#matt murdock fem!reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

courtforshort15 · 2 years

Text

Choice and Chance and Promise

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem Reader

Word count: 7,300

Summary: You can't help the way you feel about one Matthew Murdock, though you've spent years wishing you could. It would probably have made things a little easier.

Trigger warnings: none. Slight angst (but not really) with a happy ending.

Masterlist

"I don’t think this is working out for me anymore.”

The words echo in your head as you say them, getting louder and louder each time it finds a wall, ledge or corner to bounce off of. The man across the table stiffens, and there’s a sharp intake of breath that causes his nostrils to flare.

“What?” His tone is one of utter disbelief, and honestly, you can’t blame him. It had seemingly come out of nowhere, though lunch had been awkward as all hell, at least from your perspective. Apparently he hadn’t felt the same.

You wince, shifting your eyes away from him, hating to see the pain that’s beginning to bloom across his face. You hate this part. “I said–”

“I know what you said,” he snaps, the red tint in his cheeks deepening. You don’t take the tone to heart, knowing he’s only reacting the way he is because he’s hurt. “I’m just confused.”

Taking a deep breath, you continue to steel yourself, feeling the way your spine has straightened as you force yourself to say what you need to say. It’s not that you don’t want to break up with him, it’s just that you’re awful at confrontation. “I just…don’t think this is working. I don’t know what else to say.”

“You could start by telling me why,” he says, and you watch as the pain slowly shifts into something that’s a little frustrated, a little angry. “I thought things were going well.”

“They were–”

“Then what’s going on?”

“--until they weren’t.”

His face hardens. “But why? I don’t get it.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and your thumb, briefly closing your eyes. You look back up at him, noting the way his knuckles have turned white around the plastic cup of soda he’s holding. “I’m just not into it anymore, I guess? I don’t know.”

He gives you an incredulous look. “Not into it anymore?”

“Yeah. I don’t think this is right for me.”

“You don’t think I’m right for you, is what you’re saying.” The look on his face is accusatory, but what he’s said is 100% correct.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying,” your voice is quiet as you respond, shrugging your shoulders. You look at the wall over his shoulder, reluctant to look at his face directly and see the pain that’s radiating off of him.

The man barks out a sarcastic laugh, and the sound echoes throughout the quiet restaurant. A few other patrons look up in curiosity before continuing on with their lunch. “This is great. Fantastic.”

You grimace, fingers playing with the hair tie that's wrapped around your wrist. You’re a fidgeter, you can’t help it, and this is something that’s turning your stomach. You hate being the bad guy, even though it’s completely unintentional and you’re only trying to do what’s best for you. You’re allowed to be selfish in that regard, right?

“I’m really sorry,” you mumble just loud enough for him to hear. The apology doesn’t help, but you don’t really expect it to.

“Did I do something? Say something wrong?”

“No, it’s not that,” you say as you shift in your seat awkwardly.

“Then what?”

Groaning, you toss your head back to stare at the ceiling. Breakups suck, and it doesn’t matter what side of the equation you’re on. “It just doesn’t feel right. I don’t know how to describe it.”

He’s not satisfied with the answers you’re giving him, if the look he’s giving you is anything to go by. “You’re not making any sense at all. Can’t we just talk about this?”

“We are talking about this.”

The man gives a frustrated sigh as he runs his fingers through his hair. “No, you’re breaking up with me. That’s not talking about it. You’re telling me we’re done without giving me the chance to change your mind, or see what’s fixable.”

“There’s nothing wrong, and there’s nothing that needs fixing. You’re a great guy, I just–”

“Are you seriously giving me the “it’s not you, it’s me” line?”

You cringe, cheeks flushing. “That’s not…Look, I’m really sorry, but this isn’t what I want anymore. You didn't do anything wrong, so please don’t think any of this is on you. Some people just aren’t good matches, you know?”

“I can’t believe this,” he seethes. A waitress comes up to presumably ask a question, but you shake your head before she can say anything, trying to indicate it’s best she stays away. With a nod, she walks over to another table instead. You turn to look back at the man across from you, watching as he just about glares at you.

“I’m sor–”

“Stop apologizing,” he bares his teeth as he hisses the words. “Just tell me why my girlfriend is up and leaving without a conversation about it.”

Your mouth drops in surprise. “Girlfriend?”

“Yes, girlfriend. We’ve been dating for three months, what else did you think you were?”

“Three months isn’t a lot of time,” you say weakly, faltering just slightly. “I guess I didn’t see myself as your…girlfriend.”

A brief look of hope crosses over his face suddenly and a bad feeling settles over you. “Is that…is that why you’re breaking up with me? Because you wanted to be serious and you thought I didn’t?”

Fucking hell. “No–”

“Because I promise you, I want to be serious. I’m serious about you.”

“That’s not–”

“I’m really sorry if you thought I didn’t want more, and if that made you feel like you needed to cut yourself off before you got too attached. I can totally understand that.”

You’ve reached your breaking point. “Enough. No. That’s not why. I didn’t think this was serious, and I don’t think I wanted it to be serious. I don’t want to be with you. Why can’t you just accept that?”

His face darkens again as his eyes narrow drastically. “You’re fucking someone else, aren’t you?”

You jerk back, surprised at the accusation. “What?”

“That’s it, right? You’re fucking someone else, and you don’t want me anymore.”

“That’s a hateful accusation,” you glare at him as your voice lowers. “We may not have been serious, but I wasn’t…sleeping around.”

“Right,” he scoffs. “Maybe you were or maybe you weren’t sleeping with someone else, who knows. Maybe you just have feelings for someone else.” The words are spat out at you as if having feelings for someone else is worse than fucking someone.

But this accusation coming from him is…not wrong.

Flashes of a man, a devastatingly beautiful man, flip through your mind, and it’s easy to allow the images flood your consciousness. His dark hair and the way it has a reddish tone when it catches the light just right. A wide smile, framed by dimples and laugh lines, full lips open to give you a dry comment or a quiet compliment. Calloused hands that still feel smooth wrapped around your elbow, broad shoulders that carry the weight of Hell’s Kitchen on them.

Him. It’s always been him.

And it’s taken way too long to figure it out, way too long to give it a chance, way too long to admit how you feel.

The man across from you utterly sneers as he correctly reads the emotions flitting across your face. “That’s bullshit. You’re breaking up with me for someone else.”

You hang your head in an act of shame. You really do feel awful about this, even if he’s currently being an asshole. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for things to end this way. I can’t…help how I feel about him.”

His lips curl in something that’s bordering on loathing. “And if you could? Would you want to change how you feel about him?”

For the first time since you’d sat down with him to end things, you look him straight in the eyes, with absolutely no hesitation in your mind. “No. I wouldn’t.”

A bitter laugh escapes him. “Right. Great. Guess I’ll be leaving then.” He stands up, his chair screeching across the tile of the restaurant floor. He angrily tosses a twenty down on the table to cover his meal.

You look up at him with wide eyes, still hating the way you’ve hurt him. He was a good guy, just…not the one for you. “It was…uh. It was nice knowing you, David. I hope you find what you’re–”

The man storms away and exits the restaurant door in a fit of fury before you even finish speaking.

—---

Hours later, you’re standing outside his run-down green door, take-out in one hand and a pack of disgusting German beer in the other, anxiously shifting from foot to foot.

It’s ridiculous, you know it is. You told him you were coming over, so you know he’s home. And you also know he’s likely tracked your movement from two blocks away minimum and is fully aware you’re standing outside his door.

Sure enough, before you can even knock, it’s being opened from the inside. Matt stands in his doorway in casual clothes, his favorite ratty t-shirt and gray sweatpants (yes, fucking gray sweatpants, holy hell), with a smile on his lips as he immediately beckons you inside.

“Hey,” he greets you as you cross the threshold into his apartment. He reaches out and wordlessly grabs the beer and take-out from you so that you can remove your jacket and scarf and place them on his coat rack. “You know, it’s usually customary to knock on one’s door when you’re ready to come inside.”

You smile at the simple way he teases you as the pair of you walk into his living room. Things have just always been easy, always been effortless between you two. “I think the key word is ready in this situation.”

“Oh?” He asks curiously while he immediately begins unpacking the food and placing it on his coffee table. He’s already set out plates and napkins to eat dinner with, and there’s a glass of water waiting for you, knowing you prefer it to the beer you’ve brought over for him. “What were you waiting on?”

Oh, just trying to figure out how not to fuck this up.

“Nothing, I was just thinking,” you say instead as you toe off your shoes and move to sit on the ground in front of the coffee table. Matt thinks it’s amusing when you sit on the ground instead of the couch to eat, but he’s always quick to join you anyway. It's therefore no surprise that once the food is properly laid out, he’s sitting across from you on the other side of the table, legs stretched out underneath.

His feet, like usual, are covered in fluffy socks that roll up over the bottom of his sweats, much to your ever-lasting amusement. It’s adorable, and the fact that he has no idea what it does to you is ridiculous.

God, this man.

“Thinking? What about?”

You. Always you.

“Things,” you shrug nonchalantly.

“Things,” he says dryly. He places a large serving of your favorite dish onto a plate before he hands it to you. You’ve known each other long enough, been friends long enough, that he knows what you’re going to eat before you even say anything, always correctly anticipating what you’re hungry for. You take it from him with a grateful smile.

“Yes, things.”

He raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything. It’s generally not like you to be vague, but he’s never been one to push. He knows you’ll tell him when or if you’re ready, because you always do. He’s the one person you tell everything to.

“Well, let me know if you need to talk about anything, okay?”

You smile, and the expression is genuinely open and happy. It’s an expression that is on your face more often than not when you’re around him.

Matt tilts his head towards yours, beautiful brown eyes that sometimes look hazel in the light aimed in your general direction, as if he can see the way you’re looking at him. Your heart is pounding in your ears, but in a way that you hope suggests excitement for your favorite take-out place rather than anxiety. He smiles softly, and you know he’s listening in.

You suppose people could find it intrusive, the way he’s able to know more about their bodies than they do. But to you, Matt’s only ever used his abilities to seek the truth and hold people accountable for their actions, regardless of the setting.

With a dorky grin still on your face, you find yourself digging into dinner, suddenly starving, realizing you hadn’t been able to eat much at today, both because David had taken you to a place he knew you hated for lunch, and because your stomach had been twisted into knots as you paced back and forth in your living room, trying to find the right words to say to the man in front of you.

“How’s that case coming?” you ask him, eyeing the sheets of paper spread gathered in a pile and his laptop on his kitchen table. It must have been one of the days he chose to work from home, if the mess is anything to go by.

Matt lifts a shoulder in response as he shoves another bite into his mouth and swallows. You eye the way his cherry, bow-strung lips wrap themselves around his fork. “It’s a bit of a beast, to be honest. No concrete alibi, a witness that places our client at the location of the crime within a few hours of it happening. But Foggy thinks he’s got a lead, so we’re hoping something comes through.”

“But you don’t necessarily have to have great leads, right? As long as you can discredit the prosecution’s?”

Matt looks so downright happy that your heart flutters in your chest. He sends you a teasing smile. “Yeah, that’s right. Look at you, it seems you do occasionally listen when I’m talking.”

“I guess I just like the sound of your voice,” you tell him sarcastically. Matt throws back his head and laughs as you chuck back the line you know he’s used on women before, yourself included.

“I’m blind,” he says when he’s done laughing. He takes another bite, and again you find yourself distracted by the movement. “It is fully within my right to use that line.”

“If you used it as a genuine compliment rather than a line to seduce women, I might be able to excuse it.”

He drops his mouth in mock upset. “Why can’t it be both?”

You snicker before taking another bite. “I’ve known you for years, Matt. If it was a genuine compliment, you’d say it to women you weren’t trying to hook up with.”

“That’s…fair.”

You laugh again. “I’ve known you for too long, Matt. I’ve figured out most of your secrets.”

“I highly doubt that,” he says with a grin, blank eyes aimed over your shoulder. “We wouldn’t be friends if you did.”

Your eyebrows raise as you consider him. “Is that so?”

His laugh is almost self deprecating, and it causes your lips to twist into a small frown. “No one wants to be inside my head. I don’t even want to be inside it.”

“And if I did?”

His expression is curious, his head tilted as he observes you in the way that is uniquely him. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Maybe I just want to know more about you,” you shrug your shoulders. You take a large sip of your water, lips curling briefly in disgust as he does the same with his beer. His beer of choice is revolting, and you’ve never been able to tell if he actually likes it, or if it’s because he thinks he deserves the worst in all things, even his alcohol. “We’ve been friends for a while, haven’t we? Sometimes I can tell you want to let things slip, but you always hold back.”

“It’s been a rough road,” he says in response, letting out a sigh as he shakes his head. You grimace, knowing just how rough the road has been, having met him at a low point in his life. But even at his worst, he managed to draw you in like a moth to the flame. “It wasn’t pretty. Not sure that’s something you want to hear about, sweetheart.”

His name for you rolls off his tongue easily, which is no surprise since he’s been calling you that ever since it randomly slipped out at a drunken night at Josie’s. You’ve worked hard over the years to not react to it in a way that wasn’t strictly friendly, but tonight you…can’t help it. The word runs through your veins before it settles in your heart, and you find yourself flushing.

Matt pauses, his next bite of food sitting on his fork halfway to his mouth. The tilt of his head indicates he’s picked up on the way your heart has briefly stuttered. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say, attempting to brush it off and not give yourself away so soon. You’ve planned out what you want to say tonight, and you’re…not quite ready to go there. You need to ease into it, prepare yourself for the possibility that he might not feel the same way, because there is still a very real chance that this will all blow up in your face.

“You sure?”

You smile softly, his quiet concern washing over you like a gentle breeze on a warm spring day. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

There’s a quiet lull in the conversation as you focus on the food in front of you, and the silence is a comfortable one. You watch as he takes another bite, eyeing the way he never spills a single piece of his food with a small sense of envy. You, on the other hand, cause a mess all over your own t-shirt with every meal, and tonight is no exception. You wet a napkin with your water and try to get rid of the stain that’s forming, though you know it’s not going to do much.

“What were you up to today?” His voice snaps you out of your head, the question popping up out of the blue after he takes another swig of his god awful beer. “Didn’t you take the day off? Karen said she called you earlier to ask if you wanted to grab coffee, but that you said you were out of the office today.”

“Uh, yeah,” you say as you push your plate away from you, having finished with dinner. Matt does the same after funneling in one last bite. Over the years, your work has sometimes overlapped with the practice of Nelson, Murdock & Page, so it’s not unusual for Karen to call you up for coffee breaks or lunch dates.“I took some time just to decompress for a bit.”

“Just for fun?”

You shift in your seat awkwardly before you choose to stand up to grab your dishes from his coffee table, intending to help clean up. Matt stands up quickly and waves your hand away, picking them up instead, along with the extra food neither one of you had eaten. He walks them over to the kitchen and places them into his sink with a clank.

“No, not really,” you tell him honestly after a moment. Your mind quickly shuffles through the best way to broach the topic. “I uh…I had lunch with David earlier.”

The entire line of Matt’s body goes stiff, and you watch as every inch of him stops moving in front of you from where he’s standing in front of the facet. He’s quiet for a moment, and it looks like a war is taking place inside his head as he frowns. He lets out a loud breath, and it strikes you that he looks like he’s trying to shake himself out of it, but failing.

“That’s…nice,” he says, and the words sound incredibly tense and forced. “I hope he’s doing well.”

You grimace at the reminder of David’s angry face, twiddling your thumbs as you stand awkwardly in his living room. “I don’t think he’s doing especially well right now.”

Matt grabs a few tupperware containers from under his kitchen sink and begins shoveling leftovers into them, his face carefully blank. “That’s a shame. Is everything okay?”

“Okay with me? Or okay with him?”

Matt’s head tilts at the question. “Both? Mostly you, though. Are you okay?”

“I mean…yeah,” you say, realizing it’s the absolute truth as a small smile appears across your face. Matt nods to himself, snapping the lid of a container shut, and if he uses a little more force than usual, neither one of you acknowledges it.

“That’s good,” he mumbles just loudly enough for you to hear from across the room. You watch as he walks over and places the leftovers in his fridge. “Good. I’m glad everything is good.”

“It is good,” you repeat, and your smile widens hesitantly, despite your nerves. “We went to that Mexican restaurant on 51st.”

Matt pauses and tilts his head towards you, looking confused. “You hate that place.”

You let out a laugh. “I absolutely detest it, actually. It’s not authentic at all, and the rice and beans are awful.”

“Why would you go there then?” The look on his face tells you that he thinks the concept is absolutely ridiculous.

You shrug your shoulders lightly as you make your way closer to his dining table, fingers running over the paper he has piled up, tracing lightly over the bumps. “David wanted to go there.”

Matt’s face returns to a look that is forcibly blank as he turns on the water and begins washing the dishes. “Does he know you don’t like it?”

“He was hoping I’d change my mind. He uh…didn’t always care too much about the places I liked going to.”

“Right,” he mutters, almost too quiet for you to hear as he begins scrubbing furiously. You find yourself almost feeling bad for the poor sponge. “That’s kind of him, always taking you to places he knows you don’t like.”

Your eyebrows raise at the borderline hostility towards a man who’s not even in the room. “It’s okay, Matt,” you say, watching the way his face has screwed up slightly in frustration. “It’s not a big deal.”

“You’d think your boyfriend would at least try to find places to go to that you both like, instead of just choosing what works for him.”

You don’t disagree with him, mostly because it was something you’d picked up early on with David anyway, but the sentence still makes you frown. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“You’ve been dating for a few months though, right?”

You open your mouth to respond.“Well yes–”

“Then even if you haven’t made things official, he still should make more of an effort to keep you in mind when making plans.”

“Matt–”

His voice has grown louder, and it’s almost alarming, the way he’s reacting right now. “It’s kind of inconsiderate, actually. He should–”

“I broke up with him.”

Matt freezes, every inch of him momentarily coming to a screeching halt, the dish towel still in his hands. He frowns, appearing extremely bewildered, and you don’t necessarily blame him, not with the words you let slip past your lips in an effort to stop his tangent. He looks briefly like the wind has been knocked out of his sails before he recovers. “Why would you do that?”

You shrug, observing him as he slowly places the dish towel on the counter. “It didn’t feel right with him.”

“It didn’t feel right with him?” He repeats almost flatly. You nod, biting your bottom lip. He takes a deep breath and leans back against the counter, fully facing you now. “Well, it’s…good you figured that out, right? No one deserves to be led on.”

“That’s right,” you whisper, and you’re almost taken aback by the sadness that flashes across his face.

Does he not–

He’s still frowning, his lips tugged down on the corners of his mouth. “Are you sure you’re okay? Shouldn’t you–”

“Matt,” you sigh as you take another few steps forward into the kitchen, effectively cutting him off. Matt looks like he can’t tell if he should stay still or bolt at the sudden movement. “I broke up with the guy I was seeing, and the only thing I’ve wanted to do was come here.”

He licks his lips nervously, and the motion draws your eyes to his mouth, a mouth you’ve thought about more times than you want to admit. “I’m…I’m not sure what to say to that.”

You smile sadly, quickly coming to the realization this isn’t the way you pictured this conversation going. “You don’t really need to say anything. I just…thought you should know.”

“But why did you think I should know?”

You shuffle your feet, and you know you’re quickly losing your nerve as your heart settles in your stomach, a heavy wrecking ball ready to destroy whatever you had come over here to say. “Because we’re friends. Right?”

Matt almost flinches, his body practically deflating in front of you. “Right. Friends. This is totally something you talk about with friends.” The man shudders in front of you and closes his eyes, head turning away from you. He’s silent, and the longer he doesn’t say anything, the more uneasy you get.

Had you…read this wrong?

Years of warm, flirty comments. Years of late night take out. Years of bright smiles and impromptu sleepovers when he’s too tired to leave your couch after you’ve patched him up. Years of random coffee meet-ups and hugs that lasted longer than they did with Karen and Foggy. Years of Saturday morning walks through Central Park and dry, sarcastic comments thrown at each other like confetti.

Years of feeling like something was always lurking beneath the surface, but never quite knowing, never quite believing what it was or could be.

You honestly don’t know why it’s taken you so long to get to this point in your life. Matt was a man you once upon a time had a crush on, before his apparent lack of interest forced you to shove those feelings aside. It was more than enough, you’ve told yourself over the years, to just be his friend, and so eventually, you dropped it.

Until one day…a side comment from Karen caught your ear and everything simply slid into place.

A side comment that suggested that just perhaps…he felt the same way, too.

But maybe, thinking back on it, Karen had been wrong. She was drunk when she slurred it to you three weeks ago at happy hour, so perhaps listening to her wasn’t the best idea. Maybe she saw something that wasn’t there. Maybe she simply hoped for her best friends to be happy, and made up a story in her head and nonchalantly passed it along to you.

You shift on your feet in mild distress, and take a small step back, unconsciously trying to separate yourself from the pain and panic that is suddenly rippling through you. You haven’t even really said anything to him about your feelings yet, and things are already crashing and burning around you. “I’m sorry that this kinda…came out of nowhere, I guess,” you laugh humorlessly.

His face snaps back to yours. “What came out of nowhere?”

“Just…nothing.” The words come out as a quiet sigh and your eyes drift over to the billboard that flashes outside his living room window, unable to look at him anymore. The display shifts through multiple colors on repeat, and while you’ve always been comforted by the light it offers Matt’s often dark apartment, today you feel like the cheery image on the screen is mocking you.

“No, tell me,” you hear him insist. His voice is laced with something you can’t quite put a finger on, but you shove it aside.

Running your hand through your hair, a bitter laugh makes its way out of your mouth. “Me, coming over here to tell you I’d broken things off with David. I thought…well I don’t know what I thought, actually.”

“You’re lying,” he accuses, and out of the corner of your eye, you watch him cross his arms across his chest. You know it’s a habit he has when he feels flustered or when he’s unconsciously trying to shut someone out, a barrier between someone else and whatever he’s feeling. The motion causes you to flinch.

You shrug your shoulders in an attempt to make your voice sound as blank as possible. “I’m really not.”

The man doesn’t let up, his voice growing louder with each word that comes out of his mouth. “You came over here to say something specific, didn’t you?”

Your eyes shift back to him. “No, I just–”

“Did you forget that I can tell when you’re lying?” Matt’s beginning to look borderline frustrated, and you wince at the way his voice has shifted. It’s rare that he uses that tone on you, usually reserving it for when he’s upset about a case he’s working on, or someone who’s stirring up trouble on the streets.

You shake your head, and you feel a traitorous flash of heat on your cheeks. This is embarrassing. Why did you think a man like this could possibly feel the same? “I’m not trying to lie, I just realized that maybe I was wrong about something and that I should probably just go home.”

You move to turn on your heel and leave the kitchen, but hands wrap themselves around your upper arms before you can move more than a few inches. He pulls you in further until you can almost feel the heat of him against you, and you shift your eyes back away from him, struggling to think with him so close.

“Don’t leave. I’m…I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on with you. You’re acting strange,” he says as he continues to hold your arms, though his hands are exceedingly gentle like always. You try to wiggle away, but he doesn’t let go.

“I’m fine, I think I’m just tired.”

He shakes his head, his face still a mix of upset and concern, his voice lowering to almost a growl. “Am I really going to have to pry it out of you?”

“Matt–”

“Just tell me.”

You blurt it out before you can stop yourself, the words tearing themselves out of your lips. “I came over here to tell you that I have feelings for you.”

He stills against you, his sightless eyes going wide, his mouth opening in shock. You hear his breath catch, no doubt surprised beyond belief. “What?”

You bow your head in something neighboring shame.

“Yeah,” you mumble under your breath. He’s silent, his face still a combination of frustration and surprise, and you decide his processing of the new information isn’t something you want to be around for. “I think I should go home.”

He seems to snap out of a haze, and his hands tighten around your arms when you try to pull away again. “You can’t just say something like that and then leave. I can tell there’s more that you want to say, so just say it.”

You’re suddenly exhausted, energy leaching from your pores. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”

“No,” is all he says, jaw tight, locked and ready to latch on to anything that might pour out of your mouth.

“Right,” you mutter under your breath. Your eyes drift away from him again, suddenly desperate to separate yourself from him as much as possible. “I think I’ve always felt this way. I, uh…it’s stupid really, but I–”

“Then why now?” He demands, though the tone isn’t as harsh as you would have suspected of someone who had just had their whole world rocked. “Why are you saying this now?”

Your eyes well at the question, and it takes every inch of you to not let a single tear fall, devastation beginning to settle in like an unwanted freeze in the middle of spring, unknowingly killing all the plants and flowers that have already been so lovingly attended to.

“Karen said something a few weeks ago, something about you maybe feeling the same way, and I knew I needed to at least try to say something. And I also knew that I couldn’t have anything going on with David if there was any chance that you had feelings for me, too.”

Head hung in misery, you try again to pull away as he still doesn’t say anything. “I hope…I hope that this hasn’t ruined anything between us. We can still be friends, right? This doesn’t have to change anything, if we don’t want it to. It’s seriously okay that you don’t feel the same–”

“I do.”

Every cell freezes in your body and your heart stutters to a stop. Your eyes lift to look at him, taking in the way he seems as equally as terrified as you felt when your own words ripped out of your head and into an actual confession. “What did you–”

He licks his lips again, but his face suddenly morphs into something more focused, something more sharp and heated and purposeful. “You heard me.”

“You feel–”

“Yes.” The way he’s still holding you suggests that he’s reluctant to pull away from you more than a centimeter. It’s shifted from something that merely kept you close to him because he didn’t want you to leave, to something that seems more intentional, more determined to keep you near for the sole sake of just holding you. “I feel the same way.”

“For how lo–”

His eyes land somewhere on your cheek. “A while. Years.”

Your heart thunders in your chest, the sound of it in your ears almost as deafening as standing next to a waterfall. “Why…why didn’t you ever say anything?” You ask quietly once you’ve caught your breath, your eyes flitting across his face as he suddenly reaches up to brush your hair behind your ear.

“I was not in a good place when we met,” he whispers, and you wince, because he was right. He hadn’t been. “It took me a while to put myself together, after everything that happened with Midland Circle and Elektra. And by the time I realized how I felt, by the time I felt like I could maybe be a person at least somewhat deserving of you, you had met Brad.”

Brad. An ex-boyfriend you had dated for about a year. Nice guy. Boring, but nice. He treated you well, at least, and you hadn’t necessarily been unhappy with him.

It’s just that…you had used him as a distraction from your feelings for Matt, if you were being honest with yourself. Not exactly a kind thing to do to someone you knew had genuine feelings towards you, but it worked enough that you were able to shove things aside and convince yourself you were over Matt.

As if I could ever be fully over Matt Murdock.

“I told myself you deserved to be with someone who was whole. Someone who could spend every evening with you. Someone who could invite you to dinner with his family, someone who could give you a stable, simple life. Things I knew I couldn’t give you.”

You frown at the words pouring out of his mouth. “But I…that was a few years ago, Matt. You could have said—”

He interrupts you gently with a calloused finger over your lips. “You’re right, I could have. But just because you weren’t seeing Brad anymore, didn’t mean I didn’t want those things for you. Even if you were single, I couldn’t bring myself to take those things away from you.”

“And…and if I didn’t care about all of those things, as long as I had you?”

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “There are still some things I’m not sure that I can give you. Some things that–”

You open your mouth to object before he even finishes his sentence. “Those things don’t matter to me.”

He looks extremely pained as he finally releases your arms, and you mourn the loss of contact. He takes a small step back, and this time it’s you who chases him, your feet bringing you right in front of him again, unwilling to allow for any sort of distance. “You say that now, but–”

“We’ve been friends for years, Matt,” you tell him, denying him the chance to argue his way out of this. “If I didn’t want to be in your life, I would have left a long time ago.”

His smile is wry. “Friendships are different from relationships.”

“I know that,” you tell him honestly and without hesitation, because you do know that. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a wonderful man who deserves happiness just as much as everyone else.”

His laugh is almost bitter. “I’m not so sure–”

“You don’t have to be, because I am.”

“You can’t possibly–”

You cut him off again. “You deserve all things that are good and wonderful and gentle. You deserve someone who is there for you, no matter what. You deserve love.”

He finally pauses, taking a breath that rapidly expands his chest before he lets it out, the air shuddering as it leaves his lips. His hand is shaking lightly, when it slowly reaches out to settle itself on your cheek. His eyes flutter shut, and he looks like he’s so hesitant, so afraid of whatever you’ll say in response to his next question. “And you…you want to be that person?”

Your answer is simple, and it requires no thought. It’s as if the words have spent the last few years laying dormant underneath your tongue. “I do, if you want me to be.”

He still looks extremely doubtful as he speaks, as if he’s nervous you’ll be scared off, or take the words back. You’ve come too far to ever let anything this man throws at you to chase you away.

“You understand that I can’t promise you all the things you might want?” He begins, eyes shutting again as he all but tears himself apart in front of you, exposing all the muscle and blood underneath his scarred flesh, and you watch as the dark of his eyelashes settle against his fair skin. “I can’t promise I’ll be home every night to fall asleep with you, I can’t promise I won’t try to push you away sometimes, I can’t promise that I’ll ever want kids, given the life I lead.”

You grab the hand that’s not resting on your cheek and place it directly over your heart, the muscle pounding underneath the flesh and bone that’s keeping you together despite your nerves. “I don’t care what our life looks like, as long as it's you next to me, every step of the way.”

He’s quiet for a moment, before his eyelids flutter open, letting his brown eyes fall where they may. “Are you sure, sweetheart?”

“Was I lying, Matt?”

You watch as he takes a deep breath, his head jerking side to side. “If this…” he trails off, head still tilted towards yours as he licks his lips. “If you’re…there’s still tons of things going through my mind right now, most of them not good, and I need to hear you say it. I won’t believe it until I hear you say it.”

You already know what he’s asking before he finishes speaking, and the words come to your lips without thought, without hesitation. “I love you.”

Despite all the fear and pain and panic that you’ve felt at the thought of him not feeling the same way for you, the three-word sentence is the easiest thing you’ve ever said to him in the years that you’ve been friends. It feels like the words were always meant to come out of your mouth, always meant to wrap him up in you until there’s no space left between your skin and his.

He sighs, and this time it sounds content, happy almost. He takes a small step towards you, eliminating most of the remaining distance between you, and lowers his forehead to yours.

The hand on your cheek lowers slightly so that he can run a calloused finger over your bottom lip. “Can I…can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

He uses both of his hands to cradle your face gently, keeping you locked into place as he presses his lips against yours, at first almost shyly, and then with more pressure. There’s not a single question or thought in your head as you respond, mouth opening under his, parting to allow him to pour all of his unspoken words into your body. Soft lips. Heated cheeks. Stubble rubbing your face. Firm body pressed against yours. Your own hands slide against his waist as you anchor yourself against him, and he takes the opportunity to press more fully against you.

The kiss, even while it remains soft, is as heated as the flush that is spreading through your skin like wildfire, your blood burning as it pushes through your veins.

Matt pulls away reluctantly, panting against you. “I love you, too,” he says quietly, reverently. “In case I didn’t make that clear.” It’s the first time you’ve ever believed a man when those words have been said to you, but maybe it’s because you’ve always been waiting for him to say them.

With a small smile, you bring his mouth back down to yours, eager to feel his lips pressed against yours again. His hands move from your face, one sliding into your hair, the other to your hip as if to steady him. He steps forward, pushing you into the counter behind you, before lifting you and placing you on top of it.

He spreads your legs immediately and steps in between them, still appearing desperate to press every inch of your body into his, as if he’s nervous you’ll slip through his fingers if he’s not holding you to him tightly enough. His entire torso is burning against you through his shirt and your own, and you can’t help but wonder if you’ll catch on fire the second his skin is on yours.

You feel him smile against your lips, and it doesn’t drop as he leans back and places another light kiss on your forehead. “It really took Karen saying something for you to realize that this could be…more?”

You snort, because of all things that could come out of his mouth after kissing you breathless, mentioning another woman was the last thing you could have imagined. “That woman could run the world with her hands tied behind her back if she wanted to.”

“I’m not going to disagree with you there,” he says with a laugh, gentle hand running through your hair again. “But was that seriously the tipping point?”

You blush and divert your eyes from his face. “I thought there was no way someone like you could ever feel that way about me, so I buried it,” you admit, hands fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. “And I guess it took Karen saying something offhandedly for me to realize I had never actually moved on. It took her pointing out that I just might have a chance. So…I’m sorry. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”

He shakes his head silently before pressing a brief kiss on your mouth. You lean in, but he pulls away with a small smile. “Don’t be sorry. Not for this. Maybe…maybe things had to go this way, you know? And we’re here now, aren’t we?”

Your voice is shaking when you reply. “We’re here now.”

“And I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers as he lowers his mouth back down to yours. You watch as his dark eyes land somewhere on your cheek, the gaze heated. “Things won’t be easy for us, but I promise that loving you will be the most important thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I promise.”

#matt murdock #human disaster matt murdock #marvel #reader fanfiction #matt murdock fem!reader #daredevil x female reader #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock reader insert #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

bellaxgiornata · 1 year

Text

Bella's Masterlist of Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Michael Kinsella, & Daryl Dixon Series & One Shots

I am currently working on multiple series and fics for Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Michael Kinsella, and Daryl Dixon. I've updated my Masterlist so that each link will bring you to a separate, organized Masterlist for each specific character because there are just so many now! There's also some "bonus" characters I write for listed at the bottom of this Masterlist (Henry from Eat Locals, Owen Sleater in the future maybe). Always feel free to chat with me about any of the fics or characters I'm writing for. Y'all know I'm chatty!

I post new fics/updates multiple times a week and all of my stories are available fully on tumblr and AO3. If you'd like information on my tag lists you can find that here.

Masterlist of Matt Murdock Fics and Series

Masterlist of Frank Castle Fics and Series

Masterlist of Michael Kinsella Fics and Series

Masterlist of Daryl Dixon Fics

Additional Characters:

Henry x Fem!Werewolf!Reader Mini Series

Forbidden Love [Installment List]

Pairing: Vampire Henry x Fem!Werewolf!Reader

Warnings/tags: Smut, blood, biting (I mean...that's a given), bit of enemies to lovers, maybe some angst and fluff

After awhile you'd grown used to the vampire who often lurked around the woods you hunted in. Though that didn't mean his irritating presence didn't bother you, or that you didn't wonder why he often seemed to be waiting for you–especially since your kinds weren't meant to intermingle.

733 notes · View notes

lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 1 year

Text

THE DEVIL I KNOW- M. MURDOCK

Pairing: Ex- Boyfriend! Matt x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: you and matt had broken up months ago, but somehow you end up back in his bed over and over again. he knows you better than anyone else, and you can't deny the feelings you still have towards him, so why not end up in the sheets again?

Warnings: SMUT, praise kink, degradation kink, mocking, pussy slapping, teasing, swearing, a lill dumbification kink, smoking, mentions of choking, enemies to lovers<3

“i’m okay with history repeating- tell me i’m the one you can’t forget. back in hell at least i’m comfortable, need your body when my fires cold. hand to heart i’m gonna stay faithful to the devil i know...”- the devil i know, suki waterhouse

You hated the city.

The atmosphere seemed to choke you here, filling your stomach with a pit of dread and anxiety. The air had an almost rotten, dirty feeling to it, something that made your skin itch as it wrapped around your skin.

It wasn't always like this, this feeling you got whenever you traveled to Hell’s Kitchen.

There was once a time where the familiar streets and back allies brought you a sense of comfort, where you could pick out scents like fresh bread on 5th Street instead of the fumes, or hear the birds chirp in the park instead of the car's constant honking.

But that time was long gone, as the man who had brought the city to life had disappeared. He had been gone, for quite some time now.

Hell’s Kitchen was Matt Murdock's home. The one place he cherished with his heart and soul, the one thing he could always rely on when things became tough. New York reflected him, and every single time your heels clicked on the sidewalk, you thought of him.

The flowers he gave you time and time again, from the florist you adored so much. Always recommending his favorite books after reading them in braille, taking you to an antique bookstore on the corner so you could pick it out and he could hold you from behind, leaning down to kiss and nibble on your neck.

You missed him, and the relationship the two of you had so long ago.

But it was an end of a chapter, the feeling of the chill, crisp rainfall on your figure still haunting your memory as the two of you parted ways on that crosswalk.

You had walked on it now head held high as you stepped across the painted lines, the people around you going on their way, to their own little life you knew nothing about. As they knew nothing of yours, how the thoughts of Matt plagued you as your head hit the pillow each night, how good he made you feel, how much you missed his touch.

It was sickening.

The thoughts came more and more frequent as each hour ticked by, and you were anxious to finish this business trip, once and for all. It seemed your boss hated you, always sending you to Hell’s Kitchen for tasks that were associated with Matt's law firm, instead of anyone else.

It's because you're the best candidate, Miss. Y/L/N. Stay professional. She had said after you had confessed the tension that was so thick you could cut it with a butterknife whenever you saw Matt.

You didn't tell her you didn't want to go because you knew you could end up in his bed again.

Like last time. And the time before that.

The trips were becoming less and less frequent, which you were thankful for- time spent away from the scent of Matt’s sheets, patchioni and sex, was good for you. It gave you time to “move on” whatever that meant in your sense.

But here you were once again, fist tightening around the briefcase handle as you allowed the wave of people to walk around you as you stared up at the doorway to his office.

You closed your eyes, taking one deep breath- then another.

You could do this. You had to do this.

Not just for the paycheque, but for a sense of clarity as well. So you could go to sleep at night peacefully, knowing you had faced your ex-boyfriend and didn't end up sprawled across his bed, gripping the sheets with your ass up in the air as he pounded ruthlessly into you.

You had to get over him.

Once the final breath had escaped you, you walked up the steps, hand twisting the door handle. The old wood creaked as you popped your head in, the front entrance empty.

You tried to hide the relief that flared up inside you as you slipped in, shutting the door softly behind you. You knew their office was on the third floor, and due to the old building- you’d have to take the stairs. Which was fine with you of course- it gave you more time to walk through how’d you react to his presence in your mind.

So as you took your first step on the chestnut, you mapped it all out in your head to the rhythm of your heels clicking. You’d see him, obviously. But you would look right through him.

You’d be formal and polite, as you had no bad blood towards him, and this was a business meeting after all. He would nod, walking off to his office, expecting you to follow. And then once the door was shut, and blinds were closed- when the two of you were in private he would throw you against the wall… hand wrapping around your throat ever so slightly…

No! God no Y/N stop. Stop, stop, stop. you yelled at yourself internally, shaking your head as if that would shake the dirty thoughts out.

The last visit was the last time. It had to be, for your own sake.

Before you knew it, you had reached his floor, the office plaque placed outside the front door. Nelson and Murdock, it read, the grooves of the letters smooth as you brushed your fingers across the metal.

You were stalling, and you knew it.

Your rings grazed against the door as you knocked, feeling sweat seep out slightly from your pores. This was a lot more nerve-racking than you remembered. The familiar feeling of butterflies filled in your stomach, accept these weren't “butterflies”. They were hungry wasps, swarming your organs and stinging them, suffocating your lungs so you could barely breathe as you waited.

“Come in!” a sweet voice called out, unknown to you. You frowned, confused as you pushed open the door. A woman sat behind a desk, her long blonde hair draped across her one shoulder as she clacked away on her laptop.

You took in her slightly messy desk, a few pens out of their holder, the odd paper scattered by the somewhat wilting plant. She smiled at you, blue eyes bright as you made your way over.

“Hi! You must be Y/N!” the lady quipped, sitting up quickly to extend her hand.

“Hi, yes, yes that's me. And you are..?”

“Karen Page. I'm new here, Matt and Foggy’s secretary.” she exclaimed, and you shoke her hand firmly. You couldn't help but smile, she seemed to have an enticing energy to her- making you feel comfortable and warm.

“Well it is very nice to meet you Karen.”

Suddenly, the door from the right swung open, and a familiar face peering over at you. “It’s you!” he called, and you felt your jaw drop.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“How have you been?” Foggy asked, a smile permanently etched on his face as he looked at you, fingers running through the silky strands of blonde.

“Good, good! Where’s um… where’s Matt?” you wondering, trying to make the question sound casual despite the severity behind it, your hands twisting together under the desk.

“Oh, he's found himself in a courtroom again. He won't be joining us.” he replied, shuffling papers around as he attempted to find the files the two of you needed to discuss today.

You couldn't help but feel the balloon pop in your chest, releasing all the air back into your lungs.

This was good. This was so good.

No worrying about him hearing your heartbeat skip beats when he was in the room, no watching him smirk childishly as you'd cross your legs together. Now it was just managing to get out of the city without him finding out.

“Of course he is.” you joked, feeling the heat leave your cheeks as they returned to their normal temperature. Hands were smacked on the table, making you jump slightly as Foggy stood.

“Well, shall we get started?”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The air was chill and crisp as you walked on the sidewalk again, the cab dropping you off a few feet away. You watched as it speed back off into traffic, leaving you in the dust.

The wind blew, making you shiver as you hugged your coat tighter around yourself, snuggling your face into your maroon scarf. You surveyed the area, taking note of the lack of people around at this hour.

It was quiet here, whenever the clock rolled around eleven. The odd person would have a smoke in hand, longed out on the steps leading up to their building, or a curtain was being yanked shut from above.

It was a good neighborhood, this area.You had never had any troubles with it.

But yet, you still felt a twinge of anxiety as you walked around the corner.

You were on Matt’s street.

His apartment, beautifully crafted with it’s large windows and almost vintage feel was a few feet away, and you couldn't help but stop and waver. You couldn't continue on. This felt wrong, walking by but not seeing him.

But at the same time, wasn't this the whole point of coming down here? To prove to yourself, hey, I can do this. I can walk by that stupidly beautiful, smart-assed catholic's house, and not feel the pull to go inside and curl up in his arms again.

And yet, the idea of walking by the front steps made you feel queasy, made your stomach turn over on itself. You were stuck, a rope in a game of tug of war as you were pulled between two sides.

Before you could make a decision, you heard your phone ring. Digging through your pockets, your chilled fingers gripped around the phone, your heart seeming to sneak up and lodge itself in your esophagus as the caller ID showed.

Matt Murdock. Your eyes widened, and you gripped the device tighter as you were torn between answering.

Speak of the devil.

It was like he had crawled up into your brain, sensed you were thinking of him (again), and decided to make himself known. Before you could rationally talk yourself out of it, you answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi sweetheart.” his smooth voice sounded from the phone, silky and sweet as oozing honey.

You felt yourself fold.

“Matthew.To what do I owe the pleasure?” You heard him chuckle lightly, and you could visibly see the little smile blooming across his face. “A little birdy told me you were in town today.” he teased lightly, and you sighed.

Of course, he knew. You were stupid to think he wouldn't find out. That man could find out anything.

“Did that bird have blonde hair, the worst dad jokes I’ve ever heard and chocolate brown eyes I find myself getting lost in?” you asked, making Matt laugh.

“Perhaps. Where are you right now, sweetheart?”

You considered lying. Saying you were in your hotel room, deep under the sheets in your pajamas, not willing to leave the warmth of your bed. But even that wouldn't work, as your hotel was near his apartment anyways.

“I’m um, I’m on your street.”

Silence.

You heard the whoosh of his breath, and you swore he could hear the increasing, steady rhythm of your heartbeat from down here.

“The doors unlocked.” was all he said, the line going dead.

You held the phone up to your ear still, listening to the dial tone before slowly bringing it down, your mind in a different place. It was happening again. This buzzing, static in your mind. Where your limbs seemed controlled by strings, you were a marionette as you removed yourself from the spot your roots had been planted.

With each step your chest felt more and more hollow, and you hated yourself for going through with this.

But he invited you.

It was rude not to just show up, to ignore him, and go on with your night. Though he would still be there even if you left him in the dirt, because you'd be thinking of the what ifs.

Heat blasted on your body as you entered his building, and you were thankful to escape the cold air of the night. There was no doorman to greet, so you gravitated towards the steps, making the trudge up.

You debated stopping many times, to just sit and cry and regret every decision with this man you had ever made.

Why did the two of you end things? Why couldn't the two of you worked it out? Why was he being so distant all the time, but suddenly needed you whenever you were in a close proximity?

It made you feel sick, all the questions that trampled over your brain like wild horses in the wind. You pushed them to the side, ego refusing to stop and mope. The dim lights flickered softly as you made your way up to his floor, and you pushed the door open to reveal the long, intimating hallway.

The hardwood was smooth against your heels as they clacked, the only sound in this hallowed room as you made your way toward the end goal. His door loomed over at you menacingly, as if it would come to life and swallow you whole.

You knew your thoughts were irrational, and you knew that you felt like this every time you came over to see him again. One time, this place was an amenity to you, a safe haven where you and Matt could escape the troubles of the world together.

Now it was just plywood bones, cement, and rust mixed with hot and heavy breaths, filled with longing and regret.

It was filled with happy memories too, which turned into sad ones whenever you thought about them too hard, because you longed to have them back.

Your hand twisted the door handle, the door creaking open as the front entrance came into view. All the memories hit you at once, the passion, the love, the cravings, and the aches.

The smell of bergomace filled your nostrils, a warm and soothing aura filling your bones from the scent alone.

You could do this. You had no choice now.

Your bag dropped to the ground, and you slowly unbuttoned your coat to place it on the coat hooks with your scarf. Matt still hadn't said anything, even though you knew he could hear you from around the block.

He wanted you to make the first move. Fine. If he wanted to play a game, then you'd play.

“I’m here.” you called out meekly, stepping into the open floorplan of his home. Matt was sprawled out in the brown leather chair, his hair slightly messy, wearing the red sweater you had made him so many months ago, saying ‘I’M NOT DAREDEVIL”.

A smirk was evident on his face, fingers drumming on the armrest as he made note of your presence. “You missed me?” he asked calmly.

“No.” you lied smoothly, still standing and staring at him, as if he was a piece of artwork at a museum. His head tilted ever so slightly, a smirk growing as he listened more closely to your ever-growing heartbeat.

“You’re lying, sweetheart. There's no need to lie to me.” he cooed, and you sighed, hands curling into fists so you could squeeze something as a means of comfort.

“I’m not lying.” you insisted, lying again. Digging yourself into an even bigger hole to attempt to get yourself out of later.

“You were always pretty bad at it. Not that that's a bad thing of course, but someone doesn't need to read your heartbeat to be able to tell.” he shrugged notionally, standing up with a sigh.

You remained frozen in place, too scared to move from the spot you had chosen, feeling if you moved this would all flutter away like a leaf in the wind. You hated how much you still wanted him, how much you did truly miss him. You watched as he made his way over to you, warm palm cupping your cheek as he teased your bottom lip with the brush of his thumb.

“Now I’ll ask you again angel. Did you miss me?”

“Yes.” you breathed with no gestation as his thumb brushed again in that soothing motion, the one he always did to coax the secrets out of you, making you gasp and shiver.

He was intoxicating, and you were drawn to him- moth to a flame.

“I missed you too.” he confessed, as if he had been reciting it in his mind a million times over.

“You say that to every woman you've had in here.” you whispered sharply, the thought of him treating any woman the way he treated you making you feel nauseous.

You didn't want him touching anyone the way he had touched you. His hands were branded to your flesh, hot and fiery like the devil's as his hand stilled, holding your head in place.

“There hasn't been any other woman in here. It’s only been you.”

Time stopped. The clocks stopped there ticking, the air turning dry and stale as his words reverberated through your mind.

It's only been you.

You wanted to believe him, you really did. But you were scared too. Because if it were true, if he had waited all this time for you, had waited for you in between trips- longing for you, you wouldn’t know how to compose yourself.

“No, no stop that. Matt, we can’t- we can’t keep doing this.” you argued, voice breaking as you gripped his sweater, the fabric soft and noble between your fingers.

“Why? Why can't we?” he insisted, pressing you further- his voice filled with an emotion you couldn't quite describe. “Because- fuck Matthew this hurts. This hurts me. That I see you and we act like nothings wrong and I can't have you.” you empathized, octaves rising as you clawed at his chest, his grip on your chin tightening as his hand came up to stroke your hair softly.

“Please. Please just for tonight. We can be whatever you want to be in the morning, I promise.” he begged, cradling your head with his hands, scared to let you go as you shoke your head in defeat.

“Matthew I can’t. We can’t.”

“Tonight. Tonight and I’ll do whatever you ask of me Y/N I’ll leave if that's what you want. I’ll leave your life and never come back, or I’ll stay. I just need you.” he whimpered, clinging to you as you were him.

It seemed the two of you couldn't let go, a magnetic force pulling you closer to his body to warm your fire. He began to back the two of you up towards his bed, the sheets slightly messy, making you whine.

“You want me, angel. I can smell it on you, can practically taste you. I’ve always been able to read you better than anyone else.” he sighed, breathing in your perfume.

It was true. Your pages were open for him, spine cracked as he thumbed through the text. An open book was something you tended to be for him- never being able to hide your intentions from him.

“I hate you.” you whispered softly, a sharp edge to your words as he smiled softly- knowing he had won you over.

“Yeah? You hate me?” The back of your legs hit the bedframe, body slumping back against the sheets as he leaned over you.

“I hate you. I hate you so much.” you moaned as he kissed you, cutting off your words clean from the source. He tasted of cherries and sweet wine, and you savored it on your tongue before he broke it.

“Say it again.” he growled, your hands tugging in his hair, fingers running through the messy chestnut locks as he kissed you harder. It was filled with passion and hatred, a mixture of unspoken words that hadn't been said that night in the rain.

Things you wanted to say but couldn't, things you wanted back but weren't able to piece back together again.

It was hot and heated, breaths coming in gasps and pants as Matt's hands traced your body, fingers burning you through the light fabric of your dress.

“I hate you Matthew Murdock. I hate you with everything- mghm- everything in me.” you moaned, words interrupted as his teeth found their way sunk into the smooth skin of your neck, your body shivering with anticipation in protest.

“You're so well trained, aren’t you? All these nights we've spent together really paid off hmm?” he purred against your neck, sucking on the skin hard enough to leave a mark.

“You're insufferable.” you huffed, fingers curling around his neck, nails scratching the bottom of his scalp as you arched your back into him.

“Look at you, using big girl words.” he cooed teasingly, making you roll your eyes before you kissed him, thigh hitching up to wrap your leg around him possessively.

“Off.” You snarled, tugging at his shirt- the barrier preventing you from what you needed most.

Skin-to-skin contact. Please. Because I've waited this long, and if I’m allowing myself off the leash, I want to go all the way.

“Off, off off-” you commanded, watching with desire as he pulled away slightly, back muscles rippling as he tugged the sweater over his head.

“Your turn.” he whispered, unleashing a squeak from your body as he gripped your thighs, yanking you closer to the edge of the bed- legs spread wide.

You moaned as he cupped your clothed cunt, already soaking from his caresses. Arms were raised as he slipped the dress off your body in one fluid motion, the fabric was long forgotten about as it hit the floor.

He was purely focused on you, as he always had been in these tender moments. It was like the outside world didn't matter, like both of your problems were pushed aside just for a little bit longer.

Matt put you first. He always had, back when the two of you were together- until he didn't.

But this was new. Each time the two of you had this secret rendezvous, it was like a new relationship blooming all over again. He was touching you again for the first time, he was whispering your name like it was brand new. It was all the excitement and passion of a new sparking flame, not a dulling ember.

And you craved it, craved it like a drug addict needing her high and doing anything and anyone to get it. It was pure admiration, the way he brushed his fingertips across your collarbone, down your sides.

Like he was thankful you had allowed him to sweep you back in his bed- just one more time.

“That’s my good little girl” he cooed softly as you bucked your hips up at his delicate touches.

“Don’t tease.” you insisted, feeling your head turn to the side, scared to look at him any longer. You feared him right now, anxious you’d allow yourself to fall again.

But you had already fallen again. Hard.

You didn't want to face that reality just yet. Not when he was touching you like this, making you feel like you were an angel with your wings spread wide, halo shining as bright as the sun.

“M’not teasing. I’m enjoying.” he hummed, hands slowly rubbing the insides of your thighs, knuckles brushing the delicate skin as he’d inch closer to where you needed him most.

“I want to enjoy you, because I know you’ll be gone before I know it.”

You had nothing to say to this. What could you have possibly said- that wasn't a lie? It was up to fate- whatever happened in the morning, and the next few coming days after that.

It was always like a sore, the days after the mistake. Matt's fingertips seemed to almost scorch you, tingles randomly sizzling on the layers of skin where he had touched you previously. The guilt that stayed with you was tied to your ankle like a ball and chain, chasing you into sleep for the next week or so.

Then you’d try your best to forget him, until you appeared in his bed again. It was a continuous cycle, a habit you were almost scared to break, in case it was decided it should stop completely.

You knew that was the right thing- the good thing for the long term. But you didn't want it to stop. You liked this, this little thrill you released. You didn't know what kind of person that made you, but frankly, you didn't care.

You just needed to be his person.

You whimpered, heartbeat racing as he used the pads of his finger to rub little circular motions on the wet spot that had formed on your panties, giving your cunt a quick little smack.

“You’d do whatever I asked of you, wouldn't you?” he asked genuinely, suddenly deciding the layer that separated the two of you was still too much for him. You nodded aimlessly, feeling high off his touches alone.

“Good. That's the girl I know.”

He sounded like he had cut himself off, like the sentence was unfinished. There's the girl I know and love.

“Yes.” was all you replied with, letting your legs spread further to express all of the other things you had wanted to say- but didn't know how.

“You smell so fuckin sweet. Gonna be the death of me sweetheart.” he confessed, adjusting you to the way he wanted, manhandling you.

“Let me kill you then.” you murmured softly, hand tracing across his bicep, wanting nothing more than to sink your teeth into the delicate beauty of the man.

“Damn you.” he snarled, words trailing off into a moan as he entered you swiftly, causing your back to arch in unison.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck you.” he groaned- as if you were the one who had played with him all these months. As if he were mad at you for feeling so good.

“Oh- god.” was all you could let out as he wasted next to no time letting you adjust, knowing time was scarred between these walls. You never got used to the feeling of him, no matter how many times he had been between your legs.

It was a stretch, and you couldn't help but feel filled to the brim as he made himself comfortable.

“You’re so fucking divine.” he growled, his grip tightening on your thighs as he slid out, thrusting into you harshly- making your body jolt in sync with your whimpers.

His words and praises made you feel woozy, like he had drugged you with too much cough syrup from the spoon. He was in his own little world, using your body for his own pleasure- knowing he wouldn't be getting it for some time after.

“I- hate- you-” you mewled, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing out the sounds of your cries.

“I hate you more.” he breathed, head tilted back in pure bliss, cock brushing your spongy walls with each thrust. His hips found an easy rhythm that had your eyes rolling back in your skull and your legs threatening to close together from the intense feelings of overstimulation.

You thought back to one of the first times you had met Matt, when the relationship was just starting to bloom. You were drunk, the red wine seeping into your bloodstream as you stumbled to the couch, unable to stop laughing and smiling the whole trip down to the cushions.

What do you tell the women you bring home? You had teased, the alcohol making your lips loose, words spilling out of them uncontrollably.

Oh they're enjoying themselves too much, they don’t ask. He had smirked, making you laugh even harder.

It was true though, you had realized. He hadn't been joking.

You were far too gone with enjoyment to care about anything but him right now, the feeling of his skin on yours, his hot breath as soft as velvet in your ear as he leaned in closer.

“We will always hate each other, sweetheart. That's what makes it so fun.”

You clenched around him with a cry, words blending together like oil paints on a canvas as you felt the orgasm rush over your body in waves. It was like you had touched an electric fence, your body bursting with little shocks like fireworks as you came.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. So fucking beautiful.” he whispered, and it was then you realized.

I hate you more. An antonym.

He still loved you.

“My pretty little thing.” you smiled softly, voice hoarse as you cupped his cheek. His skin was warm and soft against your palm, cheeks stained pink as his hips faltered.

It was over before you knew it- that gentle, soft moment the two of you had just shared, where you were his and he was yours had shattered. It was gone, as fast as your hand had been removed from his cheek.

The wall was put up again, any act of vulnerability was shooed off the stage. Matt had slipped from your fingers, nothing but sweat and gentle pants reverberating off the walls, getting tangled up in the ceiling fan.

You watched as he removed himself from you slowly, a sly grin on his face as he realized his cum had started to slowly ooze out of you.

“I’ll be out of here in a few.” was all you said, watching him walk off to the bathroom in silence. You heard the tap start, water trickling out of the faucet, Matt refusing to respond.

You fought back the tears, knowing the painful cycle was about to start all over again. Before you could rise, he emerged once more, a damp washcloth in hand.

“No need.” he replied, making his way back over to you slowly. You flinched slightly as the bed creaked, the sudden proximity seeming weird and out of context despite the fact he was up in your guts less than five minutes prior.

“May I?” he asked, hinting for you to spread your legs again. You spread them slightly, shivering as the cloth touched you, a droplet of water sliding down your inner thigh and onto the sheets below.

“Are you sure? I can stay, you mean?” you asked, watching his hands carefully clean you up, knowing exactly how to soothe your body from the adrenaline it had just taken buckets of.

“I left a pack of Marlboro’s in the bedside table.”

You bit your lip, wanting nothing more than to put your head in your hands and sigh. The cycle was breaking, a little gap emerging from the guilt. He wanted you to stay. He had bought your favorite cigarettes, the ones you had always smoked for ‘special occasions’ in hopes you’d come back again- and stay.

The thought made your stomach turn, whether that was from nausea or butterflies.

You couldn't do this again.

You couldn't pretend to feel this way, like you weren't affected by these hooks up. You needed something continuous, something that was repetitive and that meant something. Something that meant more than just touches and kisses, regrets and mistakes.

You watched as he stood up, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You sighed. And you did end up putting your head in your hands, and no- it did not make you feel better.

It did not change any of this, take any of this away. Your fingers itched towards the handle, and you finally caved and pulled the drawer open. Snatching the box and the lighter that was left there, you placed the cigarette between your lips, the lighter flickering softly as you saw the smoke start to rise.

Matt had made his way back over to the bed, the bright city lights illuminating across his figure, dancing across his sculpted torso with excitement. He looked like a painting, an abstract that didn't make sense at first glance, until you truly studied it hard enough.

You had studied him though, and you had somehow pieced the puzzle together to make sense. It had been knocked from the table, its pieces breaking apart for a few brief months- but you had the courage to pick them up and start over again.

It would result in the same beautiful picture, afterall.

“Matt?”

His head turned towards you and you blew a cloud of smoke into the air, feeling your muscles relax into the soft bedding that smelt of him.

“I hate you.”

He just smiled, shaking his head softly. “I know.”

2K notes · View notes

goldenlikedayl1ght · 8 months

Text

delicate - m. murdock

a/n: hi everyone :) it's been a while since i posted here but i am back with a fic on my latest hyperfixation! hopefully you all enjoy it and i appreciate any feedback you have on this little passion piece :) warnings: slight nsfw (no real smut but making out, teasing, etc) below the cutt, slight power dynamic because matt is readers boss, afab reader with no specific characterstics, shy!reader, matt being a tease, suggestive fluff ! lmk if i missed any! word count: 1228 now playing: delicate by taylor swift “is it cool that I said all that? / is it chill that you’re in my head?’

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Every time you look up, it’s like he’s already looking at you—Every time.

It’s honestly beginning to creep you out, and you’ve been meaning to bring it up with him privately, really, you swear every time you find yourself alone with him, you want to discuss it. Except every time you want to, he’s kissing you before you can find the words.

Matt Murdock cannot get enough of your lips, and he’s starting to worry he might have to check himself into rehab, pray, something, anything, to stop his growing addiction to you.

Like right now— Foggy was on lunch with Marci, eating peacefully in his office. Karen had run out to investigate a possible lead on a case the firm had just picked up. When Matt had called you into his office, you, half distracted with the papers that were in your hands, didn’t think of the possibility of ulterior motives on the man’s part.

He closed the door behind you as you kept reading the papers, muttering something about how you knew that a break in the case was quickly approaching, before turning to him. And he’s just looking at you.

“Everything okay there?” You ask, the papers landing on his desk, as he hums, a playful smirk on his lips.

“Just thinking about how beautiful you are, sweetheart.” He charms, and you just scoff, your throat drying, heart racing, face flushing.

“You don’t even know what I look like.” You defend, leaning against his desk. He hums, slowly approaching you, maybe even stalking you, wanting to make sure you won’t run off if he gets too close. He gets close enough to you where you almost want to run away, just as he fears you will. It’s not that you don’t adore the proximity, it’s just that Matt has a way of making you nervous, even shy. Which was not like you at all—Sure, you were never particularly popular in school, but everyone knew you and you were liked. When you got the job at Nelson, Murdock & Page, Karen and Foggy became friends of yours instantly, your wit drawing them in like a moth to a flame.

But the man with the red glasses had made you nervous.

It was as if he knew it too, despite his lack of vision, because he was cocky about it. And holy shit, if that didn’t make you want him more. So, when he finally kissed you last month, in the back of Josie’s dingy dive bar, it was almost impossible to come up for air. And he only chuckled when he heard your shaky breath, telling you to relax as he began to press kisses along your jaw, cheek and neck.

You haven’t come up for air since.

He finally stopped moving when he was just in front of you, before wrapping his arms around your waist, hoisting you into his desk. Then, his hands traveled down to your thighs, humming at the soft feeling of your skin, radiating this nervous heat about you. He stepped between your legs, hands never leaving your thighs, and brought his forehead to yours.

You quietly, a little in awe of him, reached up, removing his glasses from his face, to admire his pretty brown eyes.

The papers on his desk have been long since forgotten.

“You’re right, sweetheart, I don’t. But maybe you could tell me.” He said, taking your hands in his.

You let out a nervous giggle, and it made him grin.

“This is funny to you? I’m trying to romance my girl, and you’re laughing?” That has you laughing again, and he lets out a chuckle to accompany it.

My girl, he had said.

“I’m sorry,” You started, “You just make me so damn nervous. I’m not used to this.” You explain, and he lets out a sympathetic hum.

“Mm, I know, baby. But you’ve still got to tell me what you look like.” He says softly.

You exhale, taking his hands and bringing them up to your face. First, you bring his left hand to your hair, letting him play with the ends of it. You tell him the color and let him feel the texture and length of it for himself. Then both hands come back to your face and cup your cheeks.

“Your cheeks are very warm... Am I making you shy?” He asks, that teasing tone lingering in the question.

You scoff softly at him, before you bring his right pointer finger to your nose, running it along the shape of it, so he can imagine it well. “This is my nose.” Then you close your eyes, and bring his fingertips up to your eyes, describing the color of them for him before adding, “I use these for looking at my very hot boss, who has every idea of the effect he has on me.” You grin.

“Sounds like a dick.” He quips, his fingers landing on your cheeks again.

“Mm, sometimes.” You joke back. Then, you guide his fingertips towards your lips, “And these are my lips... You know all too well what they can do.” At your teasing, it’s his turn to exhale shakily.

“Do you know how badly I want you when you say things like that, sweetheart?” He asks, and you make a noise of faux confusion. It makes him chuckle—not in the same lighthearted way as before, though, there’s something darker about it now.

Not that you have much time to process that, because suddenly he’s kissing you, his hands back on your thighs, and you react quickly, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing him close. When he breaks the kiss for air, just for a moment, it’s torture, enough to have you grab his tie and pull him in for another, and another.

It’s been a while since you’ve come up for air, remember?

After a few more minutes of kissing, you with all his passion he might save for other facets of his life, Matt’s hands travel up your thighs, pushing your skirt up, and he pulls away, a whine coming from your lips.

“Sh, sh, sh... Easy, sweetheart. Gotta breath remember?” He says soft, and you hum in acknowledgement. “Good. Good girl for me... Isn’t that right?” And you just hum again, but he tuts in disapproval. “Gotta hear you say it for me, sweet girl.”

“Yeah...” You finally say, “Always wanna be your best girl.” You manage out. It makes him smile, and he steps away, taking your hand and leading you off the desk. He pulls your skirt back down, and you fix your hair, before grabbing his hand. He looks at you quizzically, before you start to fix his tie.

He grins when he realizes and presses a kiss to your forehead, before telling you gently, in the quiet solitude of his office, where no one can hear you and no one is any wiser to what you were just doing, “Be a good girl for me for the rest of the day, and I’ll take such good care of you when we get home. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

It’s almost too much for you, but you manage out a small, “Of course, honey.”

He’s still smiling when he says, “That’s my girl.” Before kissing your head again, and opening the door, beginning your countdown to when you finally get back to his apartment.

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fluff #daredevil netflix #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock smut #slight notsfw #matt murdock fem!reader #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic

332 notes · View notes

little-miss-dilf-lover · 8 months

Note

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

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

…

worth the wait

matt murdock x fem!reader

word count: 897

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

✧.┊ MASTERLIST

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I dunno,"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Text me when you get home?"

"I will, sweetheart. Goodnight,"

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

Maybe Matt was worth the wait.

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

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

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock fem!reader #black widow reader #matthew murdock #matthew murdock x reader #daredevil

259 notes · View notes

cafeacademia · 1 year

Text

𝐋𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐬

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐒𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐮 𝐚𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After the success of the blind accessible chess board you bought for Matt a few months ago, you've since moved in with him and noticed that he could really benefit from a braille label maker. And maybe, Matt has a little too much fun with it.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: Light fluff, some sexual banter but honestly nothing that bad. Matt has a moment of chaos with his new braille label maker.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: Approx 710

𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hello!! This fic is connected to Chess! Feel free to read that first, but it's not a big deal if you don't. It's been quite a while since I've posted anything. In any case, I hope I've picked Matt back up well, sorry if he feels a bit off, I'm also currently in bed with a flu so please excuse any silly mistakes! I appreciate the support so much, if you'd like to reblog/comment, it is always appreciated but not at all necessary, thank you for reading my fics! Please let me know if you'd like to be removed from my old taglist! I may refresh this, idk yet. Anyway, enjoy!

Matt should be used to this by now. You, unlike anyone he’d known thus far, had a tendency to find as many blind accessible solutions for him as possible. He insisted he could do fine by himself, of which you did not doubt for one second and you respected wholeheartedly. The aim wasn’t to remove his freedom to do it alone, or to make it feel like he couldn’t do things without your help, but it was more to make life easier. The truth was, Matt seemed to enjoy letting you guide him, even if he could do it himself. And after the pure joy and excitement he had displayed from you finding him a blind accessible chessboard a few months prior, you had been on a search to make life as easy as possible for Matt in the comfort of his own home.

It hadn’t taken long after you became friends, before you were even dating to notice that for Matt, things having a specific place to sit was very important for him to be able to tell where they were and what was what. But the problem was, that even with his best efforts, it was too easy for things to get a little mixed up, especially in the kitchen and especially after you moved in with him. It wasn’t just his things anymore, they were accompanied by your things too and that made it harder for Matt to tell quickly what was what.

Which is why, as you came home one afternoon with Matt and several bags of food shopping, you had to suppress the squeal of excitement at the sight of a brown package inside of the mailbox.

“What did you order, sweetheart?” Matt asked, setting down the bags of food on the kitchen floor. “A little surprise.” You replied, prying it open with great difficulty. “For me?” “For you.” You confirmed, watching as his cocky little smirk appeared on his lips. “Ooh for me.” “It’s not lingerie Matthew.” You quipped, snorting as your boyfriend gasped and brought his hand to his chest in false disappointment. “Then what is it?” He asked, sidling up to you. “It’s a– ah hold on,” you grappled with the packaging before finally wrangling it free and plopped the device into his hands. “Ta da! A braille label maker, so we don’t get our stuff mixed up ever again.” You grinned up at him, waiting for his reaction.

Matt held it in his hands for a moment, feeling the different edges and textures, a smile growing on his lips as he turned to face you. He didn’t ask how it worked, nor did you feel you had to explain, because after a few moments of turning it over in his hands and exploring the shape of the dial, the feel of the braille letters and the pointer on the label maker, Matt knew exactly how to use it.

His smile, soft and sweet, turned into a devilish grin as he turned the dial and squeezed the trigger to indent the label tape until he successfully pulled free the label, peeled off the sticky back and stuck it to your boob. Matt had labelled you “girlfriend” and giggled far too much about it before getting genuinely quite excited to label his cereal and coffee and face wash and just about everything he could think of that did or did not need a label to be identified.

As his joyful chaos ensued, you sat back watching him with his new label maker, going from pure chaos and labelling everything down to the dog, to the two of you carefully labelling all of your groceries before putting them all away in the cupboards and the fridge. And when all of the bags were empty and everything was sufficiently labelled, Matt pulled you close.

“You’re way too sweet to me.” He spoke softly, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead. “Way too good to be mine.” Matt kissed you, lips soft against yours, his touch warm and gentle and sweet until– something cold and sticky was pressed against your neck and you couldn’t help but snort out a laugh. Feeling over the little braille label, you giggled before being captured in a kiss that mirrored the word exactly. Mine.

@megantje123 @hallecarey1 @reyhanahasanli @louderfortheback @spikedhe4rt @myguiltypleasures21 @emiemiemiii @scaramood @lovingrobertfloyd @m0nster-fvcker @rexit-mo

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #matthew murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x y/n #daredevil x you #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fem!reader #matt murdock one shot #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock drabble

441 notes · View notes

pinkiebieberpie · 1 year

Text

social media au: college!matt murdock x reader

i'll put all characters from marvel's netflix shows in this one because i can, some fluff, some flirting, mostly reader simping over boyfriend matt 😌 enjoy <33 feedback and reblogs are appreciated!!

matthewm

liked by yourusername, foggy_n, karenxx, jjones and 32 others

my girlfriend's dog is so cute 🐶 @ yourusername

yourusername: you both are cute

jjones: he likes me more

matthewm: @ yourusername maybe, but you are the cutest

yourusername

liked by matthewm, foggy_n, frankcastle and 57 others

little photo dump 📚🌻 1) foggy took this pic of me and matt ❤️ 2) trust me, he looks even hotter in person 3) reading time

foggy_n: i'm the best photographer

danny_danny: daily y/n posting about matt

matthewm: ❤️❤️❤️

jjones: you have more books than i have will to live

jjones

liked by matthewm, yourusername, luke_cage and 41 others

am i third wheeling or stealing your boyfriend? @ yourusername @ matthewm

yourusername: 😠😠😠

matthewm: @ yourusername i'm all yours

yourusername: @ matthewm i know 🥺 but jessica is unpredictable

jjones: @ yourusername we are best friends, i'd kill him for you, not steal him

matthewm: @ jjones that's illegal

matthewm

liked by karenxx, foggy_n, luke_cage, yourusername and 40 others

time with friends

karenxx: we have to do this more often

foggy_n: miss you guys

matthewm: @ foggy_n i'm in the same room

yourusername: love you all!!!

matthewm: @ yourusername i'm taking you with me next time

yourusername: @ matthewm or we can spend some time alone?

matthewm: @ yourusername that's even better idea 😌

yourusername

liked by luke_cage, jjones, danny_danny, matthewm and 28 others

study date first, dinner date second

jjones: no pics of you two studying so it never happened

matthewm: foggy told me you are posting photos of me again

yourusername: @ matthewm because i love you

foggy_n: that's true, i told him that

luke_cage: i bet y/n's camera roll is 90% photos of matt

social media au masterlist

519 notes · View notes

the-dendrophile-bookdragon · 1 year

Text

Cookies for Santa

A/N: I know Christmas is over for some. I still have to write these.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

warning: children, talk of burning food, domestic fluff

Summary: Come on. We gotta leave some cookies for Santa.

Baking in the Murdock household was never neat. First time, his then girlfriend now wife, burned the cookies she baked. They were burned so much, she had to throw out the whole baking tray as they stuck to it. After this incident Matt stood by her for moral support and to smell when the cookies where ready.

You became better over the years. Still, the first time stuck to you like a chewing gum in hair. “Honey, be careful. We need that tray for Christmas. Or do you want to order take out like the last time?” You turned to your husband and stuck out your tongue. His smirk widened.

There was loud clanging in the kitchen followed by a high pitched “MOMMY!” You sighted and speed walked into the room. Pots, bowls and other cooking utensils lay around your four-year-old. With the same brown doe eyes as it’s fathers the child looked at you with despair in said eyes. “I can’t find the cookie cutters.” You sighted at the mess.

Leaning down you took the mixing bowl from your sons grasp and put it on the counter. “Yeah, I put them on the upper cabinet because there was more room than down here.” Your son huffed before standing up. He walked over to his step stool and pulled it in front of the counter. In the meantime you put everything in their respective place.

“Mommy, what comes first.” Mike looked at you with eggs and flour in his hand. You cursed Matt genes for your child being so fast and quiet. You pulled both ingredients from his hands and but them next to the bowl. “Did you wash your hands?” Your son only smiled impishly. “Go wash your hand, you little mudlark.” Mike giggled as he climbed down his stool and dragged it to the kitchen sink.

Meanwhile Matt sat at your living room couch holding your daughter to his chest. She grunted and gurgled as she moved in her father’s arms. “Yeah, mommy is really stressed right now. Your big brother is giving her a hard time. Will you do the same when you start to help her with baking too?” The baby grunted at him. “Thought so. You are your mother’s daughter. No devil inside you like your brother and old man.” She gurgled as if she was agreeing to what he is telling her.

After two hours of watching your son and the cookies you sat down with a big groan. Matt chuckled as you curled into his side. “I swear he gets sneakier every year. And you swear you weren’t training him some of your ninja tricks?” Matt chuckled again, “You know, sweetheart. If the kid wants to play ninja I have to teach him some tricks.” You huffed out in annoyance. “Sorry.” Your husband kissed the crown of your hair.

Matt heard small crunching from the kitchen. He nudged you to sit up and take your daughter from his arm. You took her gladly missing cuddling with her. With soundless steps Matt made his way around the counter and saw Mike munching on a cinnamon star. The boy didn’t realize his father was there till he was in his arms.

Mike squealed and laughed as Matt threw him over his shoulder and carried him over to the couch. “Mommy! Help!” Mike was threshing in Matt’s arms as the later tickled the small waist of his son. You can’t eat all the cookies. Come on. We gotta leave some cookies for Santa.” The little boy giggled as he was held like his baby sister in his father’s arms. “But they are sooooooo good.” With a dramatic gesture Mike showed his father how much he loved the cookies.

Matt just shook his head as he listened to his son’s antics. You sighted next to him before laying your head on your husband's shoulder. “Please let the sugar rush lead to him falling asleep.” Matt chuckled. Before you knew it both children were sound asleep and snoring softly.

Wanna read more of the Marvel Guys? Click here Wanna stay updated? Click here Wanna request something? Click here

You liked this story? Please reblog and support my content!

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock headcanon #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock drabble #matthew murdock #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock fem!reader #matt murdock blurb #netflix daredevil #daredevil #daredevil netflix #daredevil x reader #31 days of december

212 notes · View notes

xxeycisxx · 1 year

Text

Need | Matt Murdock

Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: you try to find comfort in Matt's arms

Author's note: this is my first smut- yay! to be honest, i don’t really think that this is a healthy way of coping with mental illness, but again, i needed to vent. Hope you like it, there might be some typos, if you find some, sorry in advance.

TW: smutt, definitely 18+, praise kink paired with humiliation kink, p in v, but wrap it before you tap it irl, this is really just a fantasy. probably a slight breeding kink? edging, little bit of angst.

Word-count: 3198 (sorry, i got carried away)

masterlist here

You were desperately knocking on his door. There was so many things that were on your mind right now. You felt miserable, your face was still covered in tears.

You went on a few dates, but you, as you always do, self-sabotaged and ghosted him for some time. But right now, you knew that you can‘t spend another night alone. So here you were. You didn’t even thought about what you’re gonna say, you just knew you needed to see him.

The door opened and you saw him, immediately fighting the urge to jump into his arms.

You and Matt met a few weeks ago at a bar. You were drinking alone, when Matt tried to hit on you, but after a couple of drinks, it was more about getting to know each other as a person, rather than just a one night stand. It was something more. You two really hit it off and you felt like he truly saw you for who you are.

„Y/n?“ he said your name with a surprise, he wasn’t wearing his glasses, so you could clearly see his face and his expression. He wasn’t angry.

„Matt…“ you said quietly, while wondering how to start a conversation, or even just explain why you came here and why he hadn’t heard from you in two weeks.

„What are you doing here? Are you okay?“ he asked. But his voice wasn’t filled with hostility, or anything else that might scare you off. But how could you explain this feeling that filled your whole mind and you felt like you can‘t fight it on your own anymore and there was noone else you could go to for help?

You kissed him, wrapping your arms around him and holding him as close as you could. He brough his arms around your waist and pulled you into his apartment. Your knees were shaking, at first, the kiss was hesitant, both of you had no idea of what to expect. You felt his big arms wrap around your waist, bringing you closer too, which made you more confident of your actions.

After a few seconds, he pulled away.

„Y/n?“ he asked, desperately trying to understood you.

„Matt, please. I need this,“ you felt more tears coming out. What if he didn’t want you? What if he found someone else already? What if he was angry with you? But you needed this. You needed to be held. To feel loved. To feel that someone cares about you.

„I thought you didn’t want to continue with whatever was going on between us…“ he said, while still keeping his hands on your waist, one of them starting to move along your hips. He was caressing you so gently.

„I just didn’t want to be a burden for you,“ your confession was like a knife going through your heart. You felt so ashamed of yourself.

„How could you be?“ if it would be possible to be cured by a sentence, this one would be it. You decided to ignore the urge to go through top ten reasons, why you could actually be a burden and just kissed him, focusing on a completely different urge that was growing inside your body.

He closed the door behind you and pushed you to it. He took your jacket off and then his hands started to explore your body. There was something about his touch that could make you scream. You longed for it so much. You longed for him.

You gasped for air between the kiss, and then felt his tongue on your lips, tasting you, taking you in. Your hands tangled in his hair, while one of his hands sneaked down on your butt and lightly squeezed.

„Matt,“ you moaned his name. You felt his cock twitch on your hip right after his name left your lips. Your hand started to slowly go down and gently palmed him though his pants. He moaned back.

„Do you really want this?“ he was already out of breath, but so were you.

„I need you Matt,“ you cried out, „I need you to fuck me,“

Matt picked you up in his arms and carried you to a different room. When you opened your eyes, you saw a big bed, that was all that mattered and all that you could actually take in in such a short time. He took you to his bedroom.

You still couldn’t believe that this was actually happening, but you knew that spending another night alone is something you simply couldn‘t affored in this mental state. You needed to be with someone that you could trust and maybe it would help you to stop thinking for at least a moment. You needed someone to protect you from yourself.

He started kissing you again, his lips traveled down to your neck, feeling his soft tongue on your skin. You took off his shirt and immediately started to touch his bare skin, enjoying the feeling of warmth that radiated off of him. Without any warning, you felt sharp, but pleasent pain on your neck. He was lightly biting the skin on your neck and a distinct moan escaped your lips. It made you dig your nails into his skin, he moaned back and quickly took your shirt off, too.

„You need me to fuck you?“ he said into your ear with a low voice, making your pussy throb for him, growing even wetter.

„Mh-mm,“ you mumbled, while trying to unzip his pants. Yours were gone in a few seconds, left you wondering how it was possible to actually do it so fast. But you weren’t complaining. After a few attempts, you finally managed to get his pants off too and he stopped your hands quickly from going back to his skin.

„Answer me, need to hear that,“ his voice was full of breath, pure lust coming from his lips. You tried to break out of his tight grip, but he was waiting for your answer.

„Need you to fuck me, please Matt,“ you said desparetely. He didn’t let go off your hands right away, but one of his hands moved to your neck. He squeezed the soft skin of your neck lightly, moving you closer to his lips, but not kissing you yet, which made you want to beg even more. You noticed how he tilted his head, as if he was checking on something.

„Good girl,“ he gave you a small kiss but still kept his grip tight on your neck, ,,dont worry, I will,“ finally he kissed you again, his tongue again tasting you and taking you in. Letting your hands free, his fingers unziped your bra and quickly cupped your bare boobs, with each moment focusing more on your nipples. He played with them between his fingers, pulled them towards him, so you had to come even closer to him. At this point you were moaning without no hesitation, completely letting yourself go.

„Love the way you sound when I’m touching you like that, sweetheart,“ he whispered to you. One of his hands started to go down, touching your pussy, that was now only covered by a thin layer of your completely wet panties.

„Can’t wait to find out what you’re gonna sound like with my dick inside you,“ he chuckled. You only answered with another string of moans. He took off your panties and pushed you gently onto his bed. Taking off his own underwear, he kneeled down between your legs, you patiently waited for his next move and observed him, towering over you. Your eyes swiftly noticing his throbbing dick, that made you doubt your recent decisions, but your mouth started to drool, just by looking at it. His body was perfect. You wanted to lick every inch.

He started touching your pussy lightly, just slowly grazing across your slit.

„Matt, please,“ you moaned his name this time and it made his cock twitch. You wanted to touch him too, but he stopped you with his other hand and held both of them above your head. He had you completely in control.

„You need to be patient, I want to enjoy this,“ his fingers touched your entrance, but he didn’t let them inside you yet, „you’re so wet, i know it’s hard for you,“ he was slowly moving his fingers from your entrance to your clit, not to make you cum, but only to make you want it even more, he was enjoying your body and testing how you’re gonna react to the things he was doing to you.

He took his dick in his hand and started doing the same movement with his dick this time. As soon, as his dick made contact with pussy, you wanted to scream. You wanted him so much, you needed to feel him inside you.

„Want you to beg me,“ he said firmly. You were so desparate at that point, you would do anything. He was still continuing with the up-and-down movement, you were pretty sure you would go crazy at any moment.

„Please Matt, please,“ you tried to look composed, but your voice was shaking. You felt him moving his tip between your folds, spreading your juices over your pussy. He smiled.

„You want me to fuck you so bad? Beg more for me“ he was mocking you now. But you didn’t care anymore.

„Matt please, need to feel you inside me, need your cum,“

„Good girl, relax for me then, so I can fit inside,“ he said gently, but still firmly. You loved the way he instructed you, he did it with so much compassion, but you still felt like you have to do everything he tells you to and try your best while at it.

He pushed his tip inside. It did hurt, he was so thick. But it felt good. You wanted to feel like this forever.

„You’re so tight, oh god…“ he moaned, stopping fro going deeper and actually letting both of you adjust to the feeling. It was amazing. You couldn’t belive you’re really doing this. With him. But anything you felt an hour ago was gone now and everything that existed for you now was Matt. He still held your hands above your head, so you couldn’t move much, but you felt a deep need to touch him and tried to pull away from his tight grip.

„Gonna let go of your hands, and you’re gonna hold on to me, as i go deeper, do you understand?“ he instructed, as if he could read your mind.

„mhh-mm“ you noded. He let your hands go and you instantly held onto his arms and beck, as if your life depended on it, as if he was helping you to go through it. You felt his dick go deeper- his tip was now inside you and another half of his shaft was still waiting for your pussy to accommodate it.

„You’re doing so good for me“ he praised you. It made your pussy squeeze around him and he moaned as he felt it, too. It surprised you, that he was able to notice such small details, but it also made you even more horny - knowing that he liked it so much. He slowly continued to go deeper and after a few moments, he was finally able to fit his whole dick inside you. You both moaned as he hit the deepest point of you. You were repeating his name like a prayer and trying to get used to the feeling of having him inside.

„Good girl, you squeeze me so nicely,“ he put one of his hand across your neck, gently squeezing, to hold you in place. He started to move inside you, in slow, long strokes, he repeatedly made your pussy welcome his dick again and again, it was getting easier for him with each stroke, as your cunt stretched for him and got wetter everytime he moved inside you.

His lips traveled from yours to your bare chest. He took one of your nipples inside his mouth and gently sucked at the sensitive skin.

„Oh Matt, please, more…“ you moaned. You needed him everywhere, on every inch of your body. He started softly biting at it, switching between sucking and biting made you afraid for your sanity. You digged your nails into his skin on his back, holding him tightly and pulling him closer to you. His strokes never stopped. He kept a steady pace through it all.

You needed more. You needed to feel more.

„Matt please…“ you begged, not quite sure how to form sentences at this point.

„Use that mouth, baby, tell me what you need,“ he stopped sucking your nipple and moved back to your lips. He kissed you passionately.

„Harder Matt, please, harder…“ you whispered to him. He paused for a second and then pulled out of you. He left your neck, grabbed you with both hands and turned you around, handled you onto all fours, as if you weighed nothing.

„You want me to go harder?“ he asked with a deep voice. He lined himself with your entrance and pushed inside. He went immediately into fast pace, bottoming out every time and fucking you hard. You moaned so loud now, showing him how much you like everything he was doing to you.

„Louder for me, sweetheart, I love the way you cry for me like this,“ he spanked you, but you wanted more. You needed to feel him more. You wanted everything he has.

„H- harder pl- please… Matt… harder,“

He paused again, his hand traveling to your hair, yanking your head back to him. He leaned to you, his lips lightly touching your ear.

„God you’re perfect,“ he approved. His hand squeezed your neck again, but this time, you were having troubles breathing. He started pounding into your pussy again, positioned like this, his dick hit your cervix and it hurt, but you loved the pain. You needed to feel it.

He let you have a small breathing pauses, when his grip slightly eased up, but after a few breaths, he went back to work. He let go of your hair and spanked you again, much harder this time. You were sure it will leave marks, but you didn’t care. You moaned so loud, his neighbours probably weren’t as happy as you were. He spanked you again and then paused. His fingers found your clit, he started massaging your little bundle of nerves and you felt tears coming out of your eyes. It was too much, but it felt so good.

„You like when I‘m fucking you like a slut?“ he mocked. His fingers not stopping. You tried to manage the feeling of having him slotted deep inside you combined with his fingers playing with your clit.

„Yes, Matt, please, fuck me like I‘m your slut, Matt, please…“ you begged again, you wanted to feel his cum spreading inside your pussy, wanted to make him feel good. He chuckled at your answer.

„Are you? Are you my slut?“ he asked, his fingers still toying with you, but his dick was still buried deep inside you, making no moves at all. You squeezed around him so hard, you felt your pussy throb and another set of tears escaped. You were moaning, crying but you never in your whole life felt this good. It was both humiliating and pleasing.

„Yes, Matt, y-yes I’m yo-your slut…“ you felt your orgasm approaching. The way he moved his fingers on your clit felt like heaven.

„Good,“ he approved. He resumed fucking you, but his fingers didn’t stop, as you were expecting. You were feeling him everywhere, he moved his hand to your back, pushing you hardly to his mattress. With one hand on your clit and the other one on your back, he was keeping you from doing anything other than what he wanted you to. You felt a bit light-headed, but his dick in your pussy kept you consious.

„Tell me who this pussy belongs to…“ he said firmly. He was out of his breath too, you felt his cock twitching inside your pussy, you knew his orgasm wasn’t far away either.

„Your’s… nn-nly your’s…“ you whimpered, feeling your orgasm getting impossibly closer with each thrust.

„I’m gonna cum inside you, do you understand?“ his pace was brutal, he was stretching your pussy so wide. You felt as if you two were the only thing that existed in you world right now. Only you and him.

„I.. I can’t -nymore..“ your orgasm stretched across your whole body, you were squeezing his cock, your moans filled the whole room and your whole body screamed with you. Every nerve in you was electrified.

„Oh god, youre squeezing me so hard, love,“ you heard him saying, „…gonna m-make me cum…“ his thrusts became more uneven, but harder, your orgasm still ruining your body. He held you tightly in his hands, keeping you steady, being held by him was one of the best things you ever felt.

,,Good girl, ahhh, yes,,“ you felt his warm spurts of cum covering your insides. Your orgasm slowly leaving your body completely destroyed. Matt was trying to recover too, but he fell onto you, holding you in his big arms, not leaving your spent cunt.

You both lied there for some time, trying to steady your breaths, to actually realize what just happened. He held you close and tight, as if he didn’t want you to leave. You let yourself enjoy this feeling for a moment. After your orgasm and everything drifted away, you felt empty and with each moment, the feeling grew stronger.

You tried to get up, pulling away from him.

You felt deep need to go home, feeling ashamed for what you’ve done. This was all too much. He let go off you, but his face was painted with surprise.

„I am sorry,“ you mumbled and tried to get out of the bed. He held your arm and stopped you.

„What are you doing?“he sounded weird, you didn’t know this tone of his voice and tried to identify it fast, so you could better understand how he feels right know.

„I don’t need to stay,“ you answered quietly.

„But you can,“ he was not letting go off your arm, ,,and maybe we can talk about it,“

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to stay. But you were afraid to.

„Or we don’t have to. But I want you to stay y/n,“ his voice was filled with something that was so gentle and soft. You looked at his face again, his eyes were unfocused, but looked as if they were trying to find you. He pulled you closer, bringing your faces together, his other hand cupping your cheek tenderly.

„Stay,“ he kissed you again. This time, the kiss was filled with need - not physical, but emotional need. You tangled your hands in his hair to pulled him closer. This kiss was different, but both of you felt the same thing.

He pulled you back into his bed and wrapped you in a blanket. He held you close, caressed you.

You never wanted to leave this bed.

If you wanna be tagged under my work in taglist, you can apply here!

#matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matthew murdock x reader #matt murdock praise kink #matt murdock fluff #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil #daredevil one shot #matt murdock fem!reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock

488 notes · View notes

theetherealbloom · 11 months

Text

NOTRE DAME - CH. 3

Chapter 3: The Undone and The Divine

Summary: In the rafters of Clinton Church, a mysterious reader with the power of illusion manipulation silently watches over Matt Murdock, the blind vigilante known as Daredevil. As danger engulfs Hell's Kitchen, their unlikely friendship blossoms into a bond of trust and longing, intertwining their fates in a battle against darkness that tests their resolve. Will their connection illuminate a path to salvation in a city of darkness or lead them deeper into the abyss?

Paring: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt to Comfort, ANGST, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, Religion, Fluff, Anxiety, PSTD, Nightmares, Catholic Guilt, Amnesia, Violence, Blood, Dark Undertones, Eventual SMUT, Shy Reader, Mentions of Abuse, Criminal Activities, Mobsters/Mafia, Character Death, Slowish Burn, Disassociation,

Word Count: 11.9k

A/N: This was lowkey tough to write with all the technicalities but I managed to push through it lol. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Song: Only If For A Night by Florence + The Machine

Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

dividers @/saradika-graphics

A FEW DAYS LATER…

NEW YORK CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT – MORNING

As you blink, fragments of your past weave their way into your consciousness, like threads of a tapestry unraveling in your mind. Memories unfold, revealing moments of rigorous training, ethereal wisdom, and a mentor whose guidance shaped you into the person you are today.

You remember living in a tranquil sanctuary, surrounded by ancient texts and mystical artifacts. The air hums with energy as you practice intricate movements, honing your skills under the watchful eye of a wise and enigmatic figure. The connection between you is unspoken yet profound, a bond forged through years of shared knowledge and profound teachings.

Visions of battles fought against formidable adversaries dance before your eyes. You wielded powers beyond comprehension, manipulating the very fabric of reality with finesse and precision. In those moments, you were a guardian of balance, a protector of realms unseen.

But the flashbacks recede, vanishing like whispers in the wind. You find yourself in the bustling corridors of the New York City Police Department, surrounded by the everyday realities of life. The voice of Brett Mahoney pulls you back to the present, concern etched on his face. "You good? You seem kinda out of it."

You look up from the paperwork you were filing for a domestic violence case and force a small smile. "Mhm, just a little tired," you respond, trying to shake off the remnants of the past and the previous nights of helping Matt from the sidelines. Mahoney takes a sip of his coffee before continuing, "You know, my mom has been askin’ for you. You aren't giving her cigarettes with those cookies too, are you?"

You snort, the corners of your lips curling with amusement. "Nah, I actually have a secret life as a drug dealer and deliver her cookies laced with crack," you quip, easing the tension in the room. Brett chuckles at your joke as you put down the pen and hand the file to another officer. "Why, what's up?" you ask, genuinely interested. Brett sighs, his voice tinged with weariness. "Could you maybe visit her? I've been pulling a lot of shifts lately, and dealing with reports of some masked vigilante beating up a bunch of criminals has taken up a lot of my time."

You sigh, feigning concern at the news. "New York is something else," you remark. Brett hums in agreement, understanding the chaos of the city all too well. "So, could you do it? Drop by and give her more of those cocaine cookies?" he asks, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

You nod, with your expression sincere. "Sure, I'll stop by in a bit," you promise, knowing that a visit to Brett's mother would bring a sense of joy and connection amidst the chaos of your secret battles.

MAHONEY RESIDENCE – DAY

You give a gentle knock on the door of the Mahoney residence, and a warm smile spreads across your face as it swings open to reveal Bess Mahoney, an elderly woman with a kind expression. "Hi, dear. Come inside," she welcomes you, gesturing for you to enter. Expressing your gratitude, you respond, "Thank you, Bess. I brought some of those cookies you like! Sister Maggie and Sister Catherine helped me bake them."

As you step into the cozy living room, the aroma of freshly baked cookies fills the air, creating an atmosphere of comfort and familiarity. Bess's eyes light up with delight, and she takes your hand in hers. "You're such a sweetheart, always thinking of me," she says, her voice tinged with genuine affection. "Those nuns at the church have been a blessing to this neighborhood."

You nod, a sense of warmth and purpose swelling within you. "They truly are," you reply, feeling grateful for the support and guidance the sisters have provided throughout your journey. "They've taught me so much about compassion and making a difference in people's lives."

As you sit at the kitchen table, the taste of the homemade cookies still lingering on your tongue, a sense of calm settles over you. The weight of the world and the secret battles you face momentarily fade away in the presence of Bess's warm company.

Just as you begin to bask in the comfort of the moment, Bess's voice breaks the tranquility. "I need a favor from you, honey," she says, her tone carrying a hint of concern. Your eyebrows furrow, and you lean in, attentively asking, "Is something wrong?"

Bess waves her hand dismissively. “Not with me, but with a dear friend of mine, Elena Cardenas. She's a lovely woman, and she's facing trouble. You see, she owns a rent-controlled apartment in Hell's Kitchen, but her landlord suddenly wants to evict her.”

Your frown deepens, empathizing with the injustice of the situation. Nodding in understanding, you urge Bess to continue. She smiles and explains, “I suggested she reach out to the new firm in the city, Nelson and Murdock. They have a reputation for being very good at what they do.”

Your eyes widen in surprise and realization. "Oh, yes. I've heard of them. They’re very good.” The memory of your encounter with Matt Murdock resurfaces, the card tucked safely in your pocket. It seems fate has intertwined your paths once again.

Bess's smile grows wider, her eyes gleaming with hope. "Perfect. Honey, I need you to go with Elena Cardenas to their office. She's as old as me, and it would grant me peace of mind knowing she arrives there safely."

You look into Bess's eyes, seeing the genuine concern and trust she places in you. There is no denying the importance of this favor, and deep down, you know you can't refuse. With a resolute expression, you reply, "Of course, Bess. What's her address and phone number? I'll make sure Elena gets to Nelson and Murdock's office."

A forced smile graces your lips, masking any hesitation or trepidation. At this moment, you understand that there is no avoiding this task. It is a chance to help someone in need, to make a difference in their life, and honor the trust Bess has placed in you.

As Bess shares the necessary details, you commit them to memory, knowing that this journey will bring its challenges and revelations. You rise from the table, ready to fulfill your role as a guardian in the shadows, guided by the light of friendship and the pursuit of justice.

With a final nod of assurance to Bess, you bid her farewell, leaving her with the comforting knowledge that Elena Cardenas will be well taken care of. As you step out into the bustling streets of Hell's Kitchen, you carry within you the determination to stand for those who need it most.

NELSON AND MURDOCK ATTORNEY’S AT LAW – DAY

You guide Mrs. Cardenas to the address scribbled on the card provided by Matt. As you approach the designated location, a paper sign catches your attention, proudly displaying the name "Nelson and Murdock Attorney's at Law." It's the place you were directed to, and you offer Mrs. Cardenas a comforting smile before proceeding.

You raise your hand and knock on the door, with it slightly open and already spotting the people inside. “Hi, uhm, I’m looking for Foggy Nelson and Matt Murdock.”

As Mrs. Cardenas follows you inside, you can't help but feel a sense of reassurance, knowing that you've brought her to a place where she will be heard and supported. With Karen's presence and the promise of Nelson and Murdock's assistance, you are hopeful that justice will prevail and that Mrs. Cardenas will find the resolution she deserves.

Matt breathes a sigh of relief as he hears you, his voice filled with genuine concern. "You're okay," he states, his worry evident in his tone. You raise an eyebrow in response, a hint of curiosity lacing your words. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Though your response isn't a complete answer, it holds a semblance of truth. Deep down, you understand that recovery takes time, and your body bears the evidence of the journey you've been through. Matt's heightened senses allow him to perceive the subtle clues that reveal your ongoing healing process. The scent of cortisol and antiseptic lingers in the air around you, a testament to the challenges you've faced and the resilience you've shown.

You glance at the man standing beside Matt, presuming him to be his friend and partner, Foggy. He scrutinizes both of you with a curious expression and poses the question, "You two know each other?" Your mind races to come up with a plausible explanation, and you quickly respond, "We go to the same church."

Foggy's gaze shifts between you and Matt, seemingly skeptical of your answer. He turns to Matt, seeking confirmation. Matt simply nods, but it's evident that Foggy isn't fully convinced. He remarks with a hint of sarcasm, "So, is that what they call it now?"

A blush creeps up your cheeks, embarrassed by the implication. Before Matt can intervene, you shake your head, determined to clarify the situation. "No, seriously. I'm also Catholic, and I work at the church. I’m also a social worker at Metro-General."

You hope that this additional information will dispel any misconceptions and assure Foggy of your genuine connection to the church. He needs to understand that your involvement extends beyond deception.

Foggy raises his eyebrows, a hint of admiration in his eyes. "That sounds like a lot of work," he remarks, acknowledging the dedication required for your role. You smile, "Yeah, it can be challenging, but I’ll manage."

Matt, however, senses the underlying tension and the half-truth in your response. His heightened senses enable him to pick up on the subtleties of your emotions. You clear your throat, aware that the truth cannot be concealed from him indefinitely.

"Anyways," you continue, shifting the focus of the conversation, "you said I could come here and ask for your legal services. This is Elena Cardenas." With a nod, you introduce Elena, hoping that the urgency of her situation will capture their attention.

Foggy and Matt guide both of you to their small conference room, offering seats to discuss the pressing matter at hand. As you take your place at the table, the heaviness of the situation settles upon you. You await their guidance and expertise, knowing that their legal services might be the key to helping Mrs. Cardenas in her time of need.

"Bess Mahoney? Brett's mom?" Foggy seeks clarification as you mention Bess referring Elena to them. Elena nods in confirmation. "Sí, she referred me. Dice que le da puros."

Karen, the woman you were introduced to earlier, chuckles. "Something about cigars?" Foggy looks at Karen with surprise. "You know Spanish?" Karen shakes her head. "Oh, just what I remember from high school."

Matt, his expression serious, turns his attention to Mrs. Cardenas. "Mrs. Cardenas, please tell us what happened." Mrs. Cardenas struggles to translate her Spanish into English, doing her best to convey the details. "Mi casa es rent-control. But the landlord, Señor Tully..."

"Armand Tully? Sleaze bag who owns buildings all over town," Foggy interjects, recognizing the name. Mrs. Cardenas nods. "Sí, y Señor Tully..." She switches back to speaking in Spanish, and Karen takes it upon herself to translate. "He wants to convert the apartments into condominiums. And he wants the residents to leave." Mrs. Cardenas continues, "Men came weeks ago. They claimed they were workers. And they destroyed the apartments with a… I don't know that last word.”

"Sledgehammer," Matt utters simultaneously, his voice aligning with your own words. The synchronized response captures the attention of everyone in the room, their focus shifting toward the shared statement. "College," Foggy adds, clarifying the source of his knowledge. As he tilts his head in curiosity, his unsteady gaze falls upon you, silently inquiring about your proficiency in Spanish. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips nervously before you respond, "Um, I learned it when I was young. Sometime around middle school."

"You ever have a client that wants to chat in Punjabi, I'm your man," Foggy says cheerfully, injecting a light-hearted comment into the conversation. You smile in response, appreciating his sense of humor. Karen, on the other hand, looks between you and Matt, slightly uncertain.

"Um... Do you want to do this?" she asks, seeking confirmation from Matt. His voice carries a flirtatious tone as he replies, "No, no. I like listening to your voice." Karen blushes in response, clearly affected by Matt's smooth and charming personality. Foggy sighs, “Go on, Mrs. Cardenas.” And your attention shifts between the three of them.

The world you once cherished loses its luster, fading into a somber tableau. Each breath becomes a shallow rhythm, failing to ground you in the swirling tempest of emotions. Jealousy, heavy as a stone, settles in the pit of your stomach, reminding you of desires that can never be fulfilled.

Hurt and longing intertwine, composing a poignant symphony within your chest. The truth resonates deep within your being: Matt will never be yours. It's a bitter pill to swallow, a gold rush of emotions crashing against the shores of the unrequited.

Yet, during this storm, you find solace in acknowledging your feelings. Envy and sadness are natural companions when faced with the undeniable connection between Matt and Karen, including the nights before with him and Claire. It serves as a stark reminder that your feelings can be elusive, slipping through your grasp like grains of sand.

You've always held a profound love for this world, cherishing its every detail. But now, it feels as though everything is slipping away, slipping beyond your grasp. The sun rises dutifully, even when unasked, illuminating the beauty around you. Most days, you wouldn't think twice about the things that go right in your life.

As the weight of your emotions threatens to consume you, Matt's heightened senses pick up on the shifting energy in the room. He turns his head towards you, his moving gaze piercing through the haze of your disquiet.

"Hey," he calls your name softly, his voice laced with concern, “Are you okay? You went sort of quiet…” Startled, you hastily put on a fake smile, hoping to mask the tumultuous thoughts and feelings that swirl within you. It's a delicate dance, maintaining the facade while grappling with the ache in your heart.

You meet his eyes behind his glasses, your eyes betraying a flicker of vulnerability before you quickly avert your gaze. Deep down, you know he senses something is amiss, but you can't bear to burden him with your inner turmoil. So, you play the part, presenting a semblance of composure despite the storm raging within.

With a subtle nod, you signal your understanding, silently acknowledging his attention and care. It's a fleeting moment, fleeting like the delicate petals of a wilting flower, but you carry on, concealing the depths of your emotions behind a practiced smile, “Mhm. I’m fine, just remembered something, my apologies.”

As Mrs. Cardenas continues to voice her concerns in Spanish, detailing the dire conditions in her building, and the absence of necessities like working sinks and pipes, a sense of despair fills the air. Her words echo with the weight of helplessness, as she recounts the failed attempts to seek assistance.

Karen steps in, fluently translating Mrs. Cardenas' words, revealing the futility of their interactions with the police. "The police couldn't help, they don’t know what to do." Karen conveys, her voice carrying the frustration and disappointment that hangs in the room. Mrs. Cardenas's voice rises with passion as she shares the police's response, emphasizing their inability to address the situation.

Matt's shoulders rise and fall in a deep sigh of frustration, his expression mirroring the collective disappointment in the room. It's a shared recognition of the limitations faced by those in need, the overwhelming bureaucracy that leaves them stranded without a lifeline.

Foggy looks at one of the documents, “This says Tully offered them 10,000 to give up their rent control and vacate the premises. Maybe we can pressure him into giving a better payout.” Karen stands up and reaches for a tissue box behind the two of you and then places it on the table before sitting back down.

Mrs. Cardenas shakes her head, “No, Señor Foggy. We do no want money. We want to stay in our homes.” A glimmer of determination flickers on Matt's face, a silent promise to do what he can to rectify the injustice. Though the challenges ahead may be daunting, he refuses to let the circumstances crush their hope. With unwavering resolve, he leans forward, ready to confront the city's indifference. He begins to converse with Mrs. Cardenas in Spanish, telling her that Foggy will speak to Tully’s lawyer.

As Mrs. Cardenas expresses her gratitude with a heartfelt "Oh, gracias Senor Murdock! Muchas gracias," Matt responds with a simple "Bueno." He stands up, his hands on his hips, signaling the conclusion of the meeting. You rise from your seat alongside Mrs. Cardenas, ready to escort her out.

With the meeting finished, you follow Karen out of the conference room, expressing your gratitude for her assistance and the accommodating nature of their firm. Stepping out onto the city's bustling streets, you bid farewell to Mrs. Cardenas, reminding her to remain cautious on her way home. Your paths diverge, each heading in separate directions, carrying the weight of the day's challenges and hope for a better future.

Lost in your thoughts, you find yourself standing outside the steps of Foggy and Matt's office building, retrieving your phone from your pocket to check your next task. Suddenly, a small object collides with the heel of your shoe, drawing your attention. Matt's voice breaks the silence, apologizing for the accidental encounter.

"Oh, Matt! I'm sorry," you respond, a hint of surprise in your wide eyes. Swiftly, you step aside, allowing him to pass without any further obstruction. The brief interaction lingers in the air, a fleeting moment of shared acknowledgment before resuming your respective paths in the bustling cityscape.

However, Matt's question catches you off guard. "You're still here?" he asks, his curiosity evident. You pause for a moment, considering his words before replying, "Uh, yeah. I'm on my way to the precinct to update Officer Mahoney."

A warm smile spreads across Matt's face as he suggests, "We can go together if you want. I'm heading there as well to look for any complaints against Tully." You blink in surprise at his offer, caught off guard by his genuine willingness to accompany you. Unsure of how to respond, you stumble over your words, "Uh, well..."

Before you can come up with an excuse, Matt's grin widens, sensing your momentary hesitation. "Mind if I hold on to your arm as we walk there?" he asks, his voice filled with a playful charm. Your brain momentarily halts, caught off guard by his request, but you manage to nod and squeak out, "Mhm. Yeah, Sure."

His touch is gentle yet firm as he takes hold of your arm, leading the way through the bustling streets of New York City. Despite knowing that he doesn't need guidance, you play along, maintaining the facade of ignorance about his vigilante activities. Matt's heightened senses remain ever vigilant, attuned to your every heartbeat, breath, and blink. He focuses on your scent and the subtle notes of your perfume, a reminder of the close proximity and unspoken connection between the two of you.

You make a conscious effort to steady your heartbeat, reminding yourself that this is merely a shared journey to fulfill your respective roles. There is no need to stress or overanalyze the situation. However, when Matt squeezes your arm to gain your attention, you are brought back to the present moment.

"Why did you want to become a social worker?" Matt's voice breaks through your thoughts, and you take a moment to gather your thoughts before responding. "I... um... I wanted to help people who have experienced a difficult time. I wanted to offer them a fresh start, free from judgment," you answer honestly, feeling a sense of purpose and compassion in your words.

Matt nods, seemingly appreciating the raw truth in your response. The two of you continue walking side by side, the rhythm of your steps creating a gentle harmony as you navigate the busy streets. “Why did you want to become a lawyer?” You asked as you looked up at him.

Matt's lips curve into a thoughtful smile as he considers your question. His voice carries a hint of nostalgia as he begins to share his motivations. "I wanted to become a lawyer because I believed in the power of justice. I wanted to be someone who could make a difference, who could fight for those who couldn't fight for themselves."

His words resonate with a sense of purpose and determination. As you listen, you can't help but admire his unwavering commitment to upholding the ideals of justice. The bustling city fades into the background, and for a moment, it feels as if it's just the two of you, united by a shared desire to make the world a better place.

As the conversation unfolds, you find yourself becoming more immersed in Matt's story, drawn to the passion and sincerity in his words. Together, you continue your journey, the streets of New York serving as the backdrop to your aspirations and the beginning of a deeper connection.

NEW YORK CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT – NOON

Mahoney eyes you both curiously before making an assumption, "Oh, are you two a..." You interrupt quickly, your cheeks flushing, "No, no! We're just colleagues. I came back to pick up the signed forms, and I need to return them to the DV shelter."

Matt offers a comforting smile while you fumble with your words. He gives your arm a reassuring squeeze before letting you pass by Mahoney to the police desks where the forms are kept. As you hurriedly scan the documents, you steal a glance over your shoulder and notice Matt taking a seat on one of the nearby benches.

The officer informs you that it will take a few minutes to process the forms, advising you to have a seat. Nervously, you settle next to Matt on the bench, stealing a quick glance at him. He appears slightly preoccupied, his head slightly tilted as if he's listening intently for something.

Suddenly, Matt gasps and springs up, freezing in place. The deafening sound of a gunshot echoes through the vicinity, causing you to startle. Chaos ensues as police officers react swiftly, their voices blending with the commotion.

"We've got shots fired!" one of the officers announces, sending a shiver down your spine. An unsettling feeling washes over you, confirming your suspicions that something is seriously amiss.

Matt's heightened senses hones in on the rapid rhythm of your heartbeat. He detects the unmistakable scent and taste of your surging cortisol, the stress hormone permeating the air. The subtle perspiration on your palms and the quiver in your breath are all indicators of your escalating anxiety.

He turns to your slightly shaking figure, recognizing the paralyzing effect the situation has had on you. Time seems to have come to a standstill for everyone else, but you remain trapped in your frozen moment. Matt approaches you with gentle steps, his voice a soothing whisper as he calls your name, attempting to coax you out of your daze. "Hey... Hey... I'm right here. You're with me."

Amidst the chaos around you, Matt extends his hand towards you, a lifeline of reassurance and support. Without hesitation, you feel his firm grip enveloping your trembling fingers, grounding you in the turmoil. The world may still be a blur, but his touch serves as a beacon of stability, guiding you through uncertainty.

Gradually, a sense of self returns to you, and you become aware of Matt's steady presence beside you. You realize that he had taken the lead, guiding you away from the chaotic scene and into a serene alleyway where the noise of the outside world fades into the background. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you gather the courage to speak.

"I... I'm sorry," you say, your voice tinged with a mix of apology and confusion. "I should be used to this by now. I don't know why I reacted the way I did. I'm sorry."

Matt's expression softens, his gaze filled with empathy as he reaches out a hand to gently touch your arm. "There's no need to apologize," he reassures you, his voice gentle yet resolute. "It’s okay. I got you. You’re safe with me, always.”

You take a moment to collect yourself, appreciating his understanding. The weight of the moment begins to lift as you find solace in his presence. Together, you stand in the quiet alleyway, finding comfort in the shared understanding between two individuals whose lives are entwined in the extraordinary.

SOMEWHERE IN NEW YORK CITY,

DOMESTIC VIOLENCE SHELTER – EVENING

As you leave the vicinity of the DV shelter, your mind is filled with a mix of emotions and thoughts. You reach into your pocket and retrieve your cell phone, switching it on to reconnect with the outside world. The city streets, typically bustling with activity, now exude an unusual stillness. It's as if something has shifted, causing a palpable sense of imbalance to permeate the air.

The once-familiar sounds of honking cars and bustling footsteps are replaced by an eerie silence, amplifying the weight of the moment. Your gaze scans the surroundings, searching for any signs or clues as to what may have caused this unsettling change. Is it merely a figment of your imagination, or is there a tangible disturbance in the equilibrium of the city?

Questions swirl in your mind as you continue walking, your steps measured and alert. The cool air brushes against your skin, carrying with it a sense of anticipation and apprehension. Whatever has transpired, you can't shake the feeling that it holds significance, that it's a precursor to events yet to unfold.

Your eyes are drawn to the distance, and a chill runs down your spine as you spot a column of smoke rising ominously into the air. Before you can fully process what's happening, chaos erupts near you. A nearby building explodes with a deafening blast, shattering windows and sending debris flying in all directions.

The ground shakes beneath your feet as the force of the explosion reverberates through the surrounding area. You hear the muffled panic ensuing as people scramble for safety, their cries of fear and confusion blending with the sound of sirens wailing in the distance. Time seems to slow down as you take in the destruction and the plumes of smoke billowing into the sky.

Adrenaline courses through your veins, fueling your determination to navigate the chaos and find a way to help those in need. With a deep breath, you steel yourself and take the first steps towards assisting in any way you can, your heart heavy with the weight of uncertainty and the urgent need to restore order during this unforeseen catastrophe.

As the smoke fills the air and sirens continue to blare, you swiftly make your way toward the DV shelter. Your heart pounds in your chest as you fear for the safety of those inside. Relief washes over you as you find everyone relatively unharmed, with only minor injuries and scratches.

With a quick assessment of the situation, you determine that the immediate needs at the shelter are being taken care of. Your attention now shifts to the nearby buildings that were directly impacted by the blast. Determination fuels your every step as you rush toward the affected area, ready to lend a helping hand.

Arriving at the scene, you're met with the devastating aftermath of the explosion. The damaged buildings stand as a somber testament to the chaos that unfolded. As you survey the area, your eyes widen in recognition—this was one of the Russian hideouts, a grim reminder of the criminal underbelly lurking in the city.

The sight of lifeless bodies and charred weapons strewn across the ground sends a chill down your spine. The realization hits you hard, deepening the gravity of the situation. This was no ordinary incident; it was part of a larger web of criminal activity.

Choosing to distance yourself from the rubble, you follow the blazing lights of police cars that race past you. Instinctively, you move toward the source of the commotion, seeking answers and hoping to find a way to help.

Amid the chaos, you come upon a scene that stops you in your tracks. Matt, fully dressed in his black attire, stands a few feet away, his fist raised as he prepares to strike down Ranskahov, seeking revenge for the harm inflicted upon you and Claire. Your heart races as you watch from behind Corbin and the police officers, realizing the complexities of the situation.

They raise their guns, pointing them at the Masked Man. The officers close in, their intentions unclear. You remain hidden, your powers shimmering as you turn yourself invisible, ready to assist Matt in his fight against these corrupt cops who are undoubtedly on Fisk's payroll.

Amidst the tension and uncertainty, you hope that Matt hasn't picked up on your presence just yet. You prepare yourself to join the fray, your determination burning strong. One of the cops yells, “Don’t you move! Don’t you freakin’ move! Interlock your fingers behind your head and get on your knees. On your knees! Do it! Do it now!”

You approach Matt with a purposeful stride, your hand lightly grazing his shoulder to signal your presence. His whispered question hangs in the air, but instead of offering a direct response, you tap into your abilities. With a melodic distortion, your voice takes on an otherworldly quality as you reply, "Someone who wants to help you."

Positioning yourself in front of the officers, you unleash your powers, manipulating their perceptions and distorting their vision. Ranskahov is shot during the scuffle, but in a dazzling display, your form glimmers and shimmers, weaving a tapestry of illusion and enchantment. The officers, caught off guard by the sudden alteration of reality, find themselves disoriented and bewildered.

The fight unfolds with a fluidity and grace that seems almost supernatural. You seamlessly blend your powers and a touch of magic to incapacitate a majority of the officers. Your movements are precise, calculated, and mesmerizing to behold.

As the chaos subsides and the last of the officers are neutralized, you stand amidst the aftermath, your power still crackling in the air. Your eyes meet Matt's figure, standing and heaving, there's a flicker of recognition mixed with intrigue. The truth of your abilities and your intentions remains shrouded, but in this pivotal moment, a connection forms between you and the masked vigilante.

As Matt's plea reaches your ears, “Stay with me.” A surge of emotions courses through you, threatening to unravel the carefully constructed facade you wear. You turn away, your heart aching with unspoken words, and feel the tremor in your voice as you distort it, a painful reflection of your inner turmoil. "I wish I could," you confess, your voice quivering with regret and longing.

You quickly come to a realization, understanding that the situation calls for a strategic approach. While your instincts urge you to stay by Matt's side and offer your support, you also recognize the importance of ensuring the safety of others in the vicinity. The weight of responsibility settles upon your shoulders as you grasp the need to cover more ground.

With a determined resolve, you decide to extend your reach beyond Matt's immediate presence. You understand that there are civilians at risk, their lives hanging in the balance amidst the chaos. You know that by safeguarding the innocent and aiding those in distress, you are contributing to the overall mission of protecting the city.

Though your heart may ache at the thought of being separated from Matt, you understand the necessity of this approach. The strength of your bond and shared purpose will endure, even if you are physically apart. And as you cover ground, ensuring the safety of others, you hold onto the hope that Matt will do the same, fighting against the forces of darkness to bring justice and protect the vulnerable.

Matt's expression was filled with a mix of hope and desperation. His voice, barely above a whisper, carries a weight of vulnerability. "Will I see you again?" he asks, his voice laced with uncertainty.

A bittersweet smile tugs at your lips as you meet his distant gaze through the mask, wanting to offer reassurance amidst the uncertainty. "I’ll find you," you promise, determination shining in your eyes.

At that moment, you fade away, slipping from his grasp like a whisper lost in the wind. You become a ghost, a phantom presence lingering in the recesses of his mind. Like the ephemeral glimmer of a comet in the night sky, you leave a lasting impression, a celestial spectacle he cannot forget.

Lost in the depths of his thoughts, Matt ponders your enigmatic presence. He remains uncertain of your identity, your purpose, and the boundaries that separate you. Yet, he can't help but believe that you are his miracle, a guardian angel sent to watch over him, even if he feels unworthy of such grace.

As you continue on your path, the echoes of his whispered plea and your promise linger in your heart. The connection forged in that fleeting encounter leaves an indelible mark on your soul. And though the journey ahead may be arduous and fraught with challenges, the hope of crossing paths with him again becomes a beacon that guides you through the darkness.

METRO-GENERAL HOSPITAL - EVENING

Sometimes, the city feels distant, like a place lost in time, where the radio stations play unfamiliar tunes and discuss a God who prefers modesty. In those moments, you find yourself caught between where you've been and the vast unknown that lies ahead.

As you rush through the doors of Metro-General, the Emergency Department buzzes with activity. The blaring sound of a television grabs your attention, broadcasting the breaking news of the devastating explosions that rocked Hell's Kitchen.

As you swiftly navigate through the chaos and devastation surrounding the hospital, your keen senses alert you to the cries of injured civilians in desperate need of help. Your heart swells with empathy as you rush to their aid, displaying both strength and compassion.

With steady hands and a reassuring voice, you guide a couple of injured civilians toward safety, providing them solace amidst the chaos. Despite the urgency of the situation, you take the time to offer comforting words and gentle reassurance, ensuring they know they are not alone in this turmoil.

Their pain becomes your own, and your determination to protect and heal emanates from your every action. With unwavering resolve, you navigate the labyrinthine hallways, instinctively seeking out the areas where medical assistance is most needed. As you tend to the injured, your presence alone provides a sense of calm and reassurance. You tirelessly work to stabilize their conditions, offering a compassionate touch and a comforting word in the face of unimaginable pain. Your selflessness is evident in every action, as you prioritize the well-being of others above all else.

In the chaos, you spot Foggy and Karen, their faces filled with worry, bringing in an injured Mrs. Cardenas. Your eyes meet Claire's from down the hall, and you hasten your steps to join their group, ready to lend a helping hand.

"Are you guys okay?" you inquire, concern evident in your voice. Foggy, Karen, and Claire exchange worried glances, their eyes lingering on the bruises and scratches that mar your skin.

"What happened to you? You're covered in bruises," Karen observes, her voice filled with genuine concern. Quick on your feet, you conjure a plausible lie, hoping to shield them from the truth.

"Oh, I was near one of the explosions, but I managed to escape unscathed," you assure them, your voice resolute, despite the smudged dirt on your skin and the disarray of your appearance. Claire's perceptive gaze meets yours, silently acknowledging that there's more to the story. Though unspoken, her understanding serves as a comforting reassurance that your secret is safe for now.

After swiftly delegating Mrs. Cardenas and attending to Foggy's wound, you are pulled aside by Claire and guided into a nearby stairwell. Concern fills your voice as you whisper, "Are we supposed to be in here?" She places a finger to her lips, urging you to keep quiet, and shows you her phone, indicating that Matt is calling. Your eyes widen in apprehension as you look up at Claire, waiting for her to answer the call. She puts it on low volume speaker, ensuring your involvement.

"I need your help. I've found someone who has crucial information about what I've been investigating, but he's been shot," Matt's gravelly voice resonates through the speaker. Claire rolls her eyes in exasperation and suggests, "Why don't you call 911?"

"I can't. The police are the ones who shot him. They'd probably like a chance to finish the job," Matt explains, prompting Claire to seek your confirmation. You nod silently, conveying your agreement. Claire sighs in resignation and questions, "You want me to come to you... in the middle of all this?"

"No, I want you to walk me through stabilizing him," Matt replies. Claire rolls her eyes once again, and you stifle a laugh at their familiar banter. Claire responds over the phone, "It's not as easy as it looks in the movies, you know?" Matt retorts playfully, "I don't really go to the movies. I like records, though.”

You can't help but roll your eyes this time, thinking to yourself how much of a flirt Matt can be. Claire sighs and relents, “All right.” Matt then continues, “There's something else you need to know. The man I'm trying to save… it's Vladimir.”

Matt continues, "There's something else you need to know. The man I'm trying to save... it's Vladimir."

Frustration washes over you, and you briefly close your eyes, looking away from the phone. Claire's voice echoes with anger, "The jerk who had me beaten up? That's who you want me to help?"

Matt sighs, pleading, “Look, you have every right to tell me to go to hell, but he's important, Claire. What he knows could bring Fisk down and save more people like you from getting hurt.”

A heavy silence hangs over the line as you stand next to Claire, offering her a sympathetic gaze. You mouth the word "please" while Matt calls out for Claire once again.

Claire's voice crackles through the phone with a sense of urgency, "Is there an exit wound?" Matt's response is barely audible, his voice filled with gratitude, "Thank you." He pauses momentarily, his throat clearing before he continues, “Uh, no. The bullet's still inside him. It's still half a degree hotter than the surrounding tissue.”

Claire then asks, “Is there any kind of first aid kit?” To which Matt replies, “I'm in a warehouse. Abandoned.” Claire looks at you and then raises her eyebrows, “Tell me what's there, anything you can use.”

"Alright, hang on," Matt's voice crackles through the phone, filled with determination. You exchange a glance with Claire, your expression a mix of concern and anxiety. The weight of the situation hangs heavy in the air as you prepare to guide Matt through a risky procedure.

Matt's voice comes through, listing the items he has at his disposal. “Uh, half a box of nails... broken glass... wood, duct tape, old roadside emergency kit, a lot of plastic sheeting…” Each item carries its potential, a makeshift arsenal in their desperate circumstances.

Claire's voice cuts through the tension, her focus sharp. “The kit, are there any flares in it?” Your eyebrows raise in surprise as Matt confirms, “Yeah, two.”

Claire hums, her mind working out a plan. “Alright... you're gonna cauterize the wound.” The gravity of her words sinks in, knowing the pain and risk involved.

Matt's voice carries a hint of uncertainty, "Shouldn't I dig the bullet out first?" Claire shrugs, her voice steady and experienced. You squint up at her, silently taking in her expertise. "Remember what I said about this not being a movie? You cut him open and start digging around, you'll kill him. This way, at least he has a chance of not bleeding out before you get what you need out of him... and... it'll hurt like a son of a bitch, so bonus."

A brief pause follows as Matt absorbs Claire's instructions. His determination shines through as he asks, "Alright, how do I do this?" Claire sighs, her voice soothing yet firm, "Just light the flare, hold it close to his skin until the entry wound seals." The simplicity of her instructions masks the high stakes and the immense trust placed in Matt's hands.

Silence hangs in the air, the weight of the moment palpable. You remain on the line, a silent presence of support, as Matt prepares to undertake this risky procedure that could save a life or plunge them further into peril, “Okay, I'm gonna put you on speaker.”

With a sense of urgency, you snatch the phone from Claire's hand, pressing the mute button swiftly. Concern etches across your face as you realize the importance of determining the precise location where Matt finds himself. You need to be prepared for any potential obstacles or dangers that lie ahead.

Claire's expression betrays her worry as she shakes her head, hesitant to let you venture into the unknown. She understands the risks involved and fears for your safety. But your determination shines through as you meet her gaze, emphasizing the significance of your collective mission.

You lock eyes with Claire, conveying the gravity of the situation. You know that time is of the essence, and every decision carries weight. Countless lives hang in the balance, and you can't stand idly by. Your voice carries conviction as you implore Claire to make the crucial inquiry.

"I need to know where he is, Claire," you insist, your tone filled with urgency. "We can't leave anything to chance. Lives are at stake."

Claire hesitates for a moment, her eyes darting between you and the phone. She understands the weight of your words and the responsibility that comes with them. Finally, she nods and takes back the phone, once again connecting with Matt. His voice reverberates through the line, calling out for Claire. She responds her tone steady yet laced with concern.

"Yeah... still here," Claire answers, her voice filled with determination. "But before you start, can you let me know which area you're in? Just in case."

The line falls silent for a brief moment, tension filling the air. Then, Matt's voice breaks through, his words carrying a hint of relief. "Northwest corner of 47th and 12th," he reveals, giving you a lifeline in this race against time.

You meet Claire's gaze, gratitude shining in your eyes. It's a silent acknowledgment of her pivotal role in acquiring this crucial information. With a nod, you quickly formulate your next course of action, knowing that there is no time to waste.

Without further delay, you take a deep breath and quietly exit the stairwell, ready to face the challenges ahead and join Matt in his fight.

ABANDONED BUILDING, NORTHWEST CORNER OF 47TH AND 12TH – EVENING

You try your best to stay out of sight and hide between the shadows of the alleyways. There are sirens wailing and police radio chattering, multiple officers, and their K9s. Ben Urich is also discussing with the two detectives when you arrive and you have a concerned look on your face as you feel your powers pulse and vibrate as you will them to life, rendering the illusion of invisibility as you walked past the officers and climbed up a fire escape to get to where Matt is.

By the time you reached the second floor, you spot Vladimir, his bloodied and wounded form sprawled on the ground, a testament to the brutality of the situation. As you take in the scene, your eyes scan the surroundings, checking the perimeter for any signs of danger. Matt, focused and composed, is busy securing a police officer to a rusty metal pole, ensuring he remains restrained.

Vladimir's voice strained and sputtering with blood, reaches your ears. "You've been busy," he manages to say, his words laced with both exhaustion and curiosity. You position yourself near the window panes, keeping watch as Matt diligently proceeds to silence the officer with a layer of duct tape across his mouth.

Vladimir's head tilts at an odd angle as he groggily asks, "How do you know this?" You turn to witness Matt's nonchalant shrug, his response filled with an air of mystery. "Lucky guess," he casually remarks, his instincts proving sharp even in the direst of situations.

Suddenly, the sound of helicopter blades reverberates through the building, confirming the accuracy of Matt's prediction. Matt bends down to pick up a discarded pistol, skillfully unloading and disassembling it without hesitation. Vladimir's eyes widen at the sight, his voice dripping with frustration. "We could have used that."

A faint smile tugs at the corners of Matt's lips as he retrieves a sturdy metal cylinder pipe instead. "I'm not big on guns," he states with conviction, his actions speaking volumes about his principles.

In an instant, Matt is standing next to you by the window, attuned to the world outside. Together, you listen to the symphony of heartbeats, barks, and radio chatter, a cacophony of chaos that defines the battlefield surrounding the building. As Vladimir groans in pain, the effects of the cauterization evident, he musters the strength to voice his discontent. "You... burned me?" he coughs out, his disbelief palpable.

Matt's response is both matter-of-fact and compassionate. "Yeah, I had to stop the bleeding," he states, his determination to save lives shining through. Vladimir's anguished cry fills the air, a testament to the excruciating pain he is enduring as Matt drags him against a wooden crate for him to lean on.

Matt's voice remains steady, his resolve unyielding. "Bullet's still inside you. Wouldn't move around, if I were you." In the midst of their tense exchange, Vladimir musters the strength to voice his defiance. "You expect me to say thank you?" he sputters out, his words laced with a mix of bitterness and defiance.

Matt’s voice grows deeper, “If I didn't need you alive, we wouldn't be having this conversation.” Vladimir chuckles weakly and coughs, “So you just stand there and let me die, huh? But you couldn't kill me yourself. Is that where you draw the line?”

Matt kneels down, his determination etched on his face as he growls, "Tell me what I want to know about Fisk." Vladimir, blood dripping from his mouth, musters a defiant response, "You think you're different... from me? From him? But you'll get there. Sooner or later... we all do, men like us."

Moved by the intensity of the moment, you stand beside Matt, offering your support. Your hand gently rests on his shoulder, providing a silent reassurance. As your touch connects with him, you feel his body freeze, his muscles tensing. Matt cranes his neck to the side, his heightened senses acknowledging your presence. His voice, barely audible, carries a mix of surprise and relief as he whispers, "You were looking for me."

Your hand instinctively moves down to his arm, offering a comforting squeeze. You lean closer to his ear, your words a soft murmur, "I'm always looking for you."

Matt turns his head slightly, his attention briefly shifting to your presence, but he doesn't linger on it. Instead, he focuses on Vladimir, the urgency of the situation pulling him back into the moment. "A man like Fisk just took out your entire operation," Matt asserts, his voice carrying a weight of authority. "And he may not own all the cops, but he owns enough that you won't make it into a prison cell. Right now, I'm your only shot at getting out of this building alive."

Vladimir, his breathing heavy, musters the strength to share crucial information. "His lapdog came to us first. He told us his employer had taken note. He complimented... us on our business. Invited us to be part of something bigger... to expand... if we entered into an agreement."

Matt's gravelly voice cuts through the tension, his question demanding answers. "What did Fisk offer?" he asks, his focus unwavering.

Vladimir shrugs, a grimace forming on his blood-stained face. "Police looking other way... aid from politicians... and access to Chinese and their heroin."

Surprised by the revelation, Matt presses further, "He's working with the Chinese?" Vladimir's mocking tone sends a wave of frustration through Matt. "You really don't know anything, do you? Just snapping at scraps falling from the table."

Frustrated but undeterred, Matt licks his lips, determined to gather more information. "I want names. Everything you know about them and how they connect to Fisk."

Vladimir's energy wanes, his voice growing weaker. "There's only one name that matters. The man that can tie it all together." Matt's urgency rises as he implores, "Who?"

With a distant gaze, Vladimir reminisces, his voice trailing off, "We were going to rule this city... my brother and I."

Matt, sensing the opportunity slipping away, growls urgently, "Vladimir, the name!"

Struggling to form the words, Vladimir's voice fades before he utters something in Russian. Suddenly, he catches Matt off guard, headbutting him and launching a swift attack with a wooden plank. Matt groans, winded and disoriented, trying to regain his footing amidst the chaos.

Defiantly, Vladimir cries out, "This is not how I die. This is not how it happens." Matt, refusing to yield, pushes himself up from the floor, his resolve unyielding. The room becomes a blur of grunts, punches, and strikes as the two adversaries engage in a fierce battle. In a stunning turn of events, Matt gains the upper hand, bringing Vladimir down to the ground, causing the old wooden floors to splinter beneath their weight. The deafening sound of planks clattering and the heavy thump of their bodies hitting the floor below reverberate through the room, causing you to flinch.

Your heart races with panic as you witness the aftermath of the intense confrontation. Matt lies motionless, his body splayed across the fractured floor. Fear and concern grip you, overpowering any rational thought. Without hesitation, you tap into your unique abilities.

Drawing upon the illusory energy within you, you summon your powers. An ethereal shimmer envelops your form, rendering you visible once again. With a focused determination, you concentrate your energy, allowing it to manifest beneath your feet.

Gradually, you lift off the ground, defying gravity as you hover above the wreckage. Your descent through the gaping hole in the floor is guided by a combination of instinct and concern. Matt's stillness propels you forward, an invisible force compelling you to reach him.

As you gently lower yourself to the lower level, your touch meets the battered body of the man you have the urge to care for. Tenderly, you cradle his head in your hands, checking for signs of life. Matt stirs, his breath shallow but present, and relief washes over you.

With a mixture of relief and worry etched on your face, you whisper softly, "Come on, stay with me." Your voice carries a blend of encouragement and concern, urging him to regain his strength. The sounds of the dog barking and distant sirens serving as a constant reminder of the perilous situation. Time is of the essence, and you know that you must act swiftly to ensure Matt's safety and the success of their mission.

As Matt groans in pain, you lend him your support, his weight partially resting against you. He grimaces and spits out a mouthful of blood, the metallic taste lingering in the air. Your heart aches at the sight, fueling your determination to help him through this ordeal.

While maintaining your grip on Matt, he turns his head towards the motionless Vladimir, his gaze filled with a mix of pain and defiance. His voice carries a hint of a growl as he addresses his defeated adversary, "That wasn't very smart."

Vladimir's body remains still, but his eyes continue to glare at Matt with a piercing intensity. With a mocking sneer, he taunts, "But it was fun, wasn't it? Watching you bleed. And finally seeing what your little guardian angel looks like."

You swallow nervously, the weight of the situation pressing upon you. Matt's response is laced with contempt, his voice dripping with defiance and a touch of blood, "You think this is a game?"

A faint smile tugs at the corners of Vladimir's mouth as he retorts, "If it was a game, you'd be losing."

Meanwhile, you shift your focus to tending to Matt's injuries as best you can amidst the chaos. Your hands brush away the dirt and debris, offering a semblance of comfort in the midst of their harsh surroundings. Drawing upon the energy of your glamour, you channel it to alleviate some of the soreness and minor wounds, providing a small measure of relief.

As Vladimir's eyes flutter closed, Matt freezes for a moment before mustering his strength and pushing himself up. He hurriedly moves to Vladimir's side and begins performing chest compressions, his voice filled with desperation, "No... No... Come on. I'm not done with you yet. You hear me? I'm not done with you yet."

Sensing the urgency of the situation, you quickly join Matt, gently taking hold of his arms and urging him to step aside. Reluctantly, he complies and shifts his focus to your actions. You concentrate on the rhythm of your compressions, your hands applying measured pressure to Vladimir's chest.

The room is charged with tension as you continue the life-saving procedure. The sound of your hands connecting with Vladimir's chest echoes through the air. However, just as you feel a flicker of doubt, your powers surge to life, channeling a surge of magic into his body. The shock jolts Vladimir's heart, coaxing it back into a normal rhythm.

Coughing and gasping for air, Vladimir's eyes widen in confusion. He struggles to comprehend what just occurred. Unamused, you respond with a hint of annoyance in your tone, "You died. I brought you back. You're welcome."

Vladimir gazes up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and disdain. With a hint of mockery, he taunts, "You can't even stand there and let me die, even after I almost killed the one you're so eager to protect. Does he even know your name?"

Gritting your teeth, you feel Matt's presence beside you. Shaking your head, you reply, "It doesn't matter. Give us the information we need about Fisk."

However, the sudden sounds from outside the building catch your attention, causing both you and Matt to tense up. Your eyes meet his, silently communicating the urgency of the situation. Matt swiftly positions himself atop a wooden table, his palms pressed against its surface to sense the vibrations of the concrete. He cranes his neck, absorbing every piece of information from the surroundings. The rumbling of the nearby train tracks triggers an idea in his mind.

Curious, Vladimir asks, "What are you doing?" Matt responds with determination in his voice, "Finding us a way out."

Moving swiftly, Matt strides over to a corner of the room, and you follow his lead. He squats down, removing the wooden planks and debris that obstruct the way. Your eyes catch sight of a metal grate, likely leading to the sewer. Matt starts pulling at the bars, and you join him, lending your strength to the task at hand. However, just as you begin, the crackling of a radio fills the room, and a voice at the other end speaks up, "I'd like to speak to the man in the mask, please."

Your eyes shoot up to Matt, a mix of anxiety and anticipation evident in your expression, as the voice on the radio continues to speak. "Hello. Are you there? Can you hear me?" Matt's attention is drawn to the radio lying on the floor. He quickly reaches for a piece of wood, using his gloved hand to turn it over, and then picks up the device. "Who is this?" he inquires, his voice laced with caution.

A sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach as you realize the significance of this moment. "I think you know," you respond, your voice tinged with apprehension. "You've been asking about me. I thought it was time we spoke." While keeping your hands on the metal grate beneath you, you strain to listen to the conversation unfolding between Matt and the man on the other end of the line, whom you assume to be Fisk.

"Say your name," Matt demands, his tone firm and unwavering. Fisk counters, "You first." There's a brief pause before Fisk continues, "That's what I thought. You and I have a lot in common."

Matt whispers deeply, his voice filled with conviction, "We're nothing alike."

Fisk disagrees, his voice dripping with smugness, "That's what you'll tell yourself."

"You're feeding off this city... like a cancer," Matt states matter-of-factly, his words cutting through the tension.

"I want to save this city, like you... only on a scale that matters," Fisk retorts, his tone implying a twisted sense of righteousness.

"Now tell that to the people you've hurt," Matt challenges, his voice holding a blend of anger and determination.

"Young man... life is not a fairy tale. Not everyone deserves... a happy ending," Fisk responds nonchalantly, his words leaving a bitter taste in the air.

You gather the remaining strength within you, attempting to summon your powers once more, but they flicker out, leaving you frustrated and on the verge of tears.

"I'm gonna find you... and I'm gonna make you pay for what you've done," Matt threatens, his voice seething with righteous fury. Fisk doesn't miss a beat, his tone unwavering, "No, you are not. Not that I don't admire what you're trying to do... to change the world... with nothing but desire and your own two hands... secure in the knowledge that you're doing the right thing, the only thing. That's something that I do understand. But we both can't have what we want. So... your part... in this drama, by necessity, comes to an end."

"It's gonna take a lot more than a voice on a radio to stop me," Matt declares defiantly, kneeling on the floor. He can sense your fatigue and nausea, and his concern for you simmers beneath his anger.

"It's not me you need to worry about. It's the city you just blew the hell out of," Fisk says, revealing his true intentions. As you lift your head, you lock eyes with Matt, realizing that Fisk has played his cards perfectly, orchestrating the situation in his favor.

Matt stands up and moves closer to you, a knowing smirk on his face. He chuckles over the radio, "You... You think anyone's gonna believe that?"

"You're running around in a mask, holing up with a known felon in the wake of a series of bombings. There's that police officer you're holding hostage, so... yes. Actually, I do. But it doesn't have to be this way. The Russian... is he alive?" Fisk inquires. Matt turns the radio toward Vladimir, who spits back, "I'm still here, you fat shit!"

Matt's smirk widens as he presses the radio button, triumphantly saying, "Does that answer your question?"

"It's a one-time offer. You kill the Russian, and we'll call the night a push. You know what he's done... to women... to children..." Fisk presents his proposition, his voice dripping with malice. Matt's boot lands on Vladimir's hand, preventing him from grabbing a sharp piece of wood, eliciting a pained groan. Matt effortlessly grabs the wooden piece and hurls it across the room.

"To the people of this city that you claim to care about," Fisk adds, his words fueling Matt's anger.

"You just confirmed how important he is. That must worry you, what he might tell me," Matt asserts, exposing Fisk's fear. Fisk retorts, "Which means he hasn't told you anything yet."

You sense Matt's anger boiling beneath the surface as he kicks some rubble aside in frustration, causing you to flinch. Matt turns his body towards you, and you direct your attention back to the metal grate. You shake your head, attempting to muster the last ounce of energy within you, determined to replenish your magic before Fisk's men close in on all of you.

"You're a child playing at being a hero," Fisk taunts, his words intended to provoke. Matt licks his lower lip in frustration before responding, "No, no, I'm not trying to be a hero. I'm just a guy that got fed up with men like you and I decided to do something about it."

"That's what makes you dangerous. It's not the mask. It's not the skills. It's your ideology. The lone man... who thinks he can make a difference," Fisk states grimly. Disagreement knits your eyebrows together, but you can see the way Matt's lips curl downwards, haunted by a memory that quietly slips under the door of his mind. It rewinds the tapes, presenting evidence that what Fisk is saying holds a grain of truth. In that moment, your heart aches at the thought of Matt believing it.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself you've won. It'll make what I'm gonna do to you so much more satisfying," Matt says, his voice filled with determination. Fisk replies coldly, "Your part ends tonight."

"And if that's true, others will take my place. They'll see what I was trying to do, and they'll make sure..." Matt's sentence is cut short by Fisk's interruption, "No, they won't. The city will burn you in effigy. Your name, your very existence... will be met with abhorrence and disgust."

The sudden clamoring and screams from outside weigh heavily on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. Matt's voice, filled with pain, resonates, "What did you do?"

"What you forced me to do. Goodbye. I'm afraid we won't speak again," Fisk declares, severing the connection. Matt pushes himself off the wall, his frustration and anger erupting in a furious yell before he hurls the radio, shattering it against the wall with a display of his strength.

Realizing that you need a few minutes to recover before attempting to tackle the stubborn metal grate once again, you find a spot on the ground to sit down. Leaning your back against the wall, you catch your breath, pushing stray strands of hair away from your face with tired fingers.

Matt, ever determined, moves towards the metal grate, ready to give it another try. However, just as he starts to exert his strength, the shrill ring of his phone interrupts his efforts. He pauses, panting, and answers with a weary tone, "It's really not a good time."

You pay little attention to who might be on the other end of the line, but you can hear fragments of Claire's voice filtering through the speaker. A brief moment passes before Matt pants out a response, "No. It was Fisk. It's all Fisk."

Feeling a mixture of exhaustion and curiosity, you observe Matt as he moves to the other side of the room, engaging in the phone conversation. His head tilts to the side, his expression grave, as he listens intently. Then, in a rare moment of vulnerability, his usually confident voice falters, "Claire. Um... What you said, before I left... I was..."

His words trail off, and you can sense the weight of his emotions. "No, don't be," he continues, his voice filled with sincerity. "It turns out you were... You were right... about me. I just don't want you getting caught up if it goes that way. If we don't get a chance to talk again... you take care of yourself."

It becomes apparent to you how easily Matt pushes away those he cares about, as if his hands act as barriers, closing off access to his own heart. The anger, fear, and sadness that he keeps hidden beneath the surface remain locked away in a secluded room within him. Pushing yourself up from the wall, you ignore the pain in your hands from previous attempts to claw at the grate. Squatting down, you grip the metal tightly, determination etched on your face.

Both Matt and Vladimir move to assist you, but your voice, filtered with resolve, reverberates through the room, "Stop." Their movements freeze, and you feel the surge of power within you growing. The energy manipulates the metal grate, causing it to shift and tremble under your command. A sharp cry of pain escapes your lips, and with great effort, you finally give in, collapsing to the side.

Matt acts swiftly, catching your limp figure in his arms, providing support as you struggle to catch your breath. You watch as the shimmering magic that surrounded the grate fades away, but to your surprise, the grate itself is completely gone. Your eyes widen in astonishment at the display of your newfound abilities. A snort escapes you, mingling with the pain and exhaustion, "You were right. This isn't how we die."

With Matt's help, you manage to make your way down the ladder, gripping a flashlight tightly in your hand. The stench of sewage only adds to the disorientation, but you push through, determined to keep moving forward. Matt takes on the responsibility of supporting your weight, doing his best to assist you. He guides Vladimir to a wall on the side, allowing him a moment to catch his breath.

Vladimir's voice cuts through the air, filled with confusion, "Where are we?"

"Access tunnels," Matt responds, his voice containing a hint of knowledge. "The city was built on a network of these, most of them sealed up years ago." His head tilts as he hones in on the approaching sounds of police officers, hot on your trail.

"Alright, we have to keep moving, find a way to the street," Matt declares, his determination resurfacing. With one side supporting Vladimir and the other struggling to support you, you all continue on, navigating the maze-like tunnels in search of an escape route to the surface.

As you turn your attention to the locked door, your mind races with ideas on how to open it. However, before you can offer your assistance, Matt's swift reflexes come into play. He swiftly throws Vladimir aside, propelling him away from the immediate danger. The sound of a commanding voice fills the air, yelling, "Freeze!"

Reacting on instinct, you instinctively duck, narrowly avoiding the hail of gunfire that erupts in the tunnel. Matt's finely honed senses and skills kick into high gear as he gracefully evades the bullets, his movements fluid and precise. Your powers surge within you, and you harness their energy to create ethereal spheres of shimmering illusions. With a focused intention, you launch the illusions at one of the officers, causing him to become disoriented and rendering him unconscious.

Seizing the opportunity, you spot Matt's discarded metal pipe on the ground and swiftly grab it. With a surge of energy, you infuse the pipe with power, transforming it into a formidable weapon. Expertly aiming, you hurl the energized pipe at the second officer, striking him square in the head. At the same time, you unleash a beam of projection, creating mirages and shimmers that disorient the remaining officer.

Matt's skills are unmatched as he swiftly disarms the final officer, his movements seamless and calculated. With the immediate threat neutralized, he stands by your side, both of you breathing heavily from the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You lean against the wall, wincing at the sharp pain in your side, and take a moment to catch your breath. Meanwhile, Vladimir has managed to secure one of the rifles and points it toward the two of you.

"We need to go. There are five more coming. They're working for Fisk, probably not even real cops. We don't have time for this," Matt pants out urgently, his voice laced with concern. You frown, realizing the severity of the situation, but before you can react, Vladimir interrupts with a pained voice, "I think... maybe I stay."

Matt tries to reason with him, his voice tinged with desperation, "We can still make it out of here. You can turn evidence on Fisk, we can expose him..."

Vladimir shakes his head, his voice resolute, "He controls... all police... judges. There's only one way to stop him, you know this."

Matt firmly denies, "No. I'm not a killer."

"The moment you put on the mask... you got into a cage with animals. Animals don't stop fighting. Not until one of them is dead," Vladimir states, his words carrying the weight of bitter experience. He groans as he pushes himself up from the floor, his determination unwavering. His gaze shifts between you and Matt, and then settles on you. "And he will do it... to everyone you care about. Will you feel the same way then? Or will you be a man... and do what you know you must do?"

Vladimir's words hang heavy in the air, their impact sinking in. You close your eyes for a moment, contemplating the choices before you. The distant sound of chatter and approaching footsteps snaps your attention back to the present. Vladimir's gaze shifts between all of you, his voice filled with urgency, "Go."

Summoning the last reserves of your energy, you focus your powers once more. With a burst of golden energy, you direct a powerful surge towards the locked door. The door buckles under the force, hinges groaning and splintering, until finally, it bursts open, revealing an escape route from the turmoil, bloodshed, and the weighty decisions that lingered in the air.

Together, you and Matt rush through the newly opened passage, leaving behind the dissonance and unfortunate resolve of Vladimir.

End Notes:

Yes yes, I KNOW. Does Matt know? It’s you?? We’ll find out in the next chapter. Hehehe. Yay for the black suit :> I was supposed to split this into two parts but ehhh I couldn’t help myself.

Lowkey blacked out while writing this chonky chapter so uhhh if there are any mistakes... my bad! 😣

Okay time for the next episode! See ya 👋

TAGLIST:

@scoliobean

#matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x reader #matthew murdock x reader #matthew murdock #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fem!reader #notre dame etherealbloom #notre dame series #notre dame matt murdock #notre dame ethereal #matthew murdock x fem!reader

77 notes · View notes