#can someone tell me how the terror fandom got so big? suddenly and recently i think?

[simplymessingaboutinboats]

[omgrachwrites]

A Perfect Stranger - Matt Murdock

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: When a mysterious man in a mask saves your life, you long to find out who he is. You soon discover that you know more about the masked man than you thought.

Warnings: mentions of violence, mentions of blood, swearing, fluff, ooc 

Words: 2193

Disclaimer: The characters will be ooc, I’ve barely seen passed season one!

A/N: Aaah, this is my first time writing for Matt, I recently started watching Daredevil and I fell in love with Matt! I hope this is okay and please let me know what you think, and thank you to those amazing people who have welcomed me into the fandom! I love you all! xxx

The rain was completely soaking your hair and you were sure that your clothes were becoming see through, but that wasn’t your main concern right about now. All you were focused on was the cold metal of the gun that was pressed against your forehead. You were frozen, rooted to the spot, numb with terror. The man who held the gun to your head was shaking as he held your purse in his other hand. You wondered if this was his first time mugging someone.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” you tried reasoning with him, “you can take my purse, I promise that I won’t call the cops.”

“Shut up!” he yelled, his face was set and he looked more sure of himself. This was it; this was how you were going to die, among the scum and the filth of Hell’s Kitchen.

Suddenly, something fast and dark – like an avenging angel – came down upon the man; your assaulter cried out in pain and dropped the gun as your saviour twisted his arm. You could have run but you stayed rooted to the spot, tears running down your cheeks but you still stayed rooted to the spot.

Your saviour was too quick for you to see but they couldn’t have been human, a human couldn’t move that fast. Meaty sounds resonated through the alleyway as your saviour punched your mugger over and over again before he was thrown against the wall, rendering him unconscious.

The alleyway stank of blood and rain and as the angel stared in your direction with bloody fists, you were shocked to see that it was a man, just a man, and he had a strip of cloth covering his eyes. How did he save you without being able to see? Nervously, you approached him, it was definitely not the smartest thing to do but you had a feeling that he wouldn’t hurt you. You touched his face, feeling the stubble along his jaw.

“Thank you,” his pink lips opened just slightly when you leaned forwards and brushed your lips against his cheek. A perfect stranger.

“Did he hurt you?” his voice was deep and rich, there was something that you recognised but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

“No,” you whispered, “I scraped my lip when I tripped and fell, that’s all,” the masked man cupped your jaw, gently rubbing his thumb over your wound as you gazed at the water droplets running down his face.

You shivered as his touch sent tingles down your spine and he dropped his hand when he felt your reaction. You walked behind him to retrieve your purse and when you glanced up again, he was gone; he’d disappeared into the night. You let out a sigh as you ran your hand through your wet hair and you wondered just what sort of a man your saviour was.

2 weeks later

You knocked on the door of your brother’s office and silently popped your head in, bagels and coffee in hand. Matt Murdock, your brother’s best friend looked over at the door and grinned as he adjusted his glasses.

“Hey, Y/N.

Foggy gave Matt a strange look as he looked over at you with a smile, “good morning Matt,” you laughed as your cheeks grew hot, almost glad that he couldn’t see how he affected you. But, you did wonder how a blind man could know it was you.

The confusion must have been clear in your voice because Matt chuckled softly, “I knew it was you because I recognise the scent of that beautiful rose perfume from France. You wear it a lot.”

He never ceased to amaze you, “it’s one of my favourites, I’m glad you like it,” you gazed longingly at the beautiful man before you turned to your brother, “I brought breakfast,” you held up the bag and passed him a cup of coffee.

“Thanks, Y/N, but I’ve already had breakfast.”

You tutted as you rolled your eyes, “coffee and a cigarette doesn’t count, Foggy,” you laughed as you placed the bag on the desk and turned to Matt, “there’s enough for you too, Matt.”

Matt shook his head and gave you a regrettable smile, “I’m afraid that I have other business to attend to, be good you two,” he laughed as he made his way to the door with the help of his cane.

“Bye, Matt,” you called after him with a wistful tone in your voice.

Foggy snickered and you turned back to him with a glare on your face, “what’s so funny?” you demanded.

“You’re still holding a torch for him huh? It’s been ten years, Y/N.”

“Shut up,” you laughed as you gazed out of the window, at the beautiful sprawling metropolis below.

It was a shithole but you loved Hell’s Kitchen, even after you were almost killed a couple of weeks ago. Foggy was right of course, you’d had a crush on Matt for forever but there was something dangerous about him, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You didn’t want your brother to get caught up in it.

You spent the morning with your big brother, eating breakfast and talking about his new case. He even told you about his new crush, Karen and you smiled at the way his eyes lit up when he talked about her, you couldn’t wait to meet her.

“Shit!” Foggy cursed beneath his breath as you got ready to leave the tiny office.

“What’s wrong?” you laughed and Foggy looked up at you with a grimace on his face.

“I forgot to give Matt these files,” he slammed the papers down on the desk, frustration marring his features. He was such a drama queen sometimes.

“I’ll swing by after work and give them to him,” it was a perfect excuse to spend more time with Matt.

“Are you sure?” Foggy asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise and you nodded, smiling gently at him, “thanks Y/N, you’re the best.”

You grinned as you took the files off the desk, “I know,” you giggled, “I’ll see you later,” you kissed Foggy’s cheek before leaving for work.

Hours later, you were in front of Matt’s apartment door, a bag of Chinese take out in hand as you wrestled with yourself, trying to gain the courage to knock. You tried telling yourself that it was only Matt, a man – a gorgeous man – who you’d known for ten years. It didn’t help. You let out a deep breath and knocked on the door. A few seconds passed – but it felt like an eternity – before Matt opened the door.

Your throat went dry as he stood before you in a white shirt and grey sweatpants and he wasn’t wearing his glasses, you had so rarely seen him without them. You were breathless at how gorgeous his deep brown eyes were. You gulped back your nerves.

“Hi, Matt.”

A slow charming smile spread across his face when he realised it was you, “hey Y/N, is that Chinese take-out I smell?” he chuckled and you grinned.

“It is indeed, you forgot a few files at the office and I told Foggy that I’d drop them off and I thought it couldn’t hurt to bring some food over.”

“That’s so sweet, please come in,” he graciously welcomed you into his spacious apartment.

It was dark inside, illuminated by the huge billboard just outside his window and you placed the files on the coffee table before turning back to Matt who was already moving around his kitchen.

“Here, I’ll get some plates out,” you smiled but he shook his head, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got it,” he moved around the space with such ease and you mentally slapped yourself for being an idiot. Of course he would know his way around his own apartment.

“I’m so sorry Matt, that was a stupid thing to say,” you flushed.

He chuckled as he sauntered over to the couch with plates in hand, “it’s really okay,” he sat next to you, so close that his leg touched yours and you could feel the warmth radiating from him.

“Do you miss it? Being able to see,” you blurted out without thinking, thrown off by this gorgeous man’s presence.

Matt only smiled softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling and he nodded, “I’m used to it now but I do miss being able to see,” he paused as he lowered his eyes to the floor, “I wish that I could see your face but I can tell that you’re beautiful.”

You giggled nervously as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you busied yourself with unpacking the food. As you and Matt ate, you talked about anything and everything, from life in Hell’s Kitchen to the dates you had been on. You knew that Matt didn’t date one person for too long and you felt a twinge of jealousy when you thought about all the beautiful super models he’d had in this apartment.

As he talked, you were completely captivated by his good nature and his gentle beauty. He almost caught your eye a couple of times and you found yourself wishing that he could see you. You wished that he could see all the longing glances you gave him because then he would know how you felt about him.

When you were both finished, you cleared the plates and took them to the sink, despite Matt’s protests. On the kitchen island you noticed a strip of cloth, it was just a strip of cloth but it stirred a memory. It was as if you were in a trance and picked it up, lifting it to your nose. It smelled of blood and rain, and you knew exactly where you had smelled it before. The alley on the night you had been attacked.

Suddenly, your heart started beating wildly as a thousand thoughts ran rampant through your head, returning to the same possibility as you looked at Matt. He seemed to sense your discomfort because his head perked up and an expression of worry marred his handsome features.

“Is everything okay, Y/N?”

You didn’t reply right away, how could you? You imagined Matt with the strip of cloth over his eyes and your heart jolted. He was blind, how could a blind man do the things that your perfect stranger had done? You hoped that Matt wasn’t lying about being blind, why would anyone lie about that?

“You’re the masked man,” you said simply as you pieced everything together, you were numb with shock.

Matt let out a surprised gasp as those rosebud lips opened in surprise. No wonder you had recognised him, “Y/N,” he trailed off, biting his lip.

“Aren’t you? Don’t lie to me Matt, please not now,” you sighed and he dropped his head in defeat, running his hands through his hair.

“Yes! Okay, it was me, it’s always been me, come and sit down Y/N, please,” he gestured to the couch; he sounded so desperate that your feet moved of their own accord and you found your place next to him.

A thousand possibilities ran through your head, how could a blind man be so good at fighting? How did he save you? “you saved my life, Matt. How could you possibly do it? Are you really blind?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

A flash of pain flickered across Matt’s handsome face and you instantly wished that you could take it back, he reached for you and took your hands in his, rubbing his calloused finger tips over your knuckles in soothing circles, “yes, I’m blind. But, I see the world in my own way, I have certain…abilities,” he hesitated and then proceeded to tell you that when he was a little boy, an old blind man had come to visit him in the orphanage and had trained him, teaching him how to use his abilities.

It was a wild story, like something straight out of a comic book but you knew that Matt wouldn’t lie about this, you were a good judge of character, you had known him for ten years, “does Foggy know?” you asked, after a couple of minutes of silence.

Matt laughed a little, “no, I don’t want to get him involved, I didn’t want you to get involved but I guess I’m not as sneaky as I thought, you won’t tell anyone will you?”

“No, Matt. Of course I won’t,” you smiled as you trailed your fingers across his rough jaw, “but you need to tell Foggy, he’ll be pissed if he discovers it another way.”

Matt, chuckled as he leaned into your touch, “yeah you’re probably right.”

“You saved my life, Matt, thank you,” you grinned as Matt’s fingers trailed over your face gently before he leaned in and softly pressed his lips to yours. It was amazing how brutal he could be when you were faced with an assaulter but so gentle when he kissed you. You gasped into his open mouth and let him kiss you in the midst of Hell’s Kitchen.

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

@smiithys​ @elayneblack​ @amelie-black​

[adapted-batteries]

Out from the Facades

Fandom: The Librarians

Rating: General, sfw, some swearing

Relationship: Jazekiel

Word Count: 2236

Going off a previous post where I headcanoned Stone as a trans guy, this is a fic revolving around that, and the concept of found family for June 4th's prompt: Found Family.

Also posted on my Ao3.

-----

Jacob came home, hair cut short, with a button down shirt from the thrift store, trying to ignore the uncomfortableness of the too small sports bra he was using to bind. His father was usually home later, so he figured he’d have some time to think up what he was going to say, and where he could go if he ended up getting kicked out.

Unfortunately, Isaac Stone was standing at the kitchen counter, looking at some bill that had come in the mail that day. His father looked up, squinting at the open door from the bright Oklahoma afternoon. When Jacob unfroze and shut the door, Isaac sucked in a breath.

“So, you’re a boy now,” Isaac said, inspecting Jacob like he was a prize heifer at the county fair. While his feet could move, Jacob’s throat did not want to cooperate, so Isaac continued. “Since you couldn’t even be a decent girl, you better be a better man, you understand?”

Jacob nodded, mentally finishing the thought that came next: because I can’t have a queer for a kid.

So that’s what Jacob did. So long as he acted like a good ol’ boy, everyone went along with it. He was surprised how quickly people just decided that yeah, Rebecca Stone was actually Jacob Stone, star of the high school football team, more than capable of drinking with the actual linebackers, and making the same comments, though thankfully he never felt compelled to act on them like others did.

But the real shocker was how easily Isaac Stone swept the notion of Rebecca, the rough tomboy, under the rug like he had with his late wife's heritage. Surprising support wrapped in the ultimate thought that if things weren't right by themselves, he'd force it into a more acceptable image and move on. He’d drive Stone to Oklahoma City for hormone replacement therapy until he could drive himself, his father hid of all the pictures past baby stage that indicated a girl that wasn’t on board with being one, and somehow never misgendered him.

Of course, his father didn’t have to worry about misgendering if he wasn’t home, or was passed out drunk on the couch if he was.

By the time Jacob turned 18, no one made any mistakes. He’d been blessed by the transgender gods, spending most of his formative years on testosterone, and soon got top surgery in the city (thankfully paid for before his father completely ran the company into the dirt). To complete the perfect picture, he got himself a nice, manly job oil rigging. It was easy to forget he’d ever been Rebecca first.

But jacob couldn’t ignore how much of a fuckup he still was. No one knew that he’d went to college instead of “a stint up on the Keystone pipeline,” that he’d published dozens of scholarly essays on art and literature of all sorts while “apprenticing to be a surveyor,” that he still liked men even though he was a convincing fake womanizer. Despite briefly living more like who he really was, he was terrified of what would happen if the people back home found out. So, what better way to prevent that than to come back to Oklahoma and work long hours on a dead-end pipeline job, biding his time until Isaac decided he’d done enough to murder his company and let Jacob actually take over.

And then, when he was at the bar with some of his buddies, after dutifully hitting on the hot foreign chick with a Latin tattoo, ninjas showed up, and a NATO counter terrorism officer saved his ass.

The Library made it really hard to be Jacob Stone, manly oil rigger from Oklahoma, because he wasn’t any use to the Library for just that. No, Jacob Stone, brilliant scholar and expert in all things liberal arts, that was exactly who the Library needed to repeatedly save the world. And Jacob realized that, hey, it was pretty nice to actually be the real Jacob Stone, the one under all those facades.

The problem was old habits, ones that were decades in the making, were hard to break. It took him a few months to quit instinctively playing stupid before realizing, no, he didn’t have to do that. Only recently did he actually tell his colleagues what he was always busy working on in their off time, still publishing under Dr. Oliver Thompson, though the thought of abandoning the pseudonyms gave him the same fear that kept him hidden in Oklahoma.

At least the artificial interest in women was becoming not so artificial, but then there was Ezekiel Jones, doing his damn best to remind Jacob how not straight he was. And he still wasn’t totally truthful with the team; no one knew he was trans. Though he knew he didn’t owe them that bit of personal history, it felt like one more mask still hanging on his face.

And then the Library sent them to one of his father’s new sites in Wagner, and his past that he tried to shed came rearing its head all at once. Fortunately his father had hired local contractors who didn’t know Jacob, but he couldn’t do much about Isaac himself, or the fact they were dealing with some Choctaw mythology causing a ruckus, with protestors who seemingly could see through his white-passing visage and into his native blood.

It was as if the universe decided that he needed to actually confront the cultural past he’d carefully locked away years ago with his mother’s death, and the past he’d managed to lock away recently with becoming a Librarian. And maybe he actually would.

Isaac, of course, was off being useless in a bar, so naturally he got to introduce his colleagues to his father in his worst state.

“The hell you doin’ here?” Isaac was looking at him, just like he had that afternoon 25 years ago.

It took all of his willpower to not just turn around and leave. “...hey Pop.”

They managed to convince Isaac that he was just a surveyor assistant to Ezekiel, though part of him was on guard in case Cassandra decided to throw down with his father’s disgusting misogynistic behavior (he was convinced she gave Isaac a headache with all the jargon she threw around, so she got some revenge). It was easy knowing what to say to keep Isaac from suspecting anything, to get him to cooperate (especially considering he was oiled with alcohol), but after effectively being “out” intellectually for a year, it hurt to shove himself back into the good ol’ boy role, even if part of him was screaming it was the safe thing to do.

Being locked in the truth chamber was a thrilling experience, in that his anxiety about kept them from escaping. He thought he was going to have to come out right there to Ezekiel and Cassandra, but thankfully the door was happy enough with him talking about his father.

In the end, even after getting a practice run with Hokolonote, he realized it didn’t matter if Isaac had no clue who he really was. Isaac would never care, because Jacob still ended up being the family fuck up, just the “turnin’ your back on your family” one. He left Oklahoma with a different hurt, the low ache of realizing he never actually had genuine family to begin with.

And then he spent more time with the Librarians, and that ache began to fade. These people he worked with, saved, got saved by, knew him as he was, and loved him for it. And realized he felt the exact same way about them. He near spooked himself with how much he cared if Eve had died by Dulac’s sword, if Ezekiel got killed by anubis’s werewolves, if Cassandra didn’t make it through the surgery, if Flynn hadn’t been strong enough to take in evil while they scrambled for a solution to Apep, if Jenkins somehow died (thank god he was immortal). Family was only half of having people care about you; you had to care about them too.

He had family.

But he didn’t want any secrets with the family, and he still had one left tugging on his heart. And who better to tell than the other professional faker on the team.

He cornered Ezekiel in the main room while the others went about doing whatever they were doing. “Hey, Ezekiel, can we talk?”

Ezekiel looked at him, a mix of confusion and concern, since Jacob rarely pulled the first name card for him. “Sure, mate. Is something wrong?”

“No...uh, just, let’s go somewhere more private,” Jacob said, about-facing and walking deeper into the Library. Ezekiel followed him, and he knew the thief was suddenly hyper aware of everything because Jacob caught him off-guard.

The wandered for a bit, eventually far enough from the others and any main walkways where someone might come near. “Okay, what’s this about?” Ezekiel asked, folding his arms.

Jacob took a death breath. “I’ve not been completely truthful about my past-”

Ezekiel cut him off. “No one ever is, least of all me, so what of it?”

“No, just-” Jacob rubbed his face in frustration “-I know you and Cassandra found out I’d lied to my father about myself for decades, but that’s not the only thing about me you don’t know.”

“Okay?” Ezekiel just looked at him even more confused. “Are you like, coming out or something? Because that isn’t a big deal, I mean it is, but like, Cassandra has a girlfriend, mate, and you know I’m not the straightest bloke around.”

“You’re not?” Jacob shook his head, ignoring that bit of apparently obvious information for now. “I, uh, well, yeah, Jones, I’m coming out. I’m trans.”

There was an awkward silence as Ezekiel tried to figure out what Jacob meant by that. “Congrats?” He opened and closed his mouth a few times like he was trying out sentences in his head and deeming them not appropriate, and then a flood of words came out. “Um, so, do you have like prefered pronouns you want me to use? Are you thinking about a new name? Cuz that’s cool too. Are you still into women, or do you not want me to set you up anymore-”

Jacob felt like he’d been doing Atlas’s job for him, and Atlas had finally relieved him. “Ezekiel,” Jacob started to get the thief to quiet, “I’m a trans man.”

“Ooh, okay.” Ezekiel, despite his ability to don a quality poker face, had no control over the blush on his face right then.

Deciding he had nothing left to lose, Jacob decided to answer Ezekiel’s last question. “And you can stop with setting me up with women too...because I’m not straight either.” He let out a bark of a laugh at how surreal he felt, which made Ezekiel startle. Apparently Ezekiel realized how big this was for Jacob, because he was looking at him in amazement now. “I can’t believe I’ve not told anyone else that in two and a half decades.”

“You...it’s been that long?” Ezekiel blinked in disbelief. “How did you hide that?”

Jacob shrugged. “You’d be surprised how easily people will ignore things if you fit in somehow. And I wasn’t ever totally hidden...you met Slaten. He knew me, well, more than anyone else until the Library.” He knew what was coming next after he said that.

“Were you...together?”

A smile crept onto Jacob’s face, reminiscent. “It’s the worst when you fall for your straight best friend.”

“It really is,” Ezekiel replied, and then his expression changed to something more serious, his posture annoyingly more seductive with just a slight tilt of his head and angle of his hips. “Now I pride myself in reading people, a necessary skill for effective grifting, and, well, when I first met you, you gave off some repressed gay vibes for sure. Was there something more when you shoved me against that bookcase when ninjas were invading the Library for the crown?”

Jacob thought back to that moment. “Not exactly, I mean, I'm a fighter so my first thought was to immobilize you.” Ezekiel raised an eyebrow, but Jacob had more to say. He stepped closer to Ezekiel as he said, “then my second thought was you looked like you were enjoying it.” Now he was almost toe to toe with Ezekiel, and the thief had certainly picked up on where he was going. “And my third thought was that I enjoyed looking at you like that.”

Conveniently, they were near a bookcase, not the one from the memory, but close enough. With all other thoughts out the window, Jacob grabbed Ezekiel by the shirt and pushed him against the bookcase. Ezekiel let out a little gasp when his back hit the wood, making Jacob's heart flip in his chest. What he said was true; Jacob was enjoying pinning Ezekiel to the bookcase, and based on Ezekiel's turned on expression, he was too.

Ezekiel interrupted his observations. “Are you just going to look at me?”

“Hmm, I might with that attitude,” Jacob purred. Ezekiel scoffed, but he glanced down at Jacob's mouth, and then Jacob couldn't resist any longer. He relaxed his elbows and brought his face near inches away from Ezekiel's, but something making him hesitate.

Ezekiel read him like an open book. “You aren't second guessing, are you? There's nothing wrong with who you are, though your wardrobe could still use help-”

“Oh, shut it,” Jacob growled, but he didn't back away.

“Make me, cowboy,” Ezekiel retorted. That was enough to get Jacob to close the remaining distance and press his lips onto Ezekiel's.

It wouldn't be an exaggeration for him to say he felt fireworks when Ezekiel kissed back.

This was his family, this building, these people. Blood wasn't everything, despite what the folks back home thought. It only took him 40 years to find it, but he was very glad he did.

-----

Post Notes: So, this is some idyllic world where trans teens got HRT in the 80's, which as far as Google would tell me, wasn't a thing until more recently. Also, since I used “And What Lies Beneath the Stones” for reference on Jacob and Isaac interacting, I also noticed how the one protestor reacted when he looked at Stone, and my brain decided that was him recognizing Choctaw or another tribe in Stone because that's also a fun headcanon in my head from when people mentioned it way back.

I picture this happening after season four, so technically the LiTs don't remember the whole Jenkins dying bit (I feel like Flynn and Eve wouldn't say for time line stability, since Flynn does watch out for that already from “And the Final Curtain”).