you, leading him past you and straight towards your couch. “Your apartment was the closest. And he said he trusted you.”

You stood there gaping at the pair of them as she lowered his battered and bloody body onto your couch. Matt was making noises of discontent as she situated him along it. 

“What–what the hell is going on?” you stammered out.

When Matt was settled, Elektra straightened and turned towards you. She exhaled a rough sigh as she eyed you from top to bottom. 

“Well darling, your BFF is the masked vigilante roaming the city,” she said. “ Clearly . I thought you’d caught that already, but apparently you’re a little slow, I see.”

“Elektra,” Matt warned through gritted teeth.

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Someone beat him with a metal pipe,” she explained. “Now we’re thinking he’s fractured a rib and he’s honestly quite useless to me like this. So he needs to stay hidden here until he can get his ass home. Think you can manage that, darling?”

Your mouth had dropped open at the mention of a metal pipe and it had stayed that way for the duration of her explanation. Elektra groaned in irritation at the look of shock on your face, her head dramatically falling back over her shoulders as she did.

“He’ll be fine ,” she told you. “Throw a blanket on him and he’ll probably walk it off in the morning.” Attention shifting over her shoulder, she frowned when she glanced at Matt. “And it’s a damn shame I’ll miss seeing your ass walk it off. It’s certainly gotten so much nicer since I’d last enjoyed it. I remember–”

“Enough, Elektra,” Matt snapped.

Heat rose up to your cheeks in a mixture of awkward embarrassment and jealousy at what she was hinting at. But when Elektra’s eyes dropped down to where your book had fallen onto the floor beside the couch, you saw her head tilt curiously to the side, a grin slipping onto her mouth. Embarrassment won out as you watched her bend over and grab the book from the floor, slowly rising back to her full height as she examined it. Her attention slowly shifted back towards you, one of her perfect dark brows arching up on her pretty face.

“Didn’t realize we’d interrupted your fascinating read, darling,” she purred, eyes dropping back down to the book. “Romance novels though?” She tsked, shaking her head. “Doesn’t even look naughty. How positively–” her eyes landed back on you, an amused smile on her lips, “– you .”

“Shut up,” you muttered, heat burning at your cheeks.

“Still in love with your friend?” she taunted. “Love life a mess so you read this trash?”

Your arms crossed awkwardly over your chest, your gaze dropping down to your feet. Tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes at her words. She damn well knew you loved Matt and she was toying with you like it was entertainment to watch you hurting.

“Mmm, I see you’ve never actually told him then,” she continued. “All this time and you couldn’t–”

“ Elektra ,” Matt snapped.

Elektra had actually stopped mid-taunt, her lips thinning at Matt’s harsh tone. Even you’d been surprised at how irritated he’d sounded. Maybe he was finally seeing how rude she’d been to you for once. Though you doubted that would stop him from being with her; you were certain they would be back together if they weren’t already. Even if you knew Elektra would only be toying with him yet again. 

“You’re both no fun,” she said with a pout, tossing your book onto the coffee table.

You couldn’t look her in the face as she sauntered past you, tears still welling in your eyes. Blinking hard, you did your best to force them back. You didn’t want to cry in front of her or Matt. You were so tired of the tears.

“Don’t worry about getting up, Matty, darling,” Elektra said, sliding your window up behind you. “I’ll handle this one for you. But you owe me something in return.”

Elektra slipped back out of the window before you heard her slowly sliding it down after herself. Your apartment filled with silence at her absence, Matt’s head shifting towards you on the couch. There was a frown on his lips, his dark brows pulled together in something that wasn’t pain, but you couldn’t quite make out the meaning behind his expression.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your night,” he said softly. “And that you…found out. Like this. About me.”

“What the hell, Matty?” you breathed out. “How long have you been doing this?”

"Around the time Fog and I left Landman and Zack,” he answered.

You ran a hand across your forehead, trying to piece things together as question after question ran through your mind. You almost didn’t even know where to start.

But something in particular surfaced in your mind, panic flooding you. 

“So that–that night the man in the mask found me drunk in an alley,” you began slowly, the hazy memory coming back to you as Matt’s expression shifted to something even harder to read. “After I’d found Liam cheating on me. That was…you?”

“Yeah,” he whispered.

You grimaced, remembering how you’d unknowingly and drunkenly spilled your heart out to Matt himself that night. How you'd embarrassingly sobbed on him about being in love with him. Which meant that he knew you loved him, right? And he’d just spent all this time pretending you didn’t, like that moment hadn’t happened because he didn’t feel that way in return?

But of course he didn’t love you because as fuzzy as that night was to you, you remembered the masked man crying to you about loving someone, too. The conversation had been difficult to recall from all the alcohol you’d drank that night, but you remembered he’d been upset about a woman he loved. He must have meant Elektra, you realized.

Because of course he’d still be in love with her, even after she went and broke his heart. And now he finally had her back.

Swallowing the lump forming in your throat, you felt even more inadequate for Matt now. With whatever he was out doing around the city at night, apparently he'd found his match in her. Because you certainly weren't about to go out and play at being a hero with him. That only further cemented how wrong you were for him; you’d never be Elektra.

“If you’ve fractured a rib I should really get you to a hospi–”

“No hospitals,” Matt said earnestly, cutting you off. “I’ll be fine, I just need somewhere to stay until I can heal a bit. If that’s alright? Just–just for the night?”

“Matt,” you began slowly, “if you have a fractured rib, that could take weeks to heal, not one night.”

His lips pulled back into a sheepish smile. “I’m different,” he admitted quietly. 

Your head tilted to the side, eyes narrowing back at him curiously. He was different ? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Different how?” you asked him.

“I…have heightened senses,” he confessed. “And I was taught a long time ago how to meditate to heal myself faster. So a fractured rib really isn’t that big of a deal to me, but I–I can’t fight like this. And my place was too far from where we were. I just–just needed somewhere safe to rest and heal. But I’m truly sorry for dragging you into all of this.”

“I–” 

You stood on the opposite side of your coffee table utterly dumbfounded with this new information about a man you’d thought you’d known for years . Mouth opening and closing a few times, you struggled to figure out how to piece a coherent thought together.

“You–you heal yourself?” you asked in shock. 

“Yeah,” he answered.

Another few moments of silence passed, your brain attempting to wrap around that crazy bit of information. But then you remembered the other thing he’d said and a whole wave of new questions rose in your mind.

“What do you mean you have heightened senses?” you asked him nervously.

“I’m still blind, but my other senses are able to pick up on things that others can’t,” he answered.

You sucked in a breath, fear building inside of you. What the hell did that mean?

“Like what?” you hesitantly questioned.

“Well I can hear that your heart rate just elevated even higher than what it had been at after hearing that. I can hear your blood pressure increasing, too,” Matt told you. “And I can smell that your adrenaline and cortisol levels just rose–meaning you’re nervous or afraid.”

You saw the corners of his lips curve downward as he spoke, his focus lowering towards your coffee table. Though at that admission, you felt your own heart rate sky-rocketing. He could read you that well?

“So–so all of your other senses are able to pick up on small details like that?” you questioned.

Matt nodded his head solemnly. “I can hear someone’s heartbeat if I focus. Can even tell when they’re lying to me depending on how it beats,” he explained. 

“How long have you been able to do all of this?” you nervously asked. 

A sad smile slowly drew his lips upwards at the corner. Despite your panic about everything Matt had probably been picking up on with you for who knows how long now, you wondered how hard it must be to live like that. How much outside stimuli was hitting him all of the time? What all was he experiencing that no one else had to experience?

“Since that accident that blinded me as a child,” he answered quietly. “You remember the one I told you about?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I remember you telling me about it,” you replied. “But how come you didn’t tell me this , Matt?”

“How was I supposed to?” he asked back. “What I can do, it isn’t normal. I’ve always kept it a secret.”

“You don’t think I’d like to know that my best friend can hear my heartbeat? Or smell my–my hormones ?” you asked him. “That you always knew when I was lying? Or–or was afraid? Or whatever the hell else you’ve picked up on from me? This whole time?”

There was not a doubt in your mind now about Matt having known the truth about you at least liking him. Being attracted to him. How could he have not known? If he could hear your heart alone, he’d know it was always racing around him, that he always had an effect on you. But he’d never flirted with you, never taken an interest back in you.

The tears started falling before you could stop them, your hands flying up to your mouth to try to cover the choked sob building in your throat at that realization. The strangled sound still fell out of you despite your efforts to hold it back, though. Matt’s focus immediately shifted to you, something soft and sad reflecting in his own eyes.

“If you can pick up on all of these things happening with someone's body that–that means you’ve known then?” you asked, your voice cracking as more tears fell. “This whole time? That I’ve had feelings for–” you broke off on a strangled sob, unable to just say it.

Matt nodded his head slowly across from you. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I’ve known for a long time, I just–just never said anything.” 

Another sob fell out of you before Matt said your name so softly, but the sound of it only drew more tears. He’d always known you loved him then. And he certainly didn’t feel the same.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I do my best to give everyone privacy around me, but some things I can’t help but…pick up on.”

Your tears fell faster now as your hands slid up and you buried your face in them. You didn’t think it was possible to hurt anymore than you did when it came to loving Matt, but you certainly had discovered tonight that you were very, very wrong. Because his admission felt like it had torn your heart straight from your chest before he’d tossed it out of your window straight down to the street below to be repeatedly run over by traffic.

Matthew Murdock was never going to love you as more than a friend. Hadn’t you already been repeating that to yourself lately? Well, how fucking spot on you were.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry, I’m–���

“Who else knows about you?” you asked, cutting him off with your face still buried behind your hands.

You tried your best to ignore the way your heart twisted at the way he'd called you 'sweetheart'. He'd never done that before and now was certainly not the time for him to start. 

Matt expelled a rough breath, the sound causing you to peak at him between your fingers. His head had rolled away from you now, his sightless eyes focused on the ceiling of your apartment. 

“Foggy found out,” he whispered. “On accident. That’s why we fought and the firm broke up. And uh, Elektra has always known.”

“Of course she has,” you muttered bitterly.

“You’re upset with me,” he pointed out.

You shook your head, rubbing the heels of your hand along your cheeks to try to wipe away the dampness. “I’m not upset at you ,” you told him. “I’m upset that you knew so much about me and I didn’t–didn't know that you did. And that you didn’t tell me all of this back at Columbia, because I’d have wished you’d trusted me enough with this information about yourself.” You inhaled a shuddering breath, that aching, empty feeling in your chest somehow feeling like it was finally consuming you entirely. "And I'm upset that you–you knew . All these years and you've–you’ve always known ."

Matt said your name gently again, but you shook your head quickly, continuing on and trying to force down the tears and the feel of your heart breaking. Matt was hurt and he needed help, that was your focus tonight.

“What do you need from me then, Matt?” you asked, sniffling loudly. “Just a place to crash? Medical help?”

You watched as his eyelids slowly lowered, a frown deepening on his face. “A place to stay for the night so I can heal, yes. And if you could call Fog, ask if he’d bring some of my clothes from my place here. That way I can–can change in the morning before I leave.”

Nodding, you wiped your hand across your cheeks again. It was a moment later that you realized you hadn't spoken. 

"Sorry, I nodded," you muttered.

"I know," he whispered. "I could hear the way the molecules in the air shifted when you did."

You winced, suddenly uncertain what all Matt had always known that you weren't aware of. But yet again you tried to focus on your current situation instead. It didn't matter he knew you liked him, he'd always just wanted to be your friend instead. You’d cry about it later, when he wasn’t lying on your couch bleeding.

"I'll go call Fog," you informed him. "Get him to bring over your clothes. You can stay here tonight, Matt. You know I'll always be here for you. I've always told you that." Curling your hands into fists, you tried to stop the way they had begun shaking. "I'm going to get a washcloth, though. To clean your cuts. If that's alright?"

Matt nodded, his head turning as he focused on you across the room again. "Yes," he replied quietly. "Thank you."

Chewing your lip, you turned and headed down the hall to your bathroom. You switched on the light and made your way over to the vanity, bending down and pulling out a clean washcloth from under it. Rising to your feet, you set it on the counter before slipping your phone out of your pocket and dialing Foggy. It took a few rings before he finally answered, and for some reason the sound of his voice greeting you with your name had you crying again. 

"Hey, Fog," you said, voice cracking.

"Shit, are you okay?" he asked in a panic. "Did something happen? You sound like you're crying. Why’re you crying?”

Your eyes slowly slid up towards your bathroom mirror, taking in the sight of your red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You looked awful.

"I know Matt is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen," you breathed out. 

There was a long pause on the line after you'd spoken, the silence eventually broken by Foggy muttering a curse.

"Where are you?" he asked. 

"At home. Elektra dropped him off injured on my couch," you told him, your voice breaking as you spoke.

"I'll be right there," he promised.

"He wants you to bring him a change of clothes," you said, watching as more tears slid down your reflection's cheeks. 

"I'm on it," he assured you. "But we are definitely talking later when we're out of his hearing range."

"Yeah," you whispered. "We definitely are."

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 15: "What If...?"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 4k

a/n: Some hope finally shows up in this installment! There's still a lingering bit of angst though, but I feel like overall this one is hopeful and a little bit frustrating. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705 @yourlocalbentspine @harperdoodle @hollandorks @mattmurdocksstarlight @yeonalie

Picking up a fry from your plate, you took a bite as your eyes wandered around the outdoor dining space. The restaurant you and your co-worker Alicia had met up at for lunch today was as busy as it usually was on a Saturday afternoon. The pair of you had gotten incredibly lucky to even snag a table outside to eat at this time. Despite the bright sunshine of the early November day, the light breeze and the overhead canopy made the restaurant’s patio an absolutely perfect spot this afternoon. Even with the excess noise of the various conversations going on all at once among the tables around you, you felt content. Something you’d noticed you’d felt ever since moving here, even if it often felt like something was missing from LA.

Shortly after you had moved to Los Angeles, you’d quickly connected with Alicia in your office. She had grown up in and around LA and had immediately taken it upon herself to acquaint you with all the best coffee shops, restaurants, and beach spots. She had even taken you out to the best clubs and bars for many a drunken night. The pair of you had quickly become fast friends which had certainly made your transition across the country vastly easier. 

From across the table, you saw Alicia lift her glass of iced tea, drawing it to her lips as she eyed you. You knew what was coming next, because she always delved into the real conversation once you’d both gotten into your food. Raising a brow at her, you expectantly waited for the questions to come.

“So how was last night?” she asked, taking a sip from her glass. “Was this one good? Bad? Mind blowing?”

You couldn’t fight back the laugh, shaking your head as you popped the rest of the fry into your mouth and chewed. Last night you’d had a date–one of many since you’d moved to Los Angeles a little over four months ago. The first few you’d gone on hadn’t amounted to much, ending early and being entirely uneventful. Initially all you found yourself thinking about was Matt’s face and how heartbroken he’d looked when you’d left him back at your apartment that day all those months ago. But as the weeks gradually wore on since you’d been here, you’d repeatedly told yourself that you came here to try to live your life. Slowly you eventually found yourself becoming more open to dating. Because you weren’t about to turn around and run back to New York solely because you missed Matt. 

Which you did. That hollow ache in your chest returned with a vengeance every time you thought about him. You missed Matt. Missed him even more because you’d only gotten one single message from him shortly after you arrived here. It had been a text, too. Something Matt never generally sent you because you knew he hated the voice to text application on his phone. All it said was ‘I hope you find your happiness.’ You hadn’t even responded back because every time you re-read his message you broke down in tears. 

You hadn’t spoken to Matt in months because of it. You’d become too afraid to reach out to him the more time passed on, too. And whether it was because it hurt him too much, or he thought you didn’t want to speak to him, or he was trying to give you space, or he wanted nothing to do with you now, you never heard from him, either. Though you did speak to Karen and Foggy often. Karen had started her first semester at Columbia and was working on her law degree with the help of Matt and Foggy. She was also still trying to juggle working in the office with them when she could throughout the week. And Foggy apparently had been getting more serious with Marci while also keeping you updated about how well Nelson and Murdock had been doing. 

But neither of them ever told you much about Matt, and you were always too afraid to ask.

So you’d found yourself going on dates. Sleeping around a bit more than you ever had before. You figured your old roommate at Columbia would’ve been proud of you with how much sex you’d been having for once in your life. You sure knew Alicia enjoyed hearing the stories every Saturday afternoon over lunch. 

“He was good,” you said, answering Alicia’s question as you picked up another fry. “I certainly wouldn’t say mind blowing, though. I don’t think I’ve come across mind blowing sex yet.”

“Well that’s a damn shame,” she replied, setting her glass back onto the table. “So if you had to pick between LA men and New York men, which do you prefer?”

Your eyebrows shot up onto your forehead at her question. Across the table, Alicia sent you a mischievous grin before taking a bite out of her panini.

“That’s sort of hard to answer,” you told her, biting off another piece of fry. “I mean, what am I judging this by? The amount of men that want to have sex with me? How attractive I find them? Their general attitudes towards relationships?”

“All of it,” she said as she swallowed her bite of food. “I want an overall answer and a breakdown for each category.”

You laughed at her, shaking your head. “What is this? One of Scott’s impromptu meetings?” you teased back. “At least he gives me smoothies made out of lawn clippings before he shakes me down for those.”

Alicia snorted in response, a hand coming up to cover her mouth as she tried not to spit out her food while she laughed. It was true though, your boss here was a big fan of impromptu meetings. And also green smoothies.

“Okay, if I had to pick an overall winner solely based on those categories, I’d say Los Angeles men have New York men beat,” you answered. “But only because they take the win in both sex and physical appearance–which I’m thinking is because most of them spend their time shirtless at the beach. And apparently all the men out here want to do is just have sex. But that means most men here aren’t too interested in dating. Or at least, the guys I keep meeting aren’t. They just want a quick hookup. Or a no-strings attached casual thing with zero commitment.”

“Well you seem to be enjoying those,” Alicia pointed out. “With the amount of flings I’ve heard you having.”

You shrugged a shoulder, your focus dropping down to your plate of half-eaten food. Your stomach knotted a little as Matt’s face came to your mind. You missed that soft, warm smile he used to shoot you when you entered a room. You even missed the shit-eating grin he always made as he threw out one of his sarcastic jokes. 

“What?” she asked, leaning forward towards you and catching your eye again. “You mean to tell me the plethora of sex isn’t what you want?”

You shrugged again. “No, not really,” you heard yourself admitting. “I wish the men I met were more interested in second dates that weren’t just an excuse for more sex. I feel like I haven’t actually gotten to know anyone on a date since I’ve been here. It’s always just empty flirtatious banter and sex. There’s no… depth .”

“Mmm,” Alicia hummed with a nod, her focus returning to her food. “Now you know why I’m still single.”

You sighed lightly, picking up a fry and toying with it. Last night had been fun, but honestly you were tired of repeatedly going on first dates that didn’t go anywhere. And you were starting to get tired of having sex and then one of you inevitably needing to get dressed and disappear immediately afterwards. It truthfully wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted something more .

“All the LA men can’t compare to the one you left back in New York, though, can they?” 

Your attention shifted back to Alicia as her question hung heavy in the air. She was staring at you with that knowing look on her face as she sat back in her chair.

“I didn’t leave him, exactly,” you corrected her. “He wasn’t–wasn’t exactly mine in the first place to leave.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Not the point,” she said. “You miss him. All the sleeping around and constant dates–it was either to forget him or to try to find someone else. But you can’t, can you? I see it on your face every time we talk about your love life.”

“I mean I was trying to find someone out here,” you admitted. “I was open to it. But it just doesn’t seem like the men I meet are open to anything real .”

“Or,” Alicia said, pointing a finger at you, “you’re not really willing to try to find someone else because you’re still in love with Mr. NYC Lawyer.”

You shook your head quickly. “I don’t think that’s–”

“Admit it,” Alicia said, cutting you off. “You’re in love with him still.”

“Well I mean it’s–it’s not like you just fall out of love with someone,” you told her. “Especially when it’s been years that you’ve had feelings for the person.”

“You know what I don’t get?” she asked you, picking her iced tea back up. “Why you both don’t try long distance dating. I mean, it’s not convenient, but like…if there’s something there, why aren’t either of you trying?”

“Because he was with someone before I left,” you reminded her. “He had been considering proposing to her.”

“That was months ago now,” she pointed out. “Why are you holding back?”

“I–I haven’t heard from him,” you admitted.

Alicia pointed a finger at your cell phone sitting on the table beside your water. Your eyes guiltily dropped down towards it.

“You’ve got a phone and perfectly functioning fingers,” she said. “You’re just as capable of reaching out as he is. You’re just scared.”

Eyes lingering on the phone beside you, you felt nerves suddenly shaking loose in your gut. Because she was right. You were scared to reach out to Matt. 

“Maybe I am,” you whispered.

Because what if he had moved on? What if he’d gotten back with Erica and things had gotten serious? Or he’d met someone new and he’d fallen in love with them? Or if he had somehow grown pissed that you’d left him and now he wanted nothing to do with you?

Or what if he still wanted you as much as you wanted him? What then?

A knock on his office door caused Matt to stop his typing, his head swiveling in the direction of the noise. He knew it was Karen and not Foggy standing there wanting to speak with him, he could tell from the scent of her shampoo and light perfume that was still noticeable past the smell of food lingering on her–she must’ve picked lunch up for the office. He noticed her heart was beating a little nervously in her chest though, which had Matt’s eyes narrowing curiously behind his glasses.

“Hey, I grabbed lunch from that deli nearby,” she said, her tone a little timid. “And I uh, was hoping to talk to you and Fog about something. If that’s alright?”

“Sure,” Matt said, leaning back in his chair and focusing on her. “What’s going on, Karen?”

“Well I–I was hoping to talk to you both,” she repeated nervously. “Fog’s over at my desk and I can’t actually stay for lunch because I have that exam today.”

“Right, yeah,” Matt said, adjusting his tie. “I forgot you had that today.”

“Yeah, I figured you and Foggy have had a busy week,” she continued. “That’s why I grabbed you guys lunch. I had a feeling you both would work right through it if I didn’t and you guys need to take better care of yourselves during the day. You’re both running yourselves ragged.”

Matt rose from his chair, making his way around his desk. He heard the way Karen turned and began making her way back towards her own desk in the main part of the office. Matt followed out of the room behind her.

“Well you certainly need to take care of yourself, too,” he pointed out. “You’ve been doing a lot for us around here while still focusing on your classes.”

“Yeah,” Foggy cut in, “you really do need to take a few minutes to yourself.”

Matt heard Karen’s hands fidgeting together as she expelled a light laugh. He could hear the nervous edge to it though, which only further had Matt wondering what was going on with her.

“It’s funny you should say that, actually,” Karen began. “Because as you both know, I’ve been really busy between this first semester at Columbia and keeping things running as smoothly as possible here at the firm.”

“And you’ve been doing amazing at both,” Matt assured her immediately.

“You’re a literal saint and we don’t deserve you,” Foggy added.

Matt could feel the heat rising in Karen’s cheeks as she blushed. The nervous edge didn’t leave her though as she stopped beside her desk. To Matt it sounded like her pulse was quickly increasing again.

“Well, here’s the thing,” Karen said carefully. “I’m coming up on winter break and I had this crazy idea and I was hoping you guys would be okay with it.”

“Shoot,” Foggy replied instantly.

Matt heard Karen say your name, aware that she’d sent him an apologetic look as she did. Foggy and Karen didn’t often talk about you around him since you’d left. They always told him that he tended to get quiet and moody whenever they did. And hearing it now, uttered when he wasn’t expecting it, had his heart clenching in his chest.

“We uh, we’ve been talking about me coming out to visit her for a few weeks now,” Karen continued slowly, her focus shifting back and forth between himself and Foggy as she spoke. “I know we all have–have missed her, but I also know you guys are too busy here to just disappear on a trip to LA. But I was hoping that…you both wouldn’t mind if I took a few days? To go see her? Get away from the cold weather here for a bit and take a break from all the stress these past few months have brought me?”

“How long are you thinking?” Foggy asked.

“Like…four or five days?” Karen nervously answered. “Basically a week?”

Matt could hear the way Foggy’s attention shifted to him across the room, his eyebrows raising. But he also could hear the way his own heart was rapidly pounding in his chest. He tried hard not to think about you too much, though admittedly he failed often at that. You were almost a near constant thought on his mind unless he was buried in work or busy as the Devil late at night. 

He missed you. Every second of every day it felt like. He’d had absolutely no interest in trying to date since you’d left, always ridiculously hoping today would be the day you decided to come back to Hell’s Kitchen. But he knew you weren’t going to come back. From what he’d gathered from Karen and Foggy, you were enjoying the LA weather and your new job. You were doing good. And he was happy that you were, even if there was a sharp pain that physically shot through his chest whenever he thought about you. 

He hadn’t heard from you since you moved, either. Matt hadn’t known what to make of that. He’d sent you a text, not wanting to overstep his boundaries by calling you, but also not wanting to just let you go from his life. But you’d never reached out to him after that. Not in the five months since you’d been gone. You spoke to Karen and Foggy every day, though. He knew there was a group chat that you three were always texting in, but Matt wasn’t a part of it. He did his best to try and not let it bother him, but it did. Because he still wanted to be someone in your life, but he felt like he’d finally told you that he loved you only just to lose you completely. 

“What do you think, Matt?” Foggy asked, drawing him back to the moment. “I think we can manage a week without her, don’t you?”

Matt cleared his throat, thankful the glasses on his face were hiding the tears building in his eyes. He nodded quickly, his hands landing on his hips.

“Yeah, I think so,” he said, his voice off even to his own ears. “When were you thinking of going, though?”

“Next week?” Karen asked hopefully. 

“Oh,” Matt whispered.

“We should still be fine,” Foggy said quickly. “I don’t think this case will go on past this week, we’re nearing the end of it. So yeah, I say go have fun in LA. Say hi to our girl for us. Maybe even get her to do a video chat sometime because I haven’t seen her in forever and I miss her.”

Matt stood there, his fingers digging into his own hips uncomfortably. He missed the sound of your voice. Missed the scent of you. Missed the feel of you in his arms even if he could only ever seem to recall you crying in them lately.

“Yeah, we’ll–we’ll be fine,” Matt muttered, his mind still on thoughts of you.

“Okay, great!” Karen said, her tone bright as the nervous edge dissipated. “I have to run to my exam, but once I finish that I’m going to call her and get things figured out. Book a flight and all of that.”

“You deserve the time to relax!” Foggy told her. “You’ve been working your ass off!”

Matt was barely present as he wished Karen good luck and thanked her for lunch before she was leaving the office in an excited buzz. He longingly wished it was him getting to go see you in LA. He wished that you’d actually want him to come visit. He doubted you would.

The second Karen had left, Foggy hadn’t wasted a moment before going through the paper bag of food on her desk, digging out what Matt could easily tell was a meatball sub along with Matt’s usual turkey and avocado sandwich. Admittedly he didn’t have much of an appetite though, not after Karen had brought you up. 

“You’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?” Foggy asked, cutting through the silence that had fallen in Karen’s absence. “You’ve got that sad puppy look on your face.”

Matt quickly cleared his throat again, shaking his head as he reached out, accepting the sandwich Foggy had offered to him. 

“I do not have a sad puppy look,” he muttered.

“You do, but that’s not the point here,” Foggy countered. “Karen brought her up and now you’re thinking about her. It’s all over your face, Matt. You miss her.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Matt replied, turning and making his way back to his office.

“Yes it does!” Foggy snapped.

  Matt stopped mid-step at Foggy’s unexpected outburst. His hand tightened around the sandwich, his teeth grinding together. He could feel the burn of tears in his eyes but he fought them down. He didn’t want to have this conversation again with Foggy. He was tired of it.

“It doesn’t matter,” he repeated firmly. “We’ve been over this countless times, Fog. She made her choice. She knows how I feel and she’s never reached out to me. And she’s–she’s happy where she is now. So I’m happy for her. End of story.”

“ Call . Her ,” Foggy forcefully ordered.

Something snapped inside of Matt as he spun on his heel, a mixture of hurt and anger coursing through him. He focused on his best friend, his shoulders squared as the words flew from his lips.

“And tell her what , Fog?” Matt growled, voice low. “That I miss her? That I want her to come back to Hell’s Kitchen and be with me? That I fall asleep every night wishing she was there beside me instead of falling asleep in an empty bed night after night?” He took a step closer to Foggy, feeling the fight quickly falling out of his friend with the more he said. “Am I supposed to beg her, Fog? Guilt her? Pester her until she gives up what she wants? Is that what you want me to do?”

“No,” Foggy weakly replied, shaking his head. “No, Matt it’s not. But–”

Matt held up a hand, cutting his friend clean off. “No, Fog. She’s happy. She’s told you and Karen as much. And I–I love her,” he continued, the words coming out sounding as broken as Matt felt inside. “Which means I won’t ruin this for her. I’m not going to ask anything of her. She knows how I feel.”

“But what if she misses you, too?” Foggy questioned him earnestly. “What if she still loves you, Matt? What if she’s been in LA wondering why you haven’t reached out to her?”

“I reached out to her,” Matt countered. 

“You sent her a text, Matt,” Foggy pointed out flatly. “ One text. You’ve never even tried to call her.”

“She’s never tried to call me,” Matt shot back. “She never even responded to my text, Fog. I told her I have loved her for years and she left me. She left . I think she made it quite clear what she wants.”

Matt heard Foggy drop his sandwich onto Karen’s desk, his heavy footfalls hurriedly making their way over to him. He tracked Foggy’s movements with his head, surprise jolting through him when Foggy grabbed onto the lapels of his suit coat with both hands firmly.

“I want you to listen to me loud and clear, man, because I’m tired of saying this to you,” Foggy began. “She’s been in love you with you for years , Matt. That does not go away over a few weeks or months! Call her !”

Matt’s lips pressed into a thin line as he tried to control his emotions. His throat felt like it was closing up on him; the subject of you always had this effect on him, even before he'd known you’d felt the same way.

“What if–” he began, stopping when he struggled to get the words to come out. “What if she’s moved on with someone else, Fog? What if she doesn't want me? What if she doesn’t want to talk to me?”

Foggy lightly shook Matt by the lapels of his suit coat as if he was trying to shake some sense into him. Matt frowned at the gesture immediately, but that didn't deter Foggy’s enthusiasm.

“But what if she hasn’t moved on to someone else?” Foggy countered. “What if she does want to talk to you, Matt? What if she’s still in love with you?”

“But I’m never going to move to LA,” Matt reminded his friend. “And she’s happy there. How would anything even work between us? Because I will not ask her to choose me, Fog. You know I won’t.”

“Maybe she would choose you because she wants to, buddy,” Foggy told him gently. “Just–just give it some thought, okay? Don’t wait another almost seven years to actually try with her. Because you’ll never know what could’ve been if all you do is keep playing this game of what if’s, Matt.”

Foggy’s words settled in Matt’s mind, the weight of them too heavy to ignore. Matt still felt uncertain though, because surely if you wanted him in your life you’d have tried to keep him there, right? But you hadn’t tried at all. So what did that mean?

Nodding solemnly back at Foggy, Matt said, “I’ll think about it. But I don’t want to burst into her life and ruin what she already has going on. If she’s been trying to move past this–past me –it’s better if I leave her alone and let her.”

Turning back around, Matt quietly ducked his head and made his way back to his office. A myriad of what if’s were in fact running through his mind as he closed the door behind himself. But as he made his way over to his chair behind his desk, settling into it, there was one question that kept repeating louder than the others.

What if he was misreading you again?

[END NOTES]

Yes! More end notes! Those of you who follow me on AO3 know how much I love them 😅

We get BOTH point of views in this installment! It's been about four/five months now since Reader has moved to LA as we see here and she is certainly out trying to live her best life, but as probably expected, she hasn't forgotten about Matt entirely. While she's been out having fun and quite a few one-night stands, she's quickly realizing she wants something serious. The pointless sex isn't cutting it for her. And Matt is apparently in Hell's Kitchen pining over Reader while she's gone, too. But...neither of them are talking to each other. And both are seemingly a bit too stubborn or scared to reach out. Even if their friends are trying to knock some sense into them. But Karen is soon on her way to visit Reader in LA, so maybe her visit and a certain video chat will help get these two talking again?

The next installment for this series is just over half written already, but I still have no title for it yet. I'm not sure how soon I'll post it, but we are very much nearing the comfort and happy parts of this series! And smut. I did promise eventual smut for this one.