#daredevil x original female character

[punchdrunkdoc]

Part 4, Chapter 3

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness? Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 4 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

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PART 4

Chapter 3

Several days later…

The streets were quiet. Again.

Matt perched on the rooftop of one of the new residential buildings on West 49th street, and took the pulse of the city spread out below him.

It was quiet. Eerily so.

The drug pushers that usually worked the streets near the convention centre were gone. The network of muggers and pickpockets around the bus terminal had been disbanded. The smugglers and traffickers who ruled the docks were out of business.

Matt had spent the the last week intercepting the odd car jacker and petty thief, but the organised crime gangs that used to keep him busy on patrol were just…gone. According to Karen, a mysterious figure named Ronin had cleaned up the neighbourhood - and the rest of New York - soon after ‘The Vanishing’. He’d been so effective in his methods that no one had dared rekindle any sort of criminal enterprise in the years since.

Which meant Ronin had done in 6 months what Matt had failed to do in 3 years: make Hell’s Kitchen safe.

Unfortunately, he’d done it through a whole lot of brutal slaughter and intimidation. And no matter the end result, Matt could never condone those sorts of means.

Besides, he knew it wouldn’t last. Not now that all of the career criminals and would-be underworld rulers who’d disappeared five years ago were back. Once they figured out the lay of this new land, they’d start trying to claim their piece of it. They’d fill the voids left by those before them, undeterred by urban myths about a hooded samurai. Criminals would once again infect this city, and Matt would be there, ready to stop them.

Including Landon Cross.

All the money and influence in the world hadn’t stopped him from falling victim to the random fate of Thanos’ snap. He’d disappeared five years ago, upending the entire timeline of his grand plan of revenge against his family. The criminal empire he’d been building had tumbled down without him at the helm…but he’d be back too. Once he licked his wounds and found his new footing, he’d be back. Men like him - entitled, narcissistic sociopaths - didn’t have the capacity to admit defeat and slink off into the night.

He’d be back. And in the meantime, Matt would wait. And use the time to re-familiarise himself with his home.

His first venture out as Daredevil had been disorientating. He was used to New York real estate changing - it was constantly in flux, with buildings being demolished and new skyscrapers being erected all the time - but those changes were slow and gradual. Easy to adapt to.

They didn’t usually happen in the blink of an eye.

Right now, Hell’s Kitchen felt like a stranger. The streets he’d grown up on, lived on, worked on, walked on…they were all alien to him now. Storefronts were boarded up. Dozens of new businesses had replaced the ones he’d frequented his whole life. The silhouette of the skyline had drastically changed, as if someone had picked up buildings like they were lego blocks and shifted them around. 

Earlier tonight, Matt had ventured beyond the streets of his neighbourhood, too ‘see’ for himself how much New York had altered. Citi Field - once home of the Mets - was now weather-beaten and crumbling, with hundreds of rusted cars abandoned in the parking lot around the vacant stadium. The harbour around Ellis Island was filled with boats, their waterlogged cabins sloshing with the tide, and the rotted wood of their hulls creaking. The normally manicured gardens of Central Park were overgrown jungles. Times Square - normally buzzing with tourists and the sounds of thousands of neon lights - was vacant. Silent.

Everywhere he turned, there was decay and neglect. As if life hadn’t moved on at all after 2018.

As if the whole world had ended, instead of just half of it.

Matt found it all depressing as hell. This wasn’t the resilient, irrepressible city he knew.

Where was the fight? Where was the tenacious spirit? The unbeaten strength?

Had everyone really just…given up…five years ago?

———

There was one bright spot among the grey and lifeless remains. A small beacon of vitality and warmth that had escaped the apathetic, subdued and defeated air that seemed to permeate the rest of the city. It was the house that Karen shared with her daughter, Izzy, in a quiet residential area just north of Brooklyn.

Matt visited for the first time just over a week after his return. He stood on the porch, gift in hand, shifting on his feet as he waited for Karen to answer the door. He touched the paper in his pocket, smoothing his thumb over the now barely perceptible ink as if needing to take strength from the words. And he did need a bit of strength - he felt nervous as hell.

Which was ridiculous. Karen was one of his closest friends. They’d had dinner numerous times over the years. And when she’d called him up yesterday to invite him over for a home-cooked meal, the offer had been a casual one.

But he was still nervous. Because he wasn’t just having dinner with Karen - he was meeting her daughter for the first time. And, for some reason, it felt vitally important that the almost 2-year-old girl living in this house liked him.

The door opened before he could psych himself out any further.

“Hi! Welcome!” Karen’s happy greeting sounded a little too forced, her voice pitched a touch higher than normal. To his relief, Matt realised she was just as nervous as he was.

“Hey, Karen.” Matt stepped closer and brushed his lips against her cheek. “Thank you for having me over,” he replied.

Karen frowned. Then she covered her face with her hand and laughed. “This is weird, isn't it? We’ve had dinner so many times, and we’ve been in each others’ apartments loads other times, but suddenly we’re acting all formal with each other.”

Matt shrugged as she ushered him inside. “This isn’t like before. Not really.”

“I guess. But I want it to be. I don’t want there to be any weirdness between us. I want us to be friends again.”

“Hey,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll always be friends.”

“I know. I didn’t really mean it like that. I just…I feel like we need to re-learn our rhythm. To get back to how we used to be.” She shook her head. “Sorry, I’m not explaining myself very well.”

“No, you are. I get it.”

He did get it. And ‘re-learning the rhythm’ was a good way to put it. It described the way Matt felt about the whole world these days - like he was slightly out of step with everything around him.

Off kilter, and out of place.

Dancing to a beat that hadn’t been heard in five years.

He touched the note in his pocket again, knowing it was part of the reason he felt so disoriented by this new reality. One of the other reasons - the literal personification of the changes that had taken place in his absence - chose that moment to make her presence known. “Momma?”

Karen looked up as the small voice called out to her. She smiled. “Someone’s awake from her nap.”

Matt swallowed, the nerves returning. He’d faced off against gangs of thugs and an army of ninjas. He’d taken down a cabal of immortal tyrants, and a Kingpin who’d terrorised the city. And yet he was scared to meet one little girl. “I’ll wait down here while you see to her,” he said.

“Don’t be silly,” Karen replied, grabbing his arm. “Come on.”

She led him up the stairs to the small nursery at the front of the house. She pushed open the door, and an excited squeal sounded from inside. Matt could sense a crib up against the wall and a tiny figure gripping the bars, bouncing up and down on her little legs. “Momma!”

“Hi, Izzy-Bizzy,” Karen murmured lifting the little girl into her arms. “Oof, you’re getting so big.”

“Big!” Izzy repeated.

“Soon you’ll be able to climb out of this thing yourself, and then what will I do?” She nuzzled into the toddler’s neck and Izzy laughed. The two of them seemed lost in their own little world, a world of coconut-scented hair, and stuffed bears, and the stars that spun on a mobile above the crib.

Matt felt so out of place, a lumbering shadow in the corner of the room. He tried to edge towards the door, but Karen noticed before he could escape. She turned around and brought her daughter closer. “Izzy, this is a friend of mine. He’s called Matt. Can you say ‘hello’?”

Matt expected the little girl to shy away. To bury herself in Karen’s arms, safe from the dark figure looming over her. But she was as fearless as her mom. She reached out one arm and waved at him. “Hello! Hi!,” she greeted him, not a hint of fear in her piping little voice.

Matt smiled and touched the tip of his finger to her outstretched palm. “Hi.”

She grabbed his finger and wiggled it up and down. Karen laughed. “She just learned about shaking hands,” she explained.

“Oh, in that case” - Matt arranged their hands until they were clasped together properly, his large hand swallowing her fragile little fingers, and gently shook up and down - “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Isabelle.”

The little girl burst into giggles, and Karen joined her laughter, pressing a kiss to her sleep-tussled curls. Karen shook her head at Matt, and smiled. “Another female charmed by Matt Murdock.”

Matt smiled, knowing he was the one who was thoroughly charmed.

———

The charm offensive continued throughout dinner, and afterwards when they all retreated to the cosy living room. As evening bled into night, and as Matt reclined in one of the softly-cushioned sofas, comfortably full from Karen’s cooking, Izzy toddled over to him. “Read?” she asked, thrusting a large book at him.

Before he could respond, she scrambled up onto sofa and wriggled into the space beside him, getting comfortable for what must be her nightly routine.

Matt smiled ruefully as he turned the book in his hands. “I can’t read this to you, I’m afraid.”

“Why?”

Karen saved him from having to try to explain the concept of blindness to a toddler. She entered the room, coffees in hand, and noticed his predicament. “Oh honey, Matt can’t read books like that. His eyes don’t work like yours and mine do.”

Matt could sense Izzy looking up at him. Then she clambered into his lap, reached up and removed his dark glasses. Pudgy little fingers pressed against his face as she tilted it one way and another, inspecting the eyes in question.

“Izzy!” Karen admonished. “Sorry, Matt, she hasn’t grasped the concept of personal space yet. Let me get her off you.”

“She’s okay,” he replied, submitting to the little girl’s scrutiny. He didn’t mind the weight of her on his lap, or the none-too-gentle exploring fingers. Warmth radiated from her skin and her breath smelled like the tinned peaches she’d had for dessert, and he had the sudden urge to take her in his arms and cuddle her close.

He’d never seriously thought about having children. Growing up, it had seemed like too far-off a possibility to contemplate. Then, when he reached the age of contemplation, his lifestyle had been too dangerous and chaotic for children. And when he discovered Calina couldn’t have kids, he’d put any and all thoughts of fatherhood away.

But sitting here, with this bundle of energy and sweetly mischievous innocence in his lap, he finally understood the impulse. She was a little miracle. He could sense fragments of Karen’s character within her, but she was her own little person, bravely exploring the world around her.

Having finished her exploration of his ‘different’ eyes, the little miracle grabbed the book from his hands, and turned around to face Karen. “Momma?”

“You want me to read instead?”

Izzy nodded.

“Do you want to come sit with me?”

She shook her head, and flopped back against Matt, settling into the crook of his arm.

“Okay then,” Karen smiled. She sat back in her own chair and started reading the tale of Kevin the Koala. Her voice took on a soft, slow, lilting tone - one which had a dramatically soporific effect on the little girl in Matt’s arms. Within minutes, her eyes fluttered closed. Her little breaths got deeper and her negligible weight got a little more tangible as she drifted off to sleep. 

“Is it always this quick?” Matt whispered. The only thing he knew about babies and sleep was that it was usually a struggle.

“Not always. But she had a swimming lesson this afternoon and that tends to wear her out.” Karen’s voice was shaky as she replied. A little broken. As if she was holding back tears.

“Are you okay?”

She laughed quietly. “Just a little overwhelmed, I guess. Seeing you two together, it’s kind of surreal. I thought about this so much when I was pregnant, and when Izzy was a baby. Of how you and Foggy would be with her…I just never thought I’d get a chance to find out.”

Matt smiled sadly, the spectre of those missing five years raising its head again. It was impossible to escape, even for a moment. Everything around him was a haunting reminder of the time he’d lost. From this house, and the journey here earlier tonight - down streets he didn’t recognise - to the toddler asleep on his lap, and the note burning a hole in his pocket…

“How are you adjusting?” Karen asked, as if sensing the direction of his thoughts. “We haven’t had a chance to really talk about that - Izzy takes up a lot of the air in the room.”

“In a good way,” Matt smiled.

“In a very good way - it’s hard to be depressed or worried when she’s around. But I want to know how you’re doing.”

Matt huffed out a laugh. “I’m still waiting to wake up, if I’m honest. It doesn’t seem real.”

“It’s a lot to take in. But it’s only been eight days - it’ll get easier.”

Matt wasn’t so sure. He felt like there was only one thing that would make this easier, and it wasn’t time.

“Have you heard from Calina?” Karen asked, reading his mind again.

Matt sighed and fished the note from his pocket, careful not to wake Izzy. He held it up to show Karen.

“What is that? Braille?”

Matt nodded. “I found it shoved under my apartment door a couple of nights ago.” He rubbed his thumb over the raised dots on the piece of paper. He knew the pattern of those dots - and the short message they conveyed - by heart now. “‘Calina is alive and safe. She’ll be with you in a couple of weeks’,” he recited.

“Why does that sound like a badly written ransom note?”

Matt laughed. “I’m hoping it was written by one of the more…socially inept…Widows, and it wasn’t meant to come across so-”

“Vaguely threatening?”

“Yeah.”

“But its good news, though. Calina’s alive. She’s safe.”

That had been his first thought too, when he’d discovered the note in his hallway after returning from a night of patrolling. He’d collapsed to his knees with relief, his head bowed as he fought back tears. The confirmation that she was still out there, still breathing, her beautiful heart still beating…it was all he’d been praying for after returning to this strange world to find her gone.

But over the next few days, as he carried the note in his pocket - his fingers constantly drawn to it like a talisman - he realised the message carried with it far more questions than answers.

“If she’s so safe, why didn’t she contact me herself?” he asked Karen, voicing one of those questions.

“She could be on a classified mission, way off the grid. That wouldn’t be unusual for her.”

Matt nodded. It was one of the possibilities he’d considered. Although the idea of it just served to remind him how different her life was now. She’d been on missions - dangerous ones - multiple times over the past five years. She’d risked her life God-knows how many times.

And she was still off somewhere unknown, instead of here with him.

“What was she like, after it happened?” he forced himself to ask, not sure he wanted the answer.

Karen sighed. Then she was silent for several long moments, as if trying to order her thoughts - which made Matt even more hesitant to hear the truth.

“She struggled at first. A lot,” Karen finally replied. “I worried about her those first couple of years. She tried to hide how much she was hurting, but not very well. Then…”

“Then what?”

“Something changed. She seemed to get better. Stronger.”

Something in Karen’s voice worried Matt. “What aren’t you saying?”

“She became…not cold, exactly. But…more reserved. More remote. She was still kind and caring - you should see her with Izzy, the two of them adore each other - but a large part of her seemed walled off. I think she took all her pain and grief and buried it so far down inside that that she ended up burying some of her heart along with it.” Karen winced at what she must have seen on his face. “I’m sorry. I’m not saying this to hurt you-”

“I know.”

“But I think…when you do see her again, you need to be prepared for the change in her.”

“I don’t care how much she’s changed. I just want to see her. Talk to her. I need to. I miss her so much, Karen.” He felt like he was floundering in this new world. Adrift without his anchor. He could put on a good act when he needed to - like tonight - laughing and talking as if he was adjusting to this upheaval. But in reality, it felt like only his body had returned a week ago…

His heart and soul were still missing.

————–

Chapter 4 coming soon...

Tag list: @hollandorks @stilldreaming666 @sio-ina-bottle @tearoseart-blog @acharliecoxedfan @freckledbabyyy @chezagnes

If you’d like to be added - let me know!

[madschiavelique]

did an edit for bestie @gracethyomen of her cutsie fic Arm’s Length Away !! go check their stuff out ✨

i am still very new to editing but hopefully it’s okiii

[yarrystyleeza]

Too Sweet!!!

Just a sweet little thing exclusive for my tumblrinas bc you're special to me!!! 💖💖💖💖💖

Bonus:

Full page:

[shiorimakibawrites]

Writing Update {1/15/25}

Hey everyone!

As probably could be expected, the release of Daredevil: Born Again trailer has energized those creative juices.

Happy Little Accident

Got my outline for Ch. 3 done, Matty having seen fit to tell me his plans for the evening (well the safe for work plans, he was already very clear about the not safe for work ones).

I hope it get it written and out soon.

Cozy Corners

While I'm running high on Matt inspiration, I will see about tackling Ch.2 - The Color Purple.

Other

Bonds of Friendship series has been changed from x Reader story to an original character series. Hopefully everyone will still like it anyway.

New stories have been added to my idea folder but that's a separate post.

If you wish to be added to any of my taglists (fic or for an individual story), please let me know :)

[farfromstrange]

Foreigner's God Masterlist

PAIRING: Matt Murdock x OFC

AO3 — Spotify — #foreigner’s god

❝ Sometimes, the greatest power lies not in what we can control, but in what we can uncover within ourselves. In the depths of darkness, secrets await, and it is our choice to embrace them or let them consume us. Together, they embarked on a journey to unearth the truth, unaware that love, like a tempest, would shatter all their plans and rebuild their world anew. ❞

⤹ SUMMARY:

She was born with the ability to manipulate reality and the world around her. Hydra raised her and turned her into their deadliest weapon until the Avengers saved her and offered her a chance at a better life. A dark past often comes with secrets that demand to be uncovered. There might actually be more to it than meets the eye, a kind of power that’s been sleeping deep within her, waiting to be discovered. But how does one get over losing everything without losing themselves?

One reckless night on a rooftop, a bad decision leads the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen right into her arms, and he decides to tag along on her journey down the past.

As it turns out, Matt Murdock is a man unable to take no for an answer when he has set his mind to something, and once she decides to let him into her heart, all the plans she made for the future fall apart.

Or, in which a troubled Avenger forms an alliance with Daredevil to fight a common enemy and save their city, but they end up saving each other instead.

⤹ CONTENT WARNINGS:

SLOW BURN, Canon typical violence, ANGST, EVENTUAL SMUT, light BDSM, Oral sex, daddy kink, praise & pain kink, blood & cum play, Switch!Matt, toxic behavior, language, severe mental illness, PTSD, implied/referenced torture, substance abuse disorder, self-harm, mentions of sexual assault, Hydra, age gap, religious imagery and symbolism, eventual romance, some fluff, mutant powers, mentions of child molestation, near-death experiences, catholic guilt, NOT TONY STARK FRIENDLY (at least until chapter 40 or so), turning good characters into bad guys, not completely canon compliant

-> There will be chapter-specific warnings before each chapter because they tend to vary with each one!

⤹ AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hello everyone! I didn’t expect this to blow up the way it did, so I decided to edit the entire Masterlist and repost it while I continue editing the chapters on AO3 and here, too. Welcome to everyone who’s new here!

Likes and reblogs are always appreciated!

I’m trying not to describe any specific physical traits like body shape, hair color, etc. (although I think I called her skin “pale” once or twice in reference to her lack of sun exposure) in any of the chapters. The character was assigned female at birth and also identifies as female with she/her pronouns, but other than that, I do not give her any traits other than her name – Eliza Bennett. Her looks are entirely up to your imagination! So you can view this as a reader insert or not, whatever you want. It’s up to you how you interpret this story.

-> Series takes place in early season 2 and continues from there on.

-> This work is 18+ ONLY!

[the asterisk (*) indicates explicit sexual content; (^) indicates the chapter has been edited to fit the new style]

— ACT ONE: HYDRA —

chapter one: I Did Something Bad (^)

chapter two: Raise A Little Hell (^)

chapter three: I Think He Knows (^)

chapter four: This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things (^)

chapter five: Hold Me While You Wait (^)

chapter six: Ivy (^)

chapter seven: right where you left me (^)

chapter eight: doomsday (^)

chapter nine: Block Me Out  (^)

chapter ten: 1 step forward, 3 steps back (^)

chapter eleven: New Invention (^)

chapter twelve: It’s Nice To Have A Friend (^)

chapter thirteen: Devil Town (^)

chapter fourteen: Family Line (^)

chapter fifteen: So it goes…* (^)

chapter sixteen: Do I Wanna Know?* (^)

chapter seventeen: Look Who’s Inside Again (^)

chapter eighteen: Anti-Hero (^)

chapter nineteen: You’re On Your Own Kid  (^)

chapter twenty: Innocent* (^)

chapter twenty-one: Green, Green Dress*

chapter twenty-two: mirrorball*

chapter twenty-three: The Avengers (pt.1) 

chapter twenty-four: The Avengers (pt.2) 

chapter twenty-five: For Real This Time 

chapter twenty-six: Black Out Days 

chapter twenty-seven: Dear Reader

chapter twenty-eight: Look What You Made Me Do 

chapter twenty-nine (Bonus Chapter): Haunted

chapter thirty: Hayloft II

chapter thirty-one: Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)

chapter thirty-two: Chasing Cars

chapter thirty-three: How To Save A Life

chapter thirty-four: Foreigner’s God(*)

chapter thirty-five: long story short*

chapter thirty-six: this is me trying*

chapter thirty-seven: New Romantics*

chapter thirty-eight: Lavender Haze*

chapter thirty-nine: As It Was*

chapter forty: Monster*

chapter forty-one: Daylight

— ACT TWO: PUNISHER —

chapter forty-two: I’ll Get The Coffee*

chapter forty-three: She Knows*

chapter forty-four: Cold As You 

chapter forty-five: Bird Set Free 

chapter forty-six: Human*

chapter forty-seven: Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve (^)

chapter forty-eight: Bad Blood (^)

chapter forty-nine: Dark Paradise (^)

chapter fifty: Meet Me In The Hallway (^)

chapter fifty-one: Demons (^)

chapter fifty-two: Say You Won't Let Go (^)

chapter fifty-three: I Will Be Your Remedy (^)

chapter fifty-four: Dancing With The Devil (^)

chapter fifty-five: Why Am I Like This? (^)

[hollandorks]

saved

matt murdock x original female character

chapter twenty

Summary: Fleeing from an abusive relationship, Grace St. James goes to the only place she still has a friend: Hell’s Kitchen. She’s forced to live in her car and beg for a job from the law firm Nelson, Murdock, and Page all the while making sure her past doesn’t catch up to her. Enter Matt Murdock: cocky, handsome, and willing to let her live with him for free until she can afford to get a place of her own. Grace is drawn to Matt in a way she’s never been drawn to anyone, causing sparks to fly as they inevitably grow closer and closer.

a/n: look I'm back! Yes it has been six months. No I don't have an excuse. Just an ADHD brain that lost all semblance of any hyperfixations I ever had, for no reason. Anyways, I have no clue when I'll continue this fic--I'm only posting now because I forgot I had this chapter already done oops! I'm sorry for the angst, I'll fix it...eventually. Mwah!

Series Masterlist

word count: 4663

Grace slowly looked up at Matt, fear and anger warring for space in her gut. “It’s Dean.”

“It’s Dean,” Grace said again, a familiar fear rising up in her. “I–have no idea how he got this number.”

Matt was in front of her in an instant. “Are you okay?” he asked softly. “Did he threaten you?” 

“No. Well, not really.” She read the texts out loud to Matt, whose expression darkened more and more with every word. 

“That’s–” Matt paused. His head tilted to the side, listening to something she couldn’t hear. 

“What is it?” she asked, remembering the men Dean had sent to break into the apartment. 

Matt cursed softly. “I need to go,” he said, expression torn. She could see him warring with himself. “I know I promised you this date–” 

“Matt, it’s okay,” she said. She meant it. She wasn’t really in the mood for sex anymore, anyways. “What’s going on?” 

He was already unlocking the closet where the Daredevil armor was. The key had apparently been hidden in the firehouse next to it this whole time. “A child abduction.” 

Every line of him was tense, alert. She knew he was still listening to whatever was happening in the city that she couldn’t hear. After a moment, she heard sirens going by, there and gone as the police sped through the streets. 

Grace cursed as Matt turned, yanking his date clothes off and the armor on. 

He paused as he zipped up the back. “I–” 

“It’s okay,” she repeated. “This is important. Go.” 

He kissed her quickly before pulling his boots on. “I really am sorry.” 

“I’m not. Get that kid home safe.” She meant it, too. The thought of a child out there somewhere scared to death–not to mention the parents–made her stomach clench painfully. 

Matt kissed her again. This time he lingered, albeit briefly. “I’ll be back, I promise.” 

“Be careful,” she said as he strode up the stairs to the roof door. He paused at the top. Then, without another word, he slipped on the devil mask and disappeared into the night. 

–

The bed dipping woke Grace from a light sleep hours later. 

“Matt?” she whispered groggily, unsure why she’d woken. Usually she slept through everything. Maybe she’d only just drifted off, though. It felt like it, her eyes crusted with sleep, her entire body heavy. 

“Shh, go back to sleep,” he murmured as he burrowed under the covers. She fumbled for her phone and squinted at the time. It was almost four in the morning. 

“Did you find the kid?” Her hands sought him in the darkness. It was so late that even the neon sign that usually brightened the apartment had been turned off. Matt’s skin was cool to the touch. She wondered how warm his armor was. Did it keep him warm enough? Was it insulated? Did he have different ones for summer or winter? 

“Yeah, we got her.” His voice was tight, low. With pain? Emotion? 

“Alive?” Matt’s lips brushed the top of her head, the word breathed into the scant space between them. 

“Yeah. She’s home safe.” 

Grace relaxed and snuggled up against him. Matt flinched and grunted. She immediately sat up and fumbled for the lamp. 

“Are you hurt?” she asked, eyes squinting against the sudden brightness. Matt not-so-subtly pulled the silk sheets up over his bare chest. She reached over and yanked them away. He sighed but let her look. “You have stitches!” They were in a neat row along one side of his hip rib cage. 

“I’m fine, I promise,” he said. He gently tugged on her arm to get her to lay back down. 

“It looks like you were stabbed,” she said. Which was so much worse than the bruised ribs or bloodied mouth. She’d seen the scars all over his body–he had definitely been stabbed before. Several times. But something about knowing it had happened in the past and seeing the direct aftermath was completely different. 

For the first time, Grace was hit with the realization that what Matt did was dangerous. 

But he’d also gotten an abducted kid home safe. 

Those two opposing thoughts warred for her attention. 

“It’s fine,” Matt said again. His cold fingers gently rubbed the skin of her arm in soothing circles. “Go back to sleep.” 

She stared down at him for a moment, propped up on her elbow, before turning off the light again and snuggling carefully against his side. “Did you just get back?” she asked, the words punctuated by a yawn. 

“Yeah, I stitched myself up then showered.” His voice was slow, sleepy. 

She was impressed that he’d stitched himself, and so neatly, too. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she murmured into the dark. “And the little girl, too.” 

“Mm.” Matt shifted and his breathing deepened. He was asleep. 

Grace couldn’t see him in the darkness, only his outline, but she stared at him anyway. She was in awe of him. Of what he did. Of how strong he was, in so many ways. He protected the city literally twenty-four-seven. During the day as an attorney and at night as a vigilante. 

Her eyes slid closed. She searched within herself for any resentment that Matt’s nightly activities had shortened their promising evening. But all she found was a steady warmth when she thought of how he’d saved a little girl, even at the expense of getting laid by an eager girlfriend. She was scared, yes, since he had gotten hurt, but he was helping people despite it. 

Matt Murdock was way too good for her, she decided as she finally fell asleep again.

–

The next day dawned too early. She tried to convince Matt to sleep in with no luck. He had argued, very calmly, that he couldn’t go skipping work every time he had a crazy night as Daredevil. Then he’d argued that he’d slept great next to her, throwing in a charming smile that had melted away her reservations. 

“You’re too fucking charming,” she grumbled as they stepped into the office building. 

“Poor little blind man, remember?” Matt said with a laugh. Her heart warmed all over again at the sound. She loved seeing how carefree he was with her, even after a night chasing down a child that had been abducted. 

“That is the biggest bullshit,” she said, but she laughed too. 

Their good moods were very quickly dashed to pieces when they entered the office. 

Something came flying straight at Matt’s head. Grace ducked with a gasp. 

“You asshole!” Foggy shouted. 

Matt held a stapler in one hand, a curious frown on his face as he tilted his head first one way and then the next. “A stapler?” 

“My stapler!” Grace interjected, more concerned with that fact than why, exactly, Foggy had thrown it in the first place. Foggy put his hands on his hips where he stood menacingly in front of Grace’s desk. 

“Why am I an asshole, again?” Matt asked as he carefully sidestepped Foggy and somehow managed to place the stapler in the exact spot Grace always kept it. 

“You didn’t text me back, you dick. I thought you were in a dumpster somewhere, bleeding out! Again!” Foggy stomped a foot for good measure. “Last I hear, you’re off trying to rescue a kid and–” 

“Oh,” Grace said as it dawned on her. “Sorry, Foggy, I didn’t realize you knew about that or I would have texted you when Matt got back.” 

Foggy turned to face her and seemed to deflate. “See?” he said to Matt. “A reasonable response. I think I’ll text you from now on to make sure Mr. Horns here doesn’t get stabbed to death. Again.” 

“Probably a good idea,” Grace said with a shrug. Matt was staring at her almost dumbfounded. “I also am very curious to hear about these dying-in-a-dumpster and stabbed-to-death escapades.” She raised an eyebrow at Matt. 

“I like her, Matt,” Foggy said as he and Matt both stared at her. Or as much as Matt could stare, anyway. 

“Me too,” Matt agreed and Grace grinned. “And I’m sorry, Fog. I had to stitch a cut and passed out pretty much as soon as I got back.” 

Foggy humphed and crossed his arms. “I forgive you…I guess.” He slumped all of a sudden and rubbed his face. 

“I could hear you yelling from outside,” Karen said as she stepped into the office and gracefully shed her jacket. “Glad you’re okay, Matt.” 

Matt nodded at her and disappeared into his office. 

“I’m too tired for this shit,” Foggy muttered, but it was half hearted. 

“Me too, honestly,” Grace said. “And Matt got less sleep than all of us. And got stabbed, apparently.” 

“I wasn’t stabbed,” Matt called from his office. “It was just a cut.” 

“I think we all need some extra caffeine,” Karen said. Grace wondered how many times the other woman had carefully brokered peace between the two best friends. She remembered Matt telling her that Foggy hadn’t taken his Daredevil secret well, and wondered if there was still tension there. It definitely seemed like it, if the thrown stapler was any indication. 

Grace eyed Karen and grabbed her jacket and purse. 

“Then I’ll be back with caffeine And maybe some pastries.” 

“Grace St. James, you saint,” Foggy said with his hands pressed together as if in prayer. 

“I’ll be back soon,” she promised, crossing her heart for good measure. 

Outside, fall had settled fully over the city. Grace didn’t mind the chill. Everything seemed better these days, newer, fresher. Or maybe that was simply because she was…happy. 

Even though their date hadn’t ended like they had hoped and even with the restraining order stuff, Grace was happy. Things were good. 

And maybe there was a bit of a spring in her step as she thought about sitting on the edge of Matt’s desk and handing him a coffee in a short while. As she thought about the jokes Foggy would make as his form of thanks for the coffee. 

A car pulled up beside her and slowed. She quickened her pace so that the person exiting wouldn’t knock her with the door. All that did was put her in the path of a man in a suit, who collided with her head-on. 

She cursed softly and tried to step around him but the man grabbed the tops of her arms. 

The car next to her hadn’t stopped, not fully–it had pulled up, inching forward to follow her closely. 

Grace trusted her instincts, and at that moment they were screaming at her to run. 

She used one of the tricks from her self defense classes to get the man’s hands off of her and started to dart away, only for him to grab her around the waist before she made it so much as two steps. 

Her heart faltered even as her mind went into overdrive. She was only a block from the office, maybe two blocks at most. And if Matt was still inside, and if his abilities were as good as he said, he might hear her. 

So Grace screamed. The sound tore up from her belly and out of her throat. It was wordless at first, but then as she thrashed against the man holding her the scream turned into words. “Help! Help me! Someone help me! Help!” 

The man holding her cursed and tried to cover her mouth. She reared her head back. It connected with his nose with a crunch. In the same moment, she stomped as hard as she could on the arch of his foot. 

The man shouted obscenities at her but let her go. She tried to run again, back of her head aching from hitting the man, but a second man stepped out of the passenger seat of the car. He blocked her path. This man simply pulled out a gun and aimed it at her. 

Grace stopped. 

Please let Matt have heard, she pleaded to anyone who would listen, God or otherwise. 

“Get in,” the man with the gun said as the other one cursed and tried to staunch the blood pouring from his nose. 

Grace held up her trembling hands in surrender. Panic was eating its way like acid through her gut. “Look, I don’t–” 

“Get in,” the man said, indicating with the gun that she should move. She flinched at the motion, then complied. 

The backseat of the luxurious car held her worst nightmare. 

Dean. 

Grace screamed again, begging for help, praying that Matt would hear, that Matt would come. 

Pain exploded across her face as Dean slapped her. 

“Shut up!” he snapped. The partition between the front seat and the back went up. The car pulled away from the curb, inching slowly along the road as if they had all the time in the world. 

Grace bared her teeth at him. All that pent up rage that she’d been nurturing for weeks crested on a wave. She drew her fist back and snapped it forward in one perfect motion. Dark blood trickled from his nose. 

Quick as a flash, Dean’s hands were around her throat, squeezing off her air, pinching the skin so painfully that tears welled in her eyes. 

She didn’t back down, simply stared at him as she choked, as darkness appeared at the edges of her vision.

“I just want to talk, dammit!” Dean said in a snarl. He shoved her away from him like she was a disgusting piece of filth. She hit the partition between the front and back and winced. “Will you please just be quiet?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his angular features suddenly drawn and tired. 

Grace’s chest heaved as she sucked down air. The darkness ebbed though the pain lingered in her throat. She coughed and glared at him. 

“You can’t just kidnap me,” she said, her voice barely a rasp. 

“Grace, we need to talk,” Dean said as if she hadn’t spoken. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, every inch the suave businessman save for the blood coming from his nose. “I want to be sure you aren’t going to…tell people things you shouldn’t be telling them.” 

Grace worked her jaw for a moment and looked away. Out of the window, they were still crawling down the street at a snail’s pace. “I’m not an idiot,” she finally said, every word a chore with her sore throat. 

Dean’s eyebrows quirked. “I never said you were.” 

“Besides,” she said, lacing her words with every amount of venom she could muster, “I don’t need to talk about your criminal activities to get a restraining order against you. You beating me will be enough.” 

Something quick and deadly flashed in his eyes, there and gone before she could really note it. Dean leaned further forward. And despite everything, Grace flinched. He seemed satisfied by the reaction and gave her a smile that would make him president one day. 

“But just in case, we need to talk about what would happen if you did start getting ideas.” Dean sat back, legs sprawled, completely at ease as if he hadn’t kidnapped her and then choked her nearly to unconsciousness. “You like your new job, yes? Nelson, Murdock, and Page? Should you…tell them anything you shouldn’t, well. Things happen. A robbery gone wrong. A hit and run. A suicide. Spread out just enough that no one links them. One for each.” Dean shrugged. 

Grace couldn’t breathe all of a sudden and it had nothing to do with the imprints of his hands around her neck. “You wouldn’t–” she said, but she knew in her heart that he would. She had seen up close what Dean was capable of. I want you to use that bleeding heart of yours, Grace. Show him some kindness so he’s more…open to my questions. 

“What do you think happened to your father?” Dean said. 

But the words were lost in the jolt of the car stopping suddenly, a thunk coming from somewhere in the direction of the hood. 

The partition lowered. 

“Sir?” the driver said uncertainly. “We just…hit a man.” 

“What?” Dean said. 

Grace used the distraction and scrambled for the door handle. Dean shouted after her as she lurched from the car, barely more than a block from where they’d started. 

Her mouth opened in surprise as the driver got out, too, along with the security guard with the gun and Dean too. 

“I am so sorry,” the driver was saying, eyes cutting to Dean as if looking for permission to even say those words. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m alright,” Matt said with a wave of his hand. To anyone else, he looked the part of an innocent blind man. But Grace saw the tension in his jaw, in the hand that clutched his cane like he was about to use it as a weapon. 

“Matt?” she said, not needing to fake her surprise. Or her relief. He’d heard her. He’d come. 

“Grace?” Matt said. His shock was so believable she almost bought it. He tilted his head to the side, red glasses flashing in the light. “Wh–I thought you were going to the coffee shop?” 

“Dean, you just hit my boyfriend,” she said as she whirled on him. She took some small satisfaction at the surprise on Dean’s face before he schooled his features. “Matt, do you want to press charges?” she asked, hoping for a moment that he’d say yes, even though she knew this was merely a distraction to get her away. 

Matt laughed and it sounded fake. “No, no, my fault. Should have waited for the crosswalk but, ah, I got cocky. Are you alright?” And she heard the unspoken message in those words. Had Dean hurt her? What was going on? 

“I’m okay,” she said with another glare towards Dean. “Dean was just leaving. Let’s get back to the office.” 

She grabbed Matt’s elbow and started to edge around Dean and his guard. 

“Remember what I said, Grace,” Dean said softly. 

Her hand trembled where it rested on Matt’s bicep. 

“Don’t worry,” she said to Dean. “I won’t. See you in court.” 

The guard held the door open for Dean and then the car was pulling away as if nothing had happened. 

Grace was shaking. 

“It’s alright,” Matt said in a low, deep voice that hummed with suppressed anger. “It’s okay.” 

They walked in silence for a moment before Matt abruptly tugged her into an alleyway. 

“He hurt you,” he said as she leaned against the brick wall. The words were all gravel and broken glass and smoke. The devil in Matt’s body, barely hidden underneath the skin in his anger. 

“I–” Grace started to say that she was okay, but she wasn’t. It wasn’t that Dean had hurt her, it’s that he had threatened the people she cared about. It was that, in her distracted and happy bubble, he’d snuck up on her. 

Matt was hovering close to her without touching. 

“What are you doing?” she asked softly. “You’re hovering.” 

Matt clenched and unclenched his fists. “I don’t–I don’t want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable.” 

She felt like laughing and crying all at once. “I know you won’t hurt me, Matt,” she said. She knew he could hear the truth in her heartbeat because he surged forward as soon as the words were out. He was still careful though, his hands gentle at her throat, at the corner of her mouth were blood welled from the slap across her mouth. 

“Talk to me,” Matt said, a tremble in his voice. His hands were steady, though, and he pressed his forehead to hers as he gently gripped her shoulders. “Because I am so close to following him and blowing my cover,” he said with a humorless laugh. She could see the devil in every tense line of him–his taut shoulders, his wide stance, the way his jaw worked and twitched, the slow tremble up his spine as he fought for control. 

“I–I have no idea what to say,” she said. She clutched at the lapels of his jacket. “Elephants. Coffee. Marmalade. I don’t know.” Matt huffed another laugh. “Shit, I didn’t get the coffee.” 

“Forget the coffee,” Matt said. “Let’s just–let’s go home.” 

“Okay,” she said around the sudden lump in her throat. Home. Home with Matt. Home, where she would be safe. Home, where Dean couldn’t get to her, because she had the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen at her side. “Tell Foggy we’re having crazy sex and can’t come back.” 

Matt snorted and some of the tension in his shoulders eased. “I think I’ll just tell him the truth. I–We need to–” He stopped and stepped back. His hands clenched and unclenched again. Like he wanted to hit something. And despite her past, Grace didn’t fear for a second that he would hit her. The thought didn’t even cross her mind. “We need to document this, for the case.” 

Grace blew out a breath. “Okay. Yeah.” 

She realized she must be in shock, because she felt relatively calm. Or maybe it was the man with her, a man who she knew would keep her safe even at his own expense. 

“Oh my god, you got hit by his car,” she said after a beat of silence. “What the fuck were you thinking?” 

He brushed the back of one hand up her arm like he couldn’t bear to stop touching her for even a moment. “I didn’t have time to go get the suit,” he said and the end of the sentence turned into another growl. “I had to–I didn’t know what was happening and it was the best I could–” 

His words cut off with a grunt as she kissed him. It hurt her split lip but she didn’t care. 

“Thank you,” she breathed as she pulled away. She buried her face into the space where his neck met his shoulder and inhaled the comforting scent of him. “God–Thank you.” 

Matt’s arms tightened around her. He pressed his lips to the top of her hair then inhaled, breathing her in. “I smelled blood on him,” Matt said after a moment. “Him and another. Your handiwork?” 

Grace laughed. “Yeah, actually. Headbutted the guy who grabbed me then punched Dean in the face.” 

“Good,” Matt said fiercely. 

“Let’s go home. I need a long shower after…that.” Grace shuddered. Sometimes she wondered how she had ever loved Dean after seeing his true face. But he was so adept at hiding the monster underneath that of course she’d fallen for the facade time and time again. 

Matt called Foggy on the way back to the apartment, outlining what was going on. She could hear the outrage in Foggy’s voice over the speaker even though she couldn’t make out the exact words. Matt’s voice was deadly calm. She knew he was pushing that rage down for her. That he was leashing the devil once more so he wouldn’t snap in her presence. She longed to let him loose on Dean, to let Dean feel the same fear she’d felt for so long. 

Matt promised Foggy that Grace was okay but that they were going to take the rest of the afternoon. He promised to have her send time stamped pictures of the new injuries along with a statement so they had something to add to their case. 

Grace thought about Dean threatening Matt, Foggy, and Karen as they stepped into the apartment. Her blood boiled all over again. Hurting her wasn’t enough–he had to threaten to hurt her new friends, the people she had come to care about the most. 

Things happen. A robbery gone wrong. A hit and run. A suicide.

“–shower first?” Matt was saying, interrupting her dark thoughts. 

But her mind kept going, running the scene back for her now that she was home, now that she was safe. 

What do you think happened to your father? 

All of Grace’s breath left her in a rush. Her legs went out from underneath her. She hit the floor on her knees with a hard thud that she barely felt. 

The pain in her chest was instant. She was being ripped in two, the edges frayed and blazing with fire even as the hole gaped open wider and wider and wider, revealing her bloody insides, the scars in her heart that she’d thought had healed. 

She couldn’t breathe. One hand scrabbled for purchase on the hardwood while the other clutched at the wound in her chest that no one could see. 

No, she thought. It couldn’t be true. 

But–

What do you think happened to your father?

Dean had killed her father. 

Matt’s POV 

Everything changed in an instant. 

Matt was loosening his tie, asking Grace if she wanted coffee or to shower first, when her heart stopped and her breath left her in a rush. Before he could react, she was going down, her knees hitting the ground so hard he thought something had broken.

He was at her side in an instant, senses on high alert, listening for an intruder or a gunshot or some indication of an internal wound he couldn’t see. Her breath wheezed out of her, her body not getting enough oxygen, even as her heart tripled its usual steady pace. 

“Grace?” Matt said, every cell in his body focusing on her. Fear clawed up his throat as she clutched at her chest, the other clawing across the floor. She was still wheezing, still barely breathing. “Grace, what’s wrong? What hurts?” 

Had that bastard done something to her? Was she bleeding somewhere inside, hemorrhaging where he couldn’t see? 

Matt’s fingers fluttered over her body, searching for any sign of injuries or internal wounds. But everything seemed to be working fine. Her heart was beating fast, panicked, but it was working the way it should. And she was wheezing still, but her lungs were clear of any obstructions. He gently touched around her skull next but everything there was in place, too, not even a hint of swelling in her brain. 

Then she started sobbing. 

The sound pierced him like an arrow. It stole his breath. 

“Grace,” he said, tears coming unbidden to his eyes at the sound of her agony. “Sweetheart, what is it? What’s wrong?” 

She was in pain, so clearly in pain, but there was nothing discernibly wrong with her. 

Matt gathered her into his arms. He rocked her gently while one hand continued searching for injuries. “Tell me what hurts, Grace,” he begged around the fear that was choking him. “Tell me how I can help because I don’t know what to do.” 

The sounds coming from her could only be described as anguish. Matt couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong or how. One moment she was fine–as fine as she could be, that is–and the next she had been on her knees crying out in pain

“Please, Grace,” he said into her hair as she clutched him like a lifeline while she sobbed. “Tell me what to do. Please. Grace, please.” 

“He–” The word choked her as it came out like it was tangible, like it had edges. “He–” Another anguished cry tore from her throat. “He killed him, Matt.” 

Matt froze. “Killed who?” 

Grace cried out again. Her whole body shuddered and it was all he could do to clutch her, to hold her together, to try and keep her safe from some unknown foe. 

“He killed my dad, Matt,” she said and broke down sobbing again. “Dean killed my dad, he told me–he killed him, Matt, and it’s my fault and I–” She choked again and another tremble rocked her frame. 

Matt stroked her hair even as he fought the turmoil within him. 

“When?” he finally said. His heart broke for her even as the rage resurfaced, hotter and brighter than before. 

Grace sobbed out the answer. “Years. Years ago.” 

And all Matt could do was hold her as she cried, as her world came apart around her, not realizing that he was the sole thing holding her together.

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[bellaxgiornata]

Made a banner for one of my Matt Murdock x Original Female Character series Life Worth Living. So far it is only on AO3 but I'll eventually transfer it over soon! It's just under 250k words as of now. If you like the Defenders (especially Jessica Jones) and a mysterious original character with her own secrets she's unraveling and lots of plot twists, you might enjoy this series! There is smut, fluff, romance, angst, and lots of surprises (but if you pay close attention I'm always dropping little breadcrumb clues...). The story is 18+ and definitely heed the tags (OC has a very traumatic past).

Summary: When Olivia Allen moves to Hell's Kitchen hoping to start over in a new city, she doesn't expect to form a crush on her charming and persistent neighbor, Matt Murdock. Plagued by her past and desperate to be "normal," Olivia must come to terms with who she is in order to protect the life she fought hard to build. But as she eventually learns, her powerful and dangerous ex-boyfriend isn't the only one she needs to worry about. After all, there's secrets about herself even she never knew...

[audreyclimbs]

Hehe ik it’s been a little bit but I’m making up for my absence with a 3k word chapter, will try to have it up tonight 🤗🤗🤗😚😚😚

foreseen in shadows: masterlist

matt murdock x fem!oc

cw: canon-typical violence, big time miscommunications the whole time lol, major character death, eventual nsfw, matt being a simp

prologue

chapter 1:

chapter 2:

[ctheathy]

Yandere Sails Headcanons

Sails x Reader

Yandere Headcanons

Important information that this takes place after Knuckles the Dread got his hands on the prism shard. His insanity gets confused with Sails’ obsession and it causes the crew to fall apart.

Sails/Reader [Romantic//Platonic]

[Gender-neutral Darling|Female Darling|Male Darling]

Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️ :

Possessiveness • Overprotective behaviour • Implied death • Violence • Attempted drowning • Isolation • Abduction • Jealousy • Assault • Forced affection • Clinginess • Threats • Greed • Demise of important character role

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙

Sails is somebody who already grew up in a habitat surrounding both adventurous and tricky situations to begin with. He isn’t one to shy away from taking risks and seems to be in constant search for another case he could deem as exciting. The fox can also be seen as quite the daredevil, not backing down from any challenge being put in his way. But aside from all that, he remains to be a good soul. He holds the kindness in his heart his original counterpart has, looking out and caring for his crew while helping in any way possible. He prioritzes the safety of his team, whom he quite literally views as his one and only family and would do a lot to ensure their welfare.

But ... There has seemingly been one weakness stated during his appearances in the show. One that cannot be healed by any method or through other means, not with his doomed fate among No Place atleast. His gruesome despise towards living the same thing over and over again. One that might be the exact little push he needs to create a brief change in the personality of the sweet fox we all grew accustomed to. And which makes him a lot more vulnerable to the idea of him living in a loop. It feels like a curse to him, traumatizing even. He just has his little need for constant new opportunities and adventure, otherwise life would get rather ... Boring to him, an empty and draining feeling eating away at the fox, unable to be cured no matter how much those around him try to cheer him up for it. Which may even be the start of where the now familiar unhealthy mindset and coping mechanisms start to become noticeable in the first place.

Even just meeting him right from the start is going to end up as one hell of a rollercoaster. Him and his crew aren’t prone to trusting those who they just met right off the bat. But in a way, Sails is going to be feeling intrigued by you. He’s never seen anything such as yourself before. You’re... A new experience. The beginning of everything seemed so innocent at first ... Sails allowed you onto the crew’s ship as he practically kept looking for whatever excuse he could get his grabby hands on to prevent you from just being eliminated on the spot. He promised his cooperation on the Captain’s desires, who was currently obsessing over the shard, and that he’d take immediate responsibility for this new scallywag. And him technically being the brains of the team, both Batten and Black didn’t have much to argue against, assuming the decision to be beneficial for all of them.

Oh, were they wrong ...

Right at the start of your temporary stay, you’d be spending most of your time with Sails around the crow’s nest. And for being a mere stranger, he was sincerely ... A curious one to say the least, and he certainly seemed on the excited side as well. He would constantly bombard you with questions for the time being, some really personal ones too ... The mobian seemed rather at ease and shameless when it came to being touchy with you. It had almost been as if personal space and private information was practically meant to be nonexistent in this universe. It made you uneasy. You may have been let onto the ship, but enough strict rules were attached to it that could have easily made it a regrettable decision. Despite figuring if you should just dip and jump off the ship or not, your thoughts were quickly interrupted by the request to meet ... Their captain. But the fox mobian you grew acquainted with in the meantime seemed strangely unhappy and dissatisfied about the fact you were going to have a proper introduction. He’d noticeably cling to your side for the entire meeting, feeling unusually possessive over you. The conduct leaving the rest of the crew to ponder whenever they made a mistake.

Taking a look at his yandere behaviour, it’s important to keep in mind any of the realistic aspects on real pirates and the traits whom they may hold; unmerciful and ruthless ... Stopping at nothing to gain whatever caught the eye. Being a pirate, he’s naturally going to feel lured in by things that could be deemed as shining, and his attraction only goes so far. Unknowingly even having turned into a predatory and power-hungry mobian over time, a part of him who he would have wished to avoid in modern times. But atlas, his greed would noticeably start to grow recklessly, to where at some point he is literally close to unrecognisable.

It’s horrifying to even witness for anyone around, to realise what affects selfishness can have on a once charming and adventurous soul. Even his crew would have no idea what to do with him, as while the growth of his violence and these new boosts of aggressiveness can certainly help during any considerable fights; he grows more and more inattentive torwards them too, finding them to be insignificant. Over time, he starts operating more on his own instead of that with his crew. His selfish and unbeneficial actions speaking for themselves as he slowly grows more distant.

He also deems the others to be delusional whenever they mention his change in literal identity. You could easily notice him growing more confrontational when the topic is brought up, leaving the crew to slowly... Lose hope on him. And the worst part is that the team considers Dread having been preoccupied by the light of the prism shard as reason behind why Sails is behaving the way he is, being the influence behind his sudden changes in behaviour. While realistically, these reasonings are far from connected with one another. But despite this;

That won’t change the fact that a life was lost that day after the abandonment .

As for harm’s sake, he is surprisingly one of the most brutal. Living amongst the ocean limits a ton of the punishments for his doings and it sure has brought in a lot of confidence in getting away with what he does. Something that he had started realising aswell is how it also wouldn’t really require much to keep any of his nemesis in their place. As he takes care of the threat, usually resulting in either just dumping the said problem overboard, leaving the sharks to deal with the defenseless mobian on their own or by simply pushing the razor sharp tip of his cutlass at their throats, being left at his mercy. But he won’t be hesitant to take a darker turn when it includes your sake either.

There’s one of the many, many events you had remembered in particular, one that had gone so unimaginably bad. One that resulted in the use of some more brutal lengths to defeat the said ‘thief’ attempt. The poor creature was being held remorselessly by the calf with Sails’ mechanical hand, an obvious way too tight grip on the leg as they were being left to dangle above the deep oceans. They were being swung around which could have easily caused the breakage of the said limb, all while they were continuously being dunked into the waters with no sign of mercy or regret being visible in the act. Every time they were forced to stay put underwater for longer ... And longer. All while you could do nothing but watch fromout the border of the Angel’s Voyage. You could clearly see the glint in his eyes. There had been a terrifying gleam of insanity in Sails’ once gentle blue eyes. One of pure joy all while he was attempting to drown the victim who was now desperately trying to free themselves from his grasp. It hadn’t been until you yelled at him on the top of your lungs that he quit the torturous deed. But that memory. That horrifying imagery of him yet continues to live on in the back of your mind.

He would likely reach a point where he’d most certainly consider you his treasure ... Making him a whole lot more possessive than his other counterparts. He deems you to be a helpless being in need of his guidance in order to survive the current circumstances you’re in. He knows you’re stuck here and quite frankly have nowhere to go to. And now with the lack of hope and distrust considering the rest of the crew and the absence of a proper captain, he makes sure going to them for help isn’t even an option for you anymore. As you were looking down upon the water’s waves below from the top of the crow’s nest, you knew.

He wasn’t gonna let you go.

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙

[aynsleywalker]

So, usually, my writing is pretty selfish. The plots, the dialogue, everything is kind of written just for me, but I'm feeling a little pumped about this scene so I thought I'd go ahead and share it.

Also, did I reference Pedro characters in a Daredevil fic? I sure did.

I am currently super obsessed with Matt Murdock and Frank Castle, and this is just a little scene with Matt that I'm liking. 😊

Loving the Devil is a Sin

(A scene snippet)

Matt Murdock x Female OOC (Finley Grey)

** Trigger Warnings ⚠️ : Panic Attack, references to past character deaths, self blame, blood, wounds, references to weapons, sorry if I missed something! **

“What happened here, Angel?  This is deep,” he murmured, his hands encircling her waist to help her up onto the table as he tried to keep himself from listening too closely to the way her tac pants slid down to her ankles, baring the length of her muscular, he was certain soft, legs.

“Bullet ricochet,” she muttered, hissing loudly when he pressed a clean cloth over the wound.

His head shot up as his eyes widened at her, his palm unintentionally pressing the white towel a little more firmly against the deep, still bleeding wound.  “You didn’t say something earlier?”

“Of course not,” she scoffed, grasping his wrist lightly to keep him from moving his hand any more.  “Matt you just pointed out earlier that I don’t speak up.  I was going to patch you up first and then hole up in the bathroom to lick my wounds like usual.  This isn’t the first time I’ve been shot, Matthew.”

“Sweetheart…” His eyebrows knitted together as his entire expression crumbled in something akin to agony.

“No!  Matt, not since… I meant before.  I’ve been shot before I came to you for help.  I would have asked you for help for a gunshot wound.”

“This is a gunshot wound!” he pointed out, his pitch rising.

“This is a ricochet wound!” she countered, her own pitch rising defensively in response.

“Finley,” he growled in warning, a sigh following.  “If you want to fight about semantics – “

“I don’t want to fight at all!  I’m sitting on your table with my pants around my ankles when I would much rather have your suit off stitching that gash in your arm, Murdock.  What do you want from me!?  This isn’t what I do, ok?  Every partner I’ve ever had has gotten killed!  I fucking refuse to let you get killed on my watch!”

She shoved his hand away, swallowing the cry of pain as the towel fibers scraped fiercely against the re-opened wound and slipped off the table.  Wrenching her pants up, she fastened the button on her way up the stairs toward the rooftop exit of his apartment, ignoring him calling out for her.

She knew this had been a bad idea from the start.  She should have stuck to her original plan.  Using him for his contacts and his knowledge of Hell’s Kitchen and nothing more, just like she had told him at the start.  Dragging him into the fights, letting him convince her to use his apartment, allowing herself to get to know him… She had given herself the opportunity and she had unintentionally taken it.

She had caught feelings for the Devil and she was going to pay for those sins now.

There was a reason she worked alone.  There was a reason she had never taken another partner.  Every one of them… Marcus, Dave, Jack, Javi…  Every one of them had been killed on missions with her.

Had she gotten them killed?

No.

Maybe.

Could she have saved them?

The Agency handlers said no, but her mind said yes.

She could have found her way back into that Minotaur’s labyrinth of jungle foliage back in Columbia to find Javi.  She could have fought her way back through those soldiers, those gunslingers, those drug runners.  She’d been young, but skilled enough to have found him in time.

She could have found more ammunition somewhere in the hallways, in the darkened rooms of those drug dens in Argentina to re-load to cover Jack instead of the other way around.  Surely somewhere there had been a loose weapon.  Loose ammo.  Jack hadn’t needed to fall back.

She could have lined up and taken those shots faster over Dave’s shoulder.  She had the sniper training.  She was fast.  Faster than she had been that day.

She could have… Marcus. 

Fuck!

Sweet, kind, generous Marcus.

Marcus had given his life to save hers.  There was nothing she could have done to save Marcus.

And now here she was, years after having had a partner for the last time and even though Matt wasn’t technically a partner and he out skilled her on so many levels, her mind had hit that loop, seen those men, remembered those recovery missions and realized this had to end.

She couldn’t work with Matt anymore.

She had fallen so hard so fast for both Matt Murdock and the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, for Daredevil, whatever he was called, and she had to back out of it now.  End their agreement.  Stop asking for his help and keep rolling on her missions alone.  She couldn’t handle losing someone else she cared about – especially not someone this deeply.

The icy air of New York City at 3am in mid-February hit her like a ton of bricks and she let out the sob that was clenched in her chest, rushing out to the edge where she and Matt had watched and listened to the city living beyond them so many times.  She could feel the heat of the fresh blood from her leg gel immediately, gumming her pants right to her skin, just like the other still fresh wounds she hadn’t told him about though he obviously already knew about them.

Fuck what she wouldn’t do to have his sense of hearing right then to find a fucking fist fight out on the streets just to expend the sudden race of adrenaline pumping through her system.  The prickle of it beneath her skin like grasping an electric fence, the sensation muted by the stretch of it through every inch of her. Like the sensation of coming in from being out in the cold too long when sensation began to come back to hands and feet, tiny pins and needles skating through muscle and skin, tightening and stabbing, almost vibrating with life coming back from complete numbness.

Her gaze moved to the brilliance of the electronic billboard across from Matt’s building, forcing herself to focus on it, forcing herself to pick out and count the individual pixels in too bright colors as she desperately tried to rein in the panic rising up in her.  Her throat tightened, and that panic began physically lapping up her throat like individual waves at the edge of a lake, too quick and too shallow but stirring over rocks with enough force to erode them into sand and silt given enough time and strangling the breath right out of her.

The fight for oxygen became more real as those waves became stronger, white caps forming on the lake pushing the waves higher until blackness invaded the edges of her vision and she found herself counting and re-counting the same pixels of light over and over again.

Hands were suddenly grasping her jaw from either side, gently but firmly caging her face and firmly turning her head.  The very last of her breath left in a tiny yelp of surprise before Matt’s eyes registered, mahogany and cinnamon swirling and swimming in her vision as a single word, “Breathe,” filtered into her brain in just the right tone, just the right amount of authority, that her base instincts listened.

Her mouth opened wide, lungs filling on a deep gasp, followed by another, and another as her gaze locked on his steady, unfeeling gaze, his mouth moving, although she couldn’t hear.  Couldn’t register.

A moment, or a dozen, passed as her body re-oxygenated, the panic easing just enough for her to recognize Matt’s voice, recognize his words, the world finally surrounding her again and settling back into place around her with a dull thump.

He was still in the suit, though he'd removed the gloves, his hands somehow still warm where they held her face steady, the pads of his thumbs stroking slow and steady against the fine hairs just above her temples.

“That’s it.  There you go.  Just keep breathing for me, sweetheart.”

[punchdrunkdoc]

Part 3, Chapter 23

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness? Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 4 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

Okay, this is an extra looooong chapter. But we're finally at the end of Part 3! And the last line in this chapter was written when I first started plotting this fic, over 18 months and 230 000 words ago...so I'm a little excited for you guys to finally read it!

————–

PART 3

Chapter 23

The hostess led Cross and Ranieri through the busy restaurant, and Matt tracked their movements as they weaved between tables, the scent of their mingled colognes getting stronger as they came closer to his and Calina’s corner. He had a brief moment of concern that Cross was headed straight for them - that somehow Cross had discovered that Matt was looking into him, and had come here to confront him-

But then Cross paused at the table behind Matt to greet the couple seated there. Cross obviously knew them well, launching into a recap of his golf game from that morning and laughing with the couple about the new wait staff at the country club. Cross was in his slightly smarmy, exuberant, rich-guy mode - a persona that Matt had started calling his ‘politician guise’. It was a far cry from the real Cross - the cold sociopathic monster who enjoyed torturing people - and the falsity of it grated on Matt.

After a few moments of inane chatter, Cross and Ranieri moved on, heading for the back of the restaurant where the VIP section resided, separated from the rest of the public by a locked door.

“Will you be able to hear what’s going on in there?” Calina asked quietly.

Matt shook his head. “I doubt it. There’s soundproofing in the walls.”

“Soundproofing? In an already private room? That just screams shady, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. I’m going to have to get closer - I can only pick up indistinct murmurs from here.”

“While you do that, I’ll contact Anya.”

“Anya? Why?”

“Because I think Ranieri’s presence here ties everything together.”

———

After the initial shock of seeing Ranieri had worn off, Calina realised that it shouldn’t have been a shock at all. It made complete sense. “We always suspected that the man behind the fear pheromone was the one who activated me to kill Governor Benson.”

Matt nodded. “In order to guarantee the supply of Arsonium for the pheromone.”

“Right. Aminev was the Red Room employee who dosed me for that assassination attempt, and Anya mentioned that she’d found his name in Ranieri’s laptop - Ranieri was looking for him after he defected from Volkov’s group. I’m guessing he found him - either he sent Aminev to Cross, knowing that he’d pay through the nose for a Black Widow to control, or Aminev told Ranieri about Cross.”

“Either way, Ranieri’s obviously decided to get into bed with another sociopath looking for power.”

“We need to find out what he’s telling Cross about the Widows and Volkov’s work.”

Matt nodded again, looking grim. “Agreed.” He gave Calina a quick kiss on the cheek and set off to do just that.

Calina watched Matt head for the restroom two doors down from the private VIP room, and hoped he’d be able to hear what Cross and Ranieri were up to from there.

Because this whole thing was giving her a really bad feeling.

The moment she’d set eyes on Ranieri, a pit of anxiety had opened up in her gut. It was the collision of her two worlds - her present with Matt, and her past with the Widows - and she knew it could only portend disaster for the future. Cross was powerful enough as it was, with all his wealth and influence and the fear pheromone he was using to blackmail key figures in the city. Add in mind-control serum or another Black Widow assassin to that mix and he could very possibly take over the world.

Calina grabbed her phone from her purse and sent off a message to Anya, updating her about Cross’ involvement in the serum, and the unexpected appearance of Ranieri. She’d call the other Widow later and give her more details, but she knew Anya would be intrigued enough by her quick missive to start digging and confirm Calina’s theory.

Meanwhile…she’d wait.

She was used to it. So many of her past missions were exercises in patience. In biding her time watching her marks, and waiting for the right moment to strike. But back then there were no idle thoughts to distract her, and definitely no fears or worries for her partner on the job.

This felt different. Her head was spinning with worry for what this new complication meant. And worry for Matt, who was becoming obsessed with taking down Cross.

Luckily, she didn’t have to wait - and worry - for long. Ten minutes later, Matt emerged from his stake-out in the restroom and made his way back to her.

She smiled at him - an almost involuntary reflex now whenever she saw him. She’d asked him once, if he could sense that. They’d been lying in bed, her head on his chest, his fingers trailing up and down her bare back as they filled each other in on their day. “I caught my reflection in the window today when you walked in,” she’d told him, recounting the moment he’d met her at the coffee shop around the corner from his office. “I was smiling like an idiot, for all the world to see.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he’d replied.

“No, just strange. Considering the way I was raised.”

“Well I like that you smile like an idiot when you see me.”

She laughed. Then tilted her head up to look at him. “But can you tell? When you walk into a room, can you sense that I’m smiling at you?”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then brushed his thumb over her lips. “I don’t need to sense these move to know you’re happy to see me. I know in other ways.”

She’d spent the rest of the night trying to elicit what those ‘other ways’ were, using all her feminine tricks and wiles to cajole the secret from him, but he didn’t budge.

At this moment though, if he sensed she was happy to see him, he didn’t let on. There was no smile on his face as he approached their table. In fact, there was a stiffness to his gait that wasn’t there before, and his stubbled jaw was clenched.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I need to go. They’re leaving through a back entrance, and I don’t want to lose this chance to find out what they’re up to.”

“Okay. I’ll see you at home later. Be careful.”

She went to put her hand on his, where it rested on his cane, but he pulled away from her touch. “I need to go,” he repeated, and strode for the door.

The bad feeling in Calina’s gut grew stronger.

And it didn’t let up over the next several hours, as Matt followed Cross and Ranieri all over the city, and she was left to pace his living room floor alone.

He eventually returned as dawn was starting to break across the sky. Calina was napping on the couch, exhaustion and worry leading to a fretful, interrupted sleep. As his key turned in the door, she sat upright and called out. “Matt, are you okay?”

He didn’t look okay. He trudged into the living room, footfalls heavy and slow, and collapsed on to the chair opposite her. His 5 o’clock shadow had darkened into scruff and the suit he’d worn to dinner last night was rumpled and creased. He rubbed his hands over his face then massaged his temples, as if fighting off a headache.

“Matt,” she said again, softer this time. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Hours and hours of fucking nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

Matt sighed and let his head fall back against the chair. “I caught up with Cross and Ranieri after they left the restaurant, and tailed them to a club on the upper east side - an exclusive members-only club that was harder for me to get into than fucking Fort Knox.”

“But you managed right? I mean, you’re Daredevil, a few locked doors are nothing to you,” she tried to make her comment light, to help counteract the air of anger and frustration that seemed to simmer beneath Matt’s weary state.

It didn’t work. Matt just continued to recap his night in the same flat, bitter tone. “I eventually managed to find a way on to the roof that wasn’t guarded by a camera or security guard, but I couldn’t hear anything of use - it was too loud and packed with other people to make out Cross and Ranieri’s conversation. They left the club after a couple of hours, and split up. I followed Ranieri to the Waldorf, but he went straight to his room. He didn’t meet up with anyone else.”

Calina did the math in her head, and realised that several hours were still unaccounted for in Matt’s story. He never came home for his Daredevil suit to go out patrolling…so what did he do instead?

“Then what?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been gone practically all night, Matt.”

Matt sat forward, dangled his hands between his legs and stared at the floor. “I needed to think.”

Calina swallowed, suddenly more worried than she’d been all night. Matt’s voice as he said those words…his whole demeanour…

Something was really wrong.

“What did you need to think about?”

Matt clasped his hands together and squeezed until his flesh went white. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if hesitating to answer.

“Matt, what’s going on?”

He took a deep breath and lifted his head in her direction. “Does the name ‘Eliise’ mean anything to you?”

Calina frowned, thrown by the unexpected question. Then the blood drained from her face as she realised how he would have heard that name. “It was my alias in Italy, when I was going after Ranieri. He recognised me in the restaurant, didn’t he?”

“Oh, yeah. Turns out you were really fucking memorable. I mean, he was a little disappointed you’d changed your hair and weren’t showing as much leg as before, but he took great delight in describing his night with you to Cross.”

Calina exhaled in relief, glad her real identity as a Widow hadn’t been blown. “So he was bragging to look like a big shot in front of his new associate, so what?”

“It wasn’t baseless bragging. He was regaling Cross in lurid detail about all the ways he'd fucked you. And he wasn’t lying. I could practically feel his heartbeat through that bathroom wall, and he believed every single word of what he said.”

“Wait…are you saying you think I slept with him? That I had sex with him in Italy behind your back?”

“He wasn’t lying, Calina,” Matt repeated, through clenched teeth.

“Neither was I! I told you exactly what happened during that mission!”

“Like you told me exactly what happened to the man you killed across the hall?”

Calina reeled back, as if the words were a physical blow. “So I’m always going to be a liar in your eyes, is that it? Despite the fact that I’ve been honest and open with you every single day since then? Despite the fact that you claim to love me? Doesn’t that afford me the benefit of the doubt at the very least!?”

Matt jumped to his feet. “Yes! Of course it does! That’s why I’ve been wrestling with this all night! I couldn’t reconcile what you told me with-”

“With what Ranieri said? You believed a complete stranger over me?”

“No, not blindly. But you’re asking me to ignore everything my senses are telling me-”

“Yes! Because your senses aren’t infallible, Matt. All of your goddam trust issues stem from the fact that you’ve been lied to again and again by the people you're close to, which means you can’t always tell when someone’s being honest!”

“So now you’re throwing my past back at me? I just want the truth, Calina! What happened in Italy?”

Calina didn’t answer. Instead, she grabbed her cell from the coffee table and dialled a number.

“What are you doing?” Matt asked, as the sound of the phone ringing filled the air between them.

“Well, you obviously won’t believe anything I tell you, so I’m getting someone impartial to give you the truth.”

At that moment, Anya picked up the phone, sounding wide awake despite the hour. “Calina? I’ve been looking into this Cross and Ranieri thing, and I may have found something. They-”

“Not now, Anya,” Calina interrupted. “I need you to speak to Matt.”

“Okay…about what?"

“Tell him about Italy. About the serum I injected Ranieri with - and what it does.”

“Um, it’s a modified sedative. Designed to render a mark unconscious while also allowing for hypnotic suggestions to be implanted.”

“And what suggestions did you implant while Ranieri was unconscious?” Calina asked.

“That, um, you had sex with him.”

“Did I actually have sex with him?”

“No! Of course not. Calina, what’s this about? What’s-”

“I’ll tell you later.” Calina hung up the phone and looked at Matt. He stood with his hands on his hips, head bowed. “Satisfied?”

At Calina’s question, he lifted his head. Shook it once. “Calina, I’m sorry-”

“I don’t give a shit.” She shoved her phone in her pocket, grabbed her purse and stalked towards the door.

Matt caught her hand before she could yank it open. “Wait, don’t leave. We need to talk about this. I’m so sorry for-”

“For what? For doubting me? Not trusting me? Or for thinking I'm the kind of person who would cheat on you, and lie to your face about it?”

“Callie-”

“No. I can’t deal with this right now. I need to go.”

“Go? Go where? Please don’t disappear on me again.”

“Right now, I’m going to my apartment across the hall to get some sleep. Don’t follow me. Don’t call me.”

Matt squeezed her hand. Brought it to his lips and pressed a desperate kiss to the back of it. “Please, sweetheart-”

“No. I need some space, Matt. Just let me go.”

“I don’t think I can ever let you go, sweetheart,” Matt whispered against her skin. “But I’ll give you some space.” He dropped her hand and stepped to the side.

Calina walked through the door and didn’t look back.

———

Matt hit the punching bag with all his strength, the smack of flesh meeting leather creating a satisfying sound that rang out in the empty gym.

The pain that came a moment later was satisfying in a different way.

Matt had foregone the hand wraps and gloves for a reason. He’d come straight to Fogwell’s after the fight with Calina, wanting to take out all his anger and frustration on the training equipment…and wanting to punish himself in the process.

He couldn’t believe how thoroughly he’d fucked things up tonight.

No, that was wrong. He could believe it. It was one of his core personality traits, after all: the ability to sabotage every good thing in his life.

Like his relationship with Karen. He’d fucked that up because he couldn’t stay away from the toxic pull of Elektra. He’d fucked up his career and his friendship with Foggy because he couldn’t find the right balance between Matt Murdock and Daredevil.

He really thought he’d turned a corner this year. He’d mended the rift with Foggy, found friendship again with Karen, and had rebuilt the law firm with their help…but now he’d gone and fucked everything up with Calina. Because he couldn’t trust her.

No, that was wrong too. He couldn’t trust his trust in her.

Because he knew that she hadn’t lied to him about Italy. He knew she wasn’t the type of person who could be unfaithful. He knew there must be some explanation for why Ranieri believed the things that he did.

As soon as he’d heard the smarmy Italian telling Cross about ‘Eliise’, Matt had shook his head in disbelief. He knew it must be Calina he was referring to - the timing and location of the encounter fit with the Widow’s mission, and he seemed so sure he recognised Calina, despite the change in her appearance - but Matt couldn’t believe the story he was spinning about them sleeping together. He didn’t believe it. He knew that it had to be a lie, despite what his senses were telling him.

But as the night wore on, and he had little to do but sit on a cold, concrete rooftop as Cross and Ranieri’s conversation was lost to the din of the nightclub below, insidious thoughts started to creep into Matt’s mind.

What if…?

What if Calina had lied to him? She’d done it before, after all. She’d kept the secret of her identity for months. She’d killed people, and kept that from him.

What if sleeping with Ranieri was vital to her mission to take down Volkov? He knew how strong and overwhelming the Widows’ drive for freedom had been. They would have stopped at nothing to get out from under Volkov’s thumb. Would Calina have stopped at sleeping with a mark? She’d done that before in the past, as well…

Matt had hated the thoughts as they’d formed in his head. He’d screwed his eyes shut and pulled at the strands of his hair, as if he could physically banish them. He didn’t like that even a tiny part of him could think so ill of the woman he loved.

But he couldn’t seem to shake those thoughts. They took root over the course of the night, and he spent hours walking the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, wrestling with them. Trying to conquer them with the truths that he was sure of: Calina was a good person. She’d vowed to be honest with him. She loved him, and wouldn’t betray him.

But those wretched, malignant doubts just wouldn’t go away.

And look where they’d gotten him - pummelling his fists bloody and raw because he’d hurt Calina. Because he’d ruined things between them.

Why couldn’t he have trusted his initial instinct that Ranieri was lying?

Why couldn’t he have trusted his belief in Calina?

Matt yelled in frustration as he hit the bag so hard it swung away from him, a wordless shout of anger and pain that echoed off the crumbling walls of the gym. He caught the bag as it came back, and rested his forehead against the leather, panting with exertion. Warm blood trickled from the split skin over his knuckles, and he could feel the burn of inflammation in his shoulder where he must have pulled a muscle.

But the pain didn’t help. The self-flagellation wasn’t lessening any of his guilt.

And he was at real risk of doing damage to himself that wouldn’t heal with an icepack and a few bandages. He scoffed at the irony as he cleaned off the blood from his hands and the sweat from his brow. He never used to worry about himself in that way. Not before Calina. Not before he started to see a future for himself, with her.

He just didn’t know if that future existed now.

———

Calina couldn’t sleep.

She wasn’t surprised. Sleep had never come easily to her in this new post-Widow’s life. Not unless she was next to Matt…

Matt.

She sighed and rolled on to her back, staring vacantly at the ceiling over her bed. She wished she could cry or yell or hit something to get rid of this…numbness…that she felt. She’d left his apartment in a hurry, feeling like she was on the verge of breaking down, but when she reached her own bedroom just moments later, a wave of numbness had descended, until she was left like this - feeling empty, detached from her own emotions.

As if they were too big, too devastating to bear, and her mind was protecting her from them.

Or maybe it just meant that she was done. That she knew it was over between her and Matt, and her pragmatic side had decided that there was no point in wallowing in grief and pain over the loss.

No. The thought of it really and truly being over between her and Matt caused a sharp stab of pain through her heart.

A response at last. 

Because she loved him. 

Which was its own curse. Because it meant that she knew him. She knew his past and the way it had shaped who he was today. She knew why he’d reacted the way he had tonight…and a small part of her even sympathised with his struggle to believe her.

Hence, the curse. She should be allowed to be angry. To feel betrayed by his doubts. To hate him as much as she loved him.

But instead she was...numb.

So numb, the sound of a knock at the door barely elicited a reaction, even though it was probably Matt ignoring her wishes. “I said I needed space, Matt,” she called out as she dragged herself out of bed.

“We’re not Matt, so open up,” was the response.

Frowning, Calina opened the door to find Anya and Katya standing in the hall - along with a very unexpected addition. “What are you doing here so early?”

Anya pushed passed her into the living room. “After that weird phone call, we had to come and see what was happening.”

Katya rolled her eyes. “Tactful, Anya. We’re not just here out of curiosity. We came to see how you were. We figured you and Matt had an argument.”

“Is that why you brought a dog?” Calina asked, pointing to the puppy in Katya’s arms. “For comfort?"

"Comfort?"

"Yeah. I read that petting a dog lowers cortisol levels, and can boost dopamine and serotonin neurotransmitters in the brain.”

Katya looked down at the squirming mass of fur in her arms. “That would have been a good idea, actually. But, no, we’re dog-sitting Nika and didn’t want to leave her in the house while everyone else is too pre-occupied with what’s happening over Wakanda to watch her.”

“Wait, whose dog is she? And what’s happening in Wakanda?” Calina sat on the edge of the sofa and looked up at the Widows, glad there were a couple of mysteries to uncover that would take her mind off Matt.

Katya let the puppy down to explore and joined Calina on the couch. “She belongs to Yelena. She picked her up from the pound last week.”

Calina smiled. “That’s great. She said she always wanted a dog - I just thought she was planning to wait until all the Widows’ stuff was sorted.”

“Nope. She just decided that she’ll still do all the ‘Widows’ stuff’ and leave us to look after the dog while she’s gone.”

“Where is she now?”

“In Helsinki with Sonya. They’re freeing Ana - do you remember her?”

Calina had the vague recollection of an older, blonde girl who was a couple of cohorts ahead of her in the Red Room. “Not really.”

“Well, we found her in a mansion in the Finnish countryside, so Yelena flew out there last night.”

“That’s good that you guys found someone else.”

“Speaking of finding something,” Anya said. “I was looking into Cross and Ranieri like you asked-”

“That can wait until later,” Katya interrupted. “Tell us what happened with Matt.”

Calina groaned and sank back into the couch. The puppy took it as her cue to jump up on her lap. She managed the leap with no problem, and Calina could tell she was going to be big once she reached her true size. She looked like a cross between a husky and a German shepherd, and her fur was thick and soft when Calina sank her fingers into it. She continued to pet the dog as she explained the events of last night.

“So, thank you, Anya,” she said at the end of the tale. “For being so thorough in your description of my fake sexcapade with Ranieri that he’s never forgotten that night.”

Anya winced. “Sorry.”

Calina shook her head. “No, it’s not your fault. This was probably always destined to happen - Matt finds it hard to trust people, and I have a history of lying to him. What’s that phrase? ’Irreconcilable differences’?”

“I don’t believe that,” Katya said. “You’re not irreconcilable. You’ll get past this, just like your other..hurdles.”

Calina laughed at the word 'hurdle', which felt like a massive understatement. “I’m not so sure this time.” Her voice broke, and she could feel the barrier around her emotions start to break down, the numbness start to wear off, so she quickly changed the subject before the tears followed. “But enough about that. Tell me what you found, Anya.”

Anya didn’t have to be asked twice. She launched into a detailed explanation of how she searched Ranieri’s emails and his entire internet footprint via a software program she'd designed which utilised AI…until Katya had to beg her to get to the point. “Please, just give us the bullet point summary!”

“Okay, fine. It turns out Ranieri and Cross were boarded together at the same school in Switzerland for a brief period - before Ranieri was expelled for drug use, and Cross’ family emigrated to New York.”

“So they’ve known each other all this time?” Calina asked.

Anya shrugged. “It’s unclear how friendly they were for most of it, but their communications  definitely increased over the past couple of years. It looks like Ranieri was hustling on the side with Cross. He liked being in league with Volkov, but he had no loyalty, and he wasn’t as fanatical about the mission as Volkov was. He was in it for the money and power, and he saw no problem with stealing from Volkov to help him get in with another powerful man.”

“So he was the one that sent Aminev to Cross. He basically gave his old school friend a Black Widow assassin,” Katya added.

“That was the plan,” Anya clarified. “But Aminev got greedy. He was supposed to just hand over the tech to Cross, but he set himself up as the middle-man instead, getting paid to control Calina on behalf of Cross. But he fucked that up and got himself killed instead.”

“It’s a wonder Cross trusted Ranieri after that,” Calina mused. Cross didn’t seem the type to suffer incompetence in his associates.

“It didn’t matter. Ranieri had already done enough to secure his place in Cross’ inner circle.”

“How?” Calina asked.

“By giving him an old Red Room formulation. It had been superseded by the mind control serum, so Ranieri figured Volkov wouldn’t notice when the last remaining vials went missing.”

“What was the formulation?” Katya asked.

Calina had a sinking feeling she knew exactly what it was. “It was the fear pheromone, wasn’t it?”

Anya nodded. “A rudimentary version compared to what’s on the streets now. But yes.”

“So it all started with Ranieri,” Katya said, shaking her head in disbelief. “He gave Cross the idea of the fear pheromone, the basic formula to improve upon, and he even tried to guarantee his supply of the main ingredient - Arsonium Bromide - by giving him a Black Widow. That slimy, inbred piece of Italian trash started this whole thing.”

“Well, technically, the Red Room started it all,” Anya countered. “They came up with the fear pheromone in the first place.”

Calina let out a bitter laugh. “Of course it all started with them. All the pain that Cross caused with his experiments to perfect the pheromone, all the lives he ruined and the people he killed…it all stems back to the Red Room. To us. This is our legacy.”

Katya scowled at her. “What are you talking about? This isn’t on us. This is on Dreykov, and Volkov and all those other assholes in the Red Room. Our legacy will be stopping Cross - we're going to help you and Matt take him down.”

Calina nodded. She knew Katya was right. She and the other Widows were as much victims as those Cross had experimented on. They weren’t culpable. She was just feeling extra resentful and scathing about her past and her association with the Red Room this morning.

For obvious reasons.

And she wasn’t sure how she’d be able to work with Matt again on this, or anything else, but she appreciated her sisters' support. “Thanks, guys. For finding all this out, and for coming to check on me this morning. And for letting me pet the dog - I think it helped.” She smoothed her hand over one floppy ear and scratched behind it. The puppy immediately rolled over and offered her stomach for extra pets. Calina laughed and complied. 

“Speaking of the dog, why don’t you come with us while we take her for a walk. Clear your head a bit.”

Calina nodded. “Sounds good.”

Some fresh air and a playful puppy sounded infinitely better than wallowing in her bed alone for the rest of the day. 

———

As Matt left the gym, the sun was high in the sky and the working day was starting for his fellow New Yorkers. The traffic on the streets was growing, and the sound of shutters being raised on storefronts drowned out the chorus of birdsong.

Matt checked the time on his watch. He could head to the office...but he wasn't sure he was in the right head space for work this morning. And he didn't feel like going back to his apartment - not when Calina's absence would be palpable. Not when the air would still hold her scent - that would be more of a torment than a comfort right now.

So he walked. For hours. Aimlessly. Down tree-lined streets and across concrete avenues shaded by high rise buildings. He walked, concentrating on the feel of the ground beneath his feet and the steady beat of his heart, trying not to think about the fight with Calina. About how he could gain her forgiveness. About the possibility that he might never do so.

He walked…and eventually found himself outside Clinton church. For the second time in just over 24 hours.

God, had it only been a day?

Everything felt so different now. Not just in terms of the shock invasion from above, but the tumult in his own life. Yesterday he was planning to introduce his mother to the love of his life. Yesterday he felt such a sense of hope and optimism.

But now…

It was all gone.

“Matthew?” 

Speaking of his mother…

“Maggie,” he replied.

Something in his voice must have worried her. Or maybe she caught sight of the blood staining the bandages over his hands. Either way, she came rushing over. “What’s wrong. What happened?” She took hold of his arm and guided him down the steps to the rectory attached to the church. He took a seat at the small kitchen table while she fussed over him, removing his bandages and cleaning his damaged skin with warm water.

It was strange. This church, the people in it - Maggie, Father Lantom - were the source of so much of the betrayal that had shaped him. And yet he still returned to it. Again and again. 

Was it a form of masochism?

Or was he subconsciously searching for answers? For an explanation.

“Why did you do it?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Maggie paused in the act of washing his wounds. “What?”

“Why did you let me believe I was all alone in the world?”

“Oh, Matthew.” Maggie dropped the cloth she’d been using and took the seat next to him. “I- I was so young when I had you. And I was so confused. I thought I was betraying God-”

“I’m not talking about that,” he bit out. “I know you were young. I know about the post partum depression. I don’t blame you for any of that. I want to know about later. When my Dad died, afterwards, my whole life…you let me believe I was alone. You lied to me. Father Lantom lied to me. I- I just need to know why.”

“Why are you asking this now? I thought you’d found it in your heart to forgive us.”

Matt laughed. “So did I. And maybe I have forgiven you. But the damage was done regardless.”

“What damage? You said everything you’ve been through led you to becoming Daredevil, and that you were content with that.”

“With that part of my life, yes. But the rest of my life? No so much.”

“What are you talking about. Tell me what happened.”

Matt sprang up from the chair and poked a finger in his chest. “I happened! I fucked it all up with Calina, because I couldn’t trust her. Because I couldn’t banish these thoughts that she was lying to me. Betraying me. Because that’s what I’m used to. That’s what I expect from the people who claim to care about me, and its ruining my fucking life!”

Matt turned away and gripped the edges of the sink, head bowed, as he tried to get hold of his rage. He could feel Maggie approach, then tentatively lay a hand on his shoulder. He fought the urge to shrug off her comfort, but a part of him didn’t want to undo all the progress they’d made together.

He didn’t want to do or say something in anger that would ruin this relationship too. But he was just so goddam frustrated! He could feel years of resentment bubbling up to the surface.

Maggie must have sensed it, because she finally gave him the answers he craved. “When your father was alive,” she said, in a faltering voice, “I convinced myself that coming to you, and telling you the truth would just hurt you. Confuse you too much. Then, after he died, I convinced my self that it would do more harm than good. Eventually…I realised the truth.”

“Which was?”

“I’m a coward, Matthew. I was too scared to face you, and own up to the biggest mistake of my life. To save myself from that, I hurt you instead. And I’m so, so sorry for that.” She pressed on his arm, getting him to turn and face her. When he did, she reached up to take his face in her hands. “But you, Matthew Murdock, are not a coward. You are the bravest man I’ve ever known. And the strongest. It takes both to be able to love someone - it isn’t something that weak people do.”

“I do love Calina. So much. But I just don't know how to give her that last little piece of my trust.”

“My dear boy, that’s where the courage comes into play. It’s a leap of faith to give over your heart and your trust to someone else, never knowing for sure if they’ll keep them safe. You just have to be brave and jump. I have a feeling that Calina won’t squander those gifts.”

“But will she trust me with her heart now? After the things I accused her of…”

“Only she can decide that. But you need to go and find out. Fight for her. Don’t just hole yourself up hitting bags of sand - figure out a way to win her back instead.”

Matt nodded. And then, because he was feeling so drained and emotional, and because she was standing so close, he gave in to the impulse to drop his head down to her shoulder. Maggie froze for a fraction of a second before wrapping her arms around him. He hooked one arm around her waist…and they were hugging.

His first ever hug from his mother.

He could feel in the slight tremble in her frame how much it meant to her. It meant just as much to him.

And he knew he needed to let it go. All of the resentment. All of the anger at her betrayal. Father Lantom’s lies. Even Elektra and Stick's offences against him. Everything.

He needed to truly forgive and move on - for his sake, for Maggie’s, and for Calina most of all.

Because he wanted to be a better man for her.

After a few long moments, he stepped away from the embrace. “Thanks Maggie. I, um, should get going, I guess.”

“To Calina?” she asked, in a slightly bossy tone.

“Yes,” he laughed. “To Calina.”

“Good.”

Matt stepped back out into the bright spring morning, feeling a renewed sense of hope. He wouldn’t let things end with Calina this way. He wouldn’t let things end at all. He loved her. And he knew she loved him. He just had to convince her to give him another chance.

And he was a lawyer - convincing people was one of the things he did best.

He set off back in the direction of this apartment, already mentally composing his speech to Calina. His grovelling, heartfelt and earnest declaration that would hopefully persuade her to take him back. In fact, he was concentrating so hard on what he would say to her, that he missed the first warning signs that something was wrong in the city.

Very, very wrong.

But then he heard the first scream. His head jerked up at the sound trying to pinpoint the location. That’s when another scream rang out, from a different direction. Then the sounds of multiple cars crashing all over the city. A plane going down in the distance...

And beneath all that noise, and chaos…a terrible, eerie silence was growing in the world. As if thousands of heartbeats and breaths and voices were just…disappearing. Being snuffed out at once.

That horrible absence grew and grew, and with it, Matt’s fear. He started running, that same urge from yesterday overtaking him - the desperate need to get to Calina. He barrelled past other pedestrians on the street, those who were rooted in place, looking around in terror. He felt himself run through flakes of…something. Too warm to be snow. Too insubstantial to be leaves or bits of paper floating in the air. He didn’t stop to figure it out, he just kept running.

Until suddenly, he started to feel...strange.

As if the ground was no longer beneath his feet. As if the air was no longer brushing against his skin. As if all his senses were dulled. He staggered to a halt, and grasped his chest, as if to reassure himself he was still…him. But his hand vanished before it could make contact.

There was no pain. No sensation to it at all. He    w a      s                   

j               u                       s                           t

                                    

 c             o                          

                                                         m

                                                                                    i

                                                                                           n

                                                             g              

 

 a       

                  p

                                                        a

                                                                                                      r

                                                                                                                                          

t…

————–

END OF PART 3

————–

Well, for those of you who aren't familiar with Avenger's Infinity War...the BLIP just happened! And I don't actually know for sure if Matt was blipped in canon or not, but in my story he was.

Poor guy!

Find out how he deals with it here...

Part 4, chapter 1

Tag list: @hollandorks @stilldreaming666 @sio-ina-bottle @tearoseart-blog @acharliecoxedfan @freckledbabyyy @chezagnes

If you’d like to be added - let me know!

[yarrystyleeza]

Fixing Ties

Chapter Two snippet under the cut!!! 💕✨

In the other room, the heat was rising up his neck, he was nervous, his hands are shaking. The sound of her heels softly clicking on the wooden floor is making his heart tick faster with each step she takes. She takes a sip of her coffee, her heart beats faster and she's smiling. He's jittering with each breath she takes, she's looking outside the window and tucking her stray bangs behind her ear, her earring swings to the movement of her hand, and his heart sways with it.

He regrets not answering the phone, he wouldn't have to shake like a broken blender despite her standing in a completely different room—yet he couldn't leave her waiting downstairs.

He couldn't tie his necktie, no matter how hard he tried, his hands kept trembling and his mind kept straying. "Damn it..." he cursed under his breath, but it was loud enough for her to hear it.

"Are you okay, Matt?" she asked, still giving him privacy. He walked out of his room, tie in his hand and face is flustered.

"Couldn't tie it," he sighed. She approaches, his heart is burning and the blood is pumping wild in his ears.

"Can I help you with it?" she asks, her fingertips are softly touching his. He nods. She feels his hands shaking beneath her touch. "Are you alright?" she asks with a smile, her voice is warm with worry, "you're shaking..."

He knows, oh Hell—he knows. "I... I don't-- I don't know..." he blurts, "maybe I'm just... Tired... Yeah."

She takes the black tie and starts wrapping it around her arm. "Learned this trick a while ago," she says, "you spread the thick part along your arm and wrap the thin part three times around your wrist," she explains, "then you pull the second loop through the first loop... And we're done. You're just gonna have to put it on."

She smiled proudly at herself. "I'm just gonna adjust it a bit..." she fixes the length of each end and widens the loop. "Can I help you put it on-- unless you want to--do it yourself--"

He shook his head, "of course—you can... Thank you." he smiles with his red face as she passes his head through the noose.

"You're welcome," she responded with a grin, fixing his collar around the noose before fitting it around his neck. "It looks good," she addressed, smiling.

"I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night

But now I see daylight, I only see daylight" 💕✨

Close-ups:

I can't emphasize how much I love this piece, I'm really proud of myself 🥺🥺🥺 I tried new things like working on lighting and shadow 😋 I need to study for my next exam on Tuesday tho 😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬

[farfromstrange]

WORDLE | Matt Murdock x OFC

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | AO3

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OFC

Summary: Eliza and Foggy play Wordle and things to a little out of hand. But what else do you expect to happen between two people who are more competitive than professional athletes when it comes to playing games?

Warnings: None. Some suggestive language maybe, but overall humor & fluff. Not proof-read. Just found this again after 5 months.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/n: This is a draft that’s been sitting here for a very long time. The idea just popped into my mind after i lost 5 times in a row BECAUSE OF ONE LETTER so yeah, have fun ig. I’ve written it with my OC’s name so I can’t exactly say you can read it like a reader insert, but you can still read it even when you haven’t read the series and don’t exactly want to. If you do though, the links are above. Enjoy!

“Franklin Percy Nelson! If you put a ‘j’ instead of a ‘y’ we’re no longer friends!”

“I’m gonna put the ‘j’. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“NO!”

Eliza’s voice boomed across the small office. Pretty sure at this point, even the neighbors were aware of their heated discussion.

The official Wordle.org page was the reason that the pair sat crammed over Foggy’s laptop on that particular morning. Eliza admitted that it was her idea. She found out about the game on social media. Everyone was playing it and she thought, why not? The worst thing that could happen was an extended vocabulary.

Foggy chose to play with her simply because he was competitive and he couldn’t stand Eliza winning all by herself. He heard her curse in Matt’s office earlier that day after her boyfriend left her to fend for herself – the good friend he was, he asked her what was wrong. All she did was show him the page. That was enough for Foggy to drag her into his office and pull up the page on his laptop.

Thirty minutes later, neither of them got any work done, but at least they’d won about fifteen rounds. The times they failed stood heavy on the piece of paper they used to keep score. Mostly, it was Foggy’s fault. Eliza didn’t take criticism on that. One letter always made them lose, and it was often Foggy’s choice to form the finishing word.

That’s how they ended up in this position. Eliza swore this was the last round to make an even twenty. Foggy agreed, telling her that he knew what the word would be. She’d never doubted anyone this badly before. His judgment was questionable, especially while playing games, and she was so not willing to lose the last round because of him.

Half of the boxes on the page were colored in yellow while the bottom line shone bright green. Only one gray letter remained.

“It’s obviously mayor,” Eliza insisted.

“Why?” Foggy challenged.

“Because I said so, duh!”

“That’s not a viable argument!”

“It is because I’m smarter! It’s ‘mayor’! They always choose the less obvious solution. ‘Major’ is too obvious.”

“No, it’s not. See?” he put the word down. “This is gonna work, trust me.”

Eliza slapped his hand away from the enter button. “Don’t you dare!” she hissed.

“Bet!” He pulled his hand away.

“FOGGY, NO!”

“Foggy, yes!”

She spun his chair around quickly, pushing him away from the desk. He yelped as he rolled across the room.

“It’s ‘mayor’, end of story!” She typed the word into the row.

Foggy came rolling back, catching her hands in the act. “IT’S NOT!” he said.

“IT IS!”

“IS NOT!”

“IT IS, YOU ABSOLUTE MORON!”

“You are insufferable.” He caught her by the waist. She struggled in his grip, hands tied to her sides. “How does Matt put up with you?”

Eliza hit him with her elbow directly into the ribs and said, without even missing a beat, “You’ve obviously never had sex with me.”

Foggy’s arms dropped. “EW!” he squeaked. “You are so gross!”

“Trust me, it’s phenomenal. Like my Wordle skills.”

“You can’t compare Wordle to sex.”

“Yes, I can, and I will.” Her finger ghosted dangerously close over the enter button. He rolled over her foot with his chair. She stumbled aside.

“Stop it, it’s not ‘mayor’!” he said. “It’s ‘major’! Do you even know what that means?”

“Yeah, I’m in a relationship with Matt,” she retorted and butted her hip against his chair.

“What?” Foggy asked.

“Yeah, because-“

“I KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN, STOP IT! I DONT NEED TO KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT YOUR SEX LIFE!”

“Who’s talking about our sex life?”

The horror in their eyes as they stared at Matt in the doorway was something he would’ve loved to frame.

Eliza’s hair was all disheveled, Foggy’s cheeks flushed. They kept each other rooted on the spot, neither of them willing to let the other gain access to the laptop.

Matt put his hands on his hips. “What’s going on?” he asked. “What’re you guys doing?”

“Nothing,” they said in unison.

“That’s not what it sounded like.”

“We were just… talking,” Foggy told him.

Matt tried hard to keep himself from smirking. “So you weren’t yelling at each other?”

“No,” he scoffed, “why should we?”

“I don’t know, I think I heard my name being dropped. I’m not sure about the context though,” he titled his head in Eliza’s direction. “Sweetheart, care to elaborate?”

He was just teasing her and she knew it. She knew Matt like the back of her hand. He was well aware of what this was about, yet she still blushed like a fool at the way his voice dropped into something that could only be described as mockery.

She did what she knew best. “Matthew Michael Murdock, get your head out of the gutter!” And she copied his stance perfectly.

He shifted on his feet. “Says the one who was talking about my-“

“MAYOR!” she pressed the enter button as Foggy was trying not to listen to the conversation.

He gasped in shock. “YOU-“ the confetti exploded at their victory. “BITCH!”

Matt’s jaw tightened. “What did you just call her?” he asked.

“Dude, you’re not part of this conversation. Stay out of it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know what,” Eliza said, glowing like a glow stick with her smile wider than anything else, “I may be a bitch, but at least I’m the winning bitch.”

“How is it ‘mayor’?” Foggy asked. “It’s supposed to be ‘major’, that’s not fair. I feel betrayed!”

“Boohoo, go cry about it to your mommy. You just can’t deal with the fact that you lost.”

“We need to play another round.”

“No, we don’t. You’re just a bad loser.”

“I’m not! This was obviously rigged. You probably used your powers to trick me. Ah-ha!”

Her eyes widened. “You take that back!”

“Nope.”

“Foggy!”

Matt looked between them, rubbing his forehead in exhaustion. “What did I just walk into?” he asked.

Eliza slapped the laptop shut. “The end of our friendship,” she said.

“You’re breaking up with me?” Foggy pouted.

“Yeah, I am.”

“No, I’m breaking up with you. You cheated!”

“I didn’t cheat!”

“Then the game cheated.”

“That’s not even a thing!”

“Who are you to judge that? Did you program the thing?”

“No, but-“

“THE GAME CHEATED, OKAY?”

They didn’t even realize that the door had closed again.

Matt distanced himself from the office. He walked by Karen on his way to his own quarters.

“What’s going on in there?” she asked him. “I only hear yelling.”

He only sighed, “Can I get a refund?”

“For what?”

“My girlfriend.“

Karen laughed. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said, “just realized that I’ve got a weird one.”

The door flew open. Eliza peaked her head around the corner. “I heard that,” she said.

“That was intentional,” Matt retorted. This time, he couldn’t help the smile growing on his lips.

Her eyes narrowed. Next thing he knew, she’d grabbed his hand and pulled him into his office.

“Are you going to murder me?” he asked.

“Worse,” she smirked sheepishly.

“Oh boy.”

“You’re gonna play wordle with me.”

“What’s that?”

She pecked his lips. “Oh, you’re gonna love it.”

“Something tells me I’m not.”

He listened to her type in the password to his laptop, fingers eager and determined.

“Come here or I’m not having sex with you for a week,” she said. Her words sounded so sweet but the threat was obvious – and to some, that might not even have been a threat, but to Matt, it sounded like the end of the world.

He loosened his tie quickly, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “What are we playing again?” he asked.

She pushed him into the office chair, making herself comfortable on his lap. He grunted at her weight on his still sore body. The second she tried to leave though, he pulled her back in. Her warmth was almost comforting to his injuries.

“Wordle is like a workout for your mind, you know? You gotta guess a five-letter word by typing other words. You’ve got five tries. The letters that are in this word will show yellow if they’re in the wrong position and green if they’re in the right position. You gotta get the last word right or you lose. I’ll tell you what color they are, of course, since you can’t see them, but you get the gist.”

He buried his nose in her neck. The words passed by him, only the sound of her voice filled his ears. “Hmm,” he hummed against her.

“Are you even listening to me?” she asked.

“Hmm.”

“What’s the first word then?”

“Warm.”

“That’s four letters, Matt. Take it seriously! This is an important game.”

“What if we lose?”

“Then I’m gonna be very sad,” she said.

He couldn’t help but kiss the pout on her lips away. “I wouldn’t want that.”

“Then will you play with me?”

“Sure, sweetheart. Let’s play Wordle.”

“Fucking finally! I just know you’re far more competent than Foggy will ever be.”

“Don’t let him hear that,” he chuckled, “But I do agree.”

She kisses him, her lips tilted up into the most adorable smile. “You ready?” she asked.

He tightened his hold around her, burying his nose deeper into her neck before agreeing, “Let’s do this.”

“Good choice.”

“I love you,” he said.

“And I love you.”

[ao3feed-petermj]

NECTAR OF THE GODS wtm

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/erLdiHu by darlingmurdock it's often said that life is hard and also that life is unforgiving, yet is beautiful, sweet like a nectar   oc!wonder woman x undecided oc!mj watson x oc!peter parker THE VAMPIRE DIARIES X DC & MARVEL CROSSOVER Words: 1539, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Wonder Woman - All Media Types, The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Daredevil (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Diana (Wonder Woman), Caroline Forbes, Michelle Jones (Marvel), Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Matt Murdock, Bonnie Bennett, Klaus Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson, Hayley Marshall, Katherine Pierce, Kol Mikaelson, Rebekah Mikaelson, Stefan Salvatore, Damon Salvatore, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), Yelena Belova Relationships: OC!Peter Parker/OC!MJ Watson, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Wonder Woman/undecided, Matt Murdock/Original Female Character(s), past-Elijah Mikaelson/Gia Additional Tags: BAMF Peter Parker, BAMF Michelle Jones (Marvel), BAMF Matt Murdock, BAMF Diana (Wonder Woman), all these character are oc but same story, Reaction, Watching the Movie, Mikaelson bashing, Elijah Mikaelson Bashing, Klaus Mikaelson Bashing, Hayley Marshall Bashing, Damon Salvatore Bashing, Katherine Pierce Bashing, gia from original is named Alaska and she is wonder woman, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/erLdiHu

[ao3feed-fitzsimmons]

Three Ferals Walk into a Bar

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/abtcYqy

by sarcasm_with_a_smile

When Beth noticed the three brothers walk into the bar she worked at, she didn't think her life would change this drastically. With Kingpin on their asses, the Creed-Howlett brothers have to bring their friends together to protect their lives.

 written with my friend who doesn't have AO3

Words: 7042, Chapters: 5/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017), X-Men - All Media Types, The Defenders (Marvel TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, M/M, Multi

Characters: Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Victor Creed, Logan (X-Men), Original Mutant Character(s) (X-Men), Mobster Kingpin, FitzSimmons (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.)

Relationships: Matt Murdock/Original Male Character(s), Frank Castle & Matt Murdock, Victor Creed/Logan/Original Female Character(s), Victor Creed & Original Character(s), Logan & Original Character(s), Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons

Additional Tags: Mutants, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, I know it looks like incest, but its not, logan and victor are just dating the same girl, Feral Behavior, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-typical language, Original Character-centric, Amnesiac Original Character

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/abtcYqy