#fisk reader

[backtothefanfiction]

The Angel In The Garden of Evil

A Mob!Au Andrew!Peter Parker Story

Peter Parker’s wife left him 3 years ago. Suddenly she’s back and she’s brought some news that is about to change everything, unfortunately that news comes with it’s own set of complications and he’s out for blood.

PROLOGUE: YOU EITHER DIE A HERO, OR LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO SEE YOURSELF BECOME THE VILLAIN

ONE: THE CALL OF A NIGHTBIRD

TWO: MR & MRS PARKER

THREE: THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME

FOUR: SOME SHADOWS LOOM LARGE

FIVE: YOU DON'T OWN ME

SIX: HE'S GOT A SOUL AS SWEET AS BLOOD RED JAM

*SEVEN: IN THE LAND OF GOD'S AND MONSTERS I WAS AN ANGEL, LOOKING TO GET F*CKED HARD

EIGHT: THERE'S NO REMEDY FOR MEMORY

NINE: AN EXPLOSION IN CHINATOWN

TEN: MILLION DOLLAR MAN

ELEVEN: PUTTING THE PIECES TOGETHER AGAIN

TWELVE: THE GOOD NURSE

THIRTEEN: WHEN YOU’RE EIGHT LIVES DOWN

FOURTEEN: FAMILY FEUD AT THE FUNERAL

FIFTEEN: ME AND THE DEVIL

SIXTEEN: FROM FRIENDS TO ENEMIES

SEVENTEEN: A FRIEND IN THE SHADOWS

EIGHTEEN: ONE LAST GAME

*NINETEEN: WASH IT AWAY

EPILOGUE: NOT ANOTHER ENVELOPE

[arkofangels]

Unintentional couple behaviour

Words: ~800–1300 per character

Characters: Matt Murdock (Daredevil), Foggy Nelson, Wilson Fisk, Frank Castle, Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter, Karen Page

Inspired by: Daredevil (2015) & Daredevil: Born Again (2025)
Premise: You two act like a loving couple all the time, so what happens when someone points it out?

── .✦ Matt Murdock:

You’ve always been there for Matt. You help him navigate the chaos of Hell’s Kitchen, patch up his wounds after a rough night, and make sure he eats something other than takeout. It’s second nature, looking out for him. He’s a mess sometimes, but he’s your mess.

It’s during a late-night case at Nelson & Murdock when Foggy finally says something. You’re sitting on the couch, handing Matt a coffee while he’s hunched over a braille case file. Foggy’s sprawled in a chair, eating leftover Chinese food.

“Man, you two are like an old married couple,” Foggy says, pointing his chopsticks at you. “You bring him coffee, you make sure he doesn’t die from his own stubbornness. It’s adorable.”

You freeze, the coffee cup still in your hand. “What?”

Matt tilts his head, his lips twitching like he’s suppressing a smile. “Foggy, don’t start.”

“No, no, I’m serious!” Foggy grins. “You’re always taking care of each other. It’s like you’re already picking out curtains for your shared apartment.”

Your face heats up. “I’m just… helping. He’d forget to eat otherwise.”

“Sure,” Foggy says, winking. “And Matt, when’s the last time you let anyone else stitch you up? Or carry your sorry ass home after a fight?”

Matt’s smirk fades, and he shifts uncomfortably. “Point made.”

You glance at Matt, then back at Foggy. “We’re not— It’s not like that.”

Foggy raises an eyebrow. “Keep telling yourself that.”

After Foggy leaves, the office feels too quiet. You’re still holding the coffee cup, and Matt’s pretending to read his file, but you can tell he’s listening to your heartbeat. He always does that when he’s nervous.

“Foggy’s just messing with us,” you say, breaking the silence.

Matt nods, but his fingers linger on the braille longer than necessary. “Yeah. He does that.”

You hesitate. “But… do we act like a couple?”

Matt’s head tilts toward you, and for a moment, you think he’s going to brush it off. But then he sets the file down and leans back in his chair. “I don’t know. Do we?”

Your stomach flips. You notice things now—how you always know when he’s had a bad night just by the way he walks, how he instinctively reaches for your arm when crossing the street, how his voice softens when he says your name.

“Matt,” you say quietly, “why do you let me take care of you?”

He’s silent for a long moment. Then he stands, crossing the room until he’s close enough for you to feel the warmth of him. “Because it’s you,” he says simply. “I trust you.”

Your breath catches. His hand brushes your arm, and suddenly, the air feels heavier. “And you… you don’t mind it?” you ask.

Matt’s lips curve into a small, almost shy smile. “No. I don’t mind it.”

The next few days, you can’t stop thinking about it. Every time you hand him a file, every time he brushes past you in the office, every time he thanks you for something small, it feels different. Charged.

One night, you’re at his apartment, stitching up a cut on his shoulder from a fight. He’s shirtless, sitting on the couch, and the city’s neon lights filter through the window. You’re focused, but you can feel his eyes on you—or rather, his senses.

“You’re staring,” you mutter.

“I’m not staring,” he says, but there’s a teasing edge to his voice. “I’m… appreciating.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart races. “Foggy’s right. We’re ridiculous.”

Matt chuckles, then catches your wrist gently as you finish the stitch. “Maybe we are,” he murmurs. “But I don’t want to stop.”

You freeze, meeting his unseeing gaze. His thumb brushes your wrist, and before you can overthink it, you lean in and kiss him.

Matt inhales sharply, but then he’s kissing you back, his hand sliding to the back of your neck. It’s soft but intense, like he’s been holding back for too long. When you pull away, his forehead rests against yours, and he’s breathing hard.

“Finally,” he whispers, a smile tugging at his lips.

You laugh, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Took us long enough.”

── .✦ Foggy Nelson:

Foggy’s your best friend, your confidant, the guy who makes you laugh when Hell’s Kitchen feels like it’s swallowing you whole. You spend late nights at Josie’s, splitting greasy fries and trading stories. You’re always together, and it’s comfortable. Easy.

It’s Karen who brings it up first. You’re at the office, sorting through case files, while Foggy’s dramatically reenacting a courtroom argument for your amusement. Karen’s watching from her desk, a knowing smile on her face.

“You two are so cute,” she says, resting her chin on her hand. “Like a rom-com couple waiting for the big kiss.”

You nearly drop the files. “What? Me and Foggy?”

Foggy freezes mid-gesture, his mouth open. “Uh… what?”

Karen laughs. “Come on. You’re always finishing each other’s sentences, sharing food, acting like you’ve been married for years. It’s obvious.”

You scoff, but your face is burning. “We’re just friends.”

“Uh-huh,” Karen says, clearly unconvinced. “Friends who act like they’re in love.”

Foggy clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Karen, you’re reading too much into it.”

But now you’re both hyper-aware. You notice how Foggy always saves you the last fry, how he drapes his jacket over your shoulders when it’s cold, how he looks at you just a little too long when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

At Josie’s that night, you’re quieter than usual. Foggy nudges your shoulder. “You okay? You’ve been weird since Karen’s little comment.”

You swirl your beer. “Do we… act like a couple?”

Foggy blinks, then laughs nervously. “What? No way. We’re just… you know, Foggy and Y/N. The dynamic duo.”

But he’s blushing, and you can’t let it go. “Foggy, be honest. Why do you always take care of me?”

He shrugs, but his eyes are soft. “Because you’re my favorite person. I want you to be happy.”

Your heart does a flip. You lean closer, teasing. “Favorite person, huh? That’s pretty romantic.”

Foggy’s blush deepens, but he doesn’t look away. “Maybe it is.”

The bar feels too small suddenly. You’re close enough to see the flecks in his eyes, to notice the way his breath hitches. “Foggy,” you say softly, “do you want this to be more?”

He swallows hard, then reaches for your hand under the table. “Yeah,” he admits, voice low. “I’ve wanted that for a while.”

You lace your fingers with his, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

He laughs, a little shaky. “Didn’t want to ruin what we had. But… I’m tired of pretending I don’t love you.”

Your breath catches. Before you can stop yourself, you kiss him, right there in the middle of Josie’s. It’s warm, a little clumsy, but perfect. Foggy’s hand cups your cheek, and when you pull back, he’s grinning like an idiot.

“About time,” he says, and you both laugh.

── .✦ Wilson Fisk:

Wilson Fisk is a man of control, but with you, he’s different. You’re the one person he lets see his vulnerabilities, the one he trusts implicitly. You bring him tea when he’s stressed, adjust his tie before a meeting, and sit with him in silence when the weight of his empire feels too heavy.

It’s Vanessa who notices first. You’re at one of Fisk’s private dinners, standing close to him as you discuss a charity event. Vanessa watches you with a small, knowing smile.

“You two are quite the pair,” she says, sipping her wine. “You balance each other so well.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Oh, we’re not—”

Fisk’s hand brushes yours, a subtle gesture that silences you. “Vanessa means well,” he says, his voice low and measured.

Vanessa’s smile widens. “I mean you act like partners. The way you look after him, the way he listens to you… it’s rare.”

You glance at Fisk, expecting him to dismiss it, but he’s watching you, his expression unreadable. “Thank you, Vanessa,” he says, but his eyes don’t leave yours.

After dinner, you’re alone in his office, organizing papers while he reviews contracts. You can’t shake Vanessa’s words. “Do we really act like that?” you ask, breaking the silence.

Fisk looks up, setting his pen down. “Like what?”

“Like… a couple.”

He leans back, considering. “Do you think we do?”

You fidget, suddenly nervous. “I mean, I take care of you. You let me. That’s not exactly typical for… whatever we are.”

Fisk stands, crossing the room to stand beside you. “You’re important to me,” he says, his voice soft but commanding. “More than anyone else.”

Your heart pounds. “And you’re important to me. But… is that all this is?”

He reaches out, tilting your chin so you meet his gaze. “What do you want it to be?”

The question hangs in the air. You’ve never dared to hope for more, but now, with him so close, it feels possible. “I want it to be real,” you whisper.

Fisk’s thumb brushes your cheek, and then he kisses you—slow, deliberate, like he’s claiming you. When he pulls back, his eyes are intense. “It’s always been real,” he says.

From that moment, nothing changes, but everything does. You’re still his anchor, his confidant, but now, you’re something more. And he makes sure you know it.

── .✦ Frank Castle:

Frank’s not the sentimental type. He’s all rough edges and quiet pain, but with you, he softens. You bring him coffee when he’s staking out a target, patch up his wounds in silence, and sit with him when the memories get too loud. You don’t push him, and he appreciates that.

It’s Micro who calls it out. You’re in Frank’s safehouse, helping him clean his guns while Micro hacks into a database. Micro glances up, smirking.

“You two are like a damn war movie romance,” he says. “The soldier and the one who keeps him human.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Micro, lay off the cheap novels.”

Frank grunts, not looking up from his rifle. “He’s got a point.”

You freeze, your hands stilling on the gun. “What?”

Frank shrugs, wiping down the barrel. “You’re always here. Takin’ care of me. Ain’t exactly standard procedure.”

Micro chuckles. “Yeah, and Frank doesn’t let just anyone patch him up. Or steal his coffee.”

You glance at Frank, but he’s focused on the gun, his jaw tight. “We’re just… partners,” you say, but it sounds weak even to you.

Micro raises an eyebrow. “Sure. Keep tellin’ yourselves that.”

Later, you’re alone with Frank, stitching up a gash on his arm. The safehouse is quiet, just the hum of the city outside. You can feel his eyes on you, heavy.

“Micro’s full of it,” you mutter, focusing on the needle.

Frank huffs. “Maybe. But he’s not wrong.”

You pause, meeting his gaze. “About what?”

“About us.” His voice is low, rough. “You’re the only one I let get this close.”

Your heart skips. “You let me because I’m stubborn.”

He smirks, just a little. “Maybe. Or maybe I want you here.”

You finish the stitch, but your hands linger on his arm. “Frank… what are we doing?”

He looks at you, really looks, and for once, there’s no wall between you. “Whatever it is, I don’t wanna stop.”

You lean in, hesitant, and he meets you halfway. The kiss is raw, desperate, like he’s been starving for it. When you pull back, he’s breathing hard, his hand cupping your face.

“Been wantin’ to do that for a while,” he admits.

You smile, resting your forehead against his. “Took you long enough.”

── .✦ Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter:

Dex is precise, controlled, but with you, he’s almost gentle. You’re the one who calms him when his mind spirals, who listens when he talks about his past, who makes him feel like he’s more than a weapon. You bring him snacks during late-night FBI shifts, adjust his tie when he’s stressed, and sit with him in silence when he needs it.

It’s Ray Nadeem who points it out. You’re at the FBI office, dropping off a coffee for Dex while he’s reviewing case files. Ray watches you, amused.

“You two are like high school sweethearts,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “Always looking out for each other.”

You laugh, brushing it off. “I’m just making sure he doesn’t starve.”

Dex glances up, his expression unreadable. “She’s just being nice,” he says, but there’s a softness in his voice.

Ray smirks. “Nice, huh? You don’t let anyone else bring you coffee. Or fix your tie.”

You notice Dex’s jaw tighten, but he doesn’t respond. After Ray leaves, you sit on the edge of Dex’s desk. “He’s just teasing,” you say.

Dex nods, but his eyes are on you, intense. “Maybe he’s right.”

Your heart skips. “Right about what?”

He sets his pen down, leaning closer. “You’re different. You make me… better.”

You swallow, suddenly aware of how close he is. “You’re not so bad yourself, Dex.”

He watches you, and for a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. But then he pulls back, clearing his throat. “Thanks for the coffee.”

The next few days, you’re hyper-aware of him. The way he stands closer than necessary, the way his hand brushes yours when you pass him something, the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing grounding him.

One night, you’re at his apartment, helping him organize case files. He’s quieter than usual, and you can tell something’s off. “Dex, you okay?” you ask.

He looks at you, his control slipping. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admits. “But I know I need you.”

Your breath catches. “Dex…”

He steps closer, hesitant. “Can I…?”

You nod, and he kisses you—careful, like he’s afraid of breaking you. But when you kiss him back, he lets go, pulling you close. It’s desperate, needy, and when you pull away, he’s trembling.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers.

You cup his face. “You don’t get to decide that.”

From then on, he’s still Dex—precise, intense—but with you, he’s softer. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

── .✦ Karen Page:

Karen Page is relentless, always chasing the truth, but with you, she’s softer, more grounded. You’re the one who brings her tea when she’s lost in her work, who walks her home after late nights at the Bulletin, who listens when she needs to unravel the chaos of her thoughts. You’re her calm in the storm, and she’s your spark.

It’s Foggy who brings it up this time. You’re at Josie’s, sharing a pitcher of cheap beer with Karen after a long day. She’s laughing at one of your stories, her hand resting lightly on your arm. Foggy’s at the bar, grabbing another round, when he comes back and smirks.

“You two are so domestic,” he says, setting the pitcher down. “Like you’ve been together forever, just waiting for the engagement announcement.”

You choke on your beer. “Foggy, what?”

Karen raises an eyebrow, but she’s grinning. “Yeah, care to explain?”

Foggy shrugs, unfazed. “Come on, you’re always together. Y/N brings you tea like it’s a sacred ritual, and Karen, you’re always stealing their jacket. You’re practically married.”

You laugh, but your face is warm. “I’m just looking out for her. She’d work herself to death otherwise.”

Karen nudges you, her smile playful. “And you’re the only one I let steal my fries, so what’s that say?”

Foggy snorts. “It says you’re in love, that’s what.”

Karen rolls her eyes, but you notice the way her cheeks flush. “Foggy, don’t you have a date to get to or something?”

He winks and heads off, leaving you and Karen alone. The bar’s noisy, but it feels like it’s just the two of you. You sip your beer, trying to ignore the way your heart’s pounding.

“Do we really act like that?” you ask, keeping your tone light.

Karen tilts her head, considering. “Like a couple?”

“Yeah.”

She leans back, her fingers tapping the glass. “I mean… we’re close. You’re always there for me, and I… I like having you around. A lot.”

You swallow, noticing the way her eyes linger on you. “I like being around you too.”

The air shifts, heavier now. You’ve always noticed the little things—how Karen’s laugh is brighter when you’re around, how she leans into you when you walk side by side, how she trusts you with her fears in a way she doesn’t with anyone else. And you? You’re always checking in on her, making sure she’s safe, saving her a seat without thinking.

The next few days, it’s impossible to ignore. Every time you hand her a cup of tea, every time she brushes your arm as she passes, it feels like more. Her smiles linger, and you catch her watching you when she thinks you’re not looking.

One evening, you’re at her apartment, helping her sort through research for a new story. The living room is a mess of papers and highlighters, and Karen’s sprawled on the couch, her hair falling into her face. You’re sitting on the floor, passing her notes, when she sighs and sets the papers down.

“Okay, I need a break,” she says, stretching. “And you need to stop being so perfect.”

You laugh, confused. “Perfect?”

“Yeah.” She sits up, looking at you with an intensity that makes your pulse race. “You’re always… you. Taking care of me, making me laugh, being there. It’s not fair.”

You blink, caught off guard. “I… I’m just doing what feels right.”

Karen leans forward, her voice softer. “Foggy’s right, you know. We act like we’re together. And I’ve been trying to figure out if that’s just how we are or if… I want it to be real.”

Your heart stops. “Do you?”

She nods, her eyes locked on yours. “Yeah. I do.”

You move to the couch, sitting beside her. “Karen, I’ve been falling for you for a while now. I just didn’t want to mess this up.”

She laughs, a little breathless. “God, we’re such idiots.”

“Maybe,” you say, smiling. “But I’m okay with that.”

Karen reaches out, her hand resting on your cheek. “Can I…?”

You nod, and she kisses you—slow, warm, like she’s savoring every second. Her fingers slide into your hair, and you pull her closer, feeling the world fall away. When you break apart, she’s smiling, her forehead against yours.

“Finally,” she whispers, her voice teasing but soft.

You grin, brushing your thumb across her cheek. “Worth the wait.”

From then on, Karen’s still the fearless journalist, chasing truth with reckless abandon. But with you, she’s gentler, more open. You’re still her calm, and she’s still your spark—and now, it’s something more, something real.

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

Buried in the Wreckage

Pairing: Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter x FiskDaughter!Reader

Summary: Fisk's daughter is expected to fall in line with her father on the verge of becoming the most powerful man in New York. Desperate for answers—or maybe just closure—she visits Dex, knowing that some things can’t be undone, and some wounds never heal.

Author's Note: S4 spoilazz ahead. Nerds beware.

The weight of the city felt heavier tonight. The neon glow of Hell’s Kitchen bled into the rain-soaked streets, but all she could see was him—Dex—plummeting from the rooftop, arms flailing before his body hit the pavement with a sickening crack. The sound echoed in her ears, looping like a cruel refrain. She had seen a lot of brutal things in her life, but that? That was different.

Her hands trembled as she clutched the edge of the sink in her father’s penthouse. The water was running, but she wasn’t washing anything. She was just there, staring at her reflection, seeing the dark circles under her eyes, the way her lip trembled no matter how hard she pressed it together.

Dex was alive. That was the miracle. The curse was that it didn’t matter.

The moment he woke up in the hospital, he was already as good as gone. The charges against him were airtight. Attempted murder, endangering the public, impersonating Daredevil. Life in prison. No appeals, no deals—just a cell and a locked door.

And she? She was expected to keep moving, to forget, to stand beside her father as he prepared to be elected mayor of New York City.

Like she could just erase Dex from her bloodstream.

A sharp knock at the door jolted her back to reality.

She inhaled, steadying herself before pulling it open.

Her father stood there, tall, imposing, always dressed like he was already in office. His expression didn’t betray much, but she saw the tension in the way he clasped his hands together.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

She wanted to laugh. Ready for what? Pretending like her world hadn’t just shattered? Smiling at crowds while Dex rotted in a prison cell?

She swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah.”

Because that was the thing about being Wilson Fisk’s daughter.

You never let them see you break.

She left her father’s office without another word, walking down the long, marble-floored hallway, past the aides and security who barely acknowledged her. She was expected to fall in line, expected to be the daughter of a soon-to-be mayor.

Expected to forget. But she couldn't.

The moment she stepped outside, the bitter cold hit her like a slap. The city pulsed around her, alive, demanding, but she didn’t feel any of it. Her feet carried her forward, instinct more than intention.

Before she even processed where she was going, she found herself standing at the gates of Ryker’s Island.

The guards barely batted an eye when she checked in for visitation—Fisk’s name still carried weight, after all.

And yet, as she was led through the cold corridors, past rows of cells filled with men who had no future, the weight in her chest only grew heavier. The noise, the stench of concrete and metal—it all felt suffocating.

She had spent her whole life walking through halls of power, through places that demanded strength, control. But this? This was different.

This was Dex.

And she didn’t know how to face him.

The prison walls loomed over her, stark and suffocating under the fluorescent lights. The air was stale, thick with the weight of unspoken regrets and lives reduced to metal bars and numbered uniforms.

She sat stiffly in the visitation room, her hands clasped tightly together on the table. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say. Hey, Dex, sorry you fell off a building? Sorry you’re in here forever? Nothing felt right. Nothing felt enough.

And then he was there.

Dex walked in wearing that orange jumpsuit like it was just another uniform. His hair was a little shorter, his face a little leaner, but his eyes—they were the same. Cold, calculating, assessing her in the way only he could. But underneath that steel edge, she saw something else. A flicker of something familiar, something he used to reserve just for her.

He slid into the chair across from her, resting his cuffed hands on the table. "Didn’t think I’d see you here."

Her breath hitched. She had prepared for a lot—anger, indifference, maybe even relief that she’d come—but not this. Not the way his voice made her throat tighten.

She forced out a breath. "Where else would I be?"

Dex huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, I don’t know. Celebrating your father becoming the most powerful man in New York?"

Her jaw clenched. "You think I give a shit about that?"

"You should." His voice was flat, but she knew him too well. He was bitter. And why wouldn’t he be? He was locked in here, and she was still free.

But she wasn’t. Not really. Not when he was in this place. Not when every breath she took felt like it belonged to someone else.

She reached for his hands before she could stop herself, fingers ghosting over the cold metal of the cuffs. "Dex, I—"

"Don’t." His voice was sharper now, cutting through whatever fragile moment had been building. He finally looked at her, really looked at her, and she saw the exhaustion there, the resigned acceptance. "There’s nothing you can say to fix this."

Her lips parted, but no words came. Because he was right. She couldn’t fix this. She couldn’t undo what had happened.

So she did the only thing she could—she squeezed his hands, holding onto him like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

"I just needed to see you," she whispered.

Dex exhaled, something in his posture shifting, softening just enough. His fingers curled slightly under hers, the smallest acknowledgment that he wasn’t as unaffected as he pretended to be.

For a moment, the bars, the prison walls, the time they’d lost—it all faded.

It was just them. Just this.

And then, too soon, the guard stepped forward. "Time’s up."

She swallowed hard, blinking back the emotion threatening to break through. Dex leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable again, slipping behind the armor of someone who had nothing left to lose.

She stood slowly, reluctant, her hands lingering on the cold metal table. "I’ll come back."

Dex didn’t nod. Didn’t say anything at all. But as she turned to leave, she felt it—the weight of his eyes on her, following her even as the door shut behind her.

And for now, that was enough.

[chickenfoot6969]

Me trying and failing to avoid all Daredevil spoilers:

[angellicxx]

Ricochet- Chapter 1: The Beginning

Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter x Vigilante Reader

Summary: In the streets of New York, injustice thrives in the dark. Despite your work alongside Daredevil, you have to dig deeper into the criminal underground of NYC to discover the roots of corruption. Your vigilante life becomes entangled with your past as you work to infiltrate the underground mob run by the infamous Kingpin, freshly released on parole. Loyal federal agent Benjamin Poindexter is tasked with overseeing Fisk’s house arrest– and aiding in his empire under the alias of Bullseye. The both of you become interlaced within the Volchiy, a Russian gang led by your childhood friend; you moonlight as a vigilante, trying to take down the mob from within, while Dex is unaware the new girl he can't get his mind off of is the same one in a mask he fights in the streets. Torn between secret identities, lies, and threat of betrayal, you and Dex navigate a tension filled clash between loyalty and justice.

warnings: drug dealing implication, fight scene, blood, mention of h@nging

slowburn, enemies to lovers, secret identities, bullseye x vigilante reader, use of (y/n), reader is an orphan

an: Chapter 1 of my first full length fic. Hopefully you like it and I actually finish.

disclaimer: ivan volkov is an oc and the volchiy gang is a fictional mcu gang i made up. i dont speak russian so sorry if any of the langauge is wrong or stupid.

wc: 3,500

YOU

New York City was different at night. 

A different city during the day, and different from anywhere else in the world. 

But to the fortunate millions who are unlucky enough to burrow within the labyrinth of streets nestled between skyscrapers and offices, twinkling streetlights and billboards that replaced the stars, living in rows of century old bricked townhomes and eating at their corner store bodegas– it was home. 

With its dreams and flaws and all, it was the one place where in a crowd of millions you could feel so close– yet so alone. 

You weren’t a stranger to the deep poison that drained into the ground of the city. Bloody– like black bile– the cruelty of crime and lies that had been ever present as a New York native. 

Justice had to be paid with a high price, but only by those willing to sell. Even with the haunt of knowing there was at least one person out in the streets below you who needed help, just someone to be noticed and saved by a dashing hero in the night, was enough to send you on the streets every evening in a skin tight costume, face guarded in a mask.

Every night was different. 

Tonight could change. 

“(Y/N).” A voice called from the other side of the roof as the access door’s hinges squeaked in the wind. 

Devil horns pointed to the heavens as the fellow masked hero walked across the roof, where soot and dirt had caked into layers from decades of the building's abandonment. 

“You’re late, Matt.” You with a tinge of annoyance through a cracking smile. This wasn’t an uncommon late appearance, but you didn’t mind; it gave you more time alone to breathe.

This has been your routine for the past year. 

Late nights alongside Matt. 

You couldn’t picture what your life would be like if you hadn't crossed paths. There were few heroes in New York, some that were unknown to anyone but thugs in the shadows. But meeting Matt put you on a clear path. It was refreshing to come across a normal person who understood you, even if you met that someone by nearly bashing each other's ribs in. 

 Your tired arms pushed your body up from its spot of legs dangling over the ledge, tingling as they gained feeling to stand up. 

“Apologies. Got held up in the office.” He flashed a charismatic smile from beneath his half exposed cowl, stepping onto the ledge next to you. 

You rolled your head over your shoulders, stretching your back with a scoff. “Don’t let your job get in the way of your hobby.”

“Ouch.” Matt said. 

“And to think you actually enjoyed working with me.”

“No,  no, I’m strictly here for business.” You patted a gloved hand over his padded shoulder and sighed. “Where are we going tonight?”

“Yesterday, there was a robbery on 56th. Three men from the Italians, all armed with guns and high out of their minds. Through their drugged rambling they managed to tell me about a warehouse at the piers; they said it was a hideout for some operation, only ever occupied for drops and pickups. Figured we would check it out tonight and see where it leads.” 

You nodded, eyes wandering to the river distant in the horizon, the black waters gleaming with reflections of moonlight. “Sounds fun.” You said, pulling on your mask. 

The warehouse was near the docks– an old canning factory in the early industry days turned moonshine distributor in the twenties. Abandoned for decades the red brick had faded and been engulfed in tangles of long ivy that covered the frosted pane windows. 

Semi-trucks were parked for the night on the surrounding lot, stacks of shipping containers and a chain link fence keeping it guarded from a pedestrian road and isolated to the water. There was a small dock of rotting wood with a single boat bobbing in the black water. 

You jumped the fence after Matt, the impact absorbing into the heel of your boot as you scanned the area. “It looks like a drop point.”

Matt rolled his shoulders as he crept around a shipping container. “Does it?”

You ignored him, piecing together as many clues as possible. “Shipments must be coming down from the Hudson, either local or overseas. Did the Italians say who owned it?”

“No, he passed out before he could even say what it was. It's empty, smells like gunpowder.”

“Weapons?”

He nodded. “Or there was trouble here recently.”

You managed to find an unlocked side door, making your way inside to the spacious warehouse. There was a layer of stagnant dust covering pillars of stacked crates and workbenches, the faint glow of a lantern as you peered from behind a wall. 

Before you could advance further inside, a glove layered hand clutched onto your shoulder, pulling you back behind the corner. 

“Stop.” Matt whispered. 

You quickly scanned the area and tried to listen for what Matt was sensing. “What’s wrong?”

His head tilted. “Five men, armed. Coming from the dock.”

Through a shattered window you could see it, a second boat tethered at the water and the muffled sound of speech. 

“Shit .” You muttered. “Great timing.”

There was a rumbling of an iron door and footsteps as the men entered– foreign speech echoed across the walls. A loud crash sent them into disarray. You peered over to see a crate had been knocked over, black guns scattered over the floor as they began to yell at eachother, fingers pointed at a retreating peer. 

Matt took this opportunity to creep from the shadows, throwing a punch into the back of a straggler at the edge of the argument. You quickly followed suit, throwing your momentum into a kick that sent another on the ground as the other three were too busy engulfed in their bickering to notice they had visitors. 

You were quick in the dark, it was where you worked best. Maybe that was why you and Matt worked so well together– you both had an advantage of being invisible. 

You propelled yourself with your legs, wrapping them around the smaller of the accusing pair as you wrapped his neck and slammed him into the ground. 

Despite your stealth, it came at the cost of your strength, especially against guys twice your bodyweight. You groan as you hit the pavement, thankful his head collided and knocked him out on the first try.

The other men finally caught on to the ambush. They snapped from the dispute, reaching for their holsters only to be hit away with a baton. One of the guys was on the ground before you even managed to stand back up. The last one standing, the guy who had dropped the crate, stood frozen– scrambling to unlock his safety as he walked backwards into a pile of boxes that clattered over him. 

Your smirk dropped when an arm wrapped from behind you. Before you could dodge the impending blow to your face, Matt had pulled him off of you and pummeled his face.

Halfway between consciousness and falling to the floor from his knees, Matt held him up by his collar, fist raised. “Who do you work for?”

His head rattled frantically, pleading to the dark eyes of Daredevil’s mask. “N-n--nobody. N-o work-” Matt hit him again, grasping a tighter hold and looming over him. 

“Who do you work for?” 

The man choked, blood spurting out of his throat and dripping to the ground, eyes near swollen shut as he managed the words. 

“Ivan Volkov.”

The name echoed in your mind as Matt struck a blow to his bloodied face, a quick knockout as he fell limp to the floor. There was a moment of silence– only heavy breathing echoing through the large warehouse.

Matt was listening, slowly turning to look at his partner who hadn’t moved.

 “You know him.”

Not a question– a confrontation. You really hated having a human lie detector to work with.

Suppressed memories of your childhood seemed to flood in with no reason. Just one name and you were suddenly seven years old again; running through the streets of Brooklyn with your friends to escape classes taught by the nuns, scavenging for change in the gutter to buy candy and spend on petty bets, breaking windows with rocks to enter the abandoned buildings just like this one. 

Just parentless, uncontrolled children–  dreams still far and the ever lingering hope of finding a family one day. Through those early formidable years you had countless siblings. 

Ivan Volkov was one of them. 

A few years older than you, Ivan was orphaned at age ten when his father was imprisoned for his position in the Russian mob, only to be found hanging in his cell two days before the case went to trial. As far as you ever knew, Ivan’s mother was a nameless woman never present in his life, most likely killed for knowing too much when he was a child. 

Nonetheless, Ivan was one of the few older kids at St. Michaels Orphanage. Aggressive, erratic, and manipulative– how he was labeled in his file. But you only knew Ivan as sweet, caring and funny. 

He was just troubled, like the rest of you. 

He would leave some nights and return bloodied in the morning; it was only a secret from the nuns that Ivan was slipping into a life similar to his father’s. You and the other children had watched him steal and do deals in the park near the church. He would only smile at you and buy ice cream with the leftover money so you all kept your mouths shut and never questioned anything.

He was like a brother to you. 

When he aged out, you and three other kids cried all night; one of you even begged him to adopt you all. Ivan never visited after he left. He moved on in life. 

But everytime a group of men in dark sunglasses, trench coats, and brooding energies walked down the street near gang territory you looked extra closely to see if you could recognize his face.

Now, years later, the truth was revealed. Heavy dust in the air and echoing clatters of distant machinery confirmed you weren’t dreaming. Ivan was alive and making a name for himself. 

Reminiscence broke as you furrowed your brow and blinked your dry eyes to focus, a reluctant nod and click of the tongue.

“Yeah. Yeah I know him.”

Matt was watching you closely, reading you through subtle movements. “Have you worked for him before?” 

You shook your head, sweat dripping as you rubbed your mask-covered brow. “We- uh,  grew up together– in the orphanage. He left as soon as he turned eighteen and I never knew what happened to him. Last I knew he had run off to join a gang his dad had been a part of.”

Matt cocked his head, pieces coming together. “Dimitry Volkov, right? Christ, I remember studying that case in law school. He had the cops running circles back then– the biggest weapons bust in city history.” 

“And now I guess he’s built it back up.” You reached your hand into an opened crate, fingers brushing cold metal as you hauled a handgun from its depths. You studied it in your hands– the weight, model, balance. As you turned the hilt you could see it. Carved into the shiny black was two thin converging lines, a watermark– “ V ”. 

You swallowed, holding it out for Matt. 

“Volchiy .”

 He sighed as he took it. “Russians.” He removed a glove and brushed his thumb over the inscription. “I felt the same thing on the guns I found on the Italians. It's new– oiled. My guess, they were manufactured abroad and altered in the city. The Volchiy are dealing them underground so the weapons can’t be traced. There's probably hundreds of them distributed in the streets right now.” 

You stood silent. The warehouse was filled with boxes. “Well, what do we do now?”

“They’re going to realize their stashpoint is compromised, probably move it or reinforce security. For all we know there could be dozens of locations scattered across the city– factories, hideouts, headquarters. It runs deep. This is just the tip of the iceberg.”

“What, we just leave an anonymous tip to the NYPD? ‘Hey, here's a new crime ring, good luck.’ We have to find where this leads.”

Matt was hesitant, placing down the gun. You knew the reason he didn’t want to keep searching. 

“ Fisk .” You hissed, the name a curse. “You think he’s involved?”

He lowered his head, shaking it.  “I know he’s in charge.” 

“He’s on house arrest. He got the justice you wanted. He can’t possibly be doing damage from a penthouse.” You protested, but it was no use. Fisk haunted Matt more than you could realize. You could tell his release from prison infuriated him, despite when he claimed the FBI had the right to keep him locked away under supervision, even if it was in the comfort of a luxury apartment. 

“He’s got the whole city wired from that penthouse. He’s pulling strings with the FBI– he’s only locked in there because he wants to be. He’s brutal, (Y/N). A man like Fisk– we can’t.”

You nodded despite your disappointment. This was a serious lead Matt was willing to abandon just because of his past with Fisk. 

“Fine. I guess we’ll just stick to disarming the thugs on the streets after they’ve already striked.” You took one more look around the spacious warehouse before stepping over a knocked out gang member to the open door. 

You were exhausted climbing up the fire escape to the roof, gripping the rusted rails to haul yourself up the next step. You were relieved to pull off your mask and breathe uncovered air when you landed on the same decrepit rooftop overlooking Hell’s Kitchen. You and Matt had made your way back through the shadows in silence, tensions high about your splitting decisions. He finally broke it as he lingered behind you. 

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). Really. If things were different, then maybe. But right now– it’s just not safe.”

You understood. You hated that he was partly right, Fisk wasn’t a figure to be messed with. Especially when every criminal organization was under his command. Just going after one would domino all the others to come to aid. But deep in your bones you knew there was more. This was the whole point– protecting the city. If just one guy got to dictate how it ran, then there was no justice at all.

You turned around, nodding with sincerity. “I get it Matt. It’s alright. I’m sure there's something else we can do.”

He read you for a moment, a twitch of a smile when he realized you were telling the truth. “Thank you.” He gave a nod of approval before turning around. “Stay safe (Y/N).” 

“You too, Matt. Good night.” 

“Good night,” Matt called out as he vanished down the fire escape. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

You rolled your eyes and beckoned a wave, crouching back down onto your rooftop perch, gripping your mask in your hands-- hard. A sigh of aggravation fell through the air, caching back in your throat as you looked up. 

Your eyes lingered in the skyline. Nothing felt so far anymore. Everything that was happening was in your territory– the one you promised to protect. 

 It was right there, stretching its influence across the city and trickling into Hell’s Kitchen.

It was a dumb thought, really. But what more was there to lose? How many people could get caught in the crossfire before you decided to sacrifice your integrity? 

You tucked your mask into your belt, taking one more glance at the alive city before retreating home. 

It was time to pay an old friend a visit. 

DEX

Dex was haunted. 

By the things he’s done, the things he was bound to do all over again. 

He fell for it.

 He fell right into Fisk’s grasp. 

Every order he followed, it was because he wanted to.

Testified in the trial for Wilson Fisk’s parole and appeal. 

He lied under oath– not like the truth has ever mattered. 

He took out the fellow agents who refused loyalty. 

Wore a mask.

Pulled the trigger. 

Killed people.

The rest of the FBI would move on from this assignment and continue their work. Dex would be left to linger in the past-- more trapped within the house arrest boundary than Fisk ever was. 

The thick bulletproof glass was the only thing keeping him from falling over sixty stories to the muck filled streets of New York. His gaze fell over the skyline, light filled windows of the Midtown high rises imitating the stars in the midnight darkness. 

The sterile apartment of Fisk was like a familiar sanctuary above the city.

It was the same way he had his apartment– clean and orderly. The only thing visible in the fresh white painted walled penthouse were the dozens of modern art pieces on display at every turn, a museum worth millions for only Fisk and his wife to see. 

At first, Dex could understand how only a deranged monster like Fisk could find solace in those strange pieces. 

As time grew on, he began to grow fond of them too.

His favorite one was hanging right in the foyer.

Much of the art Fisk kept was just geometric shapes of paint on canvas, nonsensical patterns he never cared for of bland color.

This one was different.

Organic. 

Messy.

Raw. 

It wasn’t art to him– it was real.

Splatters of crimson that stained the linen canvas, no clues of the former cream color it once was. Streaks of different hues and splotches of unidentified circles. It was chaotic, but organized. 

Just a red, bloody, mess. 

For the quick glance where his eyes fell each day when he entered the front door, his dread disipated. He would forget he was in the same sterile apartment with the one task of being ordered around by Fisk; instead he was back in the field, gun in hand and steady throw at his will– complete precision and control. This was the only art in the world he could truly digest. 

Every time he saw it there was a reminder that the artist– a name of a painter unknown to him and probably long dead– understood him. 

Even with the entire city in his field of vision, Dex’s mind was far behind him in the entryway, glaring at the red and trying to understand it. 

“Special Agent Poindexter.” 

A gravelly voice echoed through the abnormally large apartment,  rippling a chill through Dex’s spine, ears perking up as he turned to face the dim lit room.

The brooding force in a white suit– Wilson Fisk stood across the living room, hands behind his back like a marble statue. 

“Sir.” Dex straightened, legs shoulder width apart and arms crossed over his thundering chest. 

A vicious smile crept across his round face, city lights from the window bouncing off his bald head as he crept closer to the agent. 

“Please, there is no need for formalities. I owe my gratitude for what you have done. For me, for Vanessa.”

Dex flexed his hands, fingers aching and knuckles bruised.

Killed people.

Fisk began his creep forward, careful steps across the white tiles that reverberated through the sparsely furnished room until he was parallel to the windows next to him. 

“I am proud of your work.” Fisk sighed out the reluctant praise. Dex could tell the corruptive man wasn’t one to hand out sincerities like this.

“From that very night you saved my life, I knew you had an exceeding talent. One that could never be fully appreciated under the constraints of a federal agency. Where rules and standards demanded you set aside these strengths and neglect your abilities for a noble pursuit. The Bureau never appreciated you the way I do, Benjamin. With your help, I can restore the city. To the way it needs to be. Tamed. Disciplined.”

Dex rocked back on his heels to adjust his footing, becoming more aware of his time standing all day. “Thank you sir. It’s an honor to work for you.” The words forced from his voice, a tinge of a smile and nod at his approval. 

“Now that I am free, the true work may begin. My time incarcerated has enacted a toll on the order of everything. They are becoming more sloppy and arrogant, my workers. I would go myself, but as you know I am still constrained.” He smiled. 

Dex’s eyes flicked to the black banded ankle monitor, light beeping in the dark over Fisk’s pant leg. “My prospects are in desperate need of management in my absence. It is much to ask of you– but it must be done.”

Dex rolled his shoulders, glancing from the city to his boss. 

“Anything you need, Fisk. I’ll do it.”

“Good. Very well.” Kingpin grinned. “How familiar are you with my empire?”

[ramen-flavored]

This is your reminder:

Echo is a about Maya Lopez

Not Matt Murdock!!!!

[buckyssugarchick]

This episode was SOO GOODDDD

Frankie is comin’ next episode 😌💃🏻

[books-are-my-life]

I love how Matt stays true to how much of an asshole is character is supposed to be

[skyfallslayer]

The Daughter of The (Dare)Devil - Story 11

|| Matt Murdock x Daughter!OC ||

Series Masterlist || Hiatus Recap

(Please Reread recap if needed)

Summary: Trying to rebuild the many crumbling things in her life, Kaila must keep things civil between her father and his old acquaintances. But during the trial of Castle v State, this might be proven more difficult than ever. (Set During S2E06 - E08, “Regrets Only”, “Semper Fidelis” and “Guilty as Sin”.)

Date: 4/2/25

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 19,514 (My Treat To You Guys)

Warning: The Murdocks Are Stubborn People; Frank's PTSD; Heavy Angst; Heavy Language; Allusions To Mental Illness; Bullet Wounds/Recovery; Implied Child Abuse; Talks of Mental Abuse; Talks of Violence; Talks of Death/Murder; Implied Abandonment Issues; The Murdocks Could Use All The Hugs In The World; Matt Being Overprotective (He Needs A Warning, I think?); Past Toxic Relationship(s); Elektra Could Use A Warning Herself; Suggestive 18+ Themes; Foggy & Karen Being MVPs again. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

- Let me know if I missed anything, please.

A/N: AND I COME BACK FROM THE ASHES!!! And yes, we're going to ignore the fact that I've had writers block on this story for a long time (amongst other issues, personal and computer). I bet this will be your reaction:

Like the DM I answered the other day, I just had surgery done and is on bed rest for a while, so I have no excuse to ignore my older stories anymore -- Not like I wanted to "abandon" this one. I am DETERMINED to finish this up. And thanks to DD:BA, this has really lit the fire back in me to start writing for DD again. Thank you, THANK YOU for your patience, and hopefully this was worth the wait 😄.

Also, on a side note, I decided to update all the aesthetic boards for all the stories. In my opinion, they look SO much better than what I had before. So, feel free to check them out, too. - 'Nother side note, we're getting Dad!Punisher in this because Frank deserves all the love in the world in this fic (and it'll be important later on).

The door swung open and two teenagers stepped inside. The young Murdock trailed behind her guest as she locked the door, watching him take the place in. Her emotions were mixed, and it was brewing in her stomach of nervousness. I mean how long has she been home now? Over a week? Almost a fortnight?

I don’t even know. She swallows. “Uh, d-do you want anything to drink? Or…”

“Oh, uh, n-no. No thanks. Uh…” He chuckles in amusement. “No offense, but when I think of lawyers, I think they have big fancy apartments.” He said, looking back at her.

She smirked, amused too. “Well, when you have your own business it can be a little hard. Especially when they specialize in, uh… ‘charity cases’.”

“Well, I guess as long as you stay true to your own values, it doesn’t matter where you live.”

“True.” Kaila leans against her crutch, watching him walk around the living room. “Although, for Hell’s Kitchen, it was pretty cheap.”

Jayden raises an eyebrow. “How’d you manage that?” And from there, her grin grew on cue just as the infamous billboard flipped on to blind them both. He cussed out of surprise, making her laugh. “Okay. Now, I see.” He said, while covering the side of his face from the light. “I know it’s cheap, but how did your Dad think this was a good idea?” 

“Well, my Dad is blind.”

He blinks. “Your Dad’s blind?” She nods. “Oh… sorry, I didn’t know.”

Kai shrugs. “It’s fine, seriously. We don’t take it personally.” She smiles and looks around, memories flooding in. “I grew up in this place, so it doesn’t really bother me. I just tend to pay no heed to the flashing lights at night.”

“Well, you have a lot more willpower than I do. This would drive me crazy.”

The two of them laughed before being enslaved with silence. A very awkward silence. The Murdock was the first to break eye contact, looking at the corner of the room, racking her brain for things she could say. Like… ‘Sorry I got kidnapped? I know it’s making this awkward’? Eh… maybe not that. What can she say that won’t sound so strange?

He clears his throat, pulling her from her thoughts. “So, uh…” Jayden fiddles with his hands, finally taking her full appearance in. “Did uh… did y-you get hurt?”

Kaila meets his gaze before looking down at her healing leg. “Y-Yeah.” She says, frowning. “Uh, the guy who took me, uh, hurt me after I got a little lippy.”

“Ah. I-I see. Um…” He looks and sounds so uncomfortable being here, and he knows it. “I uh, got your messages–”

“Jayden.” She begins, looking a bit guilty. “I’m so sorry about all those. I know they were quite excessive of me. I… I should have just texted once and been done.”

He shakes his head. “Look, Kaila, you have every right to do what you did. I should be the one apologizing.”

“You don’t have to.” 

“I do.” He pushes, remorsefully. “Look, The whole… kidnapping thing I– I was worried shitless out of mind. Everyone at work was too. And when we heard that you were safe, it was a huge amount of relief for us. We all tried to visit you in the hospital, but you know, it’s–”

“Family only?” She says, getting him to nod.

“Yeah. So when I texted you after hearing you were discharged, you just…” He sighs, his stiff form falling. “You just sounded like… that what just happened to you was a typical Friday. Even our Boss, when you told him you were taking medical leave, said you sounded like it didn’t happen at all.” He shifts on his feet. “I guess I just didn’t know how to respond myself or what to say. I mean, for all I know, you could have just been still processing what just happened. So for that, I’m really, really sorry. I’ve been a shitty friend.”

She suddenly recalls back to the conversation yesterday with her dad -- Everything finally making sense.

.

.

“He’s also probably taken back by how you responded. To him, you might have sounded… too okay with a text. It might have been different if you two would have talked on the phone or face-to face.”

.

.

Ah. So my Dad was right. I did sound too okay. Man, she really wants to slap herself silly right now.

“I… I appreciate the apology, but I don’t think it’s really needed.” Kaila says, raising her hand to stop him from saying something. “Let me finish. I should have been better about expressing myself. It’s a cross I have to bear. I’ve always been terrible at it.”

He frowns, worriedly. “Kaila.”

“It’s okay.” She shrugs again. “Seriously. I mean… I am… getting better, but I’ve been having nightmares about it. I still… have other bad things in my past that are mixing up with this new one and it’s started to take a toll.” 

Sometimes, when she closes her eyes, she’s back at the warehouse with Wesley. Sometimes, she still imagines Fisk at the end of her bed, taunting her for her defensive kill. Sometimes, she still thinks she’s going to wake up and her family is going to pay the price for her sin.

It makes the everlasting knot in her stomach tighten even more.

Her expression deepens as she finishes, “And I’m trying to be strong for everyone else, but I think I’m just fooling myself at this point. I don’t know if I’ll ever be a hundred percent again.”

“That’s the thing, Kaila, No one’s expecting you to be.” Jayden replies, truthfully. “Especially after that. Hell freaking no.”

She chuckles bleakly. “That’s the thing… I… I want to be. But I know I can’t.”

He copies her, messing with his hands again. “No wonder we hit it off, you sound like me.”

She tilts her head. “Do I?”

“Yeah. Um… I told you about my parents, right?” He asks, and she nods. “Well, It was kind of an arranged marriage between them. Dad needed something from her family and it kind of just happened. Uh, he wasn’t a good person, and he wasn’t physically abusive, but–” He shook his head at the memory. “Man, he knew how to get in your head.”

“I’m surprised she actually got out of that. You told me they split, right?”

“Yeah, they did, and I’m actually surprised she did too. But, uh, my point being is, he used to use my Mom’s… flaws against her, and against me. He knew by poking around it would mess me up.”

“That’s…” Kaila scoffs in disbelief. “That’s really disturbing.”

“Yeah. It is.” Jayden agrees. “And just like you, I tried to be okay after they split, you know, be the man of the house, but… I-I knew I wouldn’t, I couldn’t be. I… I knew well enough that I couldn’t be a hundred percent. For anyone or myself. No amount of any kind of healing method can fill me back up.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah. I have to be.” His frown deepens. “And… I find talking about it does help. I’m not saying you have to specifically tell me anything, but from my experience, it is nice to talk about it with someone. Even if you don’t tell them the whole thing, just a little bit helps in the long run.” He averts his gaze. “Sorry if that was a bit of a downer…”

“No, no. I–” She smiles a little. “I think I needed to hear that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think I do need to talk to someone about my troubles.” She hugs herself, thinking. “Maybe… maybe I should start going to church like my Dad.”

He cracks a smile, too. “That’s one way to start.”

“Yep.” She feels a bit of weight get taken off her shoulders. “Thanks for saying all that. I know it was probably hard talking about your Dad.”

He waves her off. “Don’t mention it. It’s the least I do for ghosting you, you know?”

She laughs. “Seriously, man, don’t worry about it. We’re still friends, right?”

And that’s when his face fell completely and his body subtly got stiff again. He looked like he was a kicked puppy; Those olive eyes holding an emotion she couldn’t quite pinpoint.

He grips his hands together, nervously. “That’s the thing, I… I think that’s going to be a little difficult.”

Her heart sank as she gave him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

“Listen, Kaila. There’s another reason why I was being distant. Probably the real reason.”

Okay, now he’s scaring her (Why can’t she have any nice things?!). “And what’s that?”

“I…” He takes a deep breath as he stands right in front of her. “My name is–” He was suddenly cut off by loud knocking, startling them both. They both stay quiet for a second, puzzled (Nervous?).

“Did you bring anyone else along?” Kaila asked, turning her attention away from the door and back to him. 

“No.” Jayden shakes his head, and locks eyes with her. “You expecting someone?”

“No. And everyone I do know has a key to this place.” Who the heck could be at her door now? But she felt herself grow a bit pale at the possibility of someone else trying to snatch her up again. No… not again. That can’t be possible… right?

Jayden must have seen her face, and went into defensive mode. “I’ll check. Just stay put.” He said, and walked away.

That got her to snap out of it. “Jayden–”

“Relax. I’ll get it.” He ignores her calling his name on repeat, and focuses on the next round of knocking. Carefully, he opens the door slowly to find a woman about eye level with him, sun kissed skin and dashing dark eyes. He almost seemed mysteriously captivated by her appearance; he almost forgot why he opened the door in the first place. “Uh, hello–”

“Hello, young man.” She greeted with an (un)settling smile. “Is the young lady home?” 

He blinks to get out from under her ‘spell’. “Uh, who–?”

“Who’s at the door?” Kaila asked, finally managing to wobble herself over, only to immediately freeze up when seeing who it was.

“Hello.” Elektra said, chippy. 

“Kaila, who’s this?” Jayden asked, looking between the two. The young girl tries to say something, but is quickly cut off.

“I’m her mother.” 

“Mother?” He said, confused. “I thought you told me your mother left you when you were a baby?”

“I did. But we just decided to rekindle. Anywho–” She brushes her way in, pushing and swapping places with him. “Goodbye.” She shuts the door in his face, and turns her attention to the girl who’s backing away. “Hello, little one. Let’s chat.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Foggy nodded in the open air like his girlfriend could magically see it. He hums into his phone, patiently waiting for the coffee machine to fill up his cup. “Yes – Yes – Yes, I’m sorry, Marci. – Yeah. Yeah. Well I got a few things to finish.” He raises an eyebrow at her reply. “Then why are you complaining? You’re stuck at work, too.”

He chuckles, and smiles. “Yes – I’ll make it up to you, I promise – I promise. I will.” He smiles and grabs his cup, taking a minute to let it cool before drinking. “Yes, I will – I will, don’t worry – Awe. Love you, too – Goodnight.”

Oh, Marci. He tells himself, wandering back to his desk. He decided after dropping Kaila off he would go to the office to put together some stuff for the Castle case, which he still wasn’t a hundred percent on board with representing him -- Despite him, you know, saving his Niece. But it was two against one in this law firm and he was the odd man out.

I just don’t want us to get too screwed in this. Especially with freaking Reyes on our asses. But before Foggy could even begin sorting through the paperwork, oddly enough at this late hour, the phone rang.

Shooting straight up in surprise, and double checking what the actual time is on his watch, a million things went through his mind. Who could be calling an attorney at this time at night? 

Getting up from his desk and heading over to Karen’s reception area, he picks it up. “Nelson & Murdock Attorney Firm, Foggy Nelson speaking.” 

‘Huh. So I did call the right place.’

That’s not what I was expecting. And is that a kid? Foggy raises an eyebrow and skeptically asks, “Who is this?” He swears this better not be a prank call. He is not in the mood for one of those tonight.

‘Mr. Nelson, I’m only calling because I don’t have anybody’s personal number. I’m calling because I’m concerned about Kaila.’

“Kaila?” His heart skips a beat. He remembers the last call he got when it was about Kaila -- And it was Brett telling him she was taken away. Oh god, not again, please. 

But he swallows his worries and stays level headed. “Wait… who is this?”

‘I’m Jayden. I’m a friend from work.’

His eyes widened slightly, remembering the name now. Oh, this is THE Jayden! Okay now. But what is he–

‘I was visiting her since I haven’t seen her in a bit. Anyway, as I was leaving a woman was at the door.’

A woman? Karen? He scolds himself. No… wait. Karen is on a date with Matt. So that leaves her out of– 

‘She claimed to be her mother–’ 

His brain short circuited. Wait… what?!

No. That can’t be right. That shouldn’t be right. After fifteen long years Mary decides to crawl out of the rock she’s been hiding under and visits?!

That very thought made his blood boil. Why, that fucking bi–

‘But I remember Kaila telling me that her mother left her when she was young and hasn’t been seen since. The woman told me they recently had rekindled but, I don’t know… something doesn’t feel right. And Kaila looked a little uncomfortable. So–’

“A woman?” Foggy’s heart was in his throat as he nervously held onto the phone cord. “What did she look like?” He swears if he says blue eyes and reddish-brown hair he’s going to–

‘Tall, dark hair and eyes. Had an accent–’

His heart skipped another. Oh, no…

‘I was hoping you would know what’s going on, or maybe you can pass the message onto her dad? Or maybe you know what’s going. Like I said, it just seems a bit weird to me.’

‘Cause it fucking is! But he has to stay calm now. He doesn’t know all the details, he can’t jump straight to panic yet. “Shit… uh, thank you. I will call her Dad, um–” 

Keep it together, Foggy! He mentally slaps himself straight. “W-What was your name again?”

‘It’s Jayden, sir.’

“Well, Jayden, thank you. I’ll take care of it.” Foggy hangs up, maybe a little more forceful than he wanted to be. “Fuck.” He starts frantically grabbing all his belongings as he starts calling up his friend’s number. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Matt was lazily playing with a strain of her golden hair, while Karen was softly tracing one of his fading scars across his chest. They both couldn’t keep the smiles off their flushed faces.

“You know…” She begins after a while of comforting silence. “I can finally understand the tales of College Playboy Matt Murdock.”

“Oh, yeah?” His grin grows at her cheekiness.

“Mmm, hmm.”

“Well… is that a good thing, Miss Page?”

“It is a very good thing.” She replies, leaning now on his chest.

“Well that’s good.” He brushes her cheek. “I’m glad I can live up to the stories.”

“I’m glad, too.” They lean in for a quick kiss before melting back into his arms. “Can I ask you something? And it’s a bit silly.”

“What is it?” 

She hums, and looks up at him. “When did you… you know, start liking me?”

His eye brows shoot up. “Liking you?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm… yesterday.”

She blinks. “Yesterday.”

“Yep.” He nods. “Definitely yesterday.”

She scoffs playfully. “Yesterday?”

“Oh, yeah.” He hums loudly. “I just… thought I’d kiss you and see if it felt right, you know?”

“Oh, my, god–” Karen shakes her head and picks up a pillow. “You suck!” She laughs, and lightly smacks him with it.

He laughs too. “Ow… you’re hitting a poor defenseless blind man, Miss Page.”

“Defenseless, my ass, Mr. Murdock.” She chuckles, setting her pillow aside.

“I’m kidding.” Matt says, still grinning. “If I’m being honest, I think pretty early on. I think it especially started when you didn’t judge me over the whole thing with how Kai was brought into my life.”

She looks at him all confused. “People judged you on that?”

“Some did.” He shrugs. “But you, you took all the, for the lack of better words, ‘messiness’ in my life and you handled it pretty well. I think what really made me realize I like you is by what you said the other night. Is that you ‘Loved my daughter’. No one I tried having relationships with in the past has ever come close to that.”

“But who couldn’t love your daughter anyway?” Karen asked, truthfully. “She’s a lot like you, you know?”

“Oh, I know.” He nods. “Still can’t decide if that’s going to be a good thing in the long run.” 

“Relax. At the rate she’s going in life, she’s going to be fine. Maybe she’ll be a lawyer? This can be the start of a generational tradition.”

“That’s something I can get behind.” He smiles. “What about you? When did you start liking me?”

“Hmm… yesterday.” She replies, making them both laugh again. “Sorry, I had to.”

“So when was it?”

“It’s…” She groans nervously, her face falling onto his chest for a split second. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Well, when was it?”

“Um…”

“Was it when you thought I was in that car accident and you came for a visit?”

“No.”

“Was it… when my fly was accidentally down that one time?”

She snorts. “What? No.”

“Well, spill it. When was it?”

“I–” She sighs into her hands. “I kind of like you right off the bat.”

“What?” He said, over exaggerated. “Right off the bat?”

“I know…” She mutters, hiding her face.

“So, right as me and Foggy walked into the holding cell, you fell for me.”

“Okay, well maybe a little bit after that. But yeah.”

“Wow.”

“I… I thought you were cute.” She says, propping herself back up.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. And…” Her fondness grows. “After I found out that you were Daredevil, that whole situation where you saved me in my apartment really added fuel to the flames. It made me realize how much you’ve done for me, in and out of that mask.”

“I’ll be honest, I’m actually surprised by your answer.” Matt says, honestly. “I really thought it was when we were playing pool at Josie’s a while ago.”

“Oh, my god!” She gasps, her face turning red as she sits up. “Oh, my god.”

“What?” He replies, worriedly.

“I just realized you could hear my heartbeat the whole time. Oh, lord…” Her face grows two shades darker. “My heart was pounding like crazy when I was teaching you how to play.”

“Karen–” He calls her name as he sits up too.

“And I was practically in your face. Oh, my god…”

“Karen–” He says, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

“Oh, how can I not, Matt!” She says, covering her face. “I want to die right now…”

“Awe, well don’t do that.” He starts kissing her neck. “Who’s going to cuddle with me?”

“Matt! Stop!” She laughs, hitting a sensitive spot.

“Gotcha!” He pulls her back making her yelp, before they start making out again. But their loving moment was cut off when his phone started to ring.

.

[ Foggy ]

[ Foggy ]

[ Foggy ]

.

“Foggy?” Karen said, surprised.

Matt shifts around to where his phone was laying, confused. “That’s weird. He knows we’re on a date.”

“Well, answer it, maybe it’s important.”

“‘Kay.” He does, holding the phone up to his ear. “Hey, Foggy, what’s going on?”

‘I’m sorry, I know you’re on your date with Karen, but you need to get home now!’

Matt doesn’t like the urgency in his tone and sits up straighter. “Why? What’s going on?”

‘Elektra! That’s what’s going on! Apparently Kai’s friend came to talk to her and when he was leaving Elektra was at the door. He called the office because he thought something wasn’t right.’

He felt his stomach tied in knots. “Fuck.” This is seriously happening right now? “Y-You said she’s at home?”

‘Yeah. She is.’

“Shit, shit. I’ll be right there.” He quickly hangs up, gritting his teeth.

“What’s wrong?” Karen asks, worriedly. 

“Elektra.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her name. “She showed up to my house. And Kai’s home alone.”

She didn’t need to hear any more. “I’ll drive you.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

For once in my life, I would like one normal night, please. The young Murdock kept her cool as she watched her unexpected guest walk around her house, looking around the place like it was a museum full of artwork (Maybe to her it really was).

Elektra hums and picks something off one of the open shelves, a picture frame was now in her grasp. “Huh. I can’t believe I missed this.” She looks her way. “Your doing?”

Kaila clenched her jaw, subtly. “My Dad’s actually. Wanted to fill the space up a bit.”

“Well that’s strange.” She sets it down. “The man can’t even see it.”

“Well, he wanted to make the space feel ‘livable’ since, you know–” Kai waves a hand over her own face. “I can see.”

“Hmm. That kind of sounds like him.” Elektra says, and starts walking around again.

This lady… Kaila thought, keeping her guard up while maintaining a straight face. “You know I could call the police. This is technically trespassing.” 

“Oh, you sound like your Father.” Elektra cooed, all amused. “Are you studying to be a lawyer too?”

“What do you want?”

“Straight to the point.” The woman’s eyes lit up. “You are just like Matthew.”

The teenager so desperately wanted to roll her eyes right then. “Look, if you’re just here to compare me to my Dad, then you’re going to be here all night. Which I rather you not.”

“So sassy. You got his sharp tongue too.”

“For fuck sakes, lady. What do you want? And if you’re here to wait for my Dad, then you’re shit out of luck. He’s out and about, and probably won’t be back till morning. So…” She gestures to the door. “Get the hell out before I call the police.”

Seriously, one night without any drama would be nice. And wait until her dad hears about this, ‘cause there is NO way she’s leaving this interaction a secret.

“How old are you?” Elektra asked, when she was about a foot away.

Kaila quirks one of her brows up. “Are you just here to play twenty questions with me?” She asks back, skeptical. 

“If that’s what I must do, then yes.”

“Just me?” The teenager confirms and gets a nod. Well if this is what it takes for her to leave, then so be it. “What’s your question?”

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

She seemed taken back by that. “Fifteen?”

“Yep.” Kaila says, watching her face fall a bit.

“So…” Elektra stops to think. “Matthew was in college?”

“About the end of it, yeah.”

“Who’s your mother?”

“Some woman named Mary.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Fling-ish.” Kaila crosses her arms. “Choose wisely, Lady. You have sixteen questions left.”

“Is she still around?” The adult asked.

“No.” Kai slowly smirks after picking up her tone. “You sound kind of jealous. Is this what this interrogation is all about?”

Elektra scoffs and crosses her arms too. “You seem hostile towards me.”

“Well, you did try to kill me.”

“I thought you were an intruder.”

“Kind of like you are right now.”

“Touché.” Elektra hums, and adverts her gaze to look around the room some more.

Kaila exhales through her nose, frowning. “Alright, listen. Elektra, right?”

“Yes.”

“Just cut to the chase. Why are you here? ‘Cause I’m starting to think you came here just to see me and not my Dad after all.”

“Well, you’re right on the money.” She says, with a grin.

“Okay…” The Murdock shrugs. “Spill it then. What do you want with me?”

Elektra stays quiet for a moment, like she was gathering her thoughts up first. “You know your Father and I used to date.” 

“Yeah.” She shrugs again. “He’s told me.”

“So he’s told you all about our little adventures and–”

“Look, if you’re here just to score brownie points with me in an attempt to get back together with him, there’s no chance. He’s told me enough about you, and that he’s been over you for a long time.” Kaila straightens up. “I also know about the whole thing where you tried to get him to be your lawyer to help get your Father’s company back, and how you made a large deposit to the law firm. I know all about it. So, save your breath.”

“Well…” Elektra takes a step forward. “Did you know your Father had a bit of a… ‘bad’ side to him when we dated?”

Kaila rolls her coco eyes now. “If you’re talking about the bit of darkness that’s in him, I’ve seen it. Plenty of times actually. And if you’re saying that to scare me, it’s not going to work either.”

“Wow, he tells you alot.” She tilts her head, perplexed by the teen. “None of this scares you?”

“Lady, please, I have a bit of that in me too.” Then Kai finds herself laughing quietly. “Oh, god– this is insane. Ridiculous!” She points to the exit again. “You’re not scaring me. Get out.”

Elektra smacks her lips, hands coming together. “Did he tell you I found the man who killed his Father?” And that was the first thing that actually caught the young girl off guard tonight, and it must have shown. “So he hasn’t?”

Kaila shakes her head, confused. “Wait. You’re telling me that you’re the one who found out who killed my Grandpa?”

“Roscoe Sweeney.” The adult begins and starts walking around again, this time at a slower pace. “A mobster. A corrupted boxer promoter. He loved to use blackmail on the fighter’s under his thumb. And that includes Battlin’ Jack Murdock.”

“Yeah.” The teenager says, keeping her gaze on her as she walks. “He won the fight against Creel instead of losing, and got killed over it. I know that part.” She frowns. “So you told my Dad it was this Sweeney guy?”

“Oh, I didn’t just tell him, sweetheart.” Elektra’s expression grows more. “I brought him to Matthew.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, yes. I… got a couple hits in.” She sighs blissfully as she begins circling around. “Matthew did too. And he was… oh, so close to finishing him off. I mean–” She chuckles. “I encouraged him to. I even presented a knife to do the job, and–”

“Let me guess, my Dad didn’t kill him? And I’m going to put my bottom dollar on the idea that that’s where you broke it off?” Kaila gets no reply, confirming her theory. “So I’m right on the dot, huh?” She shifts her weight around to fully look at her. “I’m never going to be afraid of my Dad, if that’s what you’re trying to do.”

Elektra looks nervous. “Listen–”

“No, it’s time for you to listen.” Kai pushes and narrows her gaze. “I know my Dad, probably not the whole hundred percent, but I do know him enough. And yeah, there are times that he’s scared me, but not in the ways you’re thinking. That part of him, that little bit of darkness, is never going to change. I accepted that.”

Yeah, it did take a while to accept. This past year and some have been such a roller coaster between her and her father, and she’s learned to finally accept the bad that’s come with the good. No matter what happens, he has been and will always be the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

The girl continues, “But you also need to understand that my Dad has worked his ass off for as long as I can remember. He’s not perfect, but the fact that a… blind man in his 20s suddenly had a baby dropped into his lap, and he still somehow made life work, which should tell you everything about him.”

He told her the story of how she came to be, and it amazes her so many times how he handled the situation. He could have easily given her up in his hard living times, but he didn’t. He made sure he did every in his power to give her the life that he never had growing up.

“Sure, it was rough a few times; Sure, he took a few odd jobs for a few months to make some extra cash; Sure, there were times he had no clue if he was doing something right in raising me, but he did it.” Kaila continues proudly. “He made a life for himself, started his own career, turned people around him into his family, he even had the chance to start changing the city for the best. And if you’re just…”

She scoffs. “Stuck with an image of what you two had. And from what I’m gathering you didn’t sit back and see the rest of him; You just saw what you wanted and that’s it. That’s not on him or anyone else. That’s on you, Lady. Deal with it.”

She might as well be playing with fire at this point, especially all the strength and/or stupidness she had for snapping at this woman; But she’s so hung up on her dad, so desperate to paint him a different way, that if the roles were reversed right now, her father would be saying the same thing.

And I’m not letting anybody bad mouth my dad anymore. The teenager held her breath, realizing how quiet everything had just gotten. Maybe I just–

With a swift kick, her crutches were knocked to the side making her immediately clinging onto the back of the couch; Her injured leg reacting to the sudden pressure. She bites her lip and meets the other woman’s intense gaze -- like the hunter had finally stopped playing with its kill.

Elektra bares her teeth. “You–”

“You need to stay away from my Dad.” Kaila snaps, stinging eyes full of anger. “You need to stay away from him, and you need to stay away from everything he’s worked for. His job, his acquaintances, his friends. Everything. And if you really need legal help, go across the street to Landman & Zack’s, I’m sure they’ll be happy to help you.”

“You have no authority.” 

“Sure hell I do. My Dad has been the happiest he’s been in a long time, and I will not let you ruin it for him. So Stay. The Fuck. Away From Him.”

Before a bigger outlash of some sort could happen, the front door was slammed wide open, causing the whole place to shake. 

“Kai!” Matt shouts, as he runs in at top speed.

“Dad?” Kaila says, surprised. 

“Matthew–” Elektra says, before getting aggressively pinned against the wall by him.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” He hissed, as Foggy and Karen surrounded the teenager protectively. 

“Matthew–”

“Answer my question!”

“Just thought I would stop by.” She says, eyes avoiding his face to the others. “Is that Franklin? Finally cut that hair of yours.”

Matt shifts his elbow higher and just underneath her jaw, grabbing her attention again. “Talk.”

Her lips fold out into a straight line. “I told you I needed help, no?”

“You told me over the phone it was over.”

“I lied.”

“Yeah, no shit.” He snaps, irritated. “You’ve been lying since you showed up yesterday. And that ends now. I want to know what you’re doing back here in the city, and why the hell you’re in my house with my daughter?”

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t need a lawyer, Matthew. I just need some help from your other job.”

He quickly freezes before tightening that grip. “How the fuck do you know about that?”

“Oh, please. I know who you are because I watch the news. ‘The successful apprehension of Wilson Fisk’.”

“I wear a mask.”

“Well, you can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere.” Elektra grins like it was the best news she saw. “You’ve been working out, by the way. I appreciate that.”

He pushes more. “Who are you actually fighting?”

“The Yakuza.”

“The Yakuza?” Is she being serious? “The Yakuza are a powerful organization with powerful enemies.” Matt gets a hum for a reply. “What do they want with you?”

“I guess I have a way of pissing people off sometimes.”

“Yeah, I agree.”

“Come on. Don’t be angry, Matthew.” She tells him in that sweet, seductive voice she tends to use to get her way. “I told you. My money’s planted deeply inside investments with the Roxxon Corporation. And Roxxon has ties to crime.”

“How long have you known that?”

“I didn’t.” Another shrug. “Until the meeting. I stirred the pot a little on the business side. And when I did, who came knocking on my door but the Yakuza. Their mistake, because now, they’re after me. So I need your help.”

“No.” Matt scoffs, which almost sounded like a laugh because it was all just so ridiculous. “Uh-uh. There is no us. This is your problem. Why can’t you just divest your funds from Roxxon and be done with it?”

She sighs. “That’s a coward’s way out. Someone screwed with me. I don’t like that.”

“Then get a lawyer.”

“I thought I did.”

“You fired me for a job I didn’t even take. Call the police.”

“You’re one to talk. ‘Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’.”

“What I do is none of your business, all right? Not anymore.”

“Matthew–”

“Let me tell you what’s gonna happen now.” And he makes sure she’s really listening before continuing, “When I let go, you’re gonna get up and leave. You’re gonna book yourself on the first available flight out of New York and get on it, go back to whatever spa, or resort, or five-star hotel you just came from, and stay out of my city and especially out of my house. If the Yakuza have their sights set on something bigger than your spoiled little rich ass, then I will take care of them.”

“Let me tell you. The Yakuza do have a bigger plan, and I’m not going anywhere.” Elektra says, all high and mighty sounding.

“You can’t fight them.”

“And you can?”

“I drove them out of New York once before.”

She chuckles, amused, “Oh, no, you didn’t. The Yakuza never left. They just hibernated and watched you take out all of their enemies. Now, New York is ripe for the taking, and they plan on getting to the top of the hill first. Well, we’ll scare ‘em back into hibernation. What do you say?” She sticks out her hand. “Partners?”

He only lets go of the hold on her to bat the hand away. “I don’t need a partner. Especially not with you.”

“Yes, you do.” She smiles. “And so do I. Because you have skills. You fight better than anyone I know. But I have information. I gained access to Roxxon’s servers right in front of their little criminal faces. We do it together, we take them down fast and hard. The second it’s done, I’m out of your city. Forever.”

Matt clenches his teeth, trying not to lash out. “The last time I saw you, you put a knife in my hand and asked me to slit Roscoe Sweeney’s throat. I happen to respect human life. Unlike you.”

“Matthew–”

“Get out.”

“Matthew, come on.” She begs, eagerly. “For old time sake. Forget about life for a while. Your job. Give yourself a break from being a father. Let’s drive them out together.”

He scoffs again. “You have… quite a pair on you. This may come as a surprise to you, but I’ve actually moved on in the years since you left. I’m seeing someone now, and I finally have the business I wanted with my best friend; And I have the responsibility of being a parent. Which is why I have zero interest in ever starting anything up with you ever again.”

True. Everything he said was true, which is why she seemed so hurt. She knew he was being truthful.

“Your daughter really was telling the truth.” She said, quietly. Matt says nothing, letting it really sink in. “Fine. I’ll do it myself.” She sidesteps around him and starts walking for the exit. “Goodbye, Matthew.”

When she left they all felt like they could breathe when she finally left. It was like a huge weight got pulled from their chests.

“Kai–” Karen begins, squeezing the teenager’s shoulder for attention.

“What happened? Did she do anything to you?” Matt asks, going into protective mode as he is suddenly right by her side.

“She just… wanted to know where I came from.” Kaila replies, truthfully. “I’m okay. Really.”

“You sure?” He pushes.

“Yeah.” Better now that they’re here. “You guys came fast. How?”

“Your friend Jayden called the office.” Foggy replies, catching her by surprise. 

“Jayden did?”

“He called because he thought the interaction between the two of you was weird. And thank god he did.” He sighs, his heart has finally stopped pounding. “Now we gotta meet this kid.”

She smiles. “I’m sure you will. We didn’t exactly finish our conversation.”

“So… are you guys good then?”

“Yeah.” Kaila says, with a nod. “It was just a misunderstanding.”

“Awe, that’s wonderful.” Karen said, happily. 

“Think this one will stick?” Matt asked, happy too, but still a bit weary. 

“Yeah.” Kaila said, confidently. “I think this one will. Unlike past friendships, he wasn’t turned off by the blindness.”

“Hey! That’s great!” Foggy says, clasping his hands together. “I’m liking this kid even better now.”

She laughs. “Yeah…” Then her face falls. “I’m sorry about interrupting your date.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. We still had a great time. Right?” Matt asks the blonde.

“Yep. We did.” Karen agrees, just as Foggy plants his hands over the teen’s ears.

“How great of a time?” He teases, causing a bit of blushing between the adults.

“Ew!” Kaila elbows her Uncle. “I can still hear, you know?!”

“Uh, no you can’t.” He shifts his arms around her, and gives her noogie. “Goofball.”

“Hey!”

“So–” His eyes shift back to Matt. “What are you going to do? Are you going to stay the night? Or… I-I mean, I would like to point out, you did kick down the door pretty hard.”

“You kicked the door down?” Kai said, concerned/shocked. 

Matt frowns. “We probably should stay somewhere else tonight. Just in case.”

“Want to stay at my place?” Foggy asked, as he got a smug look.

“Will Marci be okay with us sliding into your bed?”

“Oh, shit. Totally slipped my mind.”

Karen laughs quietly. “Want to just come back over?” 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“You okay?” 

Her voice broke through his thoughts like a knife as he was subconsciously rubbing his knuckles while sitting on the edge of the bed (The achiness of wanting to go out and punch something/someone was nagging at him). Of course his mind was going a mile a minute, of course he was getting sucked into his own head; It was another stupid cross he had to bear. He just…

Sick of all of this.

“Every time I think something’s officially over with, it just crawls back from the dead.” He sighs. “What have I done to deserve some of this? I thought I’ve done enough good, and I thought I’ve made up for some of the bad things. But I guess not.”

“Matt–” Karen starts, as she sinks down next to him.

“Remember the story I told you about how Kai came into my life? How I almost gave her up?” He hears her shake her head. “The first year with her, there were a few times I almost went back to that. I just… I can’t see her, and despite all my other senses, I sometimes didn’t even know why she would start crying; Or if she was hungry, or tired, I just didn’t know. And… I mean Foggy was there, thank god, and so was his family, they were always so helpful, but… I was so lost. I doubted myself. There were so many times I thought, ‘Maybe her life would be better without me there’.”

“Matt…”

“And I was nervous about Mary.” He squeezes his hands together. “Enraged too. Hell, there were a lot of emotions there. And it’s not that I wanted her back in my life, yet… I still feel like she needed to be there in some way, you know?”

He still remembers their fights, the last one being pretty miserable to the point they just said ‘Good Riddance’ and went the other way. 

Karen senses the hatred and plants her hand on top of his. “Who was Mary?” She asks, carefully. 

Matt closes his eyes and takes a sharp breath. “We met when I was in my… ‘party boy era’ so to speak. She was smart, sharp as a tack, quick witted, and very punctual too. She mentioned once her dad had a military background, and drilled it into her head, I guess.” He felt her squeeze his hands to comfort. “She was great… but it was messy from the start. I didn’t listen to my gut, nor Foggy. What really ended it for me was the fact that I felt like I was being interrogated by her; Like she was nitpicking me to find something useful. I don’t know. Then I forgot about her, graduated, got an apartment and then the rest is history.”

“If you didn’t have the best relationship–” She tilted her head, curiosity peaked to the fullest. “Why the feeling about wanting her back?”

“I guess I just wanted Kai to have her mom.” His expression deepens. “I never had a mom growing up, she left when I was a baby, and I never really got the chance to ask my dad about her. Why…” This was so hard to talk about. “Why did she walk out? Was she ever coming back? Or… why did a hardcore Atheist like my father raised to be Catholic like my mother? Why did I do wrong to have both my parents taken from me?”

“Matt–”

“Why did God put the devil inside me? Why must all the bad things come back to me?”

“Don’t.” She takes his hand into hers now. “Don’t put yourself down like this. And you want to know why?” He starts shaking his head, knowing he doesn’t deserve her kind words. “Because despite all these horrible things, you have turned out to be a good man.” He squeezes his eyes shut as she holds him close. “You graduated at the top of your class. You made a friend that thinks of you as his own brother. You got your apartment all on your own. You were given a healthy, beautiful, and happy daughter.”

His mind starts pulling all those memories to the front stage for him to view. The graduation where Foggy’s brother, Theo, nearly plowed them over for a giant hug; Mrs. Nelson’s never ending photos before insisting Matt and her son to come over for a big feast. - Finally having enough money to afford his own apartment. - Foggy and him hitting it off immediately. - When the nurse placed his daughter in his arms for the first time, it became love at first touch. - Despite all the darkness that surrounded his heart, God had given him a few good things over the years. 

He feels Karen’s thumb stroking the back of his hand as she continues her words, 

“You started your own business, you’ve helped people in and out of your suit and tie; You’ve helped me and you gave me a job.” She cracks a soft smile, enough for him to hear. “And deep down, I think even if you didn’t have these abilities, I still firmly believe the day you met me, that you still would have believed me. I still believed that you would have known wrong from right even without your abilities. ‘Cause you–” Touches his chest. “Are a good man, Matthew. Someone I’m proud to have in my life. And I’m sure everyone around you would agree.”

That’s…

That’s all he needed/wanted to hear.

He envelopes her free hand into his and gives her a quick kiss on her forehead. “Thank you.” He mutters, resting his head on her shoulder. “For putting up with my… everything.”

She hums quietly. “Anytime, Matt.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

As soon as they set foot inside the building the very next morning, Matt perked up when he tuned in on something.

“Something’s wrong, Dad?” Kaila asked, trailing a few steps behind him carefully.

“Sounds like there’s someone else other than Foggy is in our office.” 

“Someone… bad?”

“I don’t know. Let’s stay on our toes.” The three of them entered, Matt saying something first. “Early start today, Fog?”

Foggy looked so relieved they’re finally here. “Guys.” He begins, a bit of an annoyance in his undertone for the person sitting across from him. “Uh, this is Christopher Roth. He’s the public defender assigned to the Castle case.”

“The public defender? For Castle?” Karen asked, surprised to find out someone was already placed under Frank’s aid.

The man, Roth, seemed happy that she was here, eager for her to take a seat (which they all did). “I just dropped by to get Miss Page’s signature on this statement.” He shows off the paper to her. “So, um, Miss Page, I drew this up based on your official statement to the police, about the Metro-General shooting.”

Karen pulls it closer to her to read, while Matt was about to say something pushy; But Foggy cuts right in, poking around the man whose presence didn’t sit right with him either. “You new to New York, Mr. Roth?”

Roth blinks, confused, but answers. “Born and raised.”

“Is this your first case?”

“Second. I won my first. Domestic violence. I believe in protecting women.” His last statement seemed to be directed at the blonde who flashed him a strange look.

“That’s nice. Appreciate it.” Kaila said from the far end of the table, observing. 

“Um… who is–”

“Eh, don’t mind her. She’s an intern.” Foggy plays it off, which seemed to confuse him even more.

Karen looks up briefly to say, “Uh, this says that Castle pursued me down the stairwell, but I went down, he went up.”

“Um, okay, that’s a change I can make.” Roth replies, jotting that down on his notepad.

“Also, I didn’t escape on foot, I had a car. I know I told the NYPD about that.”

“Um, car–”

“I was also not Castle’s only target. That’s just flat out wrong.” She says, stunned by what she’s reading. “What about Grotto? Where– Where did you get my statement? 

“Grotto?”

“Grote. Our client, Elliot Grote.” Matt said, like it was obvious.

“Oh, yes, him.” Roth nods. “Yeah, he’s on the victim list. Ballistics matched him to one of the many guns connected to Frank Castle. Look, I just need a signature. Once we’ve got that, we’re all done.”

“Well, with this meeting.” Karen says, as she reads the last of it.

“With this case.”

She paused, along with everyone else in the room. Her eyes meet him again and asks, “How so?”

“Castle’s awake.” He explains, nonchalantly. “Soon, he’ll plead guilty, then it’s open and shut.”

“Open and shut is good. New York will sleep better knowing Frank Castle’s behind bars.” Foggy agrees, with a slow nod. 

“Sleep even better when he’s dead.” Those words rolled off his tongue that made everyone grow quiet yet again.

“Uh, dead?” Matt asks, puzzled; Eyebrow raised as he sits up straighter. 

“Well, lethal injection, probably, although the electric chair is a possibility.”

“New York doesn’t have the death penalty.”

“Yeah, but Delaware does. Some Dogs of Hell were murdered out there along Interstate 95.” Roth points out, suddenly making the whole room feel uncomfortable. “DA Reyes just has to link the killings to Castle, and then they’ll be well within their rights to extradite him. And you know–”

“Are you and DA Reyes friends?” Foggy cuts him off, the annoyance stirring up again. That seemed to make the other party unsettled from the way he shifted in his chair.

“I met her once.”

“When?”

“Yesterday, when the judge assigned me to the case.”

“Of course you did.” Foggy whispers under his breath, while shaking his head.

“Well, look…” Roth looks between them. “She’s the one who took down the Punisher. She’s not going through all these paces so that she can not put the final nail in his coffin.”

Matt scoffs. “Literally.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Roth, I can’t sign this yet.” Karen says, while shoving the paper back his way. 

“Um, A-Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“We’ll be in touch, Mr. Roth.” Matt says, another way of telling him to get the F out of here now. He does, gathering his things in a sloppy manner and scurry out of there without another word.

“Well, he seems great.” Kaila says, breaking the ice.

Karen stands up from the chair, hands on her stern hips. “Statement he wanted me to sign? Complete work of fiction. Probably handcrafted by Reyes.”

“Totally not disagreeing.” Foggy says, hands up in defense. “We could just write an anonymous letter, and maybe the judge will assign a new public defender.”

Matt shrugs at the idea. “Yeah, or we could help Castle ourselves… like we talked about.”

His eyes widened a smidge. “No way. You guys are still on board with this?”

“Yeah.” The blind man says, Karen nodding with him.

“I was hoping you weren’t…” He mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I was hoping you all wake up with a better mind set.”

“We don’t have to ‘full on’ defend him. We could just negotiate a plea deal. Without extradition, or an electric chair. And then, Castle goes away, Reyes gets her ticker-tape parade, everyone wins.”

“Everyone except us.” Foggy frowns, finally standing up. “Look, I know he helped you save Kai’s life, but do you see the front door?” He points at it. “The ‘open’ sign is up, but nobody’s walking in. If we keep messing with Reyes, we’ll be shuttered by the end of the month.”

“Look, I know we’re on a thin thread here, but come on. If we stand up to her, we could actually end her incessant bullying.”

“And possibly save this guy’s life.” Karen chimes in.

“A murderer who shot at you.” Foggy states the obvious. 

“For reasons that I don’t fully understand yet.”

“Roth said Castle’s gonna plead guilty. So we get in there, we talk to him–” Matt starts.

“Ask him some questions about what really happened to his family, why Reyes wants him dead.” Karen continues.

And the brunette finishes with, “Build a fair plea, and show the DA our justice system still has a backbone.”

Foggy takes a second to rub his hands on his face and through his hair that he swears it’s going to turn gray between these two. “This is a bad idea, guys.” He scoffs. “I can’t believe we’re even discussing this! He chained you to a roof, Matt. You, of all people, should know he’s a psychopath.”

Matt frowns, but not disagreeing. “Okay, his methodology is clearly wrong, but in his own kind of way, he was trying to do something noble. I mean, you, Karen and even Kai have been to his house, you have seen his life before. There’s a reason he’s doing all this.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” He asks, then looks between his two friends. “Even you, Karen.”

“Yeah, we understand, Foggy. We really do. But he wanted justice. Like us.” She replies, making him take a deep breath. 

“So we should risk everything? Our firm, our reputation, and– and let’s be honest, our safety? We should put it all on the line to help him?”

Matt shrugs again. “Kinda. Yeah.”

“He’s a person. Like you, Foggy. Like me. Like all of us. And he shouldn’t have to die.” Karen adds, making him throw his head back and sigh.

“Ugh. God, I hate when the two of you tag team me.” He admits, as he gathers his things together. “I guess we’re going to the hospital.”

“Hospital?” Kaila asked, confused.

“We got to interview Frank.” Her father says, also getting his things. “You’re still going to have to come with us. But the police probably won’t let you near his room since you’re a minor.”

The young girl shrugged. “Eh, I can probably hang out in the cafeteria. I don’t mind.”

“It shouldn’t take long. We’ll try to be quick.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

After being patted down at the hospital entrance, the trio was run over by camera flashes as reporters nearly bulldozed them over as they stepped out of the elevator. Karen pretends to guide Matt as they follow Foggy up towards the front of the crowd.

“Looks like every outlet in town wants a word with Castle.” She says, getting a little overwhelmed with this many people in one small area. 

“Or a report on who does.” Matt adds, continuing their way until they were stopped by a police officer. 

“You press?”

“Uh, no, attorneys.”

“IDs?”

They flashed their IDs, before the officer waves for them to follow and leads them further down the hallway. 

Foggy slows his steps and comes to stand next to his friends, lowering his voice. “This much spotlight concerns anyone else? I mean, we’re about to step onto a big proscenium stage here.” He throws his hands out dramatically. “And how do I know what proscenium means? Because I did theater in summer camp which is exactly the kind of thing that these reporters will find out if they start digging into me.”

Matt couldn’t help but smirk at his performance. “Come on, jazz hands.”

“What the hell are you three doing here?” Brett’s voice came through, being as ‘cheerful’ as always when interacting with them.

“Brett!” Foggy faces bloomed with a big smile. “You’re wearing a tie, and it’s not a clip-on.”

The cop purses his lips. “This ain’t a good time, Foggy.”

“How’d you get babysitting duty, Sergeant?”

“A Detective Sergeant now.”

“A promotion?” Foggy replies, like he totally did not know about this already. 

“Uh, just lucky.” Brett says, shrugging and averting his gaze somewhere else for a second. “Top dogs like the press of a good collar.”

“Yeah, and the cops that get ‘em.” Karen says, smiling. “Congratulations, Detective.”

“Alright you three, enough sugar coating. This area is restricted beyond this point. You can’t be here.”

“What if we have business with Frank Castle?” Matt replies, getting a look.

“Business?” Brett almost laughs. “Guy’s barely conscious.”

“Our firm wants to represent him.”

“Man’s already got a lawyer.”

Foggy scoffs. “Yeah, we met that benchwarmer. Not the freshest fish the city could’ve drummed up, but he’s in the running.”

Matt clears his throat while readjusting his hold on his cane. “Brett, we feel Nelson and Murdock is better equipped to represent Mr. Castle’s best interests. Certainly over that of his current legal counsel.”

Brett holds his tongue. “Look, I don’t ask questions, but every firm in the city has passed this one by. Must be a reason. You’re chasing the wrong ambulance. DA wants the death penalty.”

Karen nods, before saying, “The public defender is all but ready to roll over and help.”

“They’ll even extradite Castle out of New York if that’s what it takes.” Matt adds.

“So, we thought he’d respond to our strategy of, you know, keeping him alive.” Foggy finishes. 

Brett looks between the three, realizing that they are the definition of ‘Dog with a Bone’. “Come over here.” He sighs, and ushers them over to an empty corner to be more quiet. “Look, none of this is my problem. But all I know is, you go up against this DA and lose? The only funeral to attend will be your firm’s. You’re talkin’ career suicide.”

“If we walk away we’re letting him die.” Matt retaliates, making the other man sigh. 

“Bags and briefcases get searched.” He says, pointing to an empty table with a few cops around. “Do not give Castle anything. Do not take anything from him. Arms up.”

The brunette raises an eyebrow above his glasses. “They already searched us when we came in downstairs.”

“Yeah? And we’re gonna do it again.” Brett quickly pats them down. “Everything’s been removed from inside the room. He’s tied down, but keep your distance and mind the tape. Do not step past it or I get to make my dream come true and arrest you.”

“Understood, Captain.” Foggy says, giving a quick salute.

“Let them check your stuff before going in. Except, Matt–” He stops the man from walking away with the other. “I need to talk to you for a quick second.”

“Okay. Um–” Matt looks at his friends. “I’ll be right there.” They leave, and Matt immediately picks up how nervous Brett suddenly was.

“I’m actually kind of glad you’re here, I was going to come see you before I got roped up into this.”

“What is it?”

“He’s dead.” The words slipped from Brett’s mouth that made Matt almost shutter. 

“What?”

“The man who took Kaila. He’s dead.”

“Dead?” Did he hear that right? “H-How? Are you saying ‘brain dead’, like from his coma?”

“No. Dead, dead.” Brett frowns, almost like it was his fault the man had passed. “When I got wind that he was conscious I sent some guys out to see how conscious, to see if he could actually talk well enough to give us some info on why he took your kid. But when they arrived, he was dead.”

Matt’s heart skipped a beat, and his stomach twisted for an unexplained reason. “Natural causes?”

“I don’t know. They’re investigating it right now. But with this whole Castle thing now, the police department’s mostly focusing on that. Unless this thing starts slowing down, I’m just giving you the heads up that there’s a possibility that this might grow cold. I’m sorry.”

Well that’s not something he wanted to hear today. But, he does appreciate his honesty. “It’s not your fault. Although I want answers, I’m just glad she’s home.”

“Yeah. But–” Brett pats his shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll find answers. You’re pretty good at that.”

Matt tilts his head, confused. “Excuse me?”

“Nevermind. Enjoy your talk with Castle.”

.

.

.

And he left him with more questions than answers yet again. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Oh, my God.” Karen said upon seeing the man again. I mean, he was pretty bruised when she saw him on the rooftop with Matt, but… Jesus. This way, way worse.

“Uh, the tape.” Foggy said, stopping the three of them from crossing.

“Frank Castle?” The sweetness in her voice finally reached his ears and made him open his half swollen eyes; His hardened gaze falling just a smidge.

“Ah. It’s you.” He croaked, his voice hoarse. “Nice to see you again, Red.”

“Nice to see you again, too.” Matt admits, and his lips curled upwards slightly. “Allow me to introduce myself properly this time. My name is Matthew Murdock. These are my associates, Franklin Nelson and Karen Page.”

Frank chuckled quietly. “Yeah. I know who you are. You protect shitbags… mostly.”

“We came here today to make you an offer.”

“An offer?” Another laugh. “You feel like you owe me, Red?”

“Well, you did help bring my daughter home. But even if you didn’t, we still would like to help you. We don’t need money, we’re not interested in fame or free advertising. Weren’t even assigned to your case. We don’t have to be here.”

“Ah.” He nods and closes his eyes again. “Then go.”

Matt frowns, worriedly at how defeated he sounds. “Look, Frank. Take a quick look around, and you’ll notice we’re the only ones who want to be here and help you. As you may well know, your list of enemies extends well beyond the gangs you’ve killed. You’re very good at making powerful enemies. And the day you were admitted to Metro-General for the round you took to the head, a do-not-resuscitate order was placed on you.”

“And a shoot-to-kill order, just a few days ago.” Foggy points out

“We know, because we heard it be given.” Karen says, frowning. 

“These orders were issued by the District Attorney. And the fact that she’s had it in for us ever since we started asking questions tells us we’re on the right track.” Matt continues, jaw tightening. “Someone in the DA’s office wants you dead, Frank and we’d like to know why. You let us take your case, we can soften your sentence, and give you a shot. Maybe even find out who’s responsible for what happened to you. We’re talking about your life. We can help you keep what’s left of it.”

“Yeah.” Frank scoffs, rolling his eyes. “What’s left. You know what’s left of me, Red. Fucking nothing.”

“But don’t you want answers?” Karen pushes in.

“Karen–” Foggy begins, but she keeps going.

“We want answers too, but none of us will get them if you’re dead.”

“Eh… death’s fine.” Frank mutters. “I could use the sleep.”

“But what about your family? Matt told us you spoke about your family briefly with him. I mean, isn’t this why you started all this? To find out what happened to them?”

“Listen, Blondie–”

“Mr. Castle, we’ve been to your house.”

He froze. “What?”

“Karen–” Foggy warned, just before they all jumped at the sound of someone pounding their fist into the door.

“Who’s in there?” They asked, as a brief, incoherent explanation was passed to her. “What?!” They knocked again. “Open the door! Open–”

Karen grits her teeth and turns up the heat. “Someone is lying about what happened to your family, Mr. Castle. Don’t you want answers?”

But before Frank could reply, DA Reyes came bursting into the room

“You three, out!!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The three of them were ushered out into the hallway, trying their best to ignore the screaming woman until she was right in front of their faces.

“How can we help you, Ms. Reyes?” Matt asked, with a bit of bite.

“Get your things and go.” She demands, as they all shrugged. 

“Uh, we have a little bit of business here left.”

“Frank Castle already has counsel. So, unless you’ve asked the public defender for permission to speak to his client, you are in violation of New York legal ethics.”

“We spoke to the PD this morning. To be honest, he doesn’t seem all that prepared to tackle this case. Although, he did mention the conversation that you had with him yesterday.”

She scoffs. “Matt Murdock, is it?”

“Yeah–” He flashes a shit-eating grin. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“You have a reputation of being a smart man, Mr. Murdock. And since your colleagues seem unable to grasp the hornets’ nest they keep kicking, let me direct this at you.” She puts her hands on her hips. “Leave this ward, leave this man, leave this entire case behind before you wake up six feet under the ash that was your reputation and promising legal career.”

“We have a right to a private conversation with a prospective client.”

“Not if there’s a conflict of interest.”

He raises an eyebrow. “And what conflict is that?”

“Elliot Grote.” She says, looking between the three. “You can’t represent Castle when one of his victims was your former client.”

“Alleged victims.” Foggy corrects, as Reyes gives him a glare.

“All the same.”

“Representing Grotto might have complicated matters, but then again, all evidence of our work with him and our deal with you seems to have disappeared from public record.” Matt points out, as all the color in her face suddenly drained (And his colleagues smile). “It’s almost as if someone didn’t want it known that you violated a wit-pro contract, jeopardized the safety of said witness, and then ordered a shoot-to-kill on Castle.”

“But I guess Ms. Reyes could just confess to that when she files this conflict of interest complaint. We have our case files to back up our story.” Foggy finishes, with a sassy undertone. “How’s your side looking?”

“The fact of the matter is, Ms. Reyes, the only person who shouldn’t be here right now is you.” Matt continues, with a ghost of a smile. “Seeing as it’s a breach of ethics for the prosecuting attorney to communicate with the defendant without his assigned legal counsel present. So, if you’ll excuse us, we’d like to resume convincing Mr. Castle that, unlike his current legal counsel, we can actually help him.”

“You already did.” Brett announced as he came into view.

Reyes’ snapped her head in his direction, eyes wide. “What?”

“Castle doesn’t want the public defender. Says Nelson and Murdock are his lawyers now.”

“Thank you, Detective Sergeant. If you’ll excuse us.” Matt says, holding his hand out. “Foggy, do you have my cane?” His friend quickly scrambled to grab it off the table and handed it over. “Thank you.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Finally feel like we have the upper hand against that woman.” Karen said, as they entered an empty room to regroup. 

“Yeah, she bluffs well, but she’ll negotiate.” Matt sighs with his hands on his hip. “She doesn’t want this going to trial.”

“Of course.” Foggy scoffs, upset. “She wants it to end quickly, so she can move on to burying us.”

“Just deal with one problem at a time.”

“So where are we supposed to start?” Karen asks, as Matt jogs his brain.

“Let’s have the charges and evidence summary brought in here. We can weed through it and work out what terms we want directly with Frank.”

“It’ll save time.” Foggy says, running a hand through his hair. “Can’t believe this is happening.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The three of them (mostly just Karen and Foggy for obvious reasons), had giant piles of paperwork scattered in front of them. By the time they had read through everything, the sun was already starting to set.

“It’s worse than I thought.” Foggy says, breaking the ice first. “Thirty-seven separate murder charges. What about you, Karen?”

“Uh–” She recounts everything in her head for a second, before saying, “98 lesser, I mean, felony assault, burglary, criminal possession of a weapon, reckless endangerment. Any number of criminal mischief charges.”

“And that’s it?” Matt asked, as he took everything in (Maybe they did bite off more than they could chew).

“Yeah.”

“We’re so fucking screwed.” The Nelson said, as he shook his head.

“You guys ready to go in?”

“No. But considering the arraignment in a couple hours, we don’t have much of a choice.” A sigh. “Time to play twenty questions with a killer.”

After getting checked and patted down again, They made their way back inside with the paperwork, ready to go head-to-head with the lunatic. 

“Frank–” Matt begins, as they make their way to the red line again. “Thank you for allowing us to be your attorneys.” Despite the genuine ‘thank you’, his client didn’t say anything. “Uh, Foggy?”

“Right. Um–” Foggy starts reading over his notes. “We’ve reviewed the charges you’re facing. It’s my understanding that you wish to plead guilty to all of them?” Nothing. “Uh, I’m gonna need a verbal confirmation if we’re gonna continue.” Still nothing. He frowns. “Look, you asked us to represent you. In order to do my job–”

“I’m guilty.” Frank croaked, as the wheels started turning in his head.

Foggy looked at his friends who smiled. “Great, uh–”

“I’m not talking to you yet.” 

“Excuse me?”

Frank’s eyes traveled to Karen’s and said, “Blondie?”

“Yes?”

“You said you went to my house?”

She swallows. “Y-Yes?”

“When?”

“Um…” Karen looks at the others who honestly, didn’t know what to say. “T-Two… Two days ago.”

Frank hums, thinking. “So that’s when Red and I duked it out with the Irish. And you also mention ‘we’. Which I’m thinking is–” He gestures to Foggy. “Him. But that also was shortly after the whole thing with…” His trailing off caused the lawyers to look at one another, puzzled and worried.

“Um, Frank?” Matt begins, trying to get a good reading off him. “What are you–”

“I want to talk to your kid, Red.” And that’s how you silence a room with a few words. The father’s eyes widened a bit just as the Uncle exploded.

“Um, Absolutely not!” Foggy said, immediately. “My Niece is not–”

“I want to talk to her.” Frank locks his gaze with the blind man. “You know I won’t hurt her, Red.”

Matt kept his cool and simply asked, “Why do you want to talk to my daughter?”

“Because I know out of everyone here, that fucking Reyes hasn’t touched her yet.” 

“Is that the only reason?”

“Yes.” Lie. Of course the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen could tell. But oddly enough, it sounded like Frank lied for a reason that only he could pick up.

Foggy sighs after a moment of silence and says, “Listen, Mr. Castle–”

“We’ll have to talk to the leading officer here to see if that’s even possible seeing that she’s still a minor.” Matt explains, as he feels his friends’ look of bewilderment on him. “And if it is allowed, my daughter also has to accept it.”

“Then go ask.” Frank said, resting his eyes again. “I got all the time.”

“Alright. I will.” He starts leading them away, but they manage to get between him and the door.

“Matt, are you crazy?” Karen said, in a whisper. “You’re going to leave your daughter alone with him?”

“I thought you had a soft spot for Frank?”

“I-I do! But… there’s a bit of a difference here between me and your kid.”

“Why are you okay with this?” Foggy asked, disappointed. “If I was you, I’d be freaking out right now.”

“I am.” He gets a look. “I am. Trust me. The only reason I’m even considering this is because of his background. I think…” He stops to think. “Karen, didn’t you mention you took a photo from his house?”

“Uh– y-yeah.” She sighs after realizing she didn’t have her bag. “It’s in my purse.”

“Right. Let’s go check that real quick.” They leave the room and retrieve her purse from the police. Hiding it from an outsider’s view she pulls it out. 

“I’m a little confused, Matt. What are we looking at? Or for?”

“If I’m right, then…” He takes a deep breath. “Is his daughter on there?”

“Um, yes.”

“Good. Now, uh, I want you two to get a good look at her.” The two of them spared him another gaze before doing so, it only took a few seconds for him to hear their breaths’ hitch and heart rate spike to confirm what he was thinking. “You see?”

“It makes sense.” Foggy admits in defeat. “Talking to someone who resembles a loved one does make one more comforting.”

“I… I still don’t like it.” Karen replies, saddened. “But I understand. You still okay with this though?”

“If getting him to talk freely involves using my daughter then… I guess we have no choice.” Matt said, still not a hundred percent sold, but this might be their only chance at getting him to speak (Or at least open up to a point of trust). “Hey, Brett?”

“Yeah?” The cop said, turning around at his name.

“I need to run something by you.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Miss Murdock, arms up please.”

Kaila let them pat her down while handing over her crutches and purse, letting all the weight to her good leg like she’s been practicing (PT’s a bitch, but it has been helping). 

“Do not give Castle anything. Do not take anything from him. Understood?” The officer explained, as she nodded. “If your leg starts acting up, we’d place a chair inside, but do not go pass the red tape.”

“Got it.” She muttered, and faced the adults. “Is that all the reports?”

“Uh, yeah. It is.” Karen said, still hesitant to hand it over. 

Matt frowns, nerves starting to grow more. “Kai, you don’t have to–”

“I’ll do it.” The teenager cuts off as she takes the paperwork. 

“Really? You positive?”

“You need answers. You need to build trust. I’ll do it.” Kaila looks at her Dad one last time. “And do not eavesdrop.” He opens his mouth. “Please?”

He sighs quietly. “Alright.” He feels her distrustful stare. “Alright. I cross my heart.”

“Thanks.”

The teenager takes a deep breath before entering on her wobbly feet. Upon entering she saw his dark eyes open, the only part of his body moving with his chest for light breathing. Surprisingly, she wasn’t as scared or uneasy as she thought she would be. Maybe her brain automatically accepted him as soon as he saved her back on the rooftop? Still, she doesn’t sit right away, instead she clings to the back of it, pushing it a bit closer to the red line on the floor. Her brown orbs caught his bruised hand moving and pointed at her.

“Your leg? What happened?” Frank asked, voice still scruffy, but gentle. 

“Uh… I uh, got a little lippy with the guy.” She says, smacking her lips. “I, uh, hot-headed is kind of my curse.”

He laughs dryly. “That makes two of us.”

That got her to crack a smile for a split second before asking, “Um, how… how are you feeling?”

His hum sounds a bit on the edge of a growl. “Shitty. You know all they gave me was an ibuprofen?”

“That’s it?” She frowns. “But aren’t you still a patient? Shouldn’t they give you something stronger?”

“Nah. No nurse or doctor wants to come near me.” He scoffs. “I’m not the fuckin’ Hulk, I can’t break out of these cuffs with one tug.”

His words affected her a lot. Criminal or not, you should still help him.

“I heard you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yeah.” He nods, slowly. “My family. What do you know? I know you went into my house.”

“I did.” She frowns, guilty. “I apologize if we overstep. We just thought we should know a bit more about you.”

Frank stays quiet for a moment then says, “You know what they’d be saying about me? About all this? How disappointed they must be?”

Her face morphs into a surprise when she realizes who he’s referring to. “Mr. Castle–”

“Have you heard about the Police report? Complaint number 211974.” He continues, his face twisting into something she couldn’t pinpoint. “‘Victims were stopped at a traffic light northbound on Buellton Ave, when an unidentified male suspect began firing a 9mm handgun at their vehicle. Juvenile male, juvenile female, and adult woman were found dead at the scene. Adult male driver was critically wounded and taken to Metro-General’.”

Vehicle– what? She blinks and shakes her head. “That’s… that’s all bullshit. Right?”

“Yep.” He pops the ‘P’, teeth then gritting in disgust. “That’s the story that fuckin’ DA woman is running with. But you and I, and your family out there, know we were at the carousel that day.”

“How much do you remember?” 

“This ain’t about what I remember.”

“But I think it is.” Kaila pushes. “From what my Father and his friends got are a lot of puzzle pieces, but trust me, this moves a lot smoother if you can tell us anything.”

Another pause. “It goes in and out.”

“Yeah?”

“The fact that it fades…” His brows pushed together as he tried to recall the distant memory. “We took our blanket down to our spot. She… my daughter was by the carousel on the lawn. Then I heard her shout. Scream. It was a grown man.”

“Who did you see?”

“I didn’t. But I found out later. The Cartel. Irish. Bikers.”

“Anyone else?”

“I should’ve seen it coming.” He says, almost between a laugh and a cry.

She gives him a worried look and asks, “How could you know?”

“What’d I just say to you?” He locks his dark eyes with hers. “I said that I heard it. I heard it and I didn’t do anything. My job was to keep them safe. I didn’t. I didn’t do it.”

This sounds something like my dad would say. Kaila looks down, trying to figure out what to say to a man who’s lost everything.

“She was never in any danger.” Frank’s voice creeped in and pulled her back.

“What?” Kai asked, confused again. 

Frank’s face and voice had softened up again as he explained, “The other night. Blondie was babysitting that shit brick, running around with that Grotto. I just–” He stutters. “I-I only hurt people that deserve it. I wanted you to know that.”

She tilts her head, trying to show slight empathy for the client she never met. “You think he deserved it? Grotto?”

“I do. You know he used to do hits for the Irish, huh?” He frowns. “One time, he shot an old lady because she saw his face.” He notices the girl’s surprised look again. “I guess he– he didn’t tell your Dad and his colleagues that, huh?” She shakes her head (honestly not sure if he did or not). “Yeah. The point is, Blondie was safe, okay? I just wanted you to know that.”

“Guess I’m just supposed to take your word on that?”

“Nothin’ to do with my word, kid. Nothin’ at all.”

“No?”

“No. Look, you got any idea what a scout sniper is? You ever heard of that?” She shakes her head. “No? Okay, well, you’re looking at one. My class in Quantico was class 307. And we had a motto. It was a saying, yeah? It was, ‘One shot, one kill’. The point is, if I wanted her dead, she’d be dead. Got it?”

“I think I got it.” Kaila said, nodding. This is so bizarre. 

She takes another deep breath, and continues with the questions. “Why… why am I here? Why did you ask me to come talk to you?”

“I don’t–” He swallows. “I guess I’m worried that the memories are just gonna go away.”

He’s not telling me something. What? She scans him subtly head-to-toe while mustering, “Mr. Castle–”

“Look, you…” Frank looked a little lost as he tried to recall distant memories. “You went to... You were in my house. You…”

She gives him a pitiful look. “You never went back? After your family was…?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Can I just ask you, did you–” He bites his lip for a second. “Were you in the kitchen?”

“Yeah. We came through the back door.”

“The plates, were they... Were they on the table, or did they get into the sink?”

“Um–” She starts replaying over her memories now. “Uh, I think, washed. In the rack.”

“How about in the next room, did you… Did you see that piano that was there?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” He says, and finally cracks a meaningful smile. “My son, Frank Junior, he… he used to grab a handful of cookies and take ‘em and hide ‘em in that bench. You know, he’d play soldier. Guard it, protect it.”

“Oh, yeah?” Kaila asked, smiling, too.

“Then he’d fall asleep down there.” He laughs. “We’d find him, me and the wife… he’d be sleeping on a pile of cookie crumbs.”

“Yeah, I, um, when I was younger, I did the same thing.” Her expression grows at the thought. “Except it was those… animal cookies with the frosting, and, um, I’d hide them under a couch cushion.”

“Oh, yeah?” He said, amused.

“Yeah.” Then she laughed. “But I… I never could really ‘hide’ them. My Father always found out. I guess I could blame his abilities on that.”

“Abilities, huh?”

“Yeah.” Her smile faltered a bit. “Uh, when he was a kid he… pushed an elderly person out of the way, took a hit, got chemicals splashed into his eyes, rest is history.” Then she snickers. “And the dumbass thought he could keep his… ‘nightly activities’ from me.”

He hums, expression still the same. “Sounds like something I would do.” He briefly pauses again. “Kaila, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Can you come closer?”

“Huh?”

“Can you come closer? Please?”

Her eyes stayed on him briefly before migrating down to the tape on the floor. She knows she shouldn’t, she knows she could be arrested if the cops walked in and saw her crossing. Yet, just by talking to him, just by knowing his past, and despite the massive criminal record he’s painted himself, she knows deep down he would do anything to her if he could. 

Holding the paperwork under one of her arms, she uses the free one to help her balance. She circles the hospital bed on a slight wobble, her hand stopping a few inches from his as she meets his eyes once again. Frank studied her face for a long time, enough for his features to soften again, but there was the smallest speck of tears in his dark orbs.

“You look like my daughter. Brown eyes, hair…” He swallows and tries to get the scratchiness out of voice. “How old are you, Kaila?”

“Fifteen.” 

“Fifteen.” He whispers, laughing quietly. “Not much older than she was.”

“Is that why you choose to help save me? ‘Cause I look like your daughter?”

“Nah. I mean, I saw your picture in the news, it sparked something in me, but…” He smacks his lips with a small inhale. “You’ll never understand the love a parent has for the child until you have one of your own. I saw that with your Dad when I met him.”

“Is that before or after you shot him?”

Frank snorts, looking away. “Yeah, sorry about that. He was on my ass, you know?”

“Don’t be.” She smirks a bit. “He’s definitely persistent.”

“Aren’t we all? Nah, it was when he came after me the second time. He put up one hell of a fight, and managed to keep me on my toes for a bit. But I got the upper hand. Again.” He inhales again, and says, “Now, I ain’t going to sugarcoat it for you, but I was planning on killing him after I shot up the bar full of cartel members. I knew… if I didn’t, he would just keep coming after me.”

Kaila looks away, not sure how to feel about this as he continues, “But…” She looks up and so does he, sharing eye contact briefly before his shifts to a corner of the room. “We started getting into it, I spewed my reasoning, he spewed his Catholic guilt bullshit, but every time we got somewhere, his phone would ring. Do you have a clue what those were?”

She frowns, and nods. “I can… only imagine.”

“Yeah, well…” He sighs. “I just wanted to get into his head, get him preoccupied with some other shit so I could do my job, so I played those voicemails left by his colleague and threw it in his lap. I never expected the outcome of it.”

Kaila felt her chest get tighter. She still feels guilty about their fight, and wishes they were on better terms when the kidnapping happened. Dad… I can only imagine what that was like for you.

“You see his whole demeanor changed.” Frank says, eyes still trained on the corner. “He shut up so fast. Even with that stupid mask on you could see how haunted he looked. And then you know what he did when the message ended?” His jaw tightens visibly. “He started begging. Begging for me to let him go and find you.” He scoffs quietly, eyes watering over again. “You see… I know that fear.”

He turns his head and locks their gazes together once more. “I know that feeling.” He could see the sorrow in her eyes, all just for him. “When Lisa, my daughter, was about three we went to this market. You know, fresh fruit, handmade blankets, exotic soap, stuff I hated, but my Wife loved it, so I went. We stopped at a booth, I didn’t even realize she let go of my hand, but I blinked and she was gone.”

Frank knows she could see the panic in his orbs, but he couldn’t care now; He’s been unraveling for a while already. What harm could come from more? “We panicked. I was worse than my wife, though. I was hysterical, I was yelling, nearly knocking people over, and I was fearing the worst. Did someone snatch up my girl? Out of everyone here, why my baby? After what felt like years, I finally found her. She snuck off to a booth that had these dolls and she was just sitting there, trying to find one she liked. God…” He lowers his head with a bit of shutter. “I think I might have had a heart attack.”

“I’m so sorry.” Kaila said, truthfully. “I didn’t want you to remember that.”

“Nah, it’s alright.” He sighs again, more quietly this time. “But that’s what I saw in your Father. His whole world was just… crushed by a single voicemail. That’s why I let him go, that’s why I helped him find you, because I didn’t want him to go through what I did. ‘Cause you know, we’re the fathers, nothing should happen to our family. Everything should happen to us, and not them.”

“So that’s why you became the… Punisher. Your whole world fell, and you felt like you had nothing to lose?”

“Yep. I have nothin’ to lose.”

“But don’t you want to live? Or, better question, is killing not giving you peace yet?”

“Nah.” He looks at the corner of the room again. “No peace yet. I don’t know. Maybe I haven’t killed the right person yet. Maybe there is no peace, maybe when I finally kill the right person it’ll feel different. I don’t fuckin’ know. Not like you get it.”

“I do.”

And those words slipped out before they could even register with her brain. And she knows there’s a chance, a very small chance that her dad is actually eavesdropping on their conversation and he could hear this, but she knows she can’t stop now; Those two words couldn’t just be said and done, there has to be a follow up.

She finds herself looking at her feet, feeling the tightening in her chest return as she feels his intense gaze on her. But still, she refuses to look at him right now. 

She takes a deep breath, and begins, “Um, Fisk– uh, Wilson Fisk, you’ve probably heard of him, uh, he and my Dad got entangled with each other. Being Daredevil helped bring Fisk down a few pegs, but Nelson & Murdock they stepped in did the big final attack. They had enough evidence to put him behind bars, but…”

She needs to stop, stop before she spills too much; But Jayden’s voice nagged her in the background, telling her that it’ll help the pain to talk about her troubles instead of bottling them up. She agrees wholeheartedly. She just didn’t think this was going to the first person she talked to.

Kaila shifts her weight, continuing, “B-Before that, they were doing some digging, my Dad and I got into a bit of an argument, and I wanted some space so I went to Karen’s, uh–” She gestures to the door behind her. “Blondie’s. Before I got there I, uh, one of uh, Fisk’s right hand man snagged me. Apparently, he was going to grab Karen after she dug up evidence about Fisk’s mother, but I just happened to arrive first so…”

She felt her stomach now coil, nausea was coming up as the memory of Wesley slowly was creeping in. “He… was trying to blackmail me into changing the minds of everyone around me, to, uh, tell everyone and make them believe that Fisk was a good man. I refused. But then he told me I didn’t, he killed everyone I love, and make me watch… and then it would be my turn.”

Is she crying yet? Has the tears started flowing down without her noticing yet? “Before I could answer, the drug had worn off, and I just grabbed the gun on the table. I didn’t even know if it was loaded or not, but I needed leverage, you know? I told him I was going to leave, and he was going to let me, and I was going to keep this quiet for the sake of my family’s safety. I was almost free, but he just lunged at me.”

Sometimes she could still feel his hands around her throat as he threatened to throw her corpse into the Hudson (It makes her forget how to breathe sometimes). “We wrestled around, soon the gun was being passed back and forth, and…” She felt that lump in her throat now, the one she felt after she did it. “I-I didn’t mean to. It just happened. I…” Now it was her turn to laugh quietly. “I know it’s self defense but I… I still killed someone. You know?”

God, now she feels like she needs a shower all over again. A hot, burning one like she took when she arrived at Karen’s. She wants to burn his touch off, she wants to burn her sins away. She could feel her eyes stinging now, not really sure how long she stayed quiet until he started speaking again.

“Sweetheart.” His voice broke through, causing her to look his way. To her surprise there was no disgust on his face, only sadness and a tiny, tiny bit of anger that if you blink you would miss. “H-How… how’d you feel? After you did it?”

Kaila sniffles. “Um, sc-scared. I was scared, because… I knew if Fisk found out what I did to Wesley, to his friend, his genuine friend, I don’t know what he would have done… to me or my family. And…” She bites her lip. “Oh, god. If my Dad knew, I… I…”

“You mean…” Frank tries to find the right words. “No one knows?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “Well… K-Karen does, but I… I kind of have her sworn to secrecy right now. I just…” Another sniffle. “I just can’t let my Dad know…”

“Why not?” He asks, a little bit of a growl in his tone, but it wasn’t towards her; Just the situation. “If my daughter came up to me and told me she was kidnapped by a dangerous man, you bet your ass I would be hunting that motherfucker down. I’d be storming that building that Fisk was in and I wouldn’t stop until the job was done–”

“That’s exactly why I can’t tell him.” Kaila replies, with a bit of snappiness. She watches him deflate under her words and she carefully explains, “I’m selfish. I’m really selfish. ‘Cause I know if I told him the truth, a few things could happen. He could kill Fisk and get caught, and put away, and that means I lost my Dad to the prison system. Or, he could kill him and never get caught, but I have to live with that guilt that I killed another man, bad or not. So would my Dad. Or…” She feels the tears rolling down her cheeks. “My Dad ends up dead trying.”

She could feel he was looking at her with the same expression from earlier again, but refuses to look. “So, you see? I don’t want to lose my Dad. Physically or mentally. I don’t want to lose the one I have. I don’t want to lose him over something I did. So… you see? I’m selfish. I’m really fucking selfish.”

There was another pause, only this time she pulled herself out of it; Wiping her tears as she apologized for being a debbie-downer (So much for helping him through his trauma). 

Way to go, Murdock. You fucked this up. She continues to beat herself up, wondering if she should just turn around and ditch. But then… she felt him touch her hand. Her head snapped back his way, and sure enough that expression was back on his face.

“Don’t cry.” He croaked, and even though his voice was rough sounding, she could hear the consideration that went into those two words. “I don’t like it when my kids cry. I don’t like it when any kids cry.”

“S-Sorry…” Kaila says, brushing her eyes again as a few tears got loose. 

“Don’t be. Never apologize for that.” He replies, and squeezes her hand gently. His eyes stayed on her face for a few seconds more before trailing to the paperwork she had. “I, uh, see that they gave you questions to ask me.”

“Oh.” She nods, almost forgetting what she was actually here for. “I guess I probably should start on those.”

“Yeah?” A little warm smile creeps onto his busted lips. “If you wanna ask your questions, you can go ahead. Whatever’s on the paper, and whatever personal ones you want to ask. I’m all ears, sweetheart.”

And without more being said there…

Kaila sits on the bed, and slowly starts from the beginning.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

It was really, really hard for Matt not to eavesdrop. He wants to. He really, really fucking wants to, but he needs to be better by respecting certain bountries; Especially his daughter’s. But he’s still going to be a worrier. Now, he knew Frank wouldn’t do anything even if he wasn’t strapped to the bed, and that was where the bit of trust was. Well… it’s more of a respect for the man. However, even with that respect it still wasn’t enough to keep the jitters away. 

He was standing out in the hallway with Karen and Foggy, his right foot pattering like a rabbit’s foot, his fingers twitching at his side. It felt like every few minutes his hand would move to his left wrist, his thumb pad running across the braille clock to tell him the time.

Two hours. My daughter’s been in there for nearly two hours. It was making him nervous now. I mean, when it hit the hour mark it was already making him nervous, but two?! It’s literally taking all of his strength not to barge in there. So he tries to focus on something else… like Foggy’s sharp inhales while he leans against the wall, or Karen small pivots on her heels, or the sounds of reporters getting escorted out, or the beeping of a police’s walkie, or–

“I can’t take this anymore.” Matt finally says, as his friend’s look his way.

“Matt.” Foggy begins, sliding his back up the wall to stand. “You promise not to eavesdrop.” 

“I’m not going to.” He shakes his head. “I gotta get inside.”

“Matt– wait.”

“You can’t go in yet.” Karen says, stopping him with her arm. “Look, I know it’s been a long time–”

“Exactly.” The blind man says, getting even more agitated. “Two hours. Two hours, Karen. Why is she in there that long? I mean, I know we gave her a lot of questions to ask, but why–”

Suddenly the door to his room opened, and the teenager came wandering out with the stack of paper and her own notes. The trio took a quick glance at each other before surrounding her with questions.

“What happened?/You okay?/What took so long?”

Matt’s nose picks up the salt on her skin, the dryness in her eyes and frowns. “Kai? What happened?” He asks, worriedly.

She nods slowly, trying to find her words. “I’m okay.” Truth. “Really. I just… we shared a lot… personally, so…” Truth. She cracks a small smile while holding up the notes. “I got a lot of information back.” She hands it to Karen, who quickly reads it over. “Hope that helps.”

“Kaila, this is… amazing.” The blonde says, as she tilts the pages towards Foggy for him to read. “It wasn’t too uncomfortable?” 

“It was at the beginning, but–” She shrugs. “Despite the certain level of unhinge-ness, he’s actually a really nice guy. He’s definitely someone that loved his family with all his heart.”

“That’s good to hear.” Matt said, finally letting go of the breath he was holding. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Kaila hums. “You worry too much.”

“I worry not enough.” He pulls her in for a side hug which she immediately melted into. 

“So, you gave him our opinions on how the case should go?” Foggy asks, looking away from the notes to the teen. “How is he pleading? Is it still the same?”

Kaila takes a deep breath and says, “Guilty.” Her response made everyone happy and congratulated her. Her smile grows at the compliments. “So, when’s the hearing?”

“It’s not even mid-day yet, so…” He looks over his watch. “We could get this started?” His friends nod their heads as he begins flagging the detective down. “Hey, Brett! Can I have a minute?”

“I’m not even appropriately dressed for court.” Kaila mumbles, looking down at herself.

“Well, if we have time, I can swing by my place. I think there’s a dress you can fit into.” Karen replies, after fast thinking. “It’s a dark green color if that works.”

“Yeah, I’ll take anything that’s not a hoodie and ripped jeans right now.”

“That’s very nice of you, Karen.” Matt said, showing his pearly whites.

“You know me.” She chuckles. “I try.” 

“Guys–” Foggy says, getting their attention. He gives them a thumbs up. “We’re good. In a few hours everything should be A-Okay.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

It was definitely NOT A-Okay.

You could hear a pin drop all of a sudden in the courtroom. Behind the defendant’s bench, Kaila stared with her big brown eyes as her father’s client repeated the words he was NOT supposed to be saying. Pinch me, I’m dreaming. Pinch me, I’m dreaming. Pinch me–

“I plead not guilty.” Frank says once more, as everyone starts muttering in the room with disbelief. “You hear that, witch?!” His eyes blow wide with rage. “I’m gonna watch you burn right along with me. You hear me?!”

The judge’s gavel hits down on his desk immediately. “Counselor, please control your client.”

“Do you hear me?!”

“Frank…” Kaila whispers, as her father gets up to his feet with an apologetic look. 

“I’m sorry, Your Honor.” Matt says, bowing his head in shame as Frank came down off his rage tangent. 

The judge narrows her eyes, looking between the room as she says, “The defendant has entered a plea of not guilty. Due to the nature and severity of the crimes he is accused of, bail is denied. A court date will be set upon consultation with the DA’s office. We are adjourned.”

The gavel hits again, and everyone in the room starts leaving; While officers in groups of two came over a re-shackled Frank before taking him away.

“I thought you said he was fine?” Foggy said, turning around to his Niece. 

“H-He was.” Kaila said, still in shock. “He promised me he was going to plead guilty.”

“Then what the fuck changed his mind?”

“M-Maybe he just wants the truth. About Grotto, about his family, about the– the cover-up. I mean, if we go to trial, then it all comes out, right?”

“There’s no ‘if’. This is happening. Trial of the century. Everything’s about to change.” He grunts. “Fuck.”

As Karen tries to calm Foggy down, Matt had come over to sit next to his kid. He could practically feel the guilt pooling off of her. 

“It’s not your fault.” He says, as she shakes her head.

“How did this happen?” She whispers. “W-We had such a good talk, Dad.”

“Kaila–”

“Do you think Reyes got to him during the transportation? Or somebody else?”

He frowns. “I don’t know, but… he seemed a lot more angry today. Nervous, too.”

“That’s an odd combo.”

“Yeah.”

She sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” He heard her sigh again, muttering an ‘ok’. His heart aches at how defeated she sounds. “Come here.” He pulls her in for a much needed hug. “Everything will be okay.”

“Dad…” She says, relaxing in his embrace like she did back at the hospital.

“Everything will be okay, baby girl. We’re going to make this work.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The court date was a few days later. The media had exploded. The good and the bad had circled around the law firm. The trio were cooped up for hours in the office, trying to figure out how to get Frank a better sentence that wouldn’t lead to death. All while this was going on, Kaila had moved on to the last few steps in PT. Now on this fateful day, dressed in a nice blouse and skirt, she practices with her new walking stick out in the halls of the courthouse, waiting to be allowed inside. 

She curses under her breath when she slipped a little, muttering, “Easy, my ass. This is a lot harder than the crutches.” She was so focused on the stupid cane she didn’t even notice someone standing behind her snickering.

“You cosplaying as an old man now?” Jayden says, getting her to turn around.

Her face lights up at the surprise. “More like cosplaying my father. Wait. What are you doing here?” She asks, taking note of him dressing elegantly…? The freshly pressed suit and tie was not something she ever expected to see him in. Even his messy curls had been fixed nicely. He looks so…

“You told me you were going to be stuck all day in the courtroom. Thought you might want some company.” He explains, surprising her more.

“You… you sure?” Kaila asks, with a small frown. “These things tend to vary in time, you know? Could be five minutes, could be twelve hours.”

He waves the statement off. “Yeah, well, I don’t mind. And besides, I could learn a few things.”

She laughs. “That’s… that’s very true.” Her smile returns fastly. “This is quite the play date then.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling this now?” Jayden asks, raising a playful eyebrow.

“I think so.” She teases, copying his expression.

“Hey, Kai!” Her father’s voice broke through, her attention turning on him and the two others walking over to where she was. “It’s about to start. You sure you want to stay in there?”

“Like I said, Dad, I’ll be fine. I want to see how this goes.” Kaila says, shrugging. It takes a second for her to realize that they’re all looking at the person next to her and waiting for an explanation.  “Oh, uh, guys, this is Jayden. My friend from work.”

“Hi, everyone.” The boy says, with a wave. 

“Oh!” Foggy perks up upon recognizing the name. “I talked to you on the phone the other night.” He shakes the teen’s hand gracefully. “Foggy Nelson. It’s finally nice to put a voice to a face.”

“Pleasure to do the same, Mr. Nelson.”

“I’m Karen. I work with them.” The blonde says, with a smile, shaking his hand as well.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Karen.”

“And this is my Dad, Matthew, or Matt.” Kaila replies, gesturing to him. 

“Hi, Mr. Murdock. It’s nice to meet you.” Jayden says, holding his hand out as Matt subtly picks up on something. It was only interrupted when Foggy whispers, 

“His hand’s out.” 

“Ah. Nice to meet you.” Matt plays it off like he always does, taking it in his palm and giving it a shake. Upon the physical contact and release, the feeling of something crossed his mind again immediately. It must have shown in his face, because–

“You okay, Mr. Murdock?” Jayden asks, worrying that he did something wrong.

“Uh, n-no.” He shakes his head. “Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind today. Um–” He moves his hand around in the air, trying to pull the right words out. “You’ve got quite the grip.”

“Oh, uh–” The teen chuckles. “Yeah. I’ve been told that. Um, so…” He looks between the four of them curiously. “What’s this case y’all defending?”

“Oh, it’s a doozy.” Foggy said, mentally cursing.

“Um, you’ve heard of Frank Castle on the news?” Kaila asks, making his olive eyes go wide.

“...Holy shit.”

“Yep.” She nods. “Perfect reaction. You’re in for a treat. I’ll fill you in on some stuff while we wait. Uh–” She gives the adults reassuring expressions. “Break a leg. You’ll do great.”

“Thanks, Kai.” Karen says, putting up a happy front as well. “That’s all we can do.”

The teenagers break away, Kaila even briefly reaching up to squeeze her Dad’s shoulder for more reassurance. Foggy and Karen both took deep breaths as they started the list of mental preparation from the top again.

“Alright, alright, alright.” Foggy whispers, and picks up his briefcase off the floor. “Let’s do this.” He waves for Karen to start the trek. “Lady’s first. Matt, let’s–” He starts reaching for his best friend’s arm, only stopping when he notices how in thought he looked. “Matt? Matt?” He starts reaching again. “Hey–”

Matt turns his head towards Foggy upon feeling the tap on his arm. “Huh?”

“You alright? What’s going through your head? Nerves?”

“No. Not nerves. It’s… It’s Kai’s friend.”

“Jayden? What about him?” Foggy starts to get worried. “Is he bad news?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s…” How would Matt explain it? “His… hand shake, t-the grip… the cadence of his voice, it’s…” Where was going with this? “He smells… familiar.” Maybe he’s just being paranoid. “But I can’t figure out why.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The first day in court went better than they expected. The opening statement went flawlessly (Unless you count Foggy nervously sweating throughout his half). They even got to present their witness(es) list, and even DA Reyes got herself into a bit of a pickle so… Yay! Jazz hands. 

Now since that was wrapped up, the adults had headed over to the office to compare notes and write down their next few statements, while the two teens went over to the next block for a bit to eat. 

“So… who’s this Tepper guy again?” Jayden asks, as they wait for their names to be called from the foot counter. He was trying to wrap his head around everything he’s seen today as the Young Murdock was kind enough to explain the thing’s he didn’t understand.

“Tepper is apparently the guy who did the autopsy for Mr. Castle’s family. Which Castle claims is wrong, so my Dad and them will bring that up, and hopefully bring Tepper to stand. You know, to try to get him to crack.” She replies, as he nods his head.

“Gotcha.”

“Then, they’re also going to get him an even better sentence by presenting to the court that he suffers from PTSD due to his time at war. Which was retriggered after his family was killed.”

“Gotcha. Man…” He shifts his weight around with a worried look. “They definitely got their hands full with this one.”

“Definitely.” She agrees, shortly afterwards their names were called. They soon slid into a booth with their trays.

“So, on a different note, I meant to ask.” Jayden starts, after getting comforting. “That woman who came to your house the other night. Who was she?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Kaila replies, brushing the thought of her off. “She’s an old, crazy flame of my Dad. Who apparently was still hung up on him so… yeah.” She starts to take a sip of her drink, but stops to add, “But don’t worry, she didn’t do anything to me. She just wanted to ask questions.”

“But still…” He makes a face. “Yikes.”

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “I, uh, appreciate you calling my Uncle though. He called my Dad, and they came over quickly.”

“No problem. I think anyone with the right mind would have done that.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“So, he’s your Uncle?” Jayden asks, and starts eating.

Kaila finishes chewing to say, “Not biologically. My Dad met him in college, roommates, and uh, they just hit it off. My Dad was immediately adopted into Foggy’s family so… yeah.”

“I take it he has a big family?”

“Oh, yeah.” She grins at the memories of them. “There’s my Uncle Theo, his wife, Sissy, and their three kids; And then there’s Grandpa Edward, and Grandma Anne.”

He quirked an eyebrow up at her enthusiasm. “Are they lawyers, too?”

“No.” Her grin grows. “They’re actually butchers.”

“That’s… a twist I wasn’t expecting.”

She snorts. “No one does. But hey, there’s perks of having your own butcher shop. They have the best maple ham around Christmas time.”

“I might have to stop by for a bite.” He says, as she shakes her head ‘Yes’. They fall into a comfortable silence for a sec, before he breaks the ice by saying, “This is a nice play date.”

“Yeah. It is." Another pause. "Can I ask you something now?”

“Go for it.”

“When you came to my house, before we were interrupted, what were you trying to tell me? You mentioned your name.”

“To be honest, Kai…” He shrugs. “Don’t even worry about it.”

She quirks up her eyebrow. “No?”

“No.” He pauses eating to say, “But my name is Jayden, I don’t want you to think it’s not. What I meant is my last name. I just… it doesn’t mean anything anymore if I tell you. So…” Another shrug. “I-I mean… my dad’s not around anymore, so… there’s no weight for it at this moment, you know?”

Kaila notices how uncomfortable he’s getting, to the point where he’s nitpicking at his food. And he looks way paler than a few seconds ago. 

She frowns, worriedly. “Your dad really messed you up, huh?” He nods slowly, looking like a kicked puppy. “You know I wouldn’t care about your past, you know? God knows mine is a little murky, I mentioned that to you, right?”

“Yeah. You did.” He says, meeting her gaze as she tries to find the right words.

“Do you… do you think if we’re closer you would open up more?”

“Probably. Yeah.”

She stops and thinks again, the lightbulb slowly turning on. “Hold your hands up.”

He blinks. “What?”

“Just humor me.” He does, and so does she. “Okay, obviously there’s a reason we met, maybe fate put us together to just be friends, or maybe we meant to help one another, but whatever the reason is, we should try to forge a bond. You know, hanging out outside of a… courthouse.”

“What?” He smirks. “Our playdate at the courthouse wasn’t what friends do?”

She copies her expression. “Definitely not what I had in mind.”

“So, what should we do instead?”

She hums, thinking. “We could go to the movies? Do you like Horror?”

He scoffs playfully. “Who doesn’t?”

That got her to laugh before asking, “If you’re free next week, we should go see something. Let’s get to know each other… little-by-little.”

Jayden smiles. “Little-by-little. I like that. But, uh–” He waves his hands. “What’s this about?”

Now it was her turn to smirk. “Uh, keep your left one up, and use your right to cross your heart.” She demonstrates this. “That way, we can’t break the promise.”

“And if it’s broken?”

“We have permission to knock some sense into one another.” She moves her hands around in a ‘so-so’ way. “That can be metaphorical or literal. Your choice.”

He laughs. “Uh, definitely don’t want to be literal if I don’t have to. Your huge ass family might butcher me for their shop.”

She snorts. “No promise there.”

“Okay.” He nods, and crosses his heart. His soft features grew along with hers. “It’s a promise.” 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“So, everything’s okay? You guys got all your notes intact?” Kaila asked, while her and her dad walked home in the moonlight; The hot Summer air grew cooler as soon as the sun disappeared, leaving them to stay close for a little warmth.

“Yeah. Everything’s okay. We should be fine in the morning.” Matt replies, his mind had been elsewhere ever since they arrived at the courthouse. It was getting… concerning.

Kai waited until they crossed a busy road to ask, “What’s the matter? I know this case is obviously overwhelming, but I feel like there’s something else going on in that head of yours.” He stays quiet, almost like he was trying to find the words as she continues, “Is it Jayden?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Do you have a problem with him?”

“No, I…” He sighs. “Well…”

“Well, what?” She grows worried. “Is he actually bad news?”

“No, no, it’s just… how do I say this?” Matt was struggling to explain it like he did earlier to Foggy. “His handshake, his voice… he smells familiar.”

“Smells Familiar?” Kaila raises an eyebrow. “Dad–”

“What I’m saying is, his natural scent reminds me of someone, and I can’t figure out why.” But he ways this whole conversation off with his free hand. “But that’s not what’s nagging me.”

“Then what is it?”

He inhales sharply, deciding there was no easy way to put this, so he says, “At the hospital, before we went in to talk to Frank, Brett pulled me aside. He told me that… the guy who took you is dead.”

“What?!” She says, pulling them to a stop with her widened eyes. “Dad, why are you telling me this now?”

“Because honestly, it slipped my mind. I was more worried when Frank asked to talk to you, that I just forgot.” He frowns. “Until today when Brett called me.”

She tilts her head. “What did he say?”

“That it was in fact not natural causes. It was… morphine. Apparently a far higher dose than you’re supposed to give a patient in pain.”

She sighs, closing her eyes for a second. “Jesus. Do… do they have a suspect? A witness?”

“They don’t know. The nurses who worked with them swear that they’ve never touched that IV since he went into a coma. No one says they haven’t seen anyone go into his room that isn’t staff, but stranger things have happened.”

“Geez. No wonder your head’s in the clouds. You’re trying to play detective right now.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, the bitterness was starting to come through the cracks. “I’m just sick of this. This past month has been… shitty. Nothing is adding up. This, Frank’s family death, even… Elektra’s situation, it’s j-just all… sh-shit. I’m tired of it.”

Kaila sighs again, more quiet this time as she pats her dad’s arm. “Let’s… Let’s take this one step at a time. Let’s worry about Castle first. Let’s try to get him out of the death penalty, then, when the time’s right, we’ll tackle this whole kidnapping thing. For all we know, it was just a crazy ass dude who got it into his head that Nelson and Murdock didn’t help his brother.” She shrugs. “That’s it. Okay?”

He exhales again, and nods (Admitting she’s right) “Okay. Castle first.”

She smiles. “Castle first.” They start their walk again. “I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, same. Took our freaking landlord long enough to fix the door.”

“Surprise he ain’t charging you for it, you trashed it pretty hard.”

“I’m surprised as well.” They made their way inside the building, riding the rickety elevator up to the top floor and making it down the hallway; Matt fumbling for the keys in his pocket. “I know you ate, but if you’re still hungry, I was going to make something for myself.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’m pretty stuffed.” She replies, entering the house. “I was thinking maybe before bed we could–”

“Took you long enough.” 

The Murdocks froze as soon as they entered the living room. Standing just outside their bathroom was a much older man, snow white hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to look through them despite not being able to see. Kaila felt her father stiffen at her side, and that anger was pushed at full force through his protective barrier. 

Stick just brushed off their silence, walking towards Matt’s room with a bunch of towels while saying, “Come on, I need your help to stop the poison.”

The father-daughter duo stayed still, both trying to process this in their own ways before in unison replying, 

“What the fuck.” 

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[echoes-of-a-dream]

skeletons in my closet 0.0 | matt murdock

the skeletons in my closet, they're resurrecting masterlist | fisk family masterlist | matt murdock masterlist

synopsis: you have been running from your past from as far back as you remember; you want to be something good, something better than how you were raised, want to block out the part of you that's bloodthirsty and ruthless and choke it out of you. but when your father comes knocking, you are unaware of just how much you'll be pulled to the middle of a battle between your closest friends and your closet skeletons.

double life | miscommunication | slow burn | friend to enemies to friends to lovers | lies and betrayal | arranged relationship | minor james wesley x reader (not endgame) | love triangle | daddy issues | wc 0.4k

FALL 2003 NEW YORK CITY, NY

“Daddy?”

Wilson turns from the meeting he’s having to look at you, his daughter. You know better than to interrupt, so it must be something important. “Yes?”

“Letter came.” You hold up the envelope in question.

Very important, indeed. Wilson told you under no uncertain circumstances to come find him the second you received it, no matter his occupation at the time. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” he apologizes, gently taking your arm and leading you to an adjourning room, Wesley following.

You glance back nervously at the table he left behind. “Are you sure it’s okay to leave your meeting?”

He smiles—or as close to smiles as he gets—at your concern, warmth blooming in his chest. “Of course. Now, let’s see what you’ve got.” He gestures at the paper in your hand.

You glance at Wesley, which is when Wilson knows you’re stalling. Thankfully, the man he considers a son—the person he plans on you marrying—reads his mind and gives you an encouraging smile and nod.

You take a deep breath, slowly opening the letter. You hold it as you scan, speed-reading, and Wilson waits patiently for the verdict. It doesn’t take very long at all.

“...congratulate you on your admission to Columbia University!” Your voice starts out as a mumble and grows to an excited shout. “I got in!”

Wilson chuckles, not having expected any less. “I’m very proud of you.”

“Congratulations,” Wesley chimes in softly. “A predictable outcome, but nonetheless deserving of recognition.”

You blush at the man, three years your senior. “Thank you, James.” Turning, you accept the hug your father offers. “Thanks, Daddy.”

“Of course.” He had wanted to be there for you finding out, knowing Columbia is your dream school, and he hadn’t wanted you to have had to wait and have time for doubt to creep in. Wilson is proud of you—you’re going far further than he ever had the opportunity to go, than his mother was ever able to go. “Now, I need to get back to the meeting, but we will celebrate later this evening. Wesley, do you mind taking her home?”

“No, sir.” Wesley gallantly offers his arm to you, which you roll your eyes at but accept. The two of you talk about your plans for college as Wesley leads you along, and Wilson watches the two of you with fondness.

Yes, he knows the two of you will get married to each other someday.

next chapter ->

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[backtothefanfiction]

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Six: He's Got A Soul As Sweet As Blood Red Jam

Summary: Peter may seem like a big tough gangster to the rest of the world but he's still that soft boy from Queens underneath it all.

Warnings: 18+ Only, eventual smut (like real soon), slight fluff and jokes, this is mostly plot, character and world building

Word Count: 4.4K

A/N: This is basically just world building and further character development but still does a lot to bridge the gap between our lovers with their one to one dinner date. Expect some more name dropping and greater universe references and a lot of links back to our initial prologue and Peter's origins of friendly neighbourhood super hero to mob boss. Also title comes from the second verse of Lana Del Rey's Off To The Races, wanted to use both lines but it would have been too long. Anyway enjoy!

SIX

Peter had organised Miguel to drop the two of them off at F.E.A.S.T an hour later. The acronym stood for food, emergency, aid, shelter, training. It was a community outreach hub for the homeless or those in need. They had set multiple buildings up across the city under the banner when Peter first switched from being the friendly neighbourhood crime fighting vigilante to being a criminal in his own right. He still wasn’t like all those other guys though. Guys like her Father, Dr Octavious or even Quentin Beck. Whereas all those guys were solely out for themselves, Peter had never forgotten his roots or his mission to help his community. No, he was more like a Robin Hood figure. At least 50% of his annual profit always went back to the people.

And she had been there with him to set the whole thing up. After that first conversation they’d had all those years ago in the darkness of her college dorm room, they went back and forth for hours about what the people really need. Thus F.E.A.S.T was born.

They climbed out of the car and Miles quickly went round to open the trunk, to a mass of pink cake boxes. They quickly began to unload them from the car. Miles held out his arms and Angel stacked one box on top of the other until they were up to his eyeline. She took the final box out of the trunk before closing the boot. She shot a quick look of thanks Miguel’s way before her and Mile’s made their way to the door.

Her fingers quickly rooted around in her blazer pocket for the set of keys Peter had given her, her fingers holding a fob up to the side door of the building. There was a low buzz as the door unlocked and they shuffled their way inside with the boxes.

“Hey Karen.” Angel said, greeting a strawberry blonde woman as she made her way towards the same door her and Mile’s had just come through.

“Hey!” Karen beamed upon seeing her, an arm quickly raising to wrap around Angel’s shoulder. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“It’s complicated.” Angel briefly responded. “How’s Matt?” 

“Oh, you know how he is, always takes on too many clients and never leaves himself enough time.”

“We’ll have to catch up properly soon.” Angel beamed.

“Yes. We definitely will. Look I’ve gotta run, I’ve gotta get some paperwork over to city hall before they close, but it was great seeing you.” Karen spoke joyfully as she wrapped Angel into her arms once more.

“Yeah, and you.” Angel concluded their conversation as Karen began to make her way to the door, buzzing herself out.

“Okay… so where are we putting these?” Miles asked, motioning to the boxes he was beginning to get frustrated with holding, after all, pink was not his colour.

She rolled her eyes before saying, “This way.” as she began to walk through the familiar halls. 

Not much had changed since the last time she had been there. Maybe some of the faces, but she was still surprised to see so many familiar ones. Particular Nurses who saw patients with doctors in special designated consultation rooms, all paid for by the Benjamin Parker foundation, little kids who enjoy coming and hanging out in the rec rooms recognising her, smiling and waving as she passed them.

“Hi, Angel.”

“Hi.” she’d say back.

“Hi, Angel.”

“Hi!” It was like that all the way down to the food hall. A large canteen that served regular hot meals for anyone in need, whether you were living on the streets, struggling for money or simply had no idea how to cook. It was a bustling hub of life and community. Mothers talking over cups of coffee as their kids bonded and played together. Newly divorced men looking for someone to talk to and sharing a table with those who called the streets their home as they swapped life stories. It was her favourite place in the world and her proudest achievement in life.

They set the boxes down on a free table along the back wall, opening them up to display the fresh goods. There was a sudden thud to her side as a small girl collided with her thigh, her small arms reaching to wrap around her waist. 

“Angel!” the girl beamed, “You came back.”

Angel recognised the young girl immediately. She had grown a fair bit since she had last seen her at the shelter. “Of course I did.” Angel beamed as her arms instinctively wrapped around her. “Look how much you’ve grown.” Angel commented.

“Look, I’ve got a loose tooth.” The girl said proudly as she used her fingers to pull down her lower lip and show it off.

“Oh wow. You make sure you take good care of it and that it gets to the tooth fairy okay, yeah?”

“I will.” she beamed before she ran off back towards her mother who politely smiled and waved in her direction from her seat at one of the tables.

“Wow, you really know everyone here.” Miles interjected as she continued to watch the young girl as she joined another little girl at a smaller coloring table.

“Believe it or not Miles, this used to be my livelihood. I used to come down and spend so many of my days here helping out. Veronica was actually born here.” She said motioning to the little girl who kept looking back and smiling at her.

“You don’t say.” Miles said with a smile as he finally began to relax.

“It’s my favourite place in the world.” she said fondly. “Come on, I’ll give you the proper tour.”

They walked around the halls together as she gave him the grand tour of all three floors. As well as the already mentioned doctor’s rooms, cafeteria, common rooms and childrens playrooms, there were counselling suites and consultation rooms for legal advice. The second floor had a community hall with regular classes from toddler groups to self defence lessons. The whole top floor was dedicated to the homeless project that provided emergency beds for those rough sleeping whether on site there at the hub or being relocated to one of the apartment buildings they had bought out as temporary accommodation until they could get their feet back on the ground.

They sat and talked to people in the communities, helped out staff where they could and overall tried to inject some light into people's lives amongst the darkness.

“Hey.” a familiar voice said behind her as Veronica, who had just come and given her a picture she had drawn for her, ran back to the coloring table.

“Heeyy!” she beamed softly as she turned around to find her husband.

His hand tenderly braced itself against her lower back and she couldn’t help but melt into his warm touch. She had become so wrapped up in what she was doing, she had almost completely forgotten everything else that had come to pass. The way that everyone had opened their arms to her made her feel like the last three years had never happened, let alone the last 4 hours she had spent there.

“I went back to May’s apartment but you weren’t there.”

“No.” she smiled fondly.

The whole moment felt so domestic, reminding him of days gone by where he would pick her up on Friday afternoons, a moment for him to show his own face and see all of the hard work that was continuing to be carried out with his money. He turned his head around the room looking for Miles, only to find him sitting on a tiny chair next to a little boy on a purple bean bag, playing with the new playstation that had recently been acquired.

“I’m assuming all of the baked goods are gone?” he asked, attempting to keep civil conversation and find good ground between them.

“Actually I think there might be a cupcake or two still in there if you want one.”

They smiled fondly at one another. He had to admit, despite all of the shit he ended up being involved with on a day to day basis, whenever he came back here, seeing families and communities thrive, it made it all worth it,

“You ready to get out of here and go for that dinner?” He asked softly.

She silently nodded as she found herself suddenly drowning in his honey brown eyes. Those soft eyes. The ones he used to look at her with back when they first met. Back when he would sneak into her dorm room. His gaze would soften like molten honey, a sickly sweet sensation always pulling her in as he told her how beautiful she was, his Angel. “Yes.” she finally said slowly, finding her voice. It was barely audible above the noise of the room, but she knew he heard it.

“Yo, Miles!” Peter hollered across the room to him, causing the younger gentleman’s ears to prick up, his head turning slightly, but his eyes never left the screen. “You’re free, man, go home.”

“Yeah, okay, just a minute!” he called back, “I just gotta win this race.”

“Nu uh.” the young boy next to him replied before Miles playfully bumped the kids shoulder with his own.

Angel couldn’t help but let out a small giggle at the exchange as she grabbed her blazer off the back of a chair as they left.

-

When they got out onto the street Angel had expected to find Miguel outside waiting for them, but instead her eyes came to rest on a black Maserati she recognised from her quick glance across the garage in their rush the night before. “Where’s Miguel?” she asked as Peter began to make his way towards the car, opening the passenger door for her. 

“I’ve got him out running an errand with Harry.” he replied as she stepped past him to slide herself into the passenger seat. “Plus, I want tonight to be just about us.” He said, his head bending down to look at her through the door frame.

“Okay, duly noted.” she replied with a curt smile before he closed the door on her. “So does that mean we’re gonna get through a whole evening without interruptions?” She asked when he climbed into the driver's seat on the other side.

He shuffled slightly in his seat before reaching into the inside pocket of his blazer for his phone making a show of putting it on aeroplane mode before handing it to her for safe keeping. She pursed her lips, attempting to keep a straight face as she looked down at the phone now turning around in her fingertips, trying not to let on how big of a deal that was for the two of them.

“So where are we going?” she asked as he clicked his seatbelt into place before starting the car up with a loud rev of the engine for good measure. She had no doubt he was showboating, trying to impress.

“Oh, now that would ruin the surprise.” he said as he quickly revved the car and sped away.

*****

They arrived 10 minutes later outside a restaurant on the upper east side called the Lemon Grove. The whole front of the building was lit with fairy lights and vines filled with fake lemons. They got out of the car and Peter tossed his keys to a waiting valet before his now free hand rested comfortably at the small of her back as he guided her to the restaurant door.

“Hi, good evening, welcome to the Lemon Grove, do you have a booking with us this evening?” a gentleman, who looked to be nearing his forties asked.

“Yes, there should be a table for two under Parker.” Peter said.

The maître d' scanned his list before saying “ahh yes, here it is. If you’d like to follow me this way.” he encouraged them as he held out a hand for them to follow him.

He led them through the bustling restaurant and over to a table tucked away to the back. He moved to pull out a chair for Angel but Peter quickly cut him off, “It’s okay, I’ve got it.” he said, wanting to make a show of putting in the effort with her after their fight earlier on he was still trying to make up for.

“Okay.” the maître d' said as he took a step back.

When Peter had stepped back around to the other side of the table and began taking his seat the maître d' stepped forward again to place the menus on either side of the table in front of them.

“Thank you.” Angel smiled, as Peter tucked his chair in.

“Can I get either of you a drink? Or would you like to take a moment to look at the wine list?” The maître d' asked, motioning to the smaller menu already on the table.

Before she had had a chance to say anything Peter hastily grabbed the wine list, scanning it over, before ordering them a bottle of an Italian Cabernet from Tuscany. 

“Coming right up, sir.” The maître d' said before walking away and leaving them to their table.

“You still love Italian food right?” Peter asked her as they both reached for their menus to start gazing over the cuisine. 

“Would you hate me if I actually said I’d gone off it.” she deadpanned from behind her menu, causing him to freeze. “I mean, living in Italy for just over two years…” she continued, seeing how far she could push him and make him squirm. She watched over the top of her menu as he swallowed uneasily. “I’m kidding Pete.” she quickly said as he met her eyes, a smile creeping across her face.

“Don’t do that.” he quickly shook his head at her, but he couldn’t hide from her the small quirk in the corner of his lip at realising he’d been had. “No.” he continued, trying to brush it off. 

“What? Spider boy can’t take a joke anymore?” she teased as she fought with the grin that wanted to take over her whole face.

“Oh no, I can take a joke.” he quickly interjects, looking to cover himself.

“Yes, of course.” she mockingly nods as he continues to get a hold of himself.

“It’s just, not often that I am the victim to them.”

“Okay.” she smirked as she continued to nod, her eyes turning back to the menu in front of her as she scanned the list of foods.

It was at that point she realised she hadn’t really eaten since their breakfast meeting this morning.

“What is it?” he quickly asked, noticing the sudden furrow to her brow, an air of concern taking over his whole body.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” She hastily responded, not wanting him to stress or feel like matters were worse than they were, as if either of them still weren’t somewhat on alert after the events of the past 24 hours, an unconscious paranoia just waiting to take over. “I just realised I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“Oh.” he interjected quietly as he began to settle again.

They sat in silence for a moment as they continued to scan the menu, that unspoken paranoia sitting heavily in the middle of the table between them after his reaction that neither was sure how to shift.

“So do you know what you want?” he asked, clearing his throat slightly and breaking up the silence between them.

He watched for a moment as she flicked back and forth between pages. “Yes… no… maybe?” He can’t help but be warmed by the small questioning look on her face, one eyebrow twitching higher than the other, her head tipping slightly as she muddled over the different options in her head. It was the same look she used to get when he would watch her study for a test or when she was struggling to work something out for her thesis, back when she was still at college.

A waiter came over with their drinks and it made Peter smile when she didn’t even look up from the menu, but still reached for the glass the moment it had been sat down, swiftly bringing it to her lips and taking a sip. 

“Do we know what we’d like to order this evening?” The waiter asked as he stood patiently next to the table. 

Peter was about to ask for him to give them another moment when she closed the menu and sat it down in front of her. There was a pause as if to check she really was ready, when she said. “Off you go.” tipping her head to encourage Peter to place his order, as she once again brought her wine glass coily to her lips.

“Are we doing starters?” Peter quickly questioned her, an old habit suddenly popping into his head.

“Peter, just order.” she replied, but he could see the quirk of her lip and recognised the sudden dark gaze to her eye and knew she was up to something.

“Okay…” he hesitantly said, his head turning towards the waiter. “We’ll take the calamari and a portion of arancini to share for starters.” he began, his eyes quickly glancing back to his date for confirmation she was okay with this. She merely raised her eyebrows as she sank back in her seat, wine glass still poised in her hand, the tiniest tilt to her head encouraging him on. “Then for mains, I’ll take the sea bass…” he paused, flashing her another glance and her eyebrows rose higher still, encouraging him to surprise her and order for her. He quickly scanned back over the menu before him, re-familiarising himself with it. He smiled to himself. “She’ll have the parmigiana di melanzane, a portion of bruschetta and a small caprese salad on the side.” He said with perfect pronunciation as he ordered her a selection of their starters for her to pick and choose from like an Italian version of tapas. Once she had laid down the gauntlet he had felt her tense slightly, worrying whether or not he’d order the right thing, but upon making the order, he could feel her energy begin to relax, a smile forming on her lips again.

“Is that everything, sir?” the waiter asked.

“Yes, I think it is.” Peter said with a smile dismissing the waiter who quickly took their menus from them before heading to the kitchen with their order.

There was a pause between them as Peter took a sip of his wine and they tried to work out what to talk about. 

“How’s your shoulder?” Peter asked her as she folded her hands into her lap.

“It’s okay. A little tender but, it’s fine.” Her fingers automatically reached for the shoulder in question but quickly lowered her hand back into her lap.

“How bad was the house?” she asked. Peter noticed there was a slight hesitancy to her question, as if it pained her to think about.

“It’s gonna take a bit of work but-”

“Do you think we’ll be able to go back there, or will we need to sell it?”

Her question seemed to answer her previous hesitancy. It had been their house, their home. The place they had picked out together, decorated together. Lived in together. They’d always seen it as their forever home. The place to raise kids one day. Maybe get a dog. Hold large family events in the backyard. They’d tried so hard to keep it separate from everything else and now that privacy had been violated.

He was silent for a moment as he considered his response. “I won’t lie… it might have to be a possibility.” He watched her closely as she exhaled the breath she had been holding, the usual twinkle in her eye fading as the reality of their situation took over once more. “But until-”

“I know.” she said, not needing him to finish his sentence, her own mind already completing it for her. ‘Until the Vulture had been taken care of, they wouldn’t even be able to consider the house safe enough to go home.’

“So what do we do?” she asked. “I mean we can’t very well keep staying at May’s.” she noted.

Peter was silent for a moment as he looked down at the table in front of him. He had that face on him, she noted, the one where he had something planned but didn’t want to let on that he in fact had a plan.

He was saved by the arrival of their starters, the food being placed down in the middle of the table for them both to pick at.

“Thank you.” Angel said politely to the waiter as he quickly made his retreat, leaving them alone once more.

“Oh my god.” she sighed as she took a bite out of one of the arancini balls with a groan of satisfaction. “That’s amazing.”

Peter’s face changed to one of pleasant surprise as he placed one into his mouth and confirmed his wife's reaction by having a similar one, his own humm of satisfaction vibrating his lips as he chewed.

“So is it as good as the stuff in the actual country or…?” he asked as they moved on to the calamari.

“Not bad.” she confirmed as she finished her mouthful. “I made friends with this lovely old woman who lived down the road from the house and she used to make the best meatballs I have ever tasted. She had just that right ratio of tomato and garlic and she’d slow cook them so they just melted in your mouth.” Angel gushed.

“Now I’m glad I didn’t order the meatballs.” Peter smiled. “With a description like that I don’t think they could have compared and I would have spent the whole meal feeling disappointed with my food, dreaming about these mouthwatering, slow cooked-”

She giggled, a blush forming on her cheeks as she took another sip of wine as he jokingly continued to use as many adjectives as he knew to describe a plate of meatballs he would never ultimately have.

“Oh no, I’m serious.” he continued with a smirk, “I’m gonna call Miguel right now, get him to tell them to get a jet ready so we can fly to Italy to this mysterious magical Nona who cooks the best meatballs and we will do nothing else until-”

“How are you gonna do that, when I have your phone?” she teased back.

“Fine then, you call Miguel.”

“Peter.” she giggled and chastised. He loved it when he could make her blush. Make her forget about everything else. Take them back to their youth. Quiet rainy afternoons, wrapped up in each other's arms on that small single bed.

“Okay, okay.” he conceded with a smile.

“What do you wanna do about your Father’s house?” he asked her as their main courses arrived, her three smaller plates being laid out strategically in front of her by the waiter. Peter watched as she quietly thanked him before switching the order of the plates once the waiter's back was turned. It made Peter’s stomach turn, a sickly sweet feeling that sent tingles to the joins of his jaw that made him quickly turn his head to his own plate before him, inner conflict returning as his brain remembered the question he’d just asked and all of their recent history began to drive a wedge between them once more.

“Sell it.” 

“You sure?” he questioned. It had been the home she had grown up in.

“There’s nothing left for me there.” she said as she lifted a fork full of salad into her mouth.

“Did you wanna go back and sort through anything?”

“No.” she adamantly shook her head.

“Okay.” he silently nodded and agreed. “We can put all the money back into the foundation if you want. Maybe set up another hub in the city?” he asked, trying to chip away at the wall she seemed to just put up at the mention of her Father.

She paused as she lowered her cutlery. “Peter, can I ask you something?” Peter’s own hands froze either side of his plate as he gave her his full attention. “Do you ever wonder if you made the right choice?”

“What do you-”

“I mean all this.” she gestured with her hand between them. “If you hadn’t given up the suit and the mask… do you think things would have been different?”

“I think…” he paused as he tried to comprehend her question. To think of the life they would have had if he had continued to be the Spider-Man, not whatever he was today, “I think we wouldn’t have much money. I think we’d have ended up living in a shoe box apartment somewhere in Queens, still sneaking around behind your father’s back.” She quietly sipped on her wine as she listened to his thoughts. “I think a lot of people's lives would be harder because they wouldn’t have the hubs to go to when they are in need.”

“That’s not what I mean.” she quietly said as her arms came to rest on the table, her fingers reaching out to him.

“You mean, do you think he would have let you stay?”

There was silence between them. Peter watched as she slowly removed her hand from where it had reached out across the table towards him. Reached out for him, to bridge that gap that had grown between them. But he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t be reminded what it felt like to feel her soft skin against his.

The two of them remained silent, unable to finish their food. The weight of everything that had been or even could have been already enough for their brains to process, let alone the last of their food in front of them.

When the waiter asked if they’d like to look at the dessert menu, Peter waved him off. He instead quickly settled the bill with a generous tip and they both left.

They waited quietly side by side at the edge of the street for the car to be brought around.

“I’m sorry.” she finally blurted out as her arms closed tightly around her with the evening chill. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” she added more quietly as the car revved to a stop in front of them.

The driver quickly got out, handing Peter the keys before stepping towards the passenger door to open it.

“Get in the car.” Peter instructed softer than she expected. “There’s something I want to show you.”

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

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[swan-of-sunrise]

Look Out for the Little Guy!

Summary: Scott Lang's peaceful visit to the Rogers-(Y/L/N) home comes to an abrupt end when (Y/N)'s water breaks and she goes into labor. As Steve's unfortunately-timed absence forces (Y/N) to re-live the traumatic events of their first child's birth, Scott's unwavering support calms her down and reminds her that you should never count out the little guy.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings/Disclaimers: Disclaimer for a brief description of a panic attack and childbirth (nothing graphic)

A/N: Hi guys! I'm back with another one-shot, this time centering around Natalia Austen Rogers-(Y/L/N)'s birth and how awesome Scott Lang is lol I decided that Booksmart and Co. wouldn't quite fit into Quantumania, but our world-renowned historical-fiction author and part-time Avenger would seamlessly fit into the writing of Scott's memoir! Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoy!

Look Out for the Little Guy! July 2025 The Home of Steve Rogers and (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Brooklyn (Superhero Snapshots Masterlist)

“Aaaaand cut!” Scott exclaimed, clicking the ‘end recording’ button on his laptop screen and fist-pumping the air in triumph. “That’s how you do a book interview! Don’t tell anyone else, but you’re hands-down my favorite interviewee; seriously, you’re an amazing storyteller and you’ve given me enough material for at least three more books!”

(Y/N) chuckled bashfully at the older man’s enthusiastic praise, taking a sip of her coconut water and setting the glass down on the dining room table before folding her hands on her nine-month pregnant belly. “What can I say? You asked some very insightful questions for a first-time interviewer and as eager as I am to meet this little gumball, I’ve been dying to talk about something that’s not baby-related for once.”

(Y/N)’s second pregnancy was nearing its conclusion, much to her overwhelming relief. The third trimester had been plagued by insomnia, leg cramps, unending cravings and irregular mood swings, a far cry from her fairly easygoing pregnancy with Carina, and she was more than ready to finally give birth. When her due date of July 1st came and went without so much as a Braxton-Hicks contraction, she was on the brink of a hormone-induced meltdown that had narrowly been averted by a call from a blissfully unaware Scott Lang; the engineer was in New York accompanying Hope on business and was wondering if she was available to be interviewed for his memoir, and she immediately agreed. Scott’s interview was a welcome distraction from her swollen ankles and aching back, and she found herself enjoying her friend’s unorthodox but effective interviewing style the longer the day went on; she opened up about the unspoken struggles she’d faced throughout her time as an Avenger and the friends she’d lost along the way, but he’d also gotten her to talk about more lighthearted subjects like her love of music and her scrap-booking hobby. All in all, a very relaxing day, she thought to herself with another smile.

“That’s how Maggie was towards the end of her pregnancy; anything VistaCorp-related usually bored her out of her mind but around the middle of her third trimester, she’d practically beg me to talk about work just so she could get a break from all the baby preparations.” After tucking his laptop into his backpack, Scott sat back in his chair and took a swig of his Gatorade. “Are you guys doing anything special for dinner?”

“Steve’s picking up Indian food on the way home from the park; butter chicken and basmati rice for him and Cari, and Palak paneer with extra green chilies for me.”

Scott arched a brow at that. “Coconut water, spicy food…you two must be going through Google’s top recommendations for inducing labor. What’s next, pineapple cores, a long walk around the block and…?” His nose wrinkled and he rapidly shook his head. “Y’know what, never mind, I don’t wanna think about you and Steve like that.”

“Don’t worry, we’re only trying the coconut water and spicy food.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes in affectionate exasperation and started to stand, prompting him to jump out of his seat and help her to her feet. “Thank you, Scott. I just wanted to stretch my-” A pained gasp escaped her as she straightened her posture, one hand flying to the small of her back while the other clutched her protruding stomach.

“What is it?” Scott asked, a panicked expression on his face as he leaned down to meet her gaze. “Is the baby coming?!”

“No, I think…I think my back’s just a little sore from sitting for so long. Mm-hmm, that’s what it is.” (Y/N) attempted to reassure her friend with a smile that more closely resembled a grimace. “On an entirely unrelated note, I think I’ll give Steve a call and see if he’s on his way home yet.”

But just as (Y/N) was reaching for her cell phone resting on the antique sideboard, she felt a sudden release of liquid soak the legs of her jeans and watched Scott’s eyes widen in shock. “(Y/N), i-is that what I think it is?” She nodded mutely, momentarily unable to speak, and he ran a frazzled hand through his hair. “Oh man.”

With the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears, (Y/N) snatched up her cell phone and shakily dialed Steve’s number, holding her clammy forehead with her free hand and taking a steadying breath as she waited for him to answer. “Hey sunshine, we were just about to head over to Tikka; Palak paneer with extra green chilies, right?” She opened her mouth to reply but was unable to. “(Y/N)? (Y/N), what’s wrong? Baby, talk to me, what’s wrong? (Y/N)!”

(Y/N) was vaguely aware of Scott taking her cell phone from her and gently easing her down onto a dining room chair, her breath coming out in ragged puffs as he switched on the speaker function. “Her water just broke, Steve, and I think she might be going into shock.”

Steve’s breath hitched in shock but a moment later, his soldier’s training kicked into full gear. “Everything’s gonna be okay, (Y/N), okay? I’ll call Dr. Prince and drop Cari and Indy off at Bucky’s, just like we planned, and then I’ll get to you as fast as I-”

But (Y/N) couldn’t hear her husband’s reassurances or feel her friend’s comforting touch, not through the painful memories of Carina’s birth flooding into her mind. Seven years ago, while Steve and the others were still on the run, an unfortunate encounter with one of Stephen Strange’s mystical artifacts transported her to Sakaar, a dangerous planet ruled by a megalomaniac named the Grandmaster; she’d reluctantly entered into a partnership with Loki – who’d crash-landed on the trash planet after being thrown from the Bifrost by his adoptive sister Hela – and agreed to pose as his wife in exchange for safe passage back to Earth. Unfortunately, her water broke on their first night in the Grandmaster’s palace and with Loki acting as her midwife, she delivered Carina Lorraine Rogers-(Y/L/N). After all the trauma she’d endured over the years and the losses she’d suffered, it was frankly a little shocking that Carina’s birth affected (Y/N) as much as it did. She thought she’d processed the distressing experience of giving birth in an unfamiliar place without Steve there to support her, but having her water break while he was away instantly brought her back to that terrible, frightening day.

A warm hand enveloped hers and pressed it flat against a sturdy chest. “(Y/N)? C’mon, (Y/N), take a deep breath for me, like this…” The chest expanded and contracted in a slow and steady rhythm. “Okay, now you try.” With great effort, she sucked in a deep breath and exhaled and she felt the hand give hers an encouraging pat. “You’re doing great! Let’s take a couple of more breaths together, c’mon.” They breathed in steady tandem and after a short while, she could feel her heartbeat slow to a resting pulse. While her breathing evened out, her vision cleared and she found herself meeting Scott’s reassuring gaze; her friend was kneeling on the ground in front of her, holding her hand flat against his chest and smiling kindly, clearly setting aside his own anxiety to ease her through her sudden panic attack. “How’re you feeling now, (Y/N)?”

“A-A little better…” Accepting the glass of coconut water he offered her, (Y/N) took a timid sip and smiled feebly. “Thank you, Scott.” The older man merely patted her hand and moved to stand as she turned her attention to her cell phone sitting on the kitchen table. “Steve?”

“I’m still here, sunshine, I’m right here,” Steve quickly assured her. “Scott’s gonna drive you to the hospital now, and I’ll be there with you before you know it. Is that okay, baby?”

Tears prickled in (Y/N)’s eyes before she furiously blinked them away and nodded. “Yes, of course, it’s just the thought of you not…not being there, it…” Her voice trembled and her grip tightened on her glass of coconut water. “I-I can’t do this without you, Steve. Not again.”

“You won’t have to, (Y/N), I promise. This won’t be like last time. There’s nothing in heaven or hell that’ll stop me from being there for you and our little Talia, you hear me? We’re gonna do this together, sunshine, and once I get there, I won’t let go of your hand for a single moment; hell, you can break every one of my fingers and I still won’t let go.”

The conviction in her husband’s voice brought on a fresh wave of tears, but she felt herself begin to calm down and even managed a weak chuckle. “I’ll have to remember that when it’s time to begin pushing.”

“There she is. I’ve gotta hang up now and give Dr. Prince a call but before I do, someone wants to wish you luck.”

There was rustling on the other line before Carina’s exuberant voice filled the silence. “Good luck, Mama!”

(Y/N) beamed. “Aw, thank you, lemon drop! Be a good girl for your Uncle Bucky, all right?” The toddler babbled out an indistinguishable reply that caused her to giggle while Steve regained control of his cell phone. “Well, I tried.”

“Bucky’ll be fine; all he’s gotta do is feed her some Dino Nuggets and put on Fantasia and she’ll be out like a light.” Steve chuckled before sobering once again. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” (Y/N) ended the call and released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her anxiety ebbed by her husband’s soothing reassurances; this isn’t like Sakaar, she told herself as she finished off her coconut water, Steve’s going to be right there with you this time. Spotting Scott’s backpack hanging off one of the dining room chairs, she realized he’d left the room sometime during her call and her brow furrowed as she glanced around to see where he’d gone. “…Scott?”

“Yep, I’m right here!” After a moment, Scott re-entered the dining room with a packed hospital tote and her handbag slung over his shoulder; he was clutching a bundle of clothes in his hands and upon further inspection, she realized that it was a pair of maternity leggings, underwear and a sanitary pad. “When Maggie’s water broke, she was pretty stubborn about changing her clothes before heading to the hospital. I tried telling her that the nurses wouldn’t care about a little amniotic fluid and she…well, let’s just say that I was extremely lucky not to have ended up at the bottom of the San Francisco Bay that day. But what can I say? I was young and pretty dumb back then.”

Smiling, (Y/N) carefully stood and accepted the bundle. “Well, I’m glad that your ex-wife resisted the urge to kill you. Thank you, Scott, for all of this, and I’m so sorry if this ruins yours and Hope’s evening.”

“Nah, we were just gonna break out the suits and go have a beer at the top of the Empire State Building.” Scott shrugged good-naturedly. “This is way more exciting than that!”

Sometimes I forget just how strange my life is, (Y/N) thought to herself with an inward chuckle, giving Scott a chaste kiss on the cheek and heading to the guest bathroom to change while he mopped up the puddle on the floor, the God of Mischief helped me deliver Carina and now Ant-Man is escorting me to the hospital. She was adjusting her legging’s elastic waistband and imagining Captain Marvel accompanying her to the pediatrician when she felt her first true contraction, the sudden pain wiping the smile off her face and causing her anxiety to return in full-force.

“I know, gumball, I know you’re very eager to make your appearance and we can’t wait to finally meet you…” (Y/N) cradled her swollen stomach and smoothed a hand over its swell. “But I’d really appreciate it if you can wait until your Daddy’s there with us. Please, for me?”

There was a series of knocks on the bathroom door and Scott’s muffled voice calling out, “You ready for this, (Y/N)?”

She gave herself a moment to compose herself and took another deep breath before opening the door and giving her friend an overly-cheerful smile. “Not at all! What about you?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely! Yeah, I’m totally not internally freaking out and imagining getting stuck in traffic and having to deliver a baby in the backseat of my rental car.” Scott’s teasing grin faltered under the weight of her unimpressed stare. “Oh man, you’re not gonna kill me and dump me in the Hudson River, are you?”

“Of course not, Scott, don’t be silly,” (Y/N) smirked despite herself and patted his chest as she brushed past him. “The East River’s much more convenient.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over an hour later, (Y/N) was fully checked in at NYU Langone and had been assigned a room in the L&D wing; the friendly and thoughtful nurses who filed in and out of her room were a far cry from the Grandmaster’s stoic personal healers, and the typically unpleasant beeps of medical machinery and the sterile smell helped set her mind at ease. She was in the earliest stages of labor – only two centimeters dilated and experiencing the occasional contraction – but because her water had already broken, Doctor Prince recommended that she stay at the hospital and wait for active labor to begin; Scott stayed by her side the entire time, allowing her to squeeze his hand whenever a contraction crept up on her and talking her ear off to distract her from Steve’s noticeable absence.

“Yeah, my publisher says that the title of my book needs to have ‘pizzazz.’ Who even says ‘pizzazz’ anymore?”

(Y/N) chuckled and slipped another ice chip into her mouth. “You think your publisher’s bad? Every time I start writing a book, Greg tells me that any title I come up with needed to have a certain ‘je ne ce quoi’ to it and he always insists on using an obnoxiously exaggerated and borderline offensive French accent.”

Scott laughed. “No, really?”

“Yep, he goes full Inspector Clouseau. I’d ruthlessly mock him for it, but I’m pretty terrible at coming up with book titles and he always helps me workshop good ones-” The tell-tale cramping sensation of a contraction caused her to grip Scott’s hand tightly and squeeze her eyes shut as she forced herself to breathe through the pain. “Holy shit, that was a strong one! When did they say they were going to give me the epidural?”

Her friend glanced over at the clock hanging on the wall. “In about an hour; they said they wanted to wait until you’re at about five centimeters.” She nodded wordlessly, her gaze fixed onto the clock as her palms began to sweat in nervousness; her thoughts were beginning to spiral again and she couldn’t stop herself from imagining one horrible possibility after another. What if Steve had gotten into a car accident? What if Kingpin finally discovered the part they played in helping Clint and Kate against the Tracksuit Mafia? What if another alien invasion was happening right outside and she wasn’t there to help him? What if-? “Hey, did I tell you that Cassie started an underground fight club at her high school?”

“What?” (Y/N)’s head whirled around to look at Scott and the impish grin on face caused her to burst into embarrassed laughter. “You’re having a lot of fun keeping me out of my own head, aren’t you?”

“Of course! I’m the master of misdirection, remember?” He pulled a deck of playing cards out of his jacket pocket and brandished them. “But I think I’ll save the slight-of-hand magic for when things really start to heat up.”

“Well, that’s something to look forward to…” Grimacing in discomfort, (Y/N) reached for her hospital bed’s remote and adjusted its position; she breathed a sigh of relief when her back pains lessened but frowned when she noticed the contemplative expression on Scott’s face. “Did you come up with another book title already?”

Her friend shook his head. “No, I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that Loki – you know, that scary-hot war criminal who almost ruined the Time Heist – that he was the one who helped you out during Carina’s birth.” A regretful look crossed his features as he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up-”

“It’s okay, Scott, really,” (Y/N) quickly reassured him with the briefest of smiles. “Right now, it’s kind of hard not to think about that day. Nat told you all about my little unwanted vacation to Sakaar, right?”

“Yeah, she said you accidentally touched a magic bowl in Doctor Strange’s house while you were there with Thor and Loki looking for their dad, and they got trapped there after falling off that Rainbow Bridge. I told her that it sounded like a bad round of Mad Libs and she just gave me that scary silent death glare of hers.” Scott shuddered at the memory. “Yeah, not my funniest joke. She told me that you and Loki agreed to work together to find a way home, but that you went into labor before you could and Loki helped you deliver Carina.”

(Y/N) set her empty cup aside to cradle her bump, taking comfort in her baby girl’s restless movements. “It’s a gross oversimplification of what happened, but pretty spot-on. Loki was there for me, and he made sure that I wouldn’t give birth frightened and alone in a strange place; Carina and I owe him our lives, and I wish that the rest of the world had gotten to know him the way we did before he…” She swallowed thickly and set her mouth in a firm line to keep from tearing up. “Anyway, from the moment I found out I was expecting this little gumball, a part of me’s been afraid that Steve…that he wouldn’t be here with me again. That’s pretty stupid, huh?”

“C’mon, (Y/N), your feelings aren’t stupid. You and I know better than anyone that it takes time for trauma to heal.” The uncharacteristically subdued expression that crossed Scott’s features and caused her to frown in concern. “Just when my life was finally getting back on track, I got trapped in the Quantum Realm for five years; it was only five hours to me but when I got out, Cassie was suddenly a teenager and half the world was just…gone. And yeah, I was terrified out of my mind, even after I tracked you guys down and we started planning the Time Heist. We brought everyone back and saved the world in the end, but I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve spent the past couple of years afraid it’s all gonna go away again.”

(Y/N)’s heart clenched in sympathy at the older man’s honesty. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”

Shaking his head, Scott rubbed his free hand soothingly along her forearm. “It’s not something I really talk about, so how could you know? Besides, it’s been easier to handle ever since I started writing my book; I think it’s really helped me put my post-prison life into perspective, and it’s even given me an opportunity to reconnect with Cassie.”

“I’m happy for you, Scott.” She managed a smile before looking out the room’s window at the dusk slowly beginning to settle across Manhattan’s skyline. “I just wish I’d found a way to manage my own fear, too.”

“You know what? I think you’re gonna get over it sooner than you realize.”

“What do you-?” (Y/N) turned her head in time to see the door swing open and Steve burst into the room; his clothes were disheveled and his brow was glistening with sweat as he panted with exertion but in that moment, he was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. “Steve!”

Steve was at her bedside in a flash, pulling her into his arms and holding her tight as she buried her face in his neck and clung to him. “I’m here, sunshine, I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” He suddenly pulled back, a panicked look filling his azure eyes while he took in her appearance. “I didn’t miss anything, did I?”

“No, sweetheart, I’m only two centimeters dilated and they haven’t even given me an epidural yet,” (Y/N) patiently explained and the tension in Steve’s posture relaxed; her husband’s presence instantly put her at ease, an almost giddy grin breaking out across her face as he pressed tender kisses onto her sweaty forehead. “All you missed was filling out some boring paperwork and a nurse asking me for my autograph mid-contraction.”

Chuckling, Steve brushed her hair behind her ears and slipped his hand into hers. “I’m sorry I missed that. I would’ve been here sooner but after I dropped Cari and Indy off at Bucky’s, I got stuck in traffic driving out of Red Hook; I think they’re might’ve been some police activity down at the docks again but whatever the hell it was, it must’ve knocked out the cell towers.”

Scott pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and hummed in surprise. “Yeah, you’re right. I was beginning to wonder why I hadn’t heard anything from Hope…” They exchanged a knowing look as (Y/N)’s grip on Steve’s hand subconsciously tightened. A month earlier, they’d gotten word from Kate Bishop that someone blew up Wilson Fisk’s entire armory in Red Hook and since then, they’d both been paying careful attention to the crime boss and his operation’s activities in Brooklyn; it was widely known that Kingpin was a vengeful and volatile man, so it was easy to surmise how he’d react if he learned that they’d had a hand in thwarting his attack on Christmas Eve. There’s always a chance he might not retaliate against someone as famous as an Avenger, (Y/N) thought to herself, trying her hardest not to think about the well-known journalist he’d allegedly murdered. “I should probably head back to the hotel so she won’t worry.”

“Of course.” When their friend got to his feet, Steve reached across the bed and shook his hand. “Thank you, Scott, for looking after (Y/N) and Talia. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

“Hey, you risked literally everything to help me get Hope, Hank and Janet back; I’d say we’re pretty even.” Scott smile widened as he turned his attention to (Y/N) and held his fist out for her to bump. “You’re gonna knock this out of the park, (Y/N)!”

(Y/N) tapped her knuckles against his and beamed up at him. “Hell yeah, I am. Thank you for everything, and tell Hope that I said hi!” After saying his goodbyes, Scott grinned and backed out of the room with an encouraging double thumbs-up, and (Y/N) looked at her frazzled husband with playful suspicion. “You didn’t ditch my baby in the street and run all the way here, did you?”

“Nope, I parked your baby in the first open spot I found in the hospital’s parking garage and then I ran. And thanks to that episode of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air we watched the other week, I took the stairs so that I wouldn’t wind up trapped in the elevator while you were in labor.” Steve pulled up a chair and made himself comfortable, that familiar spark of fire she’d fallen in love with flickered in his azure eyes as he gripped her hand in his. “Are you ready to meet our little girl?”

Overwhelmed by a surge of pure adoration for the man sitting at her bedside, (Y/N) cupped his cheek and smiled when he leaned into her touch. “I’m ready for anything, sweetheart, so long as you’re by my side.” The corner of Steve’s lips curved upwards into a loving smile at that; just as he moved in for a kiss, a sudden contraction caused her to squeeze her eyes shut, pain rippling throughout her entire body. “Sonofabitch!”

“It’s okay, baby, just keep breathing. Nice and easy, like we practiced together in our Lamaze class,” Steve soothed, copying her breath pattern and guiding her through the discomfort. “You’re doing fantastic, (Y/N), just like that.”

After the contraction finally ebbed away, (Y/N) sighed in relief and opened her eyes to meet Steve’s distressed gaze. “I swear to God, the next time a nurse steps foot in this room they’d better be here with my epidural.” Her irritation shifted to concern as she took in his pained features, and it wasn’t until his eyes flicked down that she realized her hand was still crushing his in an iron grip. “I’m so sorry, Steve! Are you all right?!”

Steve’s fingers threaded around hers and prevented her from drawing her hand away from his while an impish grin began to spread across his face. “I can do this all day.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the early morning of Independence Day, Natalia Austen Rogers-(Y/L/N) made her much-anticipated arrival. Throughout the entirety of (Y/N)’s labor, Steve was her pillar of strength; he fetched her cups of ice chips, massaged her calves whenever they began to cramp, offered her a steady stream of encouragements and allowed her to squeeze his hand during each and every contraction. Steve’s unwavering support throughout (Y/N)’s labor continued when it finally came time to push, his clear soldier’s cadence laced with reverence as he relayed the doctor’s orders to her and wiped the sweat from her brow; there were tears of joy in their eyes when Doctor Prince held up the squirming newborn for them to see and while (Y/N) tiredly held her against her chest, a proud Steve cut her umbilical cord and tucked a blanket around her tiny body, the trio savoring their moment of peace as a family.

Natalia, much like her illustrious namesake, was a calm and observant baby. Unlike Carina, she entered the world quietly and without any fuss, curiously studying her surroundings with wide (Y/E/C) eyes; while she possessed the same hair and eye color as her mother and sister, her facial features heavily favored her father, right down to her plump bottom lip and the dimple on her left cheek. After the doctor and nurses left the room, the newborn napped contently against Steve’s bare chest and (Y/N) watched the heart-warming sight for as long as she could before her own exhaustion overtook her. She slept until Natalia’s first feeding and after their daughter’s hunger was satiated, it was time to notify one of their closest friends of their very special delivery.

“She’s beautiful, Booksmart, just like her Mama,” Sam cooed, beaming on the other side of the FaceTime at Natalia, who stared in wonderment at the image displayed on her father’s cell phone. “She’s got her Daddy’s dimples, though.” He tore his eyes away from his goddaughter to shoot Steve a grin. “One helluva birthday present, huh, Steve?”

“The best present I could ever ask for.” Steve smiled proudly and pressed a kiss onto (Y/N)’s cheek. “But (Y/N) was the one who did all the hard work; seeing her go through what she did last night was truly a life-changing experience.”

(Y/N) smiled. “You were everything I needed and more, sweetheart. We did it together, just like we said we would.”

They both leaned in for a kiss but a sudden whimper from Natalia caused (Y/N) to readjust her hold on the newborn and murmur gentle assurances as she wriggled around. “You’d better get used to that, honey-bun; your parents are so lovey-dovey they put 90’s rom-coms to shame.”

“For a guy who shamelessly takes credit for our entire relationship’s existence, Birdbrain, you sure do complain about it a lot.” With a head-shake and a good-natured roll of her eyes, (Y/N) adjusted Natalia’s cotton hat and allowed her tiny hand to clutch her finger. “How’s Buenos Aires?”

“Hot as hell, but gorgeous. Our mission last night went off without a hitch and Joaquin and I are scheduled to leave late tonight, so I’ll be there around this time tomorrow to meet my new goddaughter. Speaking of which, has the cutie-pie met her little sister yet?”

“Not yet, we’re gonna wait to introduce Cari to Talia until we come home tomorrow, where it’s more private.” Steve’s tone remained light, but there was a tense edge to his words. They trusted the discretion of the medical staff at NYU Langone but knew that the longer they stayed at the hospital, the higher the chance that the paparazzi would catch wind that a famous Avenger had just given birth and descend upon the hospital in a desperate attempt to photograph the family; and if that’s what they’ll do for a photograph of my daughters I can only imagine what they’ll do if they ever realized who their father really is, (Y/N) thought to herself as she exchanged a look with her best friend and pursed her lips. “Bucky promised to make lasagna for dinner so try not to be late, Cap.”

Sam perked up at that. “Bucky Barnes’ world-famous lasagna and my best friends’ cute little baby? I wouldn’t miss it for the world, man! I’ve gotta go and make sure Joaquin’s up and at ‘em; we’ve got a mission debrief scheduled at noon and that kid had the bright idea of doin’ tequila shots last night…”

They said their goodbyes – with Sam promising to bring souvenirs home for (Y/N) and their daughters and a celebratory cigar for Steve, and (Y/N) shooting her best friend a hardened glare – and once they ended the call, Steve set his cell phone onto the bedside table and held his hands out. “Ready for a break?”

“Yes, please.” (Y/N) pressed a kiss onto Natalia’s forehead before carefully placing her into Steve’s waiting arms; she relaxed against the pillows and took in the sight of Steve quietly telling their daughter all about her godfather, her smile brightening when his gaze met hers and she saw the unconditional love shining brightly in his azure eyes.

Before either of them could speak, there was a knock on the hospital room’s door and a moment later, Scott popped his head around the door and he gave them a little wave. “Hey guys! The nurse at the front desk said you’re accepting visitors?”

“Of course, come in…” (Y/N)’s eyes widened as she watched the older man carry an enormous vase of sunflowers, a stuffed teddy bear dressed as Uncle Sam and an insulated lunch bag into the room and nudge the door closed behind him. “Oh, Scott, you shouldn’t have!”

“Why not? After all, it’s not every day my awesome superhero friends have a baby! Oh, Hope’s attending a seminar right now, but she wanted me to tell you that she’ll stop by for a visit this afternoon.” Scott breezily spoke, setting the vase and the patriotic teddy bear down on the window’s ledge and offering the lunch bag to (Y/N). “I’m sure the food’s tasty at a swanky hospital like this one, but I figured you guys would appreciate some lunch from Tikka Indian Grill, seeing as you missed out on it last night.”

(Y/N)’s stomach started to rumble as she eagerly unzipped the bag, flipping open its lid and groaning in delight when the mouthwatering aroma hit her nose. “You, Scott Lang, are my favorite superhero.” She withdrew the take-out boxes with one hand and pointed a stern finger at her husband with the other. “Do not tell Sam I just said that, capiche?”

“Capiche, but given the unique circumstances I think he’ll understand,” Steve chuckled, shooting her a fond smile before glancing over at Scott. “Thank you, Scott. Would you like to meet Talia?”

Scott enthusiastically nodded and practically leapt across the room to sanitize his hands; after rubbing a liberal amount of hand sanitizer into his skin, he sat in the hospital room’s armchair and allowed Steve to carefully ease the newborn into his waiting arms. “It’s nice to meet you, Natalia! My name is Scott, but most people just call me Ant-Man. You’re stinking cute, you know that? You’ve got your mom’s hair and eyes and…aw, you’ve got your dad’s dimples! Yep, those are definitely America’s dimples.” (Y/N) and Steve exchanged matching looks of amusement as he settled down onto the bed beside her. “You know what’s kinda weird? You were born on the Fourth of July and share a birthday with your dad, who was formerly Captain America, your Uncle Sam – you know, like Uncle Sam – is our new Captain America, and your mom writes historical-fiction novels centering around American history.” Scott, whose eyes had widened in manic realization while he spoke, looked up at the pair and huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “That’s all gotta be a crazy coincidence, right?”

Steve slung an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders as an unbothered smile played on his lips. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my hundred and seven years, Scott, it’s that there’s no such thing as a coincidence.”

“I’ll second that,” (Y/N) interjected, giving her husband a chaste kiss and resting her head in the crook of his neck. “It’s kind of hard to keep believing in coincidences after you do things like befriend gods, sorcerers and witches and help break the causal structure of our spacetime to achieve time travel.”

“Huh.” The older man blinked away his uneasiness and smiled down at Natalia. “As you can see, the world’s a very strange place, my little Lady Liberty, but you don’t have anything to worry about. Your parents are awesome, butt-kicking superheroes and you’ve got so many honorary super-powered aunts and uncles out there who’ll help ‘em look out for you. Me, I’m just a little guy who uses a suit to shrink and grow, but you know what they say: you should always look out for the little guy.”

(Y/N), who’d been lulled into a sense of tranquility by the warmth of Steve’s embrace and Scott’s sweet words, blinked her eyes open and looked over at their friend and smiled to herself. “You know what, Scott? I think you might’ve just found the perfect title for your book.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Scott's the best, isn't he? Much like how Bruce is dubbed The Strongest Avenger in Thor: Ragnarok, I hereby dub Scott Lang as The Nicest Avenger lol thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ziGMhEsAw833GQ9eV44nR?si=6dfead09c76848d5 

Stumblin’ In Book VII: “Superhero Snapshots” Masterlist 

Superhero Snapshots: "Hawkeye" Masterlist

Tagging: @mrs-obrien @lahoete @awkward117 @fanficfandomlove @momc95 @savedbystyle @awkwardnesshabitat @marinettepotterandplagg @benakenalove @brooke0297 @hufflepeople @outoftheregular @junipermurdock @mads-weasley @username23345 @crist1216 @capswife @lilmschild @crowleysqueenofhell @mary1raven @groovy-lady @ljej95 @toostrangerkid @prettysbliss

[introvertedelf]

Where’s all the smut for this handsome hunka hunka?

Plz I want him to tame the brat out of me 😫

[alexawhatstheweathertoday]

I neeeed to talk about something I noticed in the new episode. When Fisk brought Vanessa to go see Adam, you can see the white painting that Fisk bought from the first time he met Vanessa in the first season of daredevil, but this time it’s covered in blood, Adams blood. I think that the painting could represent Fisk and Vanessa’s relationship and how Adam tainted said relationship, hence the blood. I also feel like there is some connection between Fisk wearing all white and Vanessa wearing all red to that party that they hosted. And there also has to be some connection between when daredevil got shot and his blood splattered all on Fisk’s white suit, just like the painting. But I’m to tired to make the connections soooo😭. I would love to hear what other people think though.

[deniable-masterpiece]

[angellicxx]

Ricochet: Chapter 7- Splitting

Benjamin “Dex” Poindexter x Vigilante Reader

summary: Dex had to make sure you got home safe. His infatuation is killed when he learns a secret he wishes he never found out about his North Star.

warnings: stalking, tw: self harm, blood, bpd, bpd splitting, non consensual watching reader undress

a/n: omg so sorry this took way to long to post here’s a dex pov

-inspired by rooftop watcher

taglist @blxckwidxxw

wc: 2,200

Dex couldn’t understand.

His mind was bleeding for an answer. Trying to rationalize everything he did wrong.

It just didn’t make sense.

He got rid of the O’Connells. Ivan seemed happy about it. Fisk was proud of him.

But you weren’t.

He back tracked through scattered memories, trying to find the shift in the fault line, a place where he did something wrong to offend you and make you so mad. The moment you first spoke to him that night at the bar seemed like a fractured dream. The past few days spent separated from you almost made him spiral— just waiting for the next chance to talk to you.

It was a good thing Fisk assigned him a post in the Volochiy. Dex could maintain order while keeping an eye on Ivan. And he got to be close to you.

He couldn’t care enough to even pretend to be paying attention to the drunken rambles of Ivan when his mind was far off, in the warm lights of the bar. If he concentrated hard enough he could still feel your touch on his hand, the faint relief spreading towards the burning tear in his wrist. He cherished it. But when the idiot spewed his brilliant plan of sending you to the drug den to fend for yourself, the flesh began to burn again.

Those men were bad— evil.

You could be hurt.

An innocent, sweet girl like you couldn’t manage it.

That’s why Dex took great pride in tugging on the those brothers’ extra tightened cuffs, dragging them away before they ever had even a chance to lay a hand on you. He didn’t even care for the approval his fellow agents at the bureau gave him for the discovery— endless praises at how cunning he had been for picking up that unverified tip in the comms line as truth.

He just wanted you to notice.

To thank him for being so brave. For saving you all the trouble. Maybe even invite him back to the bar to share a drink. He didn’t even want the credit— he would have gladly told Ivan you were the one to take the O’Connells down if it made you like him more.

He just wanted to do something helpful for once, to gain your favor.

Maybe it was his fault. He shouldn’t have taken your job.

That was rude of him.

Dex dug his fingers into the still fresh wound on his wrist as punishment. His teeth almost shattered from being clenched so tightly.

Good.

He deserved it.

Dex just couldn’t understand why you were mad at him— like you hated him. He missed how sweet you were, how understanding you had been when you first met. Now you spoke with a tinge of disdain that pierced his chest and made him want to beg on his knees for forgiveness.

The blood on his fingers began to dry, sticking to the metal. His wrist began to throb again, but his grasp remained tight.

He hated how desperately he wanted your approval. He felt like a fucking loser. Like a teenage boy in need of his crush to like him back.

But it wasn’t like that.

Not really.

Dex didn’t understand those kind of emotions. Crushes, relationships, love.

At least not in the way he felt them.

When he did feel them they were like a grenade to his head— all too intense to process and hold in. No matter how hard he tried to shove it down it still bled through, an inescapable desperation he needed to claw out of his skin before it burrowed too deep inside.

What he felt for you wasn’t a crush.

It was obsession.

He tried to suppress his infatuation. Keep it buried. But the longer he tried to ignore you the thoughts only built up more and more. Daydreaming slipped through his mind like conscious thinking, pervading his mind like addiction.

He couldn’t help it that you were just so good— kind, pretty, smart. Somebody he could look up to. Nothing he did felt bad if a person as good as you was doing the same. You were both pawns for Fisk.

Partners.

A smile grew at the thought.

Dex felt like he knew everything about you despite only talking to you once. But he didn’t need to talk to you to understand you. You were easy to watch.

Dex was flattered to see how wide your smile was walking home that night after meeting him. Now he knew it must have been you were just excited Ivan had given you a job to deal with the O’Connells.

That must’ve been why you were mad at him.

You wanted that job. You were excited to be useful.

Oh, you were so cute— so innocent.

He was bad. Selfish. Terrible.

It was his fault you looked so hurt right now.

His fingers dug harder.

Dex ignored the blood trickling down his forearm from a snapped stitch, his eyes burning down the scope. It didn’t matter— your frustration hurt him more. The idea of you walking alone so late at night when there were bad people in the city made him sick. You disappeared so quickly he couldn’t even follow behind to make sure you got home safe. Thank God he remembered the route.

You were already there when he arrived, completely unharmed and pacing— which you hadn’t stopped doing since he had gotten into position on the roof across the alleyway a while ago.

Striding frantically, forearm clasped over your chest with an elbow propped against it, letting your chin rest in a trembling hand.

Even with the O’Connells locked away he was still worried someone might have followed you home; those bastards eyeing you from the bar, that one guy whose fingers brushed your coat when you walked by his table. He would have broke the guy’s hand if he wasn’t so set on reaching you before you got to the door.

It was bad enough you don’t close your curtains. He could see right through your windows perfectly. Imagine if someone else who wasn’t as careful as him wanted to look into your apartment. The thought made him shudder.

Not on his watch.

Dex rationalized it as protection. Ivan told you to get home safe. He was going to make sure of it. He blinked when the wind caught in his eye. Maybe lingering for such a long time wasn’t a good idea. He already knew you were home safe. But he just liked watching you. You really were interesting.

You kept to yourself, but always smiled at the barista and dropped your change in the tip jar. Your apartment was a bit messy for his taste, but he liked the charm. You liked to walk every morning in the park, although you were absent from your regular schedule today. Dex was worried all day until the moment you walked into Ivan’s study, glowing in the warm light, reassuring you were alright.

It wasn’t weird what he was doing. It was only the past few days since you met and he never got close enough for you to see him.

He just wanted to get to know you.

To study you, know what you liked, how he could be better for you. It wasn’t hard—being in the FBI and knowing your name had its perks.

Dex snapped back to reality when you stopped. Standing frozen, eyes flicking to the floor. Your shoulders moved with a deep breath before turning on your heel and revealing the furrow of your eyebrows.

You had an idea.

Dex smirked at his ability to pick up so quick on your mannerisms. The studying paid off.

His expression twisted as you left his view, frustration rising as you became invisible to him. He almost moved his scope to see if he could get a better angle when you suddenly came back, carrying a dark heap of fabric to your bed. He squinted to get a better look at what it was you just dumped onto your sheets, when your hands suddenly gripped the hem of your t-shirt, pulling it off in one fast swoop.

His breath hitched.

The circulation cut off at his wrist when his grip on the scope tightened.

Fuck.

Dex couldn’t tear his eyes away from your unclothed torso. Your stomach and arms flexed as you leaned down to fiddle with the button on your jeans, offering the perfect view of your cleavage peaking from behind a black bra.

Dex painfully forced himself to look away.

It was wrong.

Well, he knew it was supposed to be wrong, but it didn’t feel wrong.

Not like it mattered—the moment you shimmied down your jeans, all integrity was lost.

A look of annoyance smeared your pretty face as you struggled to pull your ankles stuck in the pant leg out, but Dex didn’t care. He wasn’t looking at your face anyways.

You looked good.

Better than he imagined. He adjusted the sights to get a clearer magnification of your body, an unconscious smirk growing in the shadow of his face.

Dex slowly trailed down your chest, over the flexing of your ribs and stomach. The outline of your hips and the faint show of the lace that hugged them. The show of the sweet curve of your thighs, all just for him. His eyes burned un-blinked over your figure, watching you— studying you.

The roof didn’t feel so cold anymore as heat swelled from his bleeding arm up to his thundering head. Blood dripping down his fingers as he gripped the brick laid barrier of the ledge.

You looked like something straight from a Calvin Klein ad as you threw the loose strands of hair out of your eyes and crossed a few steps over to the bed.

Dex didn't even care what you were putting on, his mind was too filled with corrupt thoughts and appreciation for how it only tightened around your form. It looked like a skin tight body suit, an idea that made Dex excited to see, but uneasy about your social plans for the night. He brushed it off— you’re weren’t one of those types of girls. He scoffed at the stupid idea and watched with hungry eyes. He’d be there to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid tonight anyways.

You pulled it over your legs, bringing it up to your shoulders where you wiggled your arms through. The sliver of skin disappeared behind a zipper you pulled from waist the neck, securing it with a belt.

It wasn’t until your gloved hands picked up the mask did his fantasy fall apart.

When you pulled it on you disappeared. His sweet girl (Y/N) was gone— replaced by the mask that haunted his dreams.

The realization hit like a grenade to the fucking head.

Blood dripped off his twitching fingertips.

No.

Dex staggered back, clutching his chest like he had just been shot point blank as the scope clattered to the freezing cold ground.

Blood smeared over his chest, staining his shirt— but that was the least of his problems.

It was you.

He held his breath as you disappeared off the fire escape, slipping into the shadows like you were never even there.

A scoff of disgust dragged out of his throat.

You fucking liar.

Stitches tore open, blood drooling to the floor.

Dex’s fingers clutched into layers of muscle, nearly tearing tendons as a strained groan of agony crawled from his throat.

The pain was blinding.

You caused it. It was all your fault. You were that fucking shadow that aimed glass at him that night— you made him hurt himself.

Dex’s entire world just shattered beneath him. His breathing grew erratic as he pounded a palm against his forehead, trying to get the vision of you in the goddamn suit out of his mind. He cursed himself for being so stupid.

He fucked it up all over again. He shouldn’t have been watching you, like a fucking pervert. This is what he gets for trying to make sure you were safe. Didn’t matter when you were the monster.

Every fantasized thought about you began to burn. The light in your eyes when you looked back at him replayed as a judgmental glare, your sweet laugh became a mockery of him. You were taunting him.

Fisk was right— nobody would ever accept him. He was a fucking fool to think you were ever good for him.

Things could have been so good for you two if you didn’t have to go and throw it all away. Dex steadied himself against the wall boundary, eyes dead set on the pavement far below him.

He should’ve killed you when he had the chance.