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[ellephlox]

Embers and Ashes, Chapter 13

After showing up at Matt's office, you tell him everything—and form an alliance.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Story summary: It's not easy to keep a low profile when you've got the power to heal, but you've managed to carve out a home for yourself in Hell's Kitchen. By day you're an assistant at a literary agency, and by night you mend broken bones and bloody cuts. It's a double life that constantly forces you to question your morality, because the wounds you seem to magically heal don't vanish forever �� they've got to eventually go somewhere.

But after you make the mistake of healing the wrong people, you become Daredevil’s next target, and suddenly your double life becomes far more tangled than you could ever have predicted.

Set post-S3. Slow burn Matt x Fem!Reader. You can read Ch. 1 on AO3 here and Ch. 13 on AO3 here.

Tag list (let me know if you'd like to be added to it!):

@yeonalie @mariatpwk @lionalsowrites @willowpains @lunaticgurly @kiwwia-wiwwia @e-l-s-i @natsuki2307 @noellander

[ellephlox]

Embers and Ashes, Chapter 12

You made to leave, and had your hand on the door when Matt’s voice echoed down from the top of the stairs.

“Change your mind?”

And inexplicably, at his words, you barely managed to keep yourself from crying again. “I’m sorry. I can leave. I don’t know why I came here, I just… I didn’t have anywhere to go. I didn’t know what to do.”

And you started to push open the door, but Matt spoke first. “Stay,” he said. “What happened?”

WARNINGS: Description of torture in this chapter.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Story summary: It's not easy to keep a low profile when you've got the power to heal, but you've managed to carve out a home for yourself in Hell's Kitchen. By day you're an assistant at a literary agency, and by night you mend broken bones and bloody cuts. It's a double life that constantly forces you to question your morality, because the wounds you seem to magically heal don't vanish forever — they've got to eventually go somewhere.

But after you make the mistake of healing the wrong people, you become Daredevil’s next target, and suddenly your double life becomes far more tangled than you could ever have predicted.

Set post-S3. Slow burn Matt x Fem!Reader. You can read Ch. 1 on AO3 here and Ch. 11 on AO3 here.

Tag list (let me know if you'd like to be added to it!):

@yeonalie @mariatpwk @lionalsowrites @willowpains @lunaticgurly @kiwwia-wiwwia @e-l-s-i @natsuki2307 @noellander

[ellephlox]

Hi everyone! I wanted to post a quick update as I know it's been a long time since I've posted anything.

Seeing all of these behind-the-scenes pics of Born Again is making me absolutely SO EXCITED to write but I've just been so busy. I'm trying to find an apartment, trying to find a summer job before law school starts, juggling my senior year of college, plus trying to write a book at the same time, so I've had a bit of a hard time lately finding the energy to sit and write fan fic at the end of the day. Usually writing is a reward, but I guess lately it's just been tiring me out, so I've had to step back for a bit.

But! This is VERY MUCH temporary. I promise I'll be back and writing more Matt again soon! Not quite sure yet what "soon" will mean but I really, really promise that I haven't abandoned Embers and Ashes.

Long story short I'm so sorry to everyone that's waiting for an update but I swear I will return 💓

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hey there! so this is going to be one heck of a mess of a message because i’ve been meaning to tell you how much i’m enjoying embers and ashes but i just keep forgetting! and then things inevitably happen that remind me that i *want* to tell you how much i’m living for the story you’re writing, and yet i still fail to say anything. regardless, here we are - me, your devoted fan, ready to spew some adoration upon you

first off, i recently met someone named grey at work and i would be *lying* if i said my initial thought wasn’t of your story. i was like “greg? grey!” secondly, i was reading some tumblr theories about daredevil born again and about dex’s upcoming role in it. the particular theory i was reading mentioned the period of time dex would need to heal from his injury, and i literally thought to myself,“oh, nah he’d be fine because grey will come in and heal him.” scrolled a little farther only to *then* realize embers and ashes isn’t *technically* canon, so i guess what i’m saying is that your story is having a lasting effect on my long-standing interest in this show and these characters

ok so finally, i was wondering if you have a face claim for grey/reader. i know it’s technically a Matt x reader story, but i was curious if, when writing it, you actually envision someone or even if it’s just yourself! i just find it so interesting how authors see their own stories!

Hi!! First of all, thank you SO MUCH, it means so much that you're enjoying the story (and I love that there's a Grey at your work!!)

Yeah so I'm glad you brought up the Dex thing. I like to stay as canon as possible, and with his role in Born Again now, that... complicates things. I'm thinking I'm going to delay that part of the plot for as long as possible so I can scope out what his role is in the upcoming season — as much as I can, I want to stick to that. I'm thinking I'll just push some other plotlines forward in the meantime and keep him relatively on the back burner until we have a better idea of where his character is going to go.

Also, I don't have a face claim! I like to think that anyone, anywhere in the world who is reading Grey can envision themselves in that place. That's why I try to avoid bodily descriptions and even niche personality traits, because I hope that at least most readers can imagine themselves as her.

THAT BEING SAID, I do admittedly sort of write myself into the story — and then I try to blur that into a hobby-less, facial-feature-less version of myself that, in effect, becomes the generic Y/N. I try to think of how I would respond in each situation and end up going with that (though Reader is definitely probably funnier and also bolder in situations than me, lol most of the time I'd just be frozen in fear, unable to say anything if Daredevil approached me).

For example: the elevator scene in the last chapter. I tried to imagine how it would go down if I were in there. What would I say? How would I react to knowing Matt has super-hearing, especially when I also need to pee very badly at that moment?

In regards to specific personality traits (which wasn't even part of your question lol but now I'm rambling) I do try to keep Reader as relatable as possible, considering what I know about the average fan fiction reader:

They like reading

They're probably a bit nerdy (I mean, who else spends their time reading or writing reader insert fan fic)?

They're probably a bit more reserved (not true for everyone, but again, I find that people who spend their time reading this type of thing have very rich inner worlds, are homebodies, etc)

It's not much to work with but it helps! So sorry this turned into such a long answer haha!!

[ellephlox]

This made me literally laugh out loud. Just the other day my dad FINALLY started watching Daredevil (after two years of me begging him to).

He called me, and nonchalantly, was like, "By the way, I'm on episode three of Daredev—"

AND I LOST MY MIND I WAS SO EXCITED my poor dad was probably terrified of my reaction

Me: *eating dinner with mom*

Mom: what do you wanna watch?

Me: not sure, you?

Mom, browsing: hmm... oh why not. Do you wanna watch Dare-

Me:

[ellephlox]

Embers and Ashes, Chapter 11

Once in the elevator, Matt pressed the button for the second floor of the hotel, where the Valentine’s party was held, and the floor rattled as you began to descend.

But the descent didn’t last long.

With a resounding jolt, and a screech like a dying crow, the elevator suddenly shuddered to a stop, right above the forty-sixth floor. There was a pregnant pause, during which you waited for the elevator to resume its descent — surely it was just stopping to pick someone up — but nothing happened. Ten seconds passed. Twenty. The elevator didn’t move.

“We’re stuck,” you said, flabbergasted. More specifically — you were stuck. With Daredevil. In a six-by-six foot space, with nothing to use as a weapon, if he were to change his mind and exact his revenge on you.

WARNINGS: Strong language as always!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Story summary: It's not easy to keep a low profile when you've got the power to heal, but you've managed to carve out a home for yourself in Hell's Kitchen. By day you're an assistant at a literary agency, and by night you mend broken bones and bloody cuts. It's a double life that constantly forces you to question your morality, because the wounds you seem to magically heal don't vanish forever — they've got to eventually go somewhere.

But after you make the mistake of healing the wrong people, you become Daredevil’s next target, and suddenly your double life becomes far more tangled than you could ever have predicted.

Set post-S3. Slow burn Matt x Fem!Reader. You can read Ch. 1 on AO3 here and Ch. 11 on AO3 here.

Tag list (let me know if you'd like to be added to it!):

@yeonalie @mariatpwk @lionalsowrites @willowpains @lunaticgurly @kiwwia-wiwwia @e-l-s-i @natsuki2307

[ellephlox]

I was thinking about how I wish there was a psychology course for why "x reader" stories are so addictive and then it made me wonder if there ARE any patterns to those of us who read/write reader-insert fan fic. I've personally never been in a relationship (I've tried dating, but it hasn't worked out for me) and I'm wondering if this is typical for reader-insert folks out there.

(Also please share this so we get as much data as possible!!)

Unfortunately there's not a good control group to compare this data to, aside from general relationship demographics; it'll be hard to pin down since obviously everyone's nationality, age, gender, etc is anonymous.

Still - hopefully this will be interesting!

[ellephlox]

Just imagine all the new gifs we're going to have at our disposal once DD Born Again drops. I adore the gifs we currently overuse with all my heart but dang, it's going to feel amazing to have some new ones in our arsenal

[ellephlox]

Embers and Ashes, Chapter 10

Like a switch flipping, through the double doors you saw Matt’s dark head snap in your direction. Oh, God. He really is a mind reader. Party over. “Wow. Oh, man. That’s awful,” you said distractedly, hitching your purse higher onto your shoulder and moving away from the bathroom doors. “Um, thanks for all the updates.”

“Where are you going?”

“Back inside.” And you seriously needed to piss, but there was no way in hell that you were going to put yourself in a place where you would be alone. The crowd was the safest place. Only there could you guarantee that Matt wouldn’t go vigilante on you and bash your head in. You pushed back into the throng of people and chanced a look towards where Matt had been.

He was already gone.

WARNINGS: Strong language as always!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Story summary: It's not easy to keep a low profile when you've got the power to heal, but you've managed to carve out a home for yourself in Hell's Kitchen. By day you're an assistant at a literary agency, and by night you mend broken bones and bloody cuts. It's a double life that constantly forces you to question your morality, because the wounds you seem to magically heal don't vanish forever — they've got to eventually go somewhere.

But after you make the mistake of healing the wrong people, you become Daredevil’s next target, and suddenly your double life becomes far more tangled than you could ever have predicted.

Set post-S3. Slow burn Matt x Fem!Reader. You can read Ch. 1 on AO3 here and Ch. 9 on AO3 here.

Tag list (let me know if you'd like to be added to it!):

@yeonalie @mariatpwk @lionalsowrites @willowpains @lunaticgurly @kiwwia-wiwwia @e-l-s-i @natsuki2307

[ellephlox]

Two years ago today, on February 3rd of 2022, I officially journaled for the first time about how much I loved Matt Murdock. And so now, two years later, I'm pretty much wondering if I'm still going to be writing fan fic for this man when I'm eighty years old ITS JUST INEVITABLE AT THIS POINT like

SO ANYWAY to commemorate this two year anniversary I'm going to try to update with a new chapter sometime today! Not quite sure how long it'll be yet but it'll at least get past the last cliffhanger that I left on

[ellephlox]

Solidarity

Summary: Frank enlists your help on a dangerous mission. Matt’s not happy about it.

Pairings: Matt x f!reader, platonic Frank Castle & f!reader, platonic Matt & Frank

Warning: Strong profanity (looking at you, Frank). Canon-typical violence. There’s also dog abuse in this, so please proceed with caution!

“You will not believe how terrible my day was.” You were already complaining aloud as you started up the stairs to Matt’s apartment, perfectly aware that he’d be able to hear you. “My boss gave me triple the amount of work that’s humanly possible to complete within a month and somehow he expects me to do it within a week. And then he had the audacity to tell me that I shouldn’t wear my hair in a ponytail because it’s ‘too informal’ for the face of the company. I mean, what the hell does that even mean?”

One of Matt’s neighbors opened their apartment door as you marched up the steps, and you quickly lifted your phone to your ear as though you were talking to someone, lest they think you were just talking to yourself. “And then my coworker took my data — you know, all that stuff I had been inputting onto that Google Doc the other day? And he presented it as his own, no credit to me. I can’t even report him because he’s supposed to retire in a week so it’s pointless anyway.” 

You continued to gripe as you unlocked the door, chucking your keys down and tossing your shoes off so violently that they hit the wall. “Anyway, I’m in a bad mood now, so I have two propositions — well, demands, I guess — for you. One: We watch Jeopardy tonight. In pajamas. I will object if you’re still wearing a tie.” You unzipped your coat and tossed it haphazardly onto the coat rack. “Two: My friend asked if we’ve ever showered together before — you know, typical girl talk questions — and I told her we hadn’t, so I was thinking—” You stopped dead as you entered the living room, your stomach plummeting. Leaning on the wall by the window, arms crossed, was Matt, wearing his devil suit, complete with the helmet on and his billy clubs dangling in his hands. And across from him, standing with an actual gun in his hand, was Frank Castle. Mortification sent heat into your face, and for a moment you just stood there, at a loss for words. 

“We have company,” Matt said dryly, uncrossing his arms and standing up straight.

“I can see that,” you said finally. “You didn’t think to... I don’t know, shoot a text warning me?” Your cheeks were searing; had you seriously just proposed showering with Matt in front of the Punisher, of all people? 

“I was a bit preoccupied all day with making sure Trigger Happy over here didn’t shoot anyone,” Matt said, his jaw tense. 

Frank snorted. “Red, you’d be bleeding out in an alley if I hadn’t saved your ass. Get off your high horse.”

“Yeah. Okay. But you couldn’t have said something, anything at all, when I walked in?  Like, ‘Hey, honey, there’s a wanted fugitive standing in our living room, just so you know.’ Sorry, Mr. Castle,” you added in an undertone to him. “Um — I’m not trying to make you feel unwelcome or anything, I just feel a bit awkward about earlier, so—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Frank said shortly, his gaze still trained on Matt. “We gonna stand here with your girl watching us and argue all afternoon? Or are we going to get this done?”

“Get what done?” you asked.

It was Frank who answered, and from the way Matt was standing with his back straight as a ruler now, you had the sense he wasn’t pleased, for whatever reason. “There’s a shipment of heroin that’s supposed to arrive tonight. The dealers have been selling to kids on the street to make a quick buck.”

“It’s due to come in at midnight,” Matt said. “But the source I talked to last night doesn’t know which dock.”

You made of sound of sympathy. “I take it you’ll be having to sweep a lot of territory tonight, then?”

“That’s a damn understatement,” Frank said. “We’re not just talking about the docks in Hell’s Kitchen, ma’am. We’re talking all the way down to Chelsea, and the piers in Brooklyn Heights.”

“But that’s impossible to scope out,” you said slowly. “Even if Matt’s standing in the center of all the docks in Hell’s Kitchen, he couldn’t possibly hear all the way down to Chelsea, let alone Brooklyn.”

“Which is why we’re in for a rough night,” Matt said. “I called Jessica, Luke, and Danny. They’re all out of town.” He jutted his chin at Frank. “And that’s why we’re here together.”

“I ain’t happy about it either,” Frank added. “He’s already talking my ass off about moral obligation and shit. Feels like I’m in church.”

"Because you tried to stab the guy in the throat after he gave us information we needed.”

“If you could see, Red, then you’d know from the look in that guy’s eyes that he planned on murdering us the second that we turned our backs on him—”

“Which is why I tied him up and left him for Mahoney.”

“I have a better idea,” you said, cutting in before anything could escalate. “I can help.” 

Matt’s response was immediate and scathing. “No.”

"Oh, come on — I get it if you want to do your whole ‘Fly home, Buddy, I work alone’ thing, but you’re not working alone, you’re working with the Punish— I mean, Mr. Castle. I’ll be supremely insulted forever if you don’t let me help.”

“If you think that I’ll let those dealers anywhere near you—” Matt began, but you interrupted again.

“Look, I’ve always waited here patiently and uselessly while you do your deviling every night, but can’t you give me a chance? Maybe we’ll be a dream team. Terrific trio. Second Edition Avengers. The Scooby gang minus a talking dog.”

“She could help, Red,” Frank said, sending an unreadable look in your direction. “I say we do it. She can camp out at Brooklyn. I mean, the guy said that they could dock there, but they never have before. Odds are they’ll be in Chelsea or Hell’s Kitchen.”

“So, what? We throw her to the wolves in Brooklyn where we can’t get to her easily if things go south?” Matt looked as though he were about two seconds from socking Frank in the jaw. Or worse, two seconds from handcuffing you to the apartment so that you wouldn’t leave. 

“No,” you said firmly. “Things won’t go south. Matt, I’m not going to... I don’t know, engage in a fight with them. I’m not a vigilante. I’ll just hide and keep an eye on the docks, then if they show up, I’ll call you.”

“I’ll stay in Chelsea,” Frank said. “I know you get all weird about the Kitchen, Red, so it’s all yours.”

Matt was standing stock still, grinding his teeth. Finally he ground out, “It’s too dangerous.”

“So is driving a car. So is crossing the street. And yet I’ve done both many, many times,” you said. “I’ll be completely fine. Why would dealers have any reason to go after a random passerby, even if they did see me? Which they won’t,” you added hurriedly. “Because I’ll stay safely out of sight.”

“Perfect.” Frank checked his watch. “I ain’t staying here while we twiddle our thumbs and wait for midnight to roll around. Give Y/N my burner number, Red.”

“I’d never have thought you’d do this, Frank,” Matt said, his voice low. “I thought you at least were on my side when it came to keeping people safe who—”

“Who are what?” you said sharply. “I might not have... superpowers, or, I don’t know, a weird bloodthirstiness — sorry again, Mr. Castle — but I can still help.”

“Call me Frank.” Frank leveled his gaze at you. “And cut the apologizing shit.”

“Uh. Okay.” You had to bite your tongue to keep from apologizing again.

And, somehow, you actually ended up on the mission. You took the C train down to Brooklyn Heights after enduring a very long and very dry lecture from Matt on how you were to stay out of sight no matter what and to call him should any boat arrive with men wearing ski masks. 

And, in all honesty, you weren’t nervous. The likelihood of the dealers showing up at your assigned docks was slim. And even if they did, you’d just have to make a quick phone call to both of them, and then camp out. Easy-peasy. 

You settled in on a wooden bench overlooking the piers, wishing you had worn more than your jacket. The temperature had dropped more than expected when the sun had set, and now you shivered slightly, the cold metal of a knife against your thigh. Just in case. 

How exactly you were actually out here, on a real mission, with Matt willingly letting you out of his protection, you weren’t sure. It was exhilarating, though. The city was dark, yet not really; it was aglow with the street lamps and headlights and apartment windows whose blinds hadn’t been closed yet. You scrunched up your legs to conserve body heat and regretted not bringing a blanket, too. And a pillow. That would’ve made the bench slightly less rock hard against your bottom. 

Seriously, how did Matt do this kind of thing every night? Fifteen minutes in and you were already missing the warmth of home. 

You glanced at the skyline. Somewhere, on the other side of those skyscrapers, Matt was waiting as well. Probably he wasn’t curled up on a bench like you were, though. It was more likely that he’d be stalking the rooftops, or pacing in the shadows. 

And then movement caught your eye, at just after 12:30 in the morning. You scrambled to your feet, squinting in the dark. It was a boat, fast approaching the pier just next to you. 

No way. Yeah, you were on lookout, but somehow you’d convinced yourself that the dealers wouldn’t actually show up on your end. You waited to call Frank and Matt, though, because in case it was a different boat, you didn’t want to raise a false alarm. You moved away from your bench and began walking leisurely down the pier, as though you were going for a nighttime stroll. All you needed to do was get a good glimpse of them, then you’d head up the street where you could watch from a safer spot. 

“In, out! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” someone said, a bit loudly, from the deck of the ship. You swiveled your head to see him, and sure enough, he had a ski mask. Swiftly you pulled out your phone and fire off a quick text to both Matt and Frank. You were about to leave the pier altogether when a bark made you stop short. 

....A dog?

“Shut the bitch up!” one of the men snarled. “We get caught, then all the goods get seized.”

“She’s been fucking howling the whole way, what am I supposed to do?”

“Give her a piece of food.”

“What food? You ate the rest of it, man.”

“Can’t believe we’re bringing this dog anyway. Boss already has six bitches. Why does he need another?”

“She’s some special breed, or some shit, I don’t know. Sells for a thousand bucks a pop. Grab that box. Like I said — in, out. We’re already late.”

The dog kept barking, though, and you winced as the man kicked the poor thing in the ribs. Piece of shit. You wanted to go up there and throttle him yourself. If Matt or Frank would just get here already, then you’d be able to relax, but it would still be at least twenty minutes...

And what if the dealers got away in that time frame?

The dog started barking again, and suddenly, without any word of warning, one of the men picked the dog up like a sack of potatoes and threw her overboard. “To hell with the extra cash. That’s how you deal with security problems,” you heard him say as he wiped his hands on his pants. “Get moving, go, go, go! Unload this shit so we can get out of here!”

Below, the dog’s frantic head slipped below the surface.

Oh, hell no. 

Your feet were moving even before you could make an executive decision in your mind. The cold of the evening was forgotten, as were Matt’s strict words to not be seen, no matter what happens, and you dove into the water, where the dog had fell beneath the black waves beside the pier. 

Fortunately, it was summer, and as shockingly cold as the water was, it wasn’t anywhere near deathly cold. You couldn’t see anything, and desperately tried to listen for the dog, but you didn’t have Matt’s ears, and for a moment panic swelled inside you that this dog would drown, and you wouldn’t be able to do a thing. 

And then you saw movement, out of the corner of your eye. The dog was struggling to stay afloat, her snout barely making it out of the water. You grabbed her around the middle and kicked with all your might, coughing on water and unable to see hardly anything except for the blurry outline of the pier. There had to be a ladder somewhere along there, and you groped blindly along the edge, seeking out a grip to pull yourself and the dog up. 

For a moment, you completely forgot about the dealers behind you. All you could think about was getting the dog safely onto land, and with a massive effort you lifted her up. Her paws scrambled against the edge of the pier, but with a good shove to her rump, she was able to get over the edge and dash away into the shadows. 

Good luck out there, doggie. You started to climb the ladder yourself, but froze when you heard the telltale click of a gun being cocked in front of you. Slowly you looked up, your blood running cold at the sight of a gun pointed straight at your forehead. The man holding it had his hair tied back in a bun, and there was a horrible expression on his face that told you he wouldn’t have any qualms about pulling the trigger. 

“Should I shoot, boss?” he asked, his eyes not moving from your face. “Stupid girl’s seen us. She’ll probably run her mouth and tell the cops.”

Your brain felt as though it were short-circuiting. “I swear, I won’t tell a soul. You have my word. Really, I’ll just leave here, and I promise—”

“Do it!” one of the men shouted from the boat. “Get it done so you can get your ass back up here to help. You know how many bodies there are in the Upper Bay? She’ll just be another.”

Your heart was punching the inside of your rib cage. You considered falling backwards to try to swim away, but what good would it do? There was no other way to get back onto land nearby except for this ladder, and you didn’t trust yourself to swim around the boat and across to the next pier without simply getting shot en route. Lunging up the rest of the ladder to fight him was an even worse option. Even if you could fight like Matt (which you could safely say was not the case), you were at a disadvantage; he had the high ground. 

But you didn’t have a choice. The man lunged down and grabbed you by the collar of your jacket, hoisting you up onto the pier. You shivered violently, unsure of whether it was from fear or cold. The man looked you over. “Could hold her for ransom, Tom. That’d bring in some extra cash.”

“No.” The man, who must’ve been Tom, shook his head. “That’s just a surefire way to get attention from the cops. Let’s take her in. We’ll kill her once we’re back on open water and dump her body in the Atlantic. Much cleaner that way.”

The man holding you grunted in agreement and shoved you forward up the ramp to the boat. You obeyed only because of the gun pressed against your temple, feeling like you might vomit any second. 

Where are Matt and Frank? The night was as still as a reflecting pool. It was as though the city itself had gone to sleep, abandoning you to these men, and you had to choke down the rising lump in your throat that was making you feel like you might cry any second or pass out. But tears wouldn’t come, as you were led into a cabin, your mouth promptly duct-taped closed. The sensation made you panic even more — a little air could get through to your nose, but not much, and the sudden feeling of being near to asphyxiation made you even more light-headed. 

The men, however, seemed to forget about you as soon as they tied you to the chair. That they hadn’t killed you immediately was the most relieving of mercies, and you struggled fruitlessly to escape your bonds, feeling supremely useless. Surely Matt would arrive any second; he would hear exactly where you were, you reasoned, and he’d make his way to you as soon as he could. Any minute you’d hear the sound of a baton ricocheting off some unfortunate skulls or the cracking as bones shattered under his fists. 

But instead, it was bullets you heard first. Frank. You gritted your teeth, hearing the shouts of men that were surely being killed without a second thought. Hopping with your feet, you were able to wiggle your chair forward slightly until you could see outside the cabin door. Frank’s silhouette was a menacing shape against the moonlight. 

Where is Matt?

One of the largest men — Tom, you recalled — suddenly came barreling into the room, a gun in his hand. He untied you violently, yanking the rope so roughly against your wrists that you gasped under the tape, and then dragged you forward, the gun against your head. Unceremoniously you were toppled from the chair, your knees slamming down onto hard wood. 

“Drop your gun!” Tom jabbed his gun against your forehead so hard that you saw stars. “Drop it now and put your hands behind your head, or I’ll blow her brains out!”

Through your fuzzy vision you saw Frank freeze. His gaze was cold; calculating, and for the first time you wondered what your value was in Frank’s mind, compared to the triumph of offing some criminals. Which was worth more to him? For a moment, you feared he would prioritize killing the smugglers. His fist clenched even tighter around the gun, and he drew in level breaths, without lowering his gaze for even a second. 

“I swear to God I’m pulling this trigger in ten seconds if you don’t drop it,” Tom said, and he dragged the tip of the gun so that it was placed precisely against your temple. Water was still dripping from your clothing and goosebumps were raised so violently on your skin that you felt like you had chicken pox, but that was nothing compared to the electric adrenaline shooting down your spine, as though your nervous system was screaming at you to do something, anything, but it was to no avail; all you could do was stay on your knees, as still as possible, and keep your head lowered. 

And then, as though he’d made a snap decision, Frank set the gun down.

“Kick it over here,” Tom ordered. 

Frank obeyed, slowly raising his hands to his head. “The gun’s down,” he said. “Now let her go.”

Tom’s grip on you tightened. “You’re a fool,” he said, and suddenly you knew what was about to happen, from the steadying of his hands and the firmer press of the gun against your temple. You wrenched yourself away from him, just as the bullet fired off, and the heat of it barely grazed your shoulder as you dove away. 

The victory was short-lived, though. Tom aimed again, and this time you were on the ground, with nowhere to go. You screwed your eyes shut, sending a silent apology to Matt, and...

The bullet never came. 

Gingerly you opened your eyes to see the devil punching Tom with all his wrath and fury. Frank had already picked up his gun again and was running towards the back of the boat, where you knew there were still a few more crew members. Quickly you crawled backwards to get out of the path of Matt and Tom, the latter of whom was being thrown against the cabin wall. 

That had been close. Way, way too close. You fumbled for the duct tape and ripped it off your mouth, lightheaded from breathing irregularly. Stars formed in front of your vision and you had to slow yourself down, drawing in air and then releasing it slowly. 

Matt was still slamming his fist into the face of Tom, and blood was spurting everywhere. You squinted at them, your heart dropping — far too much blood was spraying out, and Matt was showing no signs of slowing down —

“It’s okay. You’ve got him,” you whispered, the words coming out of your mouth in a rasp. “Matt.”

Matt dropped Tom, who slid to the ground, unconscious. Using the edge of the boat to support yourself, you stood up slowly, and limped over to Matt; your knees were still aching from earlier. Gently you reached towards his shoulders. “I can call 911.”

“He deserves to die.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” you said. Matt was in a dangerous anger, you could tell; one wrong move and he’d do something he’d regret for the rest of his life. Choosing the right words now was imperative. “A judge will decide that.”

“He tried to kill you,” Matt snapped, whirling around and knocking your arm off his shoulder. “If he had — if he’d succeeded—”

“But he didn’t.”

“Does that matter?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Frank got there first. “Cool down, Red,” he said, as nonchalantly as though you were all at dinner together. “Your girl’s safe. We got the drugs before they could get shipped.”

“Don’t talk to me like I need to be calmed down,” Matt said, his voice hardly more than a snarl. 

Frank stared at Matt for a few moments. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “To answer your question. It does matter that he tried killing her.” Then, without warning, he shot Tom, square in the forehead. You yelped, looking away from the bloody hole where his head was now caved in. His features were unrecognizable, and hollow in death, and yet you couldn’t help looking back at him, his eyes meeting yours as though he still were alive. 

“Get her out of here. Warm her up,” Frank said, nodding at you. “I’ve got other business to do this evening.”

“Other business?” you asked, but Matt was reaching for you, skating his hands over your body. 

“Sorry,” you said lamely, shaking slightly from the adrenaline. “I sort of disobeyed the only rule.”

“You could have died.”

“But there was a dog, and I had to save it — they tossed the poor thing overboard. I couldn’t just sit by.”

And, to your surprise, Matt’s lips cracked into a small smile. Though you couldn’t see his eyes under the mask, you could feel his warmth. “Yeah. I know the feeling.”

Frank was gone already. Together, you and Matt exited the boat, and it took all of your willpower to not look back at the corpse. 

“So,” you said, taking Matt’s hand as you walked down the dark street together. The feeling of the duct tape was lingering on your mouth, and the way that you had been tied up — the gun against your head — and it was making your heart race. Even though Matt would see right through you (hear right through you?), you adopted a casual tone. “How was my audition? Can I officially be the Assistant Daredevil?”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I’m not deflecting. I’m just wondering if I passed some sort of test, and if you’ll let me join you now—”

“Sweetheart.” Matt stopped short and pulled you into the shadows between buildings. “You’re not fooling me.”

“I’m not trying to fool you.” Your mouth was dry. 

“That was intense. You don’t have to pretend it wasn’t. You could’ve died.” Matt’s voice shook a bit, and you were reminded that as terrifying as it was for you, it had probably been even worse for Matt. Because if you had died, and it was technically on his watch... yeah. That wouldn’t have gone over well. 

You cupped his face, and he leaned into it slightly. “Okay. I’m a bit freaked out. But I’m okay.”

“Who’s reassuring who, now?” he said after a moment, and that warm, small smile returned. He pulled you in closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly enough that you had to draw in a short breath. 

“Maybe...” Your voice came out in a whisper. “Maybe we both need it tonight.” 

A/N: Sorry for the slightly rushed ending but this was beginning to expand a bit too much and I didn’t want it to feel like it should have multiple chapters. Honestly, I wasn’t happy with this piece so it’s been sitting in my drafts for about a year now, but it’s been awhile since I posted a one shot, so... here we are.

Hope you all had a great day, thanks so much for reading! 

-Elle

[ellephlox]

Team Nelson Murdock & Page are back together 😭

[ellephlox]

Embers and Ashes, Chapter 9

“The point is," Foggy said, "that I know that you know Matt’s secret. Like, Matt’s deepest, darkest, kinda terrifying secret that I’m not going to even say aloud just in case there’s a hidden camera in here somewhere. And yeah, you’re probably thinking, Foggy Nelson is a nice guy. Foggy Nelson wouldn’t hurt me. But I swear to God—” Here Foggy leaned forward slightly, and instinctively you leaned away. “—if you give up his secret, accidentally or intentionally, I will find you and I will make your life miserable in a way that only a damn good lawyer can do.”

WARNINGS: Just language in this chapter! Also some self-deprecation on the reader's part.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Story summary: It's not easy to keep a low profile when you've got the power to heal, but you've managed to carve out a home for yourself in Hell's Kitchen. By day you're an assistant at a literary agency, and by night you mend broken bones and bloody cuts. It's a double life that constantly forces you to question your morality, because the wounds you seem to magically heal don't vanish forever — they've got to eventually go somewhere.

But after you make the mistake of healing the wrong people, you become Daredevil’s next target, and suddenly your double life becomes far more tangled than you could ever have predicted.

Set post-S3. Slow burn Matt x Fem!Reader. You can read Ch. 1 on AO3 here and Ch. 9 on AO3 here.

Tag list (let me know if you'd like to be added to it!):

@yeonalie @mariatpwk @lionalsowrites @willowpains @lunaticgurly @kiwwia-wiwwia @e-l-s-i

[ellephlox]

I'm taking a creative writing class and the professor is discussing the second person POV this week, so of course she's telling us how to write in this perspective, and giving us literary examples, etc. And I'm just sitting quietly in my seat, bursting to say YES I LOVE SECOND PERSON POV IT LETS ME LIVE UNDER THE DELUSION THAT MATT MURDOCK LOVES ME

Meanwhile so many students in the class are like "Ugh I hate 2nd person, it makes no sense and it's painful to read." And all I can think is you haven't been exposed to the wonders of the matt murdock x reader tag on tumblr.

That's been my week so far (also unrelated but I am working on the next chapter of Embers and Ashes, it should be out by Friday at the latest!)

[ellephlox]

he wants me so bad (he’s fictional and i read a fanfic about him)

[ellephlox]

Okay but how good is Charlie at selling Matt's moments of vulnerability and overwhelmingness?

This scene in S2 when Matt temporarily loses his hearing- blanking out his primary source of perception- is a great example. Charlie sells the panic and desperation really well.

One more particular scene that I love is during S1 when Matt is at the receiving end of Foggy's anger and raised voice during Nelson V Murdock, Matt is fidgeting with his sweatpants which is such an authentic touch to portray the feeling when someone is berating you and you know they're right so you just have to sit there and take it on the chin

And then there's the tics and mannerisms that Matt has that Charlie has injected in the character we consistently see:

- Whenever Matt gets overwhelmed, he tries to feel at ease by loosening/removing a part of his clothing:

- Muttering to himself whenever he's upset or frustrated:

- Or sometimes even both simultaneously:

I really love these small but consistent character tics. Makes the character feel more realized and I appreciate Charlie for his acting choices ✨

[ellephlox]

Embers and Ashes, Chapter 8

You stared at him, baffled. None of it made any sense. The way Matt had found his glasses so easily in the snow outside the church, the nimble navigation in his office without a cane — granted, he knew the space, but he moved as though he could see. His incredible way of knowing that something bad was about to happen before the bullets had arrived. Hell, even the way he had gripped your arm, strength in his stride and intimidating assurance in his movements, it couldn’t mean anything else, but at the same time it was impossible, because he couldn’t be Daredevil — he was friends with Daredevil, they were two separate people — but there was no other option. Faintly you remembered reading an old Sherlock Holmes story, and a quote floated to the surface of your mind. When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

WARNINGS: There is a shooting that takes place in this chapter, and it's described pretty vividly. There's also plenty of swearing and graphic violence / injuries. Please read with caution!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Story summary: It's not easy to keep a low profile when you've got the power to heal, but you've managed to carve out a home for yourself in Hell's Kitchen. By day you're an assistant at a literary agency, and by night you mend broken bones and bloody cuts. It's a double life that constantly forces you to question your morality, because the wounds you seem to magically heal don't vanish forever — they've got to eventually go somewhere.

But after you make the mistake of healing the wrong people, you become Daredevil’s next target, and suddenly your double life becomes far more tangled than you could ever have predicted.

Set post-S3. Slow burn Matt x Fem!Reader. You can read Ch. 1 on AO3 here and Ch. 8 on AO3 here.

Tag list (let me know if you'd like to be added to it!): @yeonalie @mariatpwk @lionalsowrites @willowpains @lunaticgurly @kiwwia-wiwwia