#foggy nelson one shot

[ardentprose]

Candlelight Candor

A/N: This is the first public one shot I've written in a very long time so bear with me as I find my footing again.

Type: just sweet and simple fluff; Foggy Nelson x reader

Length: 4.8k~ | 20 min

Warnings: cursing; minor suggestive thoughts; fem!reader

Feel free to message me if a necessary warning isn't mentioned.

Summary: the worst storm of the decade, an unreliable old building, and being alone with your crush, Foggy Nelson

Hell hath no fury like a New York Nor’easter. It didn’t matter whether you had grown accustomed to the brutal winters in the city that never sleeps, because each summer lulled you into a false sense of serenity before winter struck again, the sky darkened, and ten inches of snow were threatening to bury the streets.

Any sane person would be hunkered down in their home, buried under an appropriate amount of blankets, and soundly sleeping away the precious hours gifted by the closing of the workplace.

Any sane person not in love, that is.

When you got the call that Karen was trapped north of the city, as the town she was investigating was hit with the storm first, you were tempted to hang up and go back to sleep. But how could you say no to:

“Good morning, sunshine!”

It took an embarrassingly small amount of convincing for Foggy Nelson to coax you from your haven and come to his law firm to lend an extra hand in the last day leading up to a case. The enigmatic lawyer had you wrapped around his finger and he didn’t even know it.

As you tugged on your heavy duty winter coat and forced your triple socked feet into your boots, you dearly wanted to curse the man for taking advantage of your infatuation. Of course, in his mind, he thought you were just a dedicated friend, and while that may be true, it would be more honest to say you were at his beck and call because you were in love with him.

Consequently, you find yourself hunched over a small desk in a small law firm with poor heating, hoping the feeling in your fingers returns.

And that was before the lights went out.

Precarious flames flicker among documents scattered across whatever surface area could be spared. Careful of the two candles flanking your papers - one cinnamon spice and another the supposed ‘scent of rain’ - you hunch lower and squint, trying to make connections between the paragraphs of legal precedents and other such jargon in the wavering light.

You don’t know how much longer you can strain your neck, scrounging every line of text for a loophole or mistype that will get this case thrown out. The ache in your neck grows insistent until you are forced to lift your head and roll your shoulders to appease the pain for a moment. Your eyes, sore from reading in dim light, fall on the lawyer across from you, taking in the welcome sight of him compared to dull printed texts.

Albeit, Foggy sits across from you in a similar position, muttering from down-turned lips as frustration pinches his expression. Occasionally, he heaves a sigh or grunt through clenched teeth as he hits another dead end. Even still, you allow yourself a small smile at how the orange flames cast warmth on his blond locks, causing them to shimmer like spun gold between the shadows.

A prick of alertness wakes you from your dreamy gaze and casting your eyes around you for the sixth sense of being watched, you find the other partner of the firm, Matt Murdock, smiling in your direction as if he could see you.

Your smile falls immediately, though the endeavor is fruitless as your remaining blush gives you away. Despite not having vision, you knew Matt caught you making heart eyes again at your ‘strictly professional legal friend’. It wasn’t the first time Matt sent you an impish smirk or raised his brows in question at your obvious pining. Especially when you laughed too loudly at Foggy’s quips. But what about it? You liked a sense of humor in a man and Foggy Nelson was a comedian in your enamored eyes.

The maddening thing was Matt doesn’t even pause his reading, skirting over lines of Braille with the same urgency as Foggy muttering out paragraphs of legalities.

You roll your eyes and Matt’s grin widens, but you choose to ignore him, checking your wrist watch for the time.

Your glance never makes it to your wrist, but diverges instead to the window when a sudden bang knocks the glass within it’s frame. The forceful wind rattles the glass with vengeance until it settles into an ominous vibrato. It wasn’t the first time that hour, but the three of you jump in your seats all the same.

“For Pete’s sake, this case better be able to fix that goddamn window.” Foggy curses, rubbing a palm over his heart from the abrupt break in silence.

“We have to win the case in the first place.” You lament, heaving a sigh to regain a normal heart rate.   

“We have less than an hour to find a reasonable cause to dismiss this case. But I’m pretty sure I’m reading algebra right now for all the good these candles are doing.”    Foggy groans, tussling his hair into a visible display of his perturbation. Your eyes follow the motion, happy to see something other than poorly lit paper stimulate your vision, though you sympathize with his annoyance.

“Justice never sleeps.” You quip and Foggy matches your wry smile.

“Of course the courthouse is open.” Foggy continues, flipping over another page. “Hell has frozen over but did the courthouse care? Did they reschedule? Of course not! Why indulge the safety of their tax-paying citizens when they could freeze them to death instead?”

“Whoa there, Foggy, is that the hangover talking or just you?” Matt teases, his fingers hesitating over some lines as conversation picks up.

“If anyone is hungover it’s you and your stupid smile that somehow thinks it’s appropriate to make an appearance right now.”

“I’m not the one who suggested shots last night.”

“I’m not the one who drank them all.”

“Hey, I’ve been quiet and well-behaved this entire time.”

“Guys…twenty minutes…” You interrupt, your own sense of justice dwindling by the hour.

You were more than accustomed to the bickering between the two law firm partners. Despite not being a lawyer yourself, your paralegal abilities were usually called into action since being acquainted with Nelson and Murdock over a previous case. You didn’t even work for them, yet you found yourself here more often than your own office. You also found yourself playing referee alongside legal assistance. At this point, you had helped Foggy and Matt win so many cases and stay friends while doing so, that you were an honorary member of the firm.

Foggy flips a page before him, chin resting on his fist. “I say we call the courthouse and tell them we were trapped inside. Couldn’t open the front door cause of all the…”

He squints.

His eyes go wide.

“Fuck! I found the damned thing!”

A groan of relief resounds from Matt and he throws himself back into his swivel chair, spinning to the side slightly. You break into a smile, watching the candlelight twinkle in Foggy’s eyes with his newfound ecstasy.

“Will it help win the case?” You ask, voice soft if only because of your overwhelming affection.

“This piece of evidence - or should I say lack thereof, will get this case thrown out into the nearest dumpster!” Foggy exclaims, meeting your eyes with his own mirth. Your smile grows larger at this revelation.

Matt tilts his head and once more you feel that devil grin, but you refuse to meet his invisible gaze. However, your up-tick in heart rate betrays your fear of a much bigger revelation being exposed by the brunet lawyer.

Matt seems to spare you from your fears, speaking instead of the case at hand.

“Foggy, I don’t know what we’d do without you. I don’t know how I missed such an obvious detail right in front of me.”

As he stands up, Matt compiles his own version of documents into his briefcase.

“What an oversight on my part.”

He grins expectantly.

You throw your head back and groan, then lift your head in order to glare at Matt.

“That’s the last one, Murdock! You’ve hit your ‘blind’ joke quota for today.”

Matt pouts, jerking on his winter pea coat.

“It’s my law firm, I can make as many jokes as I want. Who am I offending?”

“It’s our law firm, buddy.” Foggy comes to your defense. “And your jokes are in poor taste only because they’re not funny.”

“Hey,” Matt lifts the strap over his shoulder and slides out from behind his desk. “I’m funny.”

“Funny-looking.” You tease. Foggy snorts and points the tip of his pen at you in approval. You bite your lip to keep your grin from spreading into ‘infatuated’ lengths.

“Now, I can’t help that,” Matt gestures to the glasses in his hand before slipping them onto his nose, “given, you know, that I’m-“

“No more!” You point your finger at Matt in warning.

“Alright, jeez. Tough crowd.” Matt grins, still clearly proud of his sense of corny humor.

Before he makes his way to the door, he turns partway to explain his departure.

“I’ll head out first to meet the client early. It’s gonna be hell catching a cab in this storm. Plus the traffic will be worse…you get it.” Matt sighs and snatches his cane from where it rests beside the entryway. He lifts it as a form of dismissal.

“Good idea. I’ll revise our argument first then head over. It shouldn’t take more than a few quick amendments.” Foggy says.

Matt nods and turns to leave.

You turn back to clean up your work, but your head snaps up when you hear Matt fall against the door.

“Are you okay?” You blurt as Matt pushes himself upright on the door.

“I misjudged the space between myself and the door.” He chuckles. “Can’t see anything with the lights out.”

“Leave.”

You turn your back on Matt and his snickering.

“I don’t know how you put up with him.” You say once he’s gone and Foggy rolls his eyes in similar exasperation.

“I’ve learned to stop questioning my life choices when it comes to Matt.”

You laugh, humming in agreement. You lift your gaze to hand Foggy the collected papers across the desk and find his eyes already on you.

Before you can contemplate why his eyes take their time traveling down your face to your outstretched hand, the his easy smile lowers into contemplation once he accepts the papers. He licks his lips and begins scribbling down notes with fervor. Now that the essential information has been found, you’re left with nothing else to do but leave it in the capable hands of the brilliant lawyer before you.

Before you realize it, you’re in a candlelight-induced trance, watching Foggy’s eagle sharp gaze flit back and forth. A small, petty part of you wishes his eyes held the same concentration on you instead of the paperwork. You knew from experience how nice it was to have Foggy’s attention on you.

Meeting Foggy Nelson was like the sun breaking through the clouds after a rainstorm. He had come into your life with undeniable presence and charm, which mostly stemmed from how Foggy was unapologetically himself in all contexts. He didn’t put on the airs of the egotistical disposition that many lawyers were known to have.

That’s not to say he didn’t speak up whenever he found himself in an immoral situation,  but more often than not, Foggy reserved his speeches for retelling the repertoire of stories he loved to share with those who spared him an ear. You, always a listener at heart, and therefore his dedicated audience, were usually in hysterics by the end of his theatrics.

Foggy never just told a story. No, he incorporated gestures, voices and facial expressions that brought the characters - real or not - to life. Karen and Matt had heard every story ten times over, but being the newest addition to the friend group, you took in every detail as if there was going to be an exam.

It was his larger-than-life personality that drew you in, but it was his quiet observations that captivated you. Foggy never used his social prowess to embarrass others - Karen and Matt excluded - only ever making himself the butt of jokes. If he teased you, it was only to tease you out of your shell. His questions were genuine and his gaze, reading your body language and expressions, hung on to every answer you offered him.

The first real conversation you had with him, he asked you about your background.

“So what gods - sorry, Matt, God - above orchestrated for you to be doomed with us as friends?” He asked, curiosity making his sincerity clear.

You told him your abridged life story - including the small role you felt you played, despite it being your own life. Foggy’s smile had waned into a wrinkled line and when you finished he looked at you as if you had just admitted to being from another planet.

“You are the sweetest person I know, with a beautiful heart, and I don’t think you know it. But the rest of us sure do.” His eyes sought yours long enough to ensure you believed his sincerity, then he quickly moved on to throw a jibe at Matt,, and the conversation returned it’s levity. You, however, were left reeling from his compliment.

And absolutely in love.

Doomed, more like. You muse, halting the trip down memory lane before you fell down the well-trodden path of self-doubt and hatred. You have been around long enough to hear stories of the women Foggy had dated, slept with, or fantasized about being with. You didn’t think you made the cut. You had no reason to. Foggy was an extraordinary friend but that didn’t qualify you to wish he did more than friendly things to you.

You focus back in where your eyes had taken the opportunity to stare at Foggy fingering the edges of documents while twirling a pen in his other hand. He settles the pen between his soft, pink lips, tapping it before he bites the cap, completed focused on the phrasing of his task.

A hair falls between his eyes, causing him to wrinkle his nose into an unbearably cute expression.

You send the chair stumbling backwards when you stand, and that focused gaze flies to you.

“I…um..I am…What time is it? I think we should start to head over.” You attempt to clarify.

Foggy removes the writing utensil from his teeth as his eyes analyze your abrupt movement. You feel exposed the longer he stares and start to grow nervous he somehow could hear your wayward thoughts about the dexterity of his fingers.

“Yeah…good call.” Foggy clears his throat. He stands up to gather his things and you step forward to help him.

Handing him a file, his fingers brush the back of your knuckles and your eyes flutter in response.

Cheeks warm despite the cold, you turn from Foggy and set about blowing out all the candles until you’re both left in the dark.

You walk to the door and rest your hand on the doorknob. Turning your wrist, you pull the doorknob out the socket.

Wait.

What?

You glance down at your hand.

“What the hell?” A sense of dread fills you.

“What’s wrong?” Foggy asks, immediately reacting to your alarmed tone.

When you don’t respond, he navigates his way around the desk and chairs in the dark to come to your aid.

You turn back to the door and stare at the vacant hole with consternation until you feel Foggy’s chest brush your left shoulder.

“What happened?”

The weight of the doorknob feels condemning in your palm. Foggy leans down, squinting through the dark. His cheek is inches from yours, his height enshrouding you as he peers at your hands, and any other time your heart would be beating out of your chest.

Well, it was, but for the wrong reason.

“Oh.” He says. “Shit.”

“I have no idea!” You insist before he can even turn his grave expression on you and ask. “I guess the other side of it came loose and just fell off.”

“Well. That’s just fantastic.” Foggy hooks his index in the hole and tugs hard. The door jiggles with his attempts but holds fast.

“So we’re locked in our own office?” you conclude.

Foggy growls in frustration. He stalks back over to the desk, muttering curses to himself.

“Perfect. Just perfect. Of course…worst day of my life…”

Foggy pats his waist down, pulls out his phone, and then hits the first speed dial button.

“Hey, Matt.” He says sharply. “…Yeah, the fucking handle fell off the door.”   

Morose, you glance down at the knob still in your palm.

“No, I don’t- Y/N turned the knob and it just fell off!….Yeah, I already did that.”

Foggy sighs, hums in affirmation before his shoulders drop.

“You sure? Yeah…ugh…fine yeah, okay.”

Matt must have asked for the new evidence Foggy was supposed to bring, you assume, as Foggy proceeds to explain the needed information and confirm Matt understood it all.

“Good luck, buddy. Don’t lose.”

Foggy hangs up, ceasing his pacing. His hand runs through his now tangled locks then drops to his waist. He looks at you with resignation.

“Matt says he can handle the case by himself. It’s not a full blown hearing so…he’ll come back as soon as he can. The case has already started so he doesn’t have time to run back here.”

“Oh.” The prickling sensation of tears burns behind your eyes. The last thing you want is to ever be the cause of Foggy’s stress. Hell, you spend most of your time trying to be as valuable to him as possible.

Foggy searches around him until he finds matches. He lights the nearest candle and then sits down behind his desk.

He frowns once he sees you haven’t moved from your tense stance near the entrance.

“Hey.”

Your eyes flit to his face and find Foggy smiling at you with his recognizable optimism. The kind of smile that feels like he’s sharing a secret joke with you. He drags your previous chair around the desk, beside his.

“C’mere and sit back down. We have at least three hours before Matt returns.”

You hum in assent, still clutching the doorknob as you make your way over.

Coming around the desk, Foggy’s hand darts out, shielding your hip from the sharp corner when you almost don’t clear it.

You jump at his fingers against your waist. Foggy jerks back just as quickly, his grimace apparent.

“Sorry! I didn’t want you to run into it. That corner in particular bruises like a bitch.”

You laugh, hoping the airy chuckle doesn’t betray how his fingertips ignited a reaction far from displeased within you.

“I appreciate it. And I assume you’re speaking from experience?” You sit down. Your knee brushes his, tingling with proximity. You’ve never had a reason to sit so close to Foggy before, even in the booths at bars, and without the light, you sense more than see his presence within your personal space.

Foggy snorts. “Yeah, of course. Matt does it all the time.”

“Oh, so you have practice holding his waist too?” You don’t know where this brazen energy arises from, but you blame it on the intimacy of being secluded in the office with Foggy and your only light source being a small flame that smells of cinnamon.

Foggy’s lips split before curving into a smirk. He narrows his eyes.

“Are you accusing me of making a grab at you?”

You shake your head frantically.    “No! Sorry, that was stupid. I-“

Foggy laughs, waving your apology away.

“I would hope you think more highly of me to at least buy you dinner first.” He reasons, pursing his mouth into an easy smile.

You bite your lip, eyes widening at the suggestion. Was he serious? Or were you letting your feelings cloud an obvious joke?

“Of course I think highly of you, Foggy.” You say, settling into the chair. You set the doorknob on the desk. Your brow furrows as it reminds you of how Foggy was trapped here with you instead of at the courthouse winning the case he’s worked so hard on.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“Seriously, don’t feel bad about the door. This whole shitty place is falling apart.” Foggy gestures vaguely around him. Foggy must have mistaken your silence as guilt. He’s correct in assuming so, but why did he have to read you so damn well?

“No, I know…I just feel bad for you because you deserve to be in that courtroom.”

“Ah, don’t sweat it. Matt’s got it handled. I’m sure they prefer the handsome lawyer down there anyways. Case will go in our favor that way.” He chuckles.

“Handsome?” You frown, not getting the punchline.

His eyes flicker over your face as if to gage how serious you are being.

Foggy shrugs. “Out of the two of us, Matt’s the better lawyer, both in the legal department and looks department.” His half-hearted laugh fails to win you over.

“That isn’t- that’s not true.” You stumble over your words, because it would be foolish to deny the attention the brunet lawyer garners on a consistent basis. However, you weren’t about to accept Matt’s good looks at the cost of denying Foggy’s attractive features either.

Foggy snorts. He shakes his head, hair brushing his shoulders as he does so and you’re overcome with an intense need to make him realize just how important he is to everyone. To you.

“Foggy, you’re incredible to watch in action.”

Foggy’s frown is near comical with his exaggerated pout. You lean in, determined to convince him.

“Foggy, you’re a hell of a good lawyer, too. If Matt is so talented then he wouldn’t partner with someone who wasn’t on his level. The two of you have your own firm. Matt’s not your boss. He’s your equal. That goes for the ‘looks’ department as well. You’re an attractive, generous, compassionate lawyer and it’s a privilege to work with you.”

Foggy’s expression is unreadable as he listens to you rant. His eyes search your face, flitting back and forth with thoughts known only to him. His brow falters slightly and you fear he’s uncomfortable with your impromptu speech.

But eventually, that full mouth of his turns upwards.

Unfortunately, the smile he wears accompanies a glimmer in his eye that makes you lean back into your own chair.

Foggy follows you, invading your breathing space with the heady scent of his aftershave and a hint of shampoo akin to vanilla.   

“What other traits do I possess?”

All at once you realize how revealing your compliments are. Blooming crimson, you attempt a verbal retreat that Foggy has no intention of allowing.

“Oh, um…I didn’t-I just mean…”

“C’mon, tell me! Attorney client privilege.” Foggy winks, his grin upheld and only growing bolder as he rests his cheek on his fist, full attention on you now.

Well, you did wish for that.

“Technically, to be your client I would need to pay you first.” You throw out, if only to prolong the inevitable corner of confession he was backing you into.

“Aha! So you do learn a thing or two around this office. I’ll only charge you five bucks.” Foggy retorts easily enough.

“I don’t have money on me, but since you’ve been known to accept fruit baskets, would you accept other forms of payment?”

“What do you have in mind?” Foggy’s grin is downright devious.

Your eyes widen as you effectively have backed yourself into the corner you were trying to avoid.

A nervous laugh bubbles from your racing heart as you shake your head, waving your hand too for good measure.

“Nothing! I’m kidding, Foggy.”

“Blood money? Was it blood money?”

“No?…No, it was a stupid joke.”

“Tell me.” Foggy sits up, his demeanor becoming serious.

“Please?” He whispers.

You chew on your lower lip, trying to swallow down the thundering of your heart as silence permeates the dimly lit atmosphere between you two.

Maybe it’s the influence of the warm fire painting Foggy’s gaze in such a soft, accepting light, as if he already knows what you’re thinking - or is even feeling it too. Maybe it’s the months of holding back the truth from someone you would tell anything to in a heartbeat. Maybe it’s the hope that ultimately outweighs the anxiety that causes you to admit it.

No longer do the candles, blizzard, or darkness feel like a hindrance. Now they feel intimate, cozy, and warm.

Romantic.

“I was gonna say…something super corny like, “just my undying affection.” You feel like an idiot, grimacing with the confession.

Your eyes dare to check Foggy’s expression, knowing he’s probably gonna reel back in aversion.

Instead, Foggy scoffs, shaking his head slightly. “You’re affection? Jeez, now that’s nowhere near corny.” He purses his lips and his hair brushes his cheek as he shakes his head.

“Earning your attention, let alone your affection - damn, I would win a hundred cases for you, guaranteed!”

You want to blame the playful words as an excuse to ignore the sincerity in his tone, but your body reacts before you can, heart leaping with a thrill of joy and your lips begging for more.

“Guaranteed?”

“Nothing drives a man like his unwavering passion for the woman he adores.”

You must look crazed, in the throes of shock as your brain tries to process the meaning behind his words. Foggy adores you? Really?

Your mouth continues to take the lead.

“You mean that?”

Foggy lifts his hand in the distance between you, which is scarce, and hesitates a second before placing his warm hand atop both your hands picking at each other’s fingertips. The weight of his palm and the comfort of his grip squeezes your fretting hands still. You release a soft exhale.

“Y/n, I’ve never been more serious.    I’ve adored every detail of yours since you graced my office.”

You don’t know what to say, so you nod.

You keep nodding until it dawns that your feelings are reciprocated, perhaps more than you dared hope for.

And then you’re smiling, beaming, and still nodding, as Foggy brings the hand up from your grasp and cups your cheek, smoothing his thumb over in a silent hello before he presses his lips to your mouth.

You press in, feeling him wholly as mint overwhelms your senses. Your lips move with his, chin lifting as you chase his mouth and he meets you once more, applying pressure before he withdraws, and releases your bottom lip from his teeth.

You can’t see much in the dark anyways, but right now you can’t see a thing. Only spots that accompany the ringing in your ears. You might be light-headed too.

Your dazed silence breaks when Foggy’s whisper begins to escalate.

“Before I have a heart attack…tell me I didn’t screw this up. If I read it wrong and you were just joking-“

“No, no! It’s just…I can’t believe you like me back.” Your laugh is a soft exhale before a sharp intake of breath.

“This isn’t some ‘lights go out and we’re vulnerable in the dark confession.” Foggy says as he cups your face once more.

“I mean every word I say in the dark.” He kisses you again and you welcome his eager affection before he pulls back. You open your eyes just in time for the lights flicker on with a stumbling hum as the building regains power.

“And the light.” Foggy tacks on to his previous statement.

You snort, biting your lip in vain to stop your giddy smile.

“That was pretty fucking cool timing if you ask me.” He says, the same elated grin on his flushed visage.

“That was, I’ll admit.” You laugh. You run your tongue across your lips, savoring the taste of his kiss.

“I wish someone could have witnessed it.” Foggy continues to rave, basking in your growing smile of amusement.

“I did.”

Matt stands in the doorway with a wicked grin.

“Missing something?” He asks. Your eyes flit down to his hand.

The other side of the doorknob.

Matt waltzes over to the desk, grabs the doorknob, then returns to the entry and slides it back into place.

Your frown deepens when he unpockets a screw. Within ten seconds the door is fixed with a good rattle to test it out.

“Lucky thing the case got canceled. You guys would have been stuck in this room all night.” Matt says, passing you both on his way to his office. Presumably to start the next caseload.

Foggy breaks first, swiveling in his chair to jab a finger at Matt’s retreating back.

“You bastard!”

Matt spins around once he’s behind the door of his office. He gives ample time to leave his smirk on display as he closes the door in a slow, dramatic fashion until it clicks with finality.

And with it, a realization of his strange behavior today.

You gasp.

Matt never left the building.

[lillywillow]

Blind Double Date

Summary: Your friend Foggy sets you up with his best friend Matt

Written for: @the-slumberparty

Words: 1246

Square Filled: G4- Set Up by Friends

Pairing: Matt Murdoch x Female Reader

Warnings: None

Ever since you first step foot in your Thursday night cooking class, you and Foggy Nelson had been pretty much inseparable. He was funny, really good to talk to and offered great advice if you had a problem. In short, Foggy was like a brother to you. In turn, Foggy had come to see you as a kind of sister. You also both often spoke about your love-lives. Foggy became protective when he heard of guys harassing you and you gave him advice on women.

…

Another Thursday night rolled around and you arrived at your usual spot, waving Foggy over as soon as he walked in.

“Hey, Y/N! How was your date last Friday?” Foggy asked, taking his place next to you.

“Not bad. Not great, but not bad,” you sighed.

“Yeah?”

“He was an okay guy, it’s just… I don’t know. Maybe my romance button is broken or needs resetting or something…” you shrugged, looking over this week’s recipe.

Foggy laughed and looked it over too.

“For what it’s worth, I get what you’re saying. My date last weekend wasn’t all that great either.”

As you started preparing your ingredients, you and Foggy lamented over your failed dates and complained about the state of your romantic lives. Sure, you could cut out the middleman and just date each other but you decided it might get awkward if things went wrong and you still had to come to this class every week. Also, you had become such great friends, the last thing you wanted to do was lose what you had.

“How about we set each other up with dates?” you suggested.

“Sounds good to me… got someone in mind?” he asked, turning down the heat on the cooking appliance.

“You know my friend Gracie?” you prompted, adding your ingredients to the mix.

“Is that the same Gracie that was caught topless sunbathing at what she thought was a nude beach?” he questioned.

“That’s the one,” you grinned.

During your time together, you had told Foggy many stories about your friend Gracie and her various antics.

“Heck yeah! Set that up!” he grinned back.

“What about you? Got someone in mind for me?”

“Sure do. You remember my friend Matt?”

“That’s your law firm partner, right?” you asked.

Foggy often spoke very highly of Matt, and had said a lot about him.

“Yep. How about him?” Foggy suggested.

“Sounds perfect,” you smiled.

“Great! So, I’ll set you up with Matt and you’ll set me up with Gracie.”

As you continued your cooking class, the pair of you discussed the best time for your blind double date.

…

The next night, you and Gracie went to the restaurant that you and Foggy agreed upon at the agreed time. Your friend asked you all sorts of questions while you waited for the two males to arrive.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see Foggy with another man standing behind him. The man was brunette with a little stubble and wearing red glasses. You thought he was quite handsome. Introductions were exchanged and the four of you sat down. From that first moment, Gracie and Foggy made an instant connection, chatting away about this and that but for you and Matt, things were a little different. Connecting with other adults never came easy to you and you had the feeling Matt was a little guarded.

“So, Y/N, Foggy tells me you’re a teacher,” he began, trying to strike up a conversation.

“That’s right. I mostly work with underprivileged kids and those that the school has more or less given up on. I can see these kids trying so hard but so many people have turned their backs on them because they can’t be bothered. I want to show them that there’s someone out there who does care…”

Matt smiled warmly.

“I know what you mean. Foggy and I take on cases for people that society have given up on. It’s like they think the problem will go away on its own rather than deal with it before it gets to breaking point.”

“Exactly!”

With the ice broken, you felt a little more at ease. For you, that was one of the more difficult parts of being set up with a complete stranger; making small talk until you found that connection. The pair of you continued discussing the similarities between your jobs while Foggy and Gracie continued to get along. So well along that they decided to ditch the pair of you to get a room. Feeling a little abandoned by your friend, you started feeling that uneasiness again.

“I get the feeling you want to go home?” Matt asked, picking up on something you were putting out there.

“It’s not that… It’s just… Every time I go on a date lately, I just… I don’t know. Maybe I’m not giving the guys a long enough chance. I mean, how well can you get to know a person over one dinner?”

Matt was silent for a few minutes.

“How about this… we go for a walk, spend a little more time with each other. If at the end of it, you don’t feel anything, you tell me to buzz off, no harm done…” You laughed a little at that. “But if you feel sparks… we can see where this goes,” he suggested.

“I’d really like that…”

…

After paying for your meals, you headed down the street. You held onto Matt’s arm partly as a guide, partly because it made you feel safe. As you walked, you got through all those basic “Getting to know you” questions that were common on a first date but not one did you feel awkward. At one point, you stopped to get some frozen yoghurt from a nice little shop nearby. You read the flavours out to Matt so he could make a decision and described the interior of the shop to him while you sat and ate. When you were finished, Matt walked you to your door.

“So… here we are… What’s the verdict?” Matt grinned.

“Hm, I don’t know… usually the goodnight kiss makes the final cut,” you playfully teased.

“Shall we?” he asked.

Smiling, you gently pressed your lips to his. Matt’s hands made their way to your cheeks, his thumbs stroking your skin. This is what you had built up in your head; a great date ending with the perfect kiss. His hands didn’t roam, his breath was fresh and you could feel butterflies in your stomach. This is everything you were looking for. As you pulled away, you had a dreamy smile on your face.

“So… is this the part you tell me to buzz off?”

You laughed and playfully punched his chest.

“No. That… that was a really good kiss,” you breathed.

“Do you want to see where this goes?” he asked.

“I do, Matt… I really do…”

After saying your goodbyes, Matt waited to make sure you were safe inside before heading off.

…

The following Thursday, you and Foggy celebrated over your successful dates for the night as you started cooking. Neither of you could believe your luck that you both walked away from what could have been awkward blind dates with potential new relationships. You couldn’t wait to see where they would lead you.

[akariamai]

Why

Pairing: College Student!Matt Murdock x College Student!reader

Word Count: 1128

Part 2, Part 3

You’d often laid awake cuddling with Matt, wondering if he was a figment of your imagination. It’s been three months since you’ve been together and it’s been nothing but perfect. You both fit together impeccably. There was something in the way he spoke, so thought-provoking and humorous, you melted whenever the thought arose. Maybe you both were still in the honeymoon phase, looking at your relationship through a tinted frame. Or maybe it was puppy love. Either way you hoped it would last forever.

As you both were living on a tight budget, you had to get creative with your dates. Nothing too expensive and it had to conform to both of your busy schedules. Dates were infrequent but you’d cherish the time you managed to spend together. Matt was slowly making his way into your heart. You tried to ingrain each moment with him into your mind, not wanting to forget even a second.

The tear jerking storm arrived and ruined everything you had built with him. This storm came in the form of a woman. A beautiful woman. And you didn’t want to be the type of girlfriend to prohibit your boyfriend from having friendly relations with other women. Had placed so much trust in Matt that you knew he would never do anything to belittle your trust. However, there was something about Elektra that screamed trouble and it terrified you. At first, you chalked it up to jealousy. Elektra was gorgeous and alluring and confident. She knew what she wanted and how to get it. Who wouldn’t be jealous of her? 

It was beautifully tragic finding the man you imagined to be the one falling for another. The magic that once sparked now dwindled and flickered into nothing. You ignored the signs as he slipped away from you, bit by bit. She was just a friend, you foolishly convinced yourself as he kept mingling with her without you. Nights that could’ve been just the two of you were now lost in the haze. He spent them with her and the thought was just painful. Burying your head into the sand of willful ignorance, you inadvertently invited heartbreak.

As his birthday approached rather quickly, you planned a small date for just the two of you. Dinner at the small diner you both loved so much. It was the place where you both went on your first date. After dinner, you both would hang out with Foggy and Elektra (as Matt had grown close to her) at a cheap comedy show. It was a straightforward plan and yet, everything went wrong.

You waited for him at the diner, almost physically shaking from excitement, awaiting to give him the present you so desperately saved up for. The waitress knew you quite well as they’d seen you and Matt there quite a lot. They knew you were waiting for him and it became heartbreaking to watch as you realized he wasn’t showing. You called him multiple times without a single answer or text. You called Foggy but he had not seen him either. 

Panic wracked your body as you feared if he’d gotten into an accident and it threw you into a fit of terror. The waitress was kind enough to guide you to regain your composure and asked if there was anything she could do to help. You declined before making your way to the nearest hospital. If he was in an accident, he would’ve been admitted into it. You prayed it wasn’t the case and he had simply forgotten. Keeping to himself with his phone off.

There was no record of him being admitted into the hospital and for a moment, you felt like you could breathe. You let Foggy know of your discovery so he wouldn’t spin himself into a frenzy like she had. As soon as you ended your call with Foggy, a new message surfaced on your phone screen. It was from Matt and relief swept over you in a calming wave. He was alright. He was alive.

Opening it up, your relief soon vanished and only heartache remained.

It’s not working out. Sorry.

Tears surfaced as you shied away from the bright white lights of the hospital. A text message. Matt broke up with you via text message on his birthday after you had planned a date. It shouldn’t have hurt so much but you truly thought he was the one. The one meant to stay. And suddenly the dreams you once had shattered with the words sprawled out on your illuminated screen. 

Why? You wanted to text back but whenever you managed to have a semblance of control, your unsteady hands refused to send it. Your pointing finger would hover over the button but never touch. The wound was too fresh to bear the answer to the question that will undoubtedly keep you up at night. Maybe haunt you late into the night. 

Were you not significant enough to say goodbye to in person? Were you so beneath him that facing you, listening to you weep over the ruins of a relationship, was simply not worth his time. Were you both on different pages of the same book and he tore it all up. The masterpiece that could’ve been the two of you.

A few days later, when you were returning the box full of his stuff you caught them, him and Elektra, making out in his dorm room. It hadn’t even been a week and yet he already found someone new. They stopped when they’d noticed you and didn’t even appear to be apologetic.

“What are you doing here?” He asked without a hint of guilt burrowing into his voice. It lacked any of the emotions tethered to a breakup. “How do you have a key?”

You grilled forcibly, as the love you once shared withered and died, “What are you doing here? Don’t you have class?” You, initially, chose to drop off his stuff when he was gone because you didn’t have the strength to face him.

“Didn’t feel like going.” He shrugged as if he was waiting for something. Maybe an outburst of rage or despair or both. You wanted to scream. You want to shout at him for causing you so much pain and question him if they were together at any point in your relationship but you were tired. It had only been a few days since the breakup and yet here he was resembling the tarnish memories of the two of you. It hurt so much. You felt there was a giant hole in the place where he carved a place for himself. He ruined you. 

“Here’s your stuff.” You dropped the box on the floor and left Foggy’s keys on the table before silently leaving.

Masterlist

[sbd-laytall]

The duality of MattFoggy.

Daredevil: Season One (2012) #1

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Matt Murdock X Reader: When the world went quiet

Warning: None (that i know of), fluff

Summary: Basically it's the blip happening from Matt's perspective.

Nothing could have prepared anyone for what was about to happen. Thanos had managed to surprise even those who knew (and were actively trying to stop) his plan. Imagen how shocked the rest of the world(the ones who knew nothing about their impending doom)had been. 

Matt was walking with Foggy when it all started to go down. They’d been making their way back to the office when suddenly the world around them began to change. It started with the noise of someone's car crashing into a poll nearby. Matt focused on trying to listen to what was happening.

“There’s no one inside.”

Matt's eyebrows furrowed as he listened to the strangers who were near the crashed car. How could there not be anyone inside? The car couldn’t have just turned itself on. Matt turned to grab Foggy and ask him what he saw when it happened.

“Matt….”

One moment Matt could hear the panic in Foggy's voice and then suddenly he couldn’t hear anything anymore. He tried to find Foggy's heartbeat but there was nothing there. Then it seemed like everyone around him disappeared. He couldn't hear anyones heartbeat for miles. Panic set in at that moment. What was happening? What could have possibly caused this? Where was Foggy? The questions raced through Matt's head as he desperately tried to anchor himself to reality. He couldn’t see and now there was nothing to hear for miles. The voices seemed to scream inside the hull of his skull and then one of them came out a little bit louder than the rest. 

Where were you?

You’d been talking to Karen when people started to disappear. The two of you had decided to stop at a cafe before meeting up with the boys at the firm. Everythings was going fine. You ordered your beverages and were patiently waiting for them to arrive when the screaming started. Your head snapped in the direction of the sound, your eyes falling onto a woman.

“My baby girl!”

The mother cradled a blanket in her arms but there was no child in sight. You worried that there had been some sort of kidnapping, after all a small baby couldn’t just disappear by itself. You got up to console the woman when Karen's voice entered your ears. She called out your name forcing you to look back at her. The first thing you noticed was the fear in her eyes. You looked down at the hand that had been placed on the table before you turned to look at the screaming woman. Your eyes widened as you realized that there was no hand anymore, only a trail of what looked like dust. You rushed over to Karen, pulling her into your arms.

“Hey look at me. It’s okay, I'm here.”

“I don’t know what's happening.”

“Just breathe, we'll figure it out.”

You turned to ask for help only to realize that Karen wasn’t the only one being affected by whatever was happening. All around you there were people yelling others names. A thick amount of dust covered the small cafe and that's when you realized. They were turning into dust. Karen's voice called for you once more but this time when you turned around to look at your friend she was gone. You stared at the place she’d previously been, your arms feeling lighter due to her absence. Your fingers were covered in dust. Covered in her ashes. You were frozen in place. For all you knew you’d just watched your friend die in your arms. What the hell was happening? What could be killing these many people simultaneously. Where were the boys? The boys. Matt. Where was Matt? Had he too disappeared like Karen or was he out there somewhere all alone listening as people disappeared and not knowing what was going on. You steeled yourself, forcefully brushing the dust off your hands and making your way out of the cafe. You wandered the streets, your ears numb to the sounds around you. You needed to get to Matt. That is if there was still a Matt to get to. You knew that he wouldn’t go home. He'd want to know all of you were okay first. If there was one place Matt would go it was the firm. So that was where you would go.

Matt hurried along the streets of Hell's kitchen. He was so desperate that he’d forgotten to keep the harmless blind guy act up. His cane was folded in his hands as he ran towards the firm, the sounds of screams and panicked conversation filling his ears as he went. He followed the familiar scent of coffee and lavender that made up the small building that he called his law firm. The stronger the smell became the faster he ran. His heart pounded in his chest making it almost impossible to hear anything other than its persistent thumping against his ribcage. He stopped in front of the building, trying to calm his racing heart and slow his breathing. He focused his attention into trying to listen into the building.

“God please let there be a heartbeat.”

And there was. Inside the building on the exact floor of the firm there was the sound of a heartbeat. A loud panicked heartbeat. Your heartbeat.

You were huddled in a corner of Matt's office, your chin against your knees as your arms hugged your legs in place. You’d come into the office a couple of minutes prior, your heart sinking once you’d found the place empty. You’d thought off giving Matt a call but gave up on that idea once you saw his cellphone on one of the desks. It wasn’t like you’d be able to reach him anyway. Not with the amount of people you suspected were calling their loved ones. If this had been on a global scale(which you suspected it was) it would be impossible to get a good cell connection. So instead you’d found a corner and sat down. There was nothing you could do except wait. And what would happen if no one showed up? Well that was a problem for later. Luckily for you not a problem you’d have to deal with because just as you were about to give up hope you heard the door slam open followed by the sound of Matt's voice calling your name. You rushed to get to your feet racing to where the brunette was. Tears filled your eyes as you took in the sight before you. Matt's hair was a mess which meant he’d run over. His cane in his hand and the glasses he’d normally wore were tucked into his shirt pocket, allowing to see his brown eyes filled with concern. He called out your name as he placed his cane onto the desk and moved his hand out in an inviting motion. You placed your hand in his, allowing him to pull you into his embrace. Your scent invaded Matt's nostrils and he’d never been more relieved to have you in his arms. You started crying into his shoulder causing him to make soothing movements on your back with his hands.

“It happened so fast she was there and then she was gone. There was nothing i could- i don’t know how it just-”

“Shhh breath darling. Take a deep breath.”

You did as you were told, the crying making it hard to suck in the air around you.

“There you go.”

You repeated your action a couple of times and after a while it became easier to breathe. The tears no longer spilled out without control. You pulled away from Matt, using your hand to wipe away the remaining tears on your face before placing it on his cheek. 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m still trying to understand what happened.”

You’d been so focused on your own emotions you hadn’t stopped to think about how horrible the ordeal had been for Matt. He’d had to rely solely on his hearing since he couldn’t see which meant that to him it just seemed like things had gone quiet all of a sudden.

“I think we should sit down.”

“Okay.”

Matt followed you to the sofa in Foggy's office. Your heart stung as you entered the room knowing that Foggy must have had the same fate as Karen. Once you were both settled in you started telling Matt what had happened at the cafe. He listened to you, his brown eyes keeping eye contact the whole time you spoke.

“So they just disappeared?”

“Actually it's more like they…like they turned to ash.”

“So like they were being burned from the inside?”

“I thought that too but it would have to hurt a lot to be burned into ash. And none of them screamed. Karen just looked….”

The image of Karen's features flashed in your mind causing you to close your eyes. Matt felt the unease in your body language so he placed his hand on top of yours. You interlaced your fingered with his and gave his hand a squeeze as if to say “thanks”.

“She looked scared. It was almost like she was seeing something that the rest of us couldn’t. I don’t know, it's just insane. You think any of your contacts might know what is going on?”

“I don’t know. Most of us are just in the small league. This sounds like something…”

“Something like?”

“Like the Avengers would deal with.”

“You don’t have Tonys number by any chance do you?”

“No. Like I said, my contacts are all vigilantes. We aren’t friends with superheroes.”

“Well, the news will have something soon. If any of them are left anyway.”

Matt stayed quiet for a second two long for your liking. You gave his hand a squeeze to get his attention.

“You alright?”

“I stopped hearing his heartbeat.”

You frowned at the pain in Matt's voice.

“He was there and then he just…wasn’t.”

“Oh Matty, I can't imagine how panicked you must have been.”

“All I could think about was you. We dealt with a lot of shit together and yeah we’ve had some close calls. But I could always hear you. Hear your heart beating somewhere. For the first time i…thought I lost you.”

Matt knew he had feelings for you but he couldn’t risk putting you in a dangerous position because of his own emotions. The people he loved were targets for his enemies so he decided to keep whatever he felt for you a secret. That way you’d be safe. Safe from him and his double life. Even when you found out that he was Daredevil he decided against confessing to you. He preferred you oblivious and safe than aware and in danger. But now seeing that things could change in milliseconds and there was nothing he could do to stop it he decided it was better if you knew.

“I couldn’t help Foggy but I hoped I could get to you in time. I hoped I'd save you.”

“Matt, it's not your fault. None of this is your fault. You couldn't have known and you couldn’t control it.”

“That’s the problem. I can’t control any of it. My whole life has just been one proof after another that I don't know what tomorrow will bring. It’s my life but it’s not up to me when it will end.”

“Matt, don't talk like that.”

“The point is there is no time like the present. I don’t know everything but I know that I want you by my side. No matter how short or long my time is. No matter what tomorrow brings, I want you with me. Even if-”

You pulled Matt into you as you latched your lips onto his. You’ve loved him for years. You’d die for him but most importantly you’d live for him. And given all that had just happened you’d realized that life was much too unpredictable to not live in the moment. So you kissed him like it’d be the last time and he kissed you back.

The years passed. You and Matt moved in together and eventually Matt had proposed. You missed your friends everyday but life had to go on. The firm remained as full as ever. It seemed not even a near apocalyptic event could make people respect the law. Matt kept living his double life and you helped him however you could. If that meant patching him up, that's what you did. And if it meant hacking into some snob's security system you were the person for the job. The world kept going as if nothing had changed but everyone knew things would never be the same as before. And then, just when you thought things had gotten back to normal(the new normal anyway) you got a call.

You’d picked up the phone like every other time it started to ring but once you’d flipped it over to see the caller your heart nearly stopped. Matt heard the irregularity in your breathing from the other room and made his way to you.

“What is it honey?”

“It’s…uh..It’s Karen.”

You swallowed harshly.

“Karen’s calling me.”

Matt was about to suggest that maybe someone else had gotten her phone number, it had been years after all. But just as he was about to speak a familiar sound started coming out of his phone.

“Foggy Nelson. Foggy Nelson. Foggy Nelson.”

You let out a gasp. One person getting Karen's number was a normal probability. Someone getting Foggy's old number was a normal occurrence. But both of you getting called at the same time by your friends was too great of a coincidence. So the calls could only mean one thing. They were back. Your friends were back. And so were other bilions people.

[farfromstrange]

WORDLE | Matt Murdock x OFC

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | AO3

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OFC

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

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

Word Count: 1.5k

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

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

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

“NO!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s obviously mayor,” Eliza insisted.

“Why?” Foggy challenged.

“Because I said so, duh!”

“That’s not a viable argument!”

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

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

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

“Bet!” He pulled his hand away.

“FOGGY, NO!”

“Foggy, yes!”

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

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

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

“IT IS!”

“IS NOT!”

“IT IS, YOU ABSOLUTE MORON!”

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

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

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

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

“You can’t compare Wordle to sex.”

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

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

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

“What?” Foggy asked.

“Yeah, because-“

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

“Who’s talking about our sex life?”

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

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

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

“Nothing,” they said in unison.

“That’s not what it sounded like.”

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

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

“No,” he scoffed, “why should we?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

“We need to play another round.”

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

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

Her eyes widened. “You take that back!”

“Nope.”

“Foggy!”

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

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

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

“Yeah, I am.”

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

“I didn’t cheat!”

“Then the game cheated.”

“That’s not even a thing!”

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

“No, but-“

“THE GAME CHEATED, OKAY?”

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

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

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

He only sighed, “Can I get a refund?”

“For what?”

“My girlfriend.“

Karen laughed. “Why, what’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Worse,” she smirked sheepishly.

“Oh boy.”

“You’re gonna play wordle with me.”

“What’s that?”

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

“Something tells me I’m not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm.”

“What’s the first word then?”

“Warm.”

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

“What if we lose?”

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

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

“Then will you play with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Good choice.”

“I love you,” he said.

“And I love you.”

[amazing-spiderling]

When Matt asks Foggy for help confessing his feelings, he immediately jumps headfirst into helping his buddy tackle the problem. From tacky tactics to the tried and true, there is nothing Foggy won't suggest if it means making Matt happy. But after weeks pass with no progress, he has to wonder if he's been over-complicating things. Just a little.

A little MattFoggy fic for my buddy @inkforhumanhands that is long overdue. Hope you enjoy it!

>>> READ IT HERE >>>

[excelsiorfics]

Cancer, as it chokes and chokes out life

Date: 13 July 2019 Author: Upupanyway Rating: Teen Word Count/Status: 1,786, complete Dynamic: Foggy Nelson/Kirsten McDuffie/Matt Murdock Characters: Matt Murdock, Foggy Nelson, Kirsten McDuffie Tags: Polyamory, Cancer Fic, Established Relationship

Summary: Foggy's mostly in the hospital nowadays, and sometimes Matt stays over. They have bad nights, sometimes, too.

[pastafossa]

"Waking Nightmare" (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic)🌧️

Time for the next prompt for my Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! This is for day 7. Took an extra day to work on it cause this is a very angsty one, since our prompt was 'Nightmare' and I went with the classic, 'he accidently swings at you while asleep' trope (many thanks to @sunflowersandsapphires and @shouldbestudying41 for helping me with our chats on this one!). You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. Also, if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Wordcount: 5.2k

Warnings for this chapter: BIG angst warning on this one, along with a warning for being hit (not intentional), nightmares, guilt, blood, Matt's convinced he committed DV so that is discussed.

It began, like so many disasters did, with a series of small fractures. 

What started as a horrible week turned out to be the harbinger of a truly terrible month for Matt. Despite near-constant, frantic late nights of casework at Nelson and Murdock, the firm lost two important cases in short order. Both cases had been a long shot when it came to success, but that had done little to soften the blow to Foggy, Karen, and Matt—especially Matt, who’d made promises to client families that he’d been unable to keep.

Matt’s work as Daredevil hadn’t gone much better. A new gang had moved into the Kitchen and set up shop, staking out a territory drenched in blood, ash, and terror. Matt had thrown himself into that fight with the same determination that he always did, and while he’d made serious progress breaking down their operation, there had still been losses. As far as he was concerned, the lives lost in the past month—the three targeted victims in the burning apartment complex he’d been unable to reach in time, and the two store clerks shot and killed in their shops before he could make it to them—were caused by his own personal failings. Despite your best attempts to convince him otherwise, the perceived blood on his hands had only driven him to devote himself even more ferociously to his work at night and during the day.

That devotion snowballed rapidly into a lack of sleep, often the first casualty in Matt’s life when things got stressful or busy. The exhaustion only sent him spiraling further into bouts of anger and a retreat behind his emotional walls. He snapped at you whenever you tried to talk to him about it, shying away from the kind touches he felt he didn’t deserve. While a quiet apology almost always came later in the night, soft and full of regret, it didn’t change the fact that you could see him beginning to splinter and crumble beneath the pressure he’d placed on himself, your Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders. You’d gone through this with him before, the periods in which it all seemed to go wrong and he refused to strap on the lifevests you stubbornly threw to him over and over again. As best you could tell, when these storms came there was no other option but to simply plant your roots deep and ride it out with him, ensure he knew he wasn’t alone. And when he finally fell to pieces, giving beneath the weight, you’d make sure he had a loving hand to help him glue his bloody, broken pieces back together. 

You’d thought that fracturing would come from something on the streets. Another death, maybe, or sheer exhaustion. 

You’d never expected it to happen here.

Not at home. 

“You’re going out?” You watched him dig through his father’s trunk for his suit, his back to you. He’d only just returned from another late night at the office. The only reason you were seeing him at all was because you’d woken up thirsty, heading out to the kitchen to get a glass of water. The distance between you both abruptly felt so much farther than a meager ten feet, so much harder to cross. Still, you tried. “It’s almost two. Some rest might—” “Don’t,” he said tightly, yanking his mask out and tossing it back onto the couch. He pulled out the rest of his suit next along with his billy clubs. His movements were unnaturally stiff, almost robotic. “I need to…” He sucked in an uneven breath, reaching up to run an exhausted hand through his dark hair.  After a moment, he dropped his hand, going back to what he’d been doing. If anything, your implication had only made him more determined, his voice now resolute and closed off. “Our appeals aren’t going well. The city’s quiet for the first time in a month, but that might not last. I need to go out. Just for an hour or two. Go back to bed.”

You gnawed on your lower lip in thought as he stalked over to the couch. Without his shirt, it was so much easier to see the lines of stress and tension cutting their way through him like winding roads, his muscles drawn up tight and hard. The bruising along the canvas of his back and ribs stood out with every neon flash of the billboard beyond the windows, adding a layer of blood red to the spiraling waves of deep blue and sullen indigo painted on his skin. That he’d been hurt even with the protection of the suit told you just how bad it had gotten out there. He needed rest, desperately. You both knew it. But you couldn’t bear the thought of trying to keep him here, forcing him to listen to the sounds of the city without being able to do anything about it. It was a promise you’d made to yourself, once, and you intended to keep it.

“Ok, D.” You kept your tone gentle. He’d hear you even across the room. “Ok. Come back safe.”

Some of his tension eased at your agreement, and he slowed where he’d been opening up his suit, preparing to step into it. Had he really thought you’d fight him? 

“I…” He shook his head after a moment. He turned until you could see him in profile, that same red light now highlighting the dark, bruised shadows beneath his eyes. But for just a moment, there was the barest softening in his expression, a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. You knew this look, this hand stretched out through the bars of the darkened prison cell he’d found himself trapped within. “I love you,” he said softly. “So much. I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m sorry.” 

“I know. Don’t worry about me for now. We’ll work it out. Just be careful tonight.” You tilted your head as he took a few tentative steps towards you. You took your own small step, cautious like you were approaching a stray who might run if you moved too quickly. He lifted his hand once you were within reach, the back of his fingers stroking lightly, tenderly against your cheek. You turned and brushed your lips fondly against his fingers, your eyes fluttering shut as you soaked in the warmth of his skin. It was the most intentional touch you’d gotten from him in a week, outside those moments in his sleep when he held you close, and god, were you grateful for it, something in you easing at the return of his affection. It meant he was coming out of this, swimming back up to the light and out of the void he’d been lost in. Sometimes you wondered if him denying himself your touch wasn’t just another way he punished himself when his darker thoughts seized hold of him. “I love you, too.”

“Go back to bed, sweetheart.” He tipped your chin up so he could place a tired kiss on your forehead before he let you go and returned to his suit. His motions, at least, seemed more settled now. “I’ll be back in an hour if it’s quiet, I promise. I’ll find a way to make it up to you this weekend.”

You left him there in the living area, more content than you’d felt in weeks. Sure, the past month had been shit for you both, but you were coming out of it now just like always. You fell asleep comfortably with that knowledge, cradling it inside you against your heart as you drifted off. 

You weren’t sure what it was that woke you later. Not at first, anyway. The bedroom was dark and quiet, save for the usual sounds of the city at night that leaked in through the closed windows. Matt’s arms weren’t around you, but it was possible he hadn’t gotten back yet. Without any other signs of danger, you gave a soft huff of irritation. Figures. Waking up over nothing. You shifted your head around on the pillow until you found a nice cold spot, closed your eyes, and began to drift back off. 

Then you heard it again behind you.  

Your brow furrowed, eyes blinking back open.

Right, now you knew it wasn’t just a dream. 

The sound you’d heard wasn’t quite a moan. It wasn’t a word, either. Hell, you didn’t know what to call it, exactly, but it definitely wasn’t a happy noise, that much you knew. This sounded… almost pained, hitched and edged with something like panic. You blearily rolled over to get a better look, still half-asleep.

Apparently Matt had gotten back while you were asleep, the shadowy outline of him curled up on the opposite side of the bed. He was also facing away from you, which was… odd. Most nights, he slept with you in his arms—or him in yours on particularly bad nights. That he’d either consciously or unconsciously placed this much distance between you would have stirred the smoldering embers of worry if you’d been more awake. It wasn’t right that he was over ther, curled in on himself, small and isolated, a lonely island in the sea of silk sheets. As you watched, he twitched restlessly, before making that same small, pained noise you’d heard before. Or was it scared? 

Nightmare, you thought sleepily. That explained the distance. He’d probably just rolled away in his sleep. You yawned, untangling yourself enough from your cocoon of blankets that you start crawling over towards him. Clearly this was one of those nights when he was the one that needed to be held. You weren’t entirely sure why your presence helped to soothe his nightmares, but for whatever reason, your arms around him and your breathing against his back, your heartbeat pressed against his back, was often all he needed. Even if he woke up when you got over to him, he’d have an easier time falling back asleep with you holding him. He always did. Especially after such a terrible month. 

You yawned again when you finally settled down behind him, throwing one arm over his waist and spooning affectionately up against his back. He stirred slightly at that, his body going tense and hard, his chest resonating with a soft growl. But he quickly quieted, soothed at the sound of your voice.

“It’s ok, Matt,” you said sleepily, breathing slowly, intentionally against the hard line of his back. “You’re ok, sweetheart. Just a bad dream.” You tucked your legs up behind his, nuzzling over onto his pillow, hunting for him even as your eyes fell shut again. You’d kick yourself later, for what you did next. 

Without thinking, you leaned in… and brushed a firm kiss against the back of his neck. 

Just like that, the peace, the calm was shattered. 

A wild snarl filled the air, followed by a sudden, blinding explosion of pain across your face that lit up the black behind your eyes like a skyline of fireworks. Before you could even cry out, you’d been thrown clear of the bed. You only just avoiding cracking your temple on the corner of Matt’s nightstand. But what your head missed, the rest of your body didn’t. As you slid across the nightstand and came crashing to the ground, you brought down every last object on the nightstand with you, glass and metal shattering somewhere far away from where you were, the whole of the world gone thick and quiet. 

Things got fuzzy then, a sickening carnival maze of light spinning in your vision every time you blinked. Your dazed thoughts were thick, slow to come together. But, still, you tried, because something was very, very wrong. 

Matt. 

Yes. You needed to find Matt. He was probably out on the streets still. It was the only way someone could have broken in just to hit you like an asshole. You weren’t sure where you were crawling too exactly, but away from the threat felt like a good start. As you moved, something hot and wet began to pour down your face in steady streams, irritating and coppery whenever it made it into your mouth. Fortunately, that was a distant problem. You could worry about whatever was on your face later. Your only concern at the moment was holding your attacker off until Matt could get here and kick some fucking ass. 

A pair of feet slammed against the floor, someone calling out, panicked and frantic. The sound was far too garbled for you to understand it immediately, but what it did tell you was that your attacker was still close by. There wasn’t anything around you that you could easily use to defend yourself, or at least, there wasn’t until your hand bumped into something long and metallic. You snatched it up, ignoring the sudden appearance of pain in your palm as you did so. You dragged it with you, metal squealing across the floorboards as you scrambled on your hands and knees. In seconds, you’d made it out of the bedroom and into the living area. 

Good. When Matt came through the rooftop door, he’d have less distance to cross to get to you. You’d also be able to see your attacker better in the flash of the billboard lights, though the flashing sea of red light made your eyes water and burn. But you could also feel your vision clearing, which was great. You’d need it. 

A shaking, trembling hand brushed against your shoulder. 

You rose up swiftly on your knees, metal rod clutched tight in both hands. “Get away from me!” you snarled, putting every last ounce of strength you had into your motion as you twisted and swung. 

And Matt—

What?

—snapped his hand up, catching the lamp rod just before it could hit him in the face. 

“...Matt?” you asked shakily, unable to hide your confusion. “It was you?”

“This can’t be happening, no, no no no,” he choked out tearfully, his breath coming panicked and wild. His tone was so ragged you almost didn’t recognize the voice as his. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re bleeding, I-I’m sorry, I’m so—”

The lamp rod fell from your paired grips. Hands shaking, he brought them up tentatively towards your face. He stopped just before he could touch you, hovering them a breath away from your skin. The first of his tears began to trail down his cheeks, his expression twisting in what you alarmingly recognized as grief. You’d seen him cry before, but never like this. “God, I-I didn’t know it was you, I’m sorry, I thought you were…”

He was… apologizing. But that didn’t make sense, no matter how much you tried to force the idea to settle into your dazed mind. It couldn’t have been Matt. You weren’t afraid of Matt. Matt didn’t hurt you. He didn’t hit you. Those were facts, as irrefutable as gravity, as reliable as the rise and the fall of the sun. You didn’t understand, just like you didn’t understand why he wasn’t holding you. He always did when you were hurt. “You… you hit me?”

The low, agonized noise he made was inhuman. It was the sound of a wounded animal, of someone who’d just been carved open. His hands drew back from your face, dropping down towards your hands where they’d settled on your thighs, though he seemed just as hesitant to touch you there. Tears dripped down from his face, joining the droplets of thick, deep red now scattered across the floor. Had you left all fo that there? You really… were bleeding, weren’t you?

“I-I… I didn’t mean to, I swear I didn’t,” he whispered brokenly, his breath hitching with what was almost a whimper. He grabbed one of the blankets off the chair next to him, the one you loved to curl up under with him. He slid it as gently as he could around one of your hands—oh, you were bleeding there, too, just a little, goddamn cheap lamp—though he avoided allowing his skin to brush against yours. “I was… having a nightmare, and I thought-I thought you were someone else, they had you and I was trying to-to get to you but someone grabbed me and I—God, you have a concussion, your nose is-is bleeding. I have to call Claire, get away from you b-before I… I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry—”

Finally, the idea settled into your mind, the world abruptly righting itself. 

The nightmare.

Well, that made sense.

You still weren’t quite thinking right, thoughts thick and fuzzy like wisps of cotton, a massive, throbbing ache in your head and face that only got worse every time the billboard lit up. But you you’d been right. Matt didn’t hit you. He hadn’t hit you, because he hadn’t known it was you. Hell, he’d even apparently been trying to save you, at least in his nightmare. It seemed simple enough to you, an obvious accident. But it didn’t seem quite so simple to Matt. You reached for his cheek. “Matt,” you soothed, your words only a tiny bit slurred as he sniffled and wrapped the blanket tighter around your hand, applying firm pressure to stop the bleeding. “It’s ok, Matt. You didn’t mean it.”

But the second your fingertips brushed against his skin, he threw himself backwards and out of your reach, his dark eyes wild. “Don’t!” he spat.  You faltered just a little, suddenly unsure. But you quickly shook it off, shakily climbing to your feet to follow after him. Your own injuries felt secondary in that moment, because this… this was the wound, the disaster that might do you both in if you didn’t find some way to stop it. Your bloody nose and hand could wait. “You didn’t mean it, Matt. It was an accident.” 

For every step you took forward, he took one back, the two of you performing some twisted, heartbreaking sort of dance across the floor. Eventually you cornered him against the wall, hemming him in. He was almost shaking as you stepped in close. Your hand rose and this time around, you successfully managed to cup his jaw, trying to press your affection, your calm into his skin. “Easy, Devil-Man. I’m ok,” you murmured. You swiped one thumb over the trail of tears sliding down his cheek, a new one appearing each time you’d cleared away the last, an endless stream of them falling from his grief-stricken eyes as they darted sightlessly around you. “This wasn’t your fault. Help me get cleaned up and then we’ll talk about it, ok?” 

He hitched a soft, quiet breath when you tugged his head down, his forehead pressed to yours like he’d done for you so many times before. You breathed with him for a moment, trying to ease him down.  He swallowed hard, his eyes fluttering closed as you stroked your thumb against his cheek, and for a moment, you almost thought you’d managed to fix it. 

A breath. 

His jaw clenched, and your heart sank.

This time when his eyes opened, all traces of warmth in them were gone. Whatever door you’d once pried open was now shut, slammed resoundingly in your face. “No. It’s not ok.” He brushed your hand away, sliding out from between you and the wall without so much as a pause. He reached up to wipe away his tears, the motion sharp and edged with tension. “Where are you going?” “I need to call Claire to come look you over,” he said flatly, heading for the kitchen. “I’ll use my burner. Mine was on the… the nightstand.” The brief crack in his voice, a brittle chip in the armor he’d just tried to throw up around himself, only confirmed what you’d hoped you could avoid.

“Matt,” you said softly. “Don’t lock me out like this.”

He may have been aiming for calm but he couldn’t hide what he was feeling, not entirely anyway. Not when his hands were still trembling as he felt around on the kitchen counter, acting like he hadn’t heard you. “I’ll call Foggy, too. Once they’re here, I’ll go.” 

“What?” You watched in disbelief as he kept hunting along the counter. With every second that passed and he failed to find it, he grew more frustrated, more angry. He quickly turned his back to you, body stiff like he was expecting a sudden blow. “You’re you’re leaving me?” “I hit you,” he spat viciously, another seething wave of emotion bubbling up through the cracks of his voice like acid, bitter and toxic and just as liable to burn. Here it was, here it was: the self-loathing, the disgust, the burning hatred. He drew in a sharp breath, shivering as he did. And on the exhale, he seemed to have regained control. His voice rapidly returned to that same cold, emotionless monotone, though he kept his face out of your view. Whatever expression he had would give him away, you were certain of it. “I almost broke your nose. You have a concussion. You cut yourself trying to get away from me. I’ve put men in the hospital for a lot less. You’re not safe with me—”

“That’s horseshit,” you huffed, starting towards him on wobbly legs. You had to stop and grab one of the chairs just to keep your balance and halt you from pitching over onto the floor. Not that it was a concern; no matter how upset Matt was, he’d catch you. But still, you falling would only make things worse. You forced yourself to breathe through the roiling in your stomach, unsure if it was the concussion that was making you nauseous or simply the knowledge that he was trying to leave you. But you wouldn’t let those fucking voices in his mind—ones that probably sounded like Stick—drive him away from you. Not without a fight. At least your nose seemed to have stopped bleeding. That was a good sign. “It was an accident. We both know it. This just—it happens something with nightmares, including non-vigilantes, Matt. I’ve woken up scared and smacked you in the face more than once, and you know it.” 

“You didn’t throw me across a nightstand or give me a concussion.” He barked out a bitter laugh. The hateful sound filled you with dread, as did the heartbreaking resolve beneath it. He’d already made up his mind, convinced himself of what he’d done. “I always knew. That’s what they all said. That I was cursed. That I had the Devil inside me. That all I wanted was to hit someone. This is who I am. I wanted to believe it wasn’t true, but deep down, I knew. And now I hurt you. I can’t let that happen again, even if it means I have to leave to keep you safe.” 

“Matt,” you said desperately, managing to make it to the couch, bracing yourself against the arm of it. If you could just get to him, you could fix this. You knew that. “That’s not true. Let’s just talk about this.”

Matt ignored you again, snatching up his keys and starting towards the hall. “I can’t find my burner,” he said. That tone, flat and empty of all feeling, was so much worse than anger. You’d take anger any day—you’d take grief, or hurt. Emotion meant you had a way in, that he’d opened himself to you, baring all the parts of him left vulnerable and raw. This tone, though…You couldn’t help but feel like you were banging your bloodied fists against a door abruptly chained shut. “Keep pressure on your hand. I’m going next door to ask for their phone so I can call Claire. I’ll only be gone for a minute, then I’ll be back. I’ll find somewhere else to stay once she’s here to take care of you.”

No. 

No, he couldn’t leave you over an accident. Your heart rate shot up, rattling against the lump in your throat. You almost felt like you couldn’t breathe, panic crushing your lungs in their grip, something that made him him stiffen. And you-you couldn’t let him leave, not like this, not when he might not come back. There had to be something, some way to reach him and keep him from destroying, burning down the best thing in both of your lives. And there was only one method that might work in a moment like this.  

Holding up a mirror.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed. 

And Matt… froze in the hall, a mere three steps from the front door. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, more firmly now. You didn’t bother to hide the waver in your voice. You drew in a slow breath, exhaling just as slowly. It wasn’t blood running down your face, now, and he’d know it. “I’m sorry for scaring you. For touching your neck in your sleep. I know how vulnerable it is, and how you feel about it being touched by anyone other than me. I didn’t think about what touching that might feel like during a nightmare.” 

“Stop apologizing,” he growled, his shoulders drawing up tight. “They’re not the same thing, and you know it.”

But despite his objections, he hadn’t moved. He hadn’t left yet. Hell, maybe he’d found he couldn’t. Not when you were injured. You’d take it if it meant you had a chance.

“Aren’t they the same?” You reached up with your good hand, sniffling a little as you wiped some of the blood off your face. “According to you, they are. It doesn’t matter what I meant to do, right? Just that I did something that led to me hurting you. And this is hurting you. I can tell.” You choked out a wobbly laugh when he flinched. You used that break in his armor to edge closer, praying you didn’t stumble and fall, losing the ground you’d just gained. “Do you remember when I slipped and dropped that bowl last month and it shattered and cut your feet?” 

“That’s not—”

“I had to pick shards of porcelain out of your poor bare feet. I felt horrible.” Another step. Then another. “Remember when I smacked you in the face during my nightmare last January? Split your lip and everything.” You caught one hand against the shelving unit by the hall, taking a split second to breathe, more tired than you wanted to admit. “You told me those weren’t my fault. You even fucking laughed about your lip. But if this accident is your fault, then all those times are my fault, and so is this one, if you think about it. So I’m sorry, Matt.”  

“I hit you,” came his voice, trembling and uneven. You had a feeling those three small words were your target, spiraling on loop in his mind, their sharp edges tearing into him over and over again. His head slowly dropped, his body curling in on itself as you stopped a few feet away. He shuddered then, and without being able to see his face, you couldn’t tell if it was shame or just… hurt. “Don’t apologize when I hit you. I threw you across the room. I-I hurt you.” 

“Oh, Matt,” you whispered. You took another step, at last coming within touching distance where you might be able to reach him. “It was an accident, sweetheart. You didn’t mean it. You didn’t know it was me. But… but if you want to talk about hurting me, let’s talk about this here.” He stilled when he felt the first gentle touch of your hand against his back. Warm, unafraid, tender. 

“If you’re worried about hurting me, this is how you’d do it,” you said softly, trailing your fingers down the line of his spine with all the love you had in you. “By leaving, Matt. By leaving me here without you when I love you more than anything or anyone else in the world. Don’t do that to me. Please.” This time the sound he made was a broken sob, one hand rising up to fist in his hair. He sank slowly to the ground. You sank with him, winding your arms tight around him as he finally broke, shattering beneath the weight of his guilt. When he didn’t reject your touch, you quickly shifted around him, climbing into his lap. His arms found their way home around your waist, clinging to you tight as you rocked him in your arms, his face buried against your neck, tears flowing hot to join the blood still clinging to your skin. “I’m sorry.” His voice was thick with sorrow, each breath one he had to fight for.  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I never wanted to hurt you, I don’t want to hurt you, I’m sorry—” “Listen to me. This was not your fault. I promise, baby,” you whispered, lifting his head to press your forehead to his like you had before. His eyes were shut, but they fluttered open just for you, as he finally, finally let you back in. You could almost see the torment swirling in them, the guilt, but that was alright. If you could see those shadows, you could fight them. “You were asleep, Matt. You were dreaming. You can’t control what your brain does then. If it thinks there’s a threat, it’s going to react without your input. Do you know how I can be so sure you won’t hurt me? How this all just proved I’m safe with you?” His blank gaze shifted around you, one shaking hand coming up to trace your smile in open disbelief. 

“Because the second you woke up, you were horrified.” You leaned into him, running the fingers of your good hand through his hair as he let out another shaky, breathless sob. “The second you woke up and realized it was me, it just broke you. You would never choose to hurt me, Matt. You're not a violent person, even if you've been taught to use it out there. A bad man doesn’t react like you did. A good man does. You are a good man, do you hear me? And if you leave?” You found his hand with your good one to lace your fingers together and squeeze, his eyes fluttering closed, as did yours. “I swear to God I’ll go stand in an alley in my pajamas and scream that until you have to come protect me from every mugger in the Kitchen. Which will only prove my point that you’d never let anything or anyone hurt me.”  He choked out a quiet, watery laugh, letting you bring his head back down to your throat. His tearful groan at the affection just made you cling to you tighter. “I love you,” he hitched out. “I love you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I’m so sorry. God forgive me, I’m so, so sorry.” 

“I love you, too, Matt,” you whispered, burying your face in his hair. “It’s not your fault. Don’t let your nightmare knock us out this easily. Get back up. Stay, and fight for me, for us. Can you do that for me?”

You felt his eyes fall closed, and for the first time since he’d woken up, you heard a different kind of resolve in his voice: one that was far more familiar, far more welcome, solid and warm and steadfast, a strength you’d happily build your life upon, as he let your love seep in through the cracks to at last chase away some of the dark.

His breath eased out against your skin, soft and familiar. “I… ok. I can do that.”

“Good.”

[ardentprose]

Absence Makes the Heart Grow....Fonder

A/N: I'm better at smut than I am fluff. Yet here I am blushing as if I didn't agonize over every delicious dirty detail. This was supposed to be a longer scene but it would end up as a novel so I split it into two scenes. If you want me to write the second scene after this one, let me know!

Type: shameless explicit smut; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 18+ ONLY; Foggy Nelson x fem!reader

Length: 3.3k~ | 15 min

Warnings: explicit f/m sex, explicit names for genitals; cursing; masturbation; Foggy in a suit deserves a warning; subtle dom!Foggy undertones if you were inside my head and knew that already; not beta read

Feel free to message me if a necessary warning isn't mentioned.

Summary: After a complicated court case extends your boyfriend's trip, you are desperate for relief. Try as you might on your own, nothing compares to Foggy's touch.

Good thing he just walked in the door.

You have no shame when it’s been this long.

It was meant to only be a week, but predictable complications with the justice system’s processes extended your boyfriend’s court case another seven days. Whenever he’s gone, you are left to your own devices. Quite literally.

Unfortunately, when you’re this riled up neither your toys nor your own hand is sufficient. Despite the countless times you have the privilege of riding his thicker, more dexterous fingers, you can never replicate the effortless patterns Foggy massages into your clit with just the right pressure to get you off.

Even worse, Foggy has been an outstanding partner while he’s been away. He dutifully texts you several times a day, whether it’s to ask how you are doing, share his thoughts on the case that stole him away from you, or send yet another selfie with his goofy smile and a thumbs up - along with what looks like a perturbed Matt Murdock - in front of some tourist trap in the current city he was in. His ability to ask you follow-up questions about passing comments you had spoken of days ago over the phone, his willingness to call you at bedtime because he knew you were anxious alone at night, and the sincerity in his tone when he admitted he wanted to stay in the hotel room and talk to you rather than go out for drinks with Matt — it was all innocent and very sweet of him.  It makes him such a kind, caring, and thoughtful partner.

It also makes him so fucking hot.

You don’t want to rudely dismiss his texts, so you’ve been keeping your licentious thoughts to yourself for days. In normal circumstances, a flurry of text messages would leave you frustrated with your phone pinging every time you neared the peak. Instead, it only served to edge you into desperation. You were left yearning for him more than ever. And he was absolutely to blame for it too, clueless as he was to your current predicament.

Sex with Foggy usually involved his distinct skill of making you laugh so hard you couldn’t breathe and then making you come so hard you blacked out. Sometimes it was his five ‘o clock shadow whispering against your ticklish thighs. Other times it was because Foggy thought he was a stand-up comedian and liked to test out bits while fully seated inside you. He would pause to deliver a punchline and wait for your endearing giggles to distract you. Love-drunk eyes attentive to your face, he would bask in the moment your laughter evaporated into wanton cries of ecstasy as he resumed fucking you into the mattress without warning. It was his favorite method of unraveling you. You swear he’s trained you with sexual Pavlovian techniques that at this point, you couldn’t even get yourself off without his help.

You didn’t want to interrupt Foggy’s stream of texts rambling about how he found a quaint little cheese shop next to the airport this morning and that he bought way too much cheese and even found one that he thought you could eat as well as enjoy and that he might have been conned into a subscription box…

You didn’t have the heart to send him your current position on your shared bedspread, left hand buried deep in yourself. How could you admit how his sudden cheese rant had not only interrupted your deviant perusal on a private browser, but was also making you laugh so hard you couldn’t concentrate on the task at hand? The situation was becoming dire. Or downright embarrassing if you weren’t so determined to cum at least once on your own.

Hence, your shamelessly sprawled position on the bed, wearing Foggy’s boxers and one of his faded band tees when the front door opens with an audible click.

You scramble from the bed, hopping on one foot to untangle your ankle from the twisted sheets. Glad to be rid of your tireless, unrewarding solitude, your feet fly down the stairs towards the foyer without a second to lose.

Two modest suitcases make their way through the doorway first before Foggy’s hunched figure shuffles in after them.

Before he finishes locking the door, you’re bounding towards your travel-worn lover. No doubt hearing you thunder down the stairs, Foggy turns, tired eyes alighting. He drops the suitcase handle bar just in time to open his arms. You collide into his chest with a satisfying thump.

“Hello, my lo-“

Your lips cut short his greeting. The rest of his words are swallowed by your tongue reacquainting itself with his while your fingers crawl up his shoulders and tug on his hair that inexplicably feels longer since he’s been gone the past two weeks.

Twisting the blond ends before they unravel from your fingertips, your hands scope out his face next, coming down to cradle his fuzzy cheeks as the beginnings of a beard - something new he’s trying out (and achieving incredibly well) - burns your palms. Your thumb brushes over his chin, savoring the new sensation.

Foggy moves his lips in tandem with yours, and you can feel his grin as he squeezes your hips under his large palms in excited reciprocation.

Yet, he dares to pull back from your warm welcome, albeit licking his lips as he does so.

“Good to know I was missed.”

“You don’t know the fucking half of it.” You exhale.

Foggy’s laugh hitches as your hands tug on his belt and he stumbles into you.

“I have a feeling I’m about to find out.” He mutters, grabbing the base of your neck, fingertips on your chin in order to meet you halfway this time in another searing kiss.

You moan, responsive beneath the subtle weight of his hand on your throat and fully press your chest against his torso.

Foggy tries to keep the kiss going as he releases you in order to shed his overcoat, revealing a deep maroon suit beneath. The texture feels like butter and the waistcoat is impressive. The suit was no doubt another expensive investment of his fashion sense. He must have been striking to watch in court, commanding the room visually, however you cannot help feeling as you run your hands over his arms - that he’s wearing too much damn clothing.

“Baby, baby.” Foggy laughs, pecking your lips after each endearment. He tries to catch your wrists, halting your wandering hands that have managed to slip apart his belt buckle. “At least let me take you upstairs.”

“No.”

These past fourteen days were torture, made only worse by the unintentional edging from your fingers failed agility to keep a pace that would be enough to send you into bliss. You’ll be damned if you wait another second.

Foggy’s lips break and he finally acknowledges the lustful inferno of your gaze.

You grab his tie and yank him with a small yelp back to where he belongs, tasting your mouth as you devour his tongue.

“Here.” You speak against his lips. “Now. Please.”

Your hands unbutton his suit jacket, then slide into the jacket sleeves. The fabric drops from his shoulders, leaving him in his matching waistcoat. You reach for it but Foggy beats you to it, his thumbs deftly popping open the brass buttons before he sheds it, leaving him in a wrinkled, white collared button-down.

On any given day, Foggy is easily exhilarated by your affection for him. Right now? He’s beyond aroused by your demanding desire. Usually, things are much more coy between you two. A playful give and take that acts as foreplay until the teasing grows into touching. But here you are, hands pulling the belt from his slacks, desperate only to take, take, take.

If this is what two weeks away earned him, painful as it is to be away from you, he might be tempted to leave more often.

This time, Foggy steps into your space and reconnect your lips. Your fingertips skim the outline of his cock and whatever thought of leaving you alone again evaporates.

Foggy’s arms find your waist and become a vice.    He keens when you reward him with a firm squeeze. His hips return for more, pressing up into your awaiting palm while he backs you into the wall of the entryway.

The coat rack rattles as your shoulder smacks it. You barely feel it, though Foggy exhales an apology and slides you more to the left before your back finds the wall with a vague thud. His leg parts your thighs and you recoil from the wall into his chest, dropping a few inches to writhe up against the thick muscle beneath his slacks.

You turn your chin towards Foggy’s mouth, breath hitching into his own rapid inhales. Foggy presses a kiss into your chin, then drags an open-mouthed kiss up to your ear, full bottom lip leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Like a flower blooming, your head tilts in the opposite direction, opening yourself to your lover and basking in his warmth. He nips the crest of your ear, then placates the sting with a kiss.

You revel in Foggy’s kisses as they come back down your neck, his facial hair scraping against your skin deliciously. Your eyes flutter, overwhelmed by the sensations from his lips, teeth and tongue. Moaning, your thighs lock around his leg, and you grind your hips with more fervor.

Foggy grunts, keeping his thigh pressed against your body. He meets the upturn of your hips with his fingertips slipping beneath the elastic waistband of your- his boxers. He maneuvers his middle finger between your folds and up to circle your clit with an expertise that comes from familiarity alone.

With a shudder, your legs fall open as Foggy intended. His thigh now free, he adjusts his stance, keeping his wrist rotating and grinding against your pelvis so his free hand could shove down his pants and briefs,

The fabric curls around his thighs as Foggy slides his sensitive cock over the elastic band, hand growing slick from his own arousal leaking down the expanse of his dick. It should be alarming how fast you turn him on, but Foggy never hesitates to dive headfirst into your love with abandon every time.

With bitten lip, you eye the weight of his pulsating cock in the grip of his palm. Your hands fall from his biceps to tug his collared shirt up over his stomach. Bringing your nails down over the surface of his stomach, you scratch past his belly button to his happy trail. Foggy nearly whimpers and steps impossibly closer into your breathing space, removing his left hand from between your legs and lavishing his tongue over his glistening fingers like tasting icing from dessert.

“Please.” You whine, eyes threatening to water with how worked up you are from his ministrations. Foggy is no better, his own flushed skin and frenzied eyes making him look feral.

He draws his hand from his mouth, eyelids weighted with lust. His forehead comes to rest against yours, and his eyes meet your pleading gaze before flitting down.

Foggy takes the head of his cock and presses firmly against your clit. He hums a questioning tone, lips parting to ask consent.

You all but growl your assent, shaking fingers falling over his wrist to shove his cock into you. Panting into each others mouths as if the other will provide oxygen, your heads swim with the intoxication from his initial touch.

Foggy in turn grabs your face, squeezing your cheek slightly as his thumb presses past your lips. You nip him as he tries to guide himself in, careful of your comfort. The slow pace scrapes pleasure from your walls and ignites every nerve ending in your body.

Foggy just manages to slide his palm up behind your head, catching you just before you slam your head back into the wall as your hips curve, slotting him against your cervix. Your high and breathy whine harmonizes against his guttural moan pressed into the center of your chest.

Foggy brings his hips back just enough to slam them forwards, pinning you to the wall with each increasingly rapid thrust. Your arms drape over his neck, lackadaisical. Your legs jerk in his large palms which knead and claw and eventually lift you up further and further as he drives into you with relentless fervor.

Your breath punches from your lungs. You can hardly keep your eyes open past alluring slits that look down upon Foggy’s bitten, swollen lips, cherry flushed cheeks, and furrowed brow. Each thrust forces his hair to fall from it’s once professional, gelled back style. A few strands fall between his screwed eyebrows. You manage to lift a free hand to swipe the hair before it tickles his nose, curling it behind his ear and leaving your hand there to cup his cheek as you pull his face upwards to kiss you once more.

Your fingernails scratch against his scalp, his blond hair scrunched in your death grip. It will be tangled and knotted by the time this is over but that only means you get to wash it later, combing it out with an intentionally slow hand, sometimes tugging his head backwards so you can drop a kiss on his parted lips. Perhaps lick into his mouth and repeat another round late into the night.

Your lips curve into a private smirk, amused how even now, while being fucked senseless against the wall of your foyer, you’re still thinking of scenarios in which you and Foggy continue to have sex all night.

Foggy ends the kiss with a bite and sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. His short nails burn your thighs as they creep towards your ass. His gold watch is a cold contrast against heated skin as he shoves you towards him again and again, beginning to fuck into you with abandon. He always gets aggressive when he nears his climax and you take full advantage, instigating in any way possible in order to drive him even more insane.

You anchor your hands in his hair and rock into his thrusts. His breathing escalates into strained exhales through clenched teeth. Then his eyes snap shut and his head rolls towards the ceiling.

“Fuck.”

You feel his abdomen spasm against yours as he comes. He leans into you, the length of his body pressing you into the wall and keeping you pinned there as his cock head twitches against your cervix.

You gasp into his neck. The heat of his seed and the jerky pumps of his wavering hips fray the last of your nerves. Black stars explode across your vision. Your throat seizes your exhale, releasing a strained cry as you arch into Foggy’s embrace..

Coming back up to cradle your head again, Foggy’s fingers scratch at your scalp. It’s the sting of his nails that gradually ropes you down to the material plane once more.   

You crumple into Foggy’s embrace. His dress shirt is now sheer with sweat. You eye his arms, appreciative of the biceps that have held you against the wall this entire time.

“You alright, baby?”

Foggy kisses your forehead three times, lips brushing your sweaty temple.

You can only moan, the last spasms of your cunt making him stumble slightly as he lowers your feet back to the earth - or rather, the hardwood of your hallway.

Your forehead lands on his chest, using the rise and fall of his breath to steady your own gasps. Your fingers tremble as they make their way up and attempt to curl around the loosened tie that is one wrong move from falling from Foggy’s shoulders.

Foggy brings his palm down over your sweaty hair, leaves a light squeeze at your neck, then starts to run patterns up and down your back. His other hand remains on your waist, keeping you stable, but you still feel the slight tremor of his own fingertips pressing into your hip.

Another moment of quiet passes before Foggy’s hand comes forward to catch your chin, tilting your face up to his searching eyes.

You give him a lazy, sedated smile, satisfaction shining in your eyes. It makes the corners of his swollen pink lips quirk up.

“Welcome home.”

Foggy’s lips part to respond. Before you remember moving, your own teeth are pulling his full bottom lip into your mouth and sucking it with abandon.

Foggy chuckles, moans, and attempts to break the kiss as you nip at his retreating mouth. , He finally presses against the base of your neck to hold you still.

Your pulse thrums to life beneath the weight of his thumb and forefinger brushing your clavicle. By the slight shake of his head and disbelieving smirk, you know you must be staring at him with those faux doe eyes that have inevitably brought him to his knees many a past night.

Foggy says your name, firm but expression gentle.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love making you feel good - and I plan on doing so the rest of the night,” Foggy bumps his forehead into yours and pecks your lips with a grin. “But I also just missed you. Seriously, how are you?”

Your pout bursts into a smile under his soft admission.

“I missed you too.” You nose at him, tempted to kiss that adorable grin of his again but resist. You squeeze his shoulders.

“I’m sorry if I came on a little strong, but I-“

Foggy cuts you off with his own quick kiss and pulls back with a smirk.

“Honey, you can come on me anytime you wish.”

“Foggy!” You roll your eyes, annoyed at how you laugh so easily at such a terrible joke.

“You just said you missed me. Don’t you wanna know how my day went before fucking me again?”

You relish the flicker of lust in his baby blues before Foggy shakes his head, trying to stay on task.

“Yes. Yes, yeah, definitely. I missed you and your voice and our apartment and I wanna know everything you were too lazy to text me.”

He says this while stepping away from you in order to adjust his pants over himself again. Then he turns to gather up his belongings that were haphazardly thrown to the ground when you pounced.

“Hey.” You grab his carry-on as you protest. “I’m not lazy. You just text full-blown essays that no one else has the time to respond to in matching detail.”

You yelp as he swats your ass, following you through the kitchen, towards the staircase.

“You said you liked my long texts. That I’m very thorough.”

“That’s one way to put it.” You snort. “I don’t think you can help your long-winded messages. It’s the lawyer in you.”

“Ha, ha. I’ve never heard that one.”

You turn on the current step, midway up the staircase.   

“Oh, Foggy.” Your smirk grows as he balks at your sultry tone, eyelids lowering and lips parting on cue.

“Don’t misunderstand me. I enjoy that mouth of yours and just how thorough it can be.”

Foggy eyes flit all over your form before meeting you against with such intensity your heart rate picks up.

“What can I say, you’re my favorite case study.”

“Come on!” You throw your head back, moment ruined as his boisterous laugh echoes against the walls.

You continue up the rest of the stairs. Foggy ventures up the rest of the way behind you with a self-satisfied smile dimpling his cheeks. He hits the landing just as you turn into your bedroom.

“If I’m your favorite case to study, how about a dissertation?” You call out of sight.

Foggy rolls his eyes, ignoring how his heart skips at your giggles.

“First of all, that’s not what they’re called and second-“

Before he reaches the doorway, you lean into the hall, top half devoid of the faded band t-shirt.

“Second?”

“Second….Fuck it!” Foggy drops his luggage once again.

“I’m about to have seconds.” Any response at his corny humor evaporates when Foggy darts forward, chasing your giggling, retreating form into the bedsheets for the rest of the night.

[bellaxgiornata]

Underneath the Mistletoe

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: Tired of enduring the obvious pining between you and Matt, Foggy and Karen plan a way to get you and Matt to admit your feelings - or at least to kiss.

Warnings/tags: Nothing but holiday fluff and first kisses

a/n: Finally I managed to get a holiday fic written with everything going on here for me for at least one of my boys! This one grew longer than anticipated but I hope y'all enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated!

Matt Murdock One Shot Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @mattkinsella @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18

Walking in step beside Foggy with her heels clacking along the sidewalk, Karen twirled the branch of mistletoe in her hand, her eyes transfixed on it as it spun. A soft laugh lightly fell from her lips as she shook her head at the fresh clipping. Glancing over her shoulder, she shot Foggy a questioning look beside her. The movement caught his attention and he shifted towards her, catching her eye in return.

“What?” Foggy asked. “What's with that look?”

Karen raised her hand, holding out the mistletoe towards him. One blonde brow rose up onto her forehead skeptically as she eyed him.

“I don't know, Fog,” she mused. “Do you really think this is going to accomplish anything tonight?”

Foggy let out a huff as he reached out, snatching the branch from her hand. He glared playfully back at Karen as Josie’s bar came into view farther down the block.

“Of course it is!” he exclaimed. “Because it's mistletoe , Karen! When two people stand under it, they are required to kiss.”

Karen rolled her eyes, waving a dismissive hand at him. “I know what it is, Fog,” she replied. “But do you think it'll actually get them to kiss? Or even go so far as to admit that they have feelings for each other?”

“It has to,” Foggy answered firmly. “Because I for one am personally tired of Matt making plans to come to Josie’s on specific nights after work, at specific times, just to run into our pretty new friend who often comes here alone because she's quite clearly smitten by our dear, frustrating Matthew. I mean, aren't you tired of watching all the obvious pining, too?”

Karen expelled an audible breath, a wispy cloud of water vapor forming in the air in front of her before it dispersed into the frigid night. Running a gloved hand through her hair, she nodded.

“Yeah, I am,” she agreed. “I mean it's so clear that she's interested in him with the way her eyes are always glued to him whenever he's around. Always smiling at him. And Matt is always finding ways to flirt with her. Or constantly inviting her to meet us back at Josie’s whenever he can–there's absolutely no way he can deny it, either. There's clearly something there.”

“So tonight we'll just…help them along,” Foggy told her, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “Right? Just to get them to stop dancing around their feelings with a little, festive nudge. That's all.”

Slowly, a devious smile spread itself across Karen’s lips as the pair came to a stop in front of the bar. Foggy shot Karen a conspiratorial wink before he opened the door to the bar, a burst of warm air wafting out immediately. He waved her inside before following after her, his eyes scanning the room for Josie. The moment he spotted her behind the bar he held up the branch of mistletoe in the air high above his head.

“Josie!” he called out. 

Behind the bar, Josie’s head darted up from the bottle of beer she was opening for a patron. When recognition dawned on her face at who had called for her, she shot the pair of them a flat look. 

“What do you want, Nelson?” she called back.

“Two beers and your permission to hang this up in your fine establishment,” Foggy answered her, waving the mistletoe above his head again. 

Josie eyed the branch for a moment before dramatically rolling her eyes. “Whatever,” she shot back, focusing back on opening the bottle of beer. “Just as long as you aren't expecting me to kiss you tonight.”

“Aww, Josie,” Foggy cooed, “you wound me so! And on such a magical evening no less.”

“Pay your tab and it'll be a magical evening,” Josie quipped back.

Beside Foggy, Karen threw a hand over her mouth as a giggle bubbled up out of her. Foggy shot Karen yet another playful glare before he led the way over towards the bar, eager to see how the night would unfold.

“Ugh, it was such a good look on his face, too!” Foggy exclaimed, slamming his palm onto the small wooden table for emphasis. “I mean, when Matt dropped that line to the jury, you could just see the color drain from Samson's face! It was beautiful !”

A smile pulled at the corner of your lips as you glanced down at the bottle of beer before you. You'd made your way through the flurry of snowflakes outside once you'd left your office, walking all the way over to Josie’s just so you could meet up with the three lawyers you'd strangely come to befriend here over the past few months. 

The three of them often loved to celebrate their wins in court here, something you had quickly found yourself invited to as if you'd always been part of the group–or the law firm of Nelson, Murdock, and Page itself–instead of just having been the woman at the bar Foggy had once accidentally spilled a drink on before insisting that he buy you your next drink to apologize. After that night when you'd met his friends, you usually found yourself joining them at this little dive bar on a weekly basis. 

And it was no surprise to you that the three of them would be here again this evening because you'd seen them here only two nights ago when Matt himself had asked if you'd join them again. It was quite a confident gesture of him to invite you out to celebrate their win already that night, too, considering the trial hadn’t even happened yet–though confidence bordering on cockiness seemed the norm when it came to Matthew Murdock. Initially you hadn't been planning to come out tonight, but the moment his red lenses had focused on you from across the table and he had flashed you that charming smile on his handsome face, you knew you'd change your plans just to spend another few hours in his presence. You couldn't exactly resist the attractive lawyer who was always flashing smiles in your direction, and he often wasn't far from your mind whenever you weren’t here. 

But of course you'd never admit that. 

“It was pretty entertaining, I'll agree,” Karen replied.

Across the table from you, Matt shifted in his chair. The moment his knee brushed yours underneath the table, your hand tightened around your beer bottle. Inhaling a sharp breath, you sat entirely still in your seat, glad Matt couldn't see your reaction. Though you could feel the heat rising up your neck as your knee felt like it was pleasantly tingling from the brief contact with his. Across from you, Matt cleared his throat, one of his large hands rising from the table and tugging at the collar of his tie. You fought hard to not openly stare at his fingers as they pulled at the fabric, a tight smile slipping onto his lips.

“If only I could have witnessed it,” Matt added.

Internally you agreed. You could only imagine what it would be like to see Matt in action, delivering such powerful and impassioned speeches that you'd only ever drunkenly heard him recite in bits and pieces after the fact at Josie’s. You'd love to see him with his tie done up tight and his suit jacket on, his broad shoulders squared in that confident manner he had as he walked around the courtroom as if he owned it. Which you knew he must do in court because you saw him do it every time he entered this bar. 

And it never failed to turn you on.

You knew it was stupid and foolish, but you wanted him horribly; you always had ever since the night he held out his hand to you and told you his name. He was a beautiful mystery, always so observant for a man lacking one of his senses. And he was charming and flirtatious, which often threw you off even though you assumed it was just his personality. Admittedly you had a crush on him, one you were too afraid to ever confess because he seemed far too out of your league. 

“Hey,” Foggy said, cutting through your thoughts, “what do you all say to a game of pool tonight? Guys against gals?”

Attention shifting to Foggy who was sitting beside Matt, you noticed the way his eyes were darting around the three of you. Eyes narrowing curiously for a moment, you wondered what was with the look he seemed to keep shooting Karen. Out of the corner of your eye, you swore you saw Matt’s dark brow rise curiously above his glasses as if he somehow had also detected something strange in the way Foggy had suggested the game of pool. 

“I don't know,” you began slowly, eyeing the three of them. “I think maybe tonight I'll sit the game out. I'm pretty worn out from work today, I don't think I’m up for a game.”

Foggy’s eyes immediately went wide, his mouth falling open as he gaped at you. Your bottom lip slipped between your teeth awkwardly as you sent him a sheepish smile.

“Oh come on!” Foggy pressed. “It’ll be fun! I promise!”

“Sorry,” you muttered, shrugging lightly. “Not tonight for me.”

Foggy opened his mouth as if he was about to immediately protest, but you felt a hand lightly land on your shoulder. Glancing to your left, you spotted Karen shooting you a wide smile as her piercing blue eyes locked onto yours.

“That’s alright, Fog,” Karen said quickly. “You boys can play a game and the two of us can watch and chat. Right?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure,” you stammered out, confused about the way she was eyeing you while Foggy was staring intensely at the side of her head. “That–that sounds good.”

“Great!” Karen exclaimed as her hand released your shoulder and she slid her chair back. “Let’s go grab another table then.”

Brows furrowed together, you carefully pushed your chair back and rose to your feet along with everyone else. Reaching a hand out, you grabbed your drink from off the table before making your way around it. Though it didn’t escape your notice that Matt still seemed to be wearing a similar look of skepticism on his face. Clearly you weren’t the only one thinking the two seemed off tonight.

Silently you followed behind Karen as she picked out an empty table just beside the pool table and gracefully slid into the seat, sending you a friendly smile as she caught your eye. You returned the gesture, slowly slipping into the seat across from her as Foggy led Matt towards the pool table. Almost involuntarily your eyes flew over to Matt when you saw him set his drink down and begin rolling up his dress sleeves while you settled into your chair. You always did enjoy seeing his muscular forearms covered in those dark hairs, but unfortunately because it was December, he didn’t often roll them up. Though something above his head caught your eye as he was rolling up his left sleeve and you glanced up.

Eyes widening in surprise, you stared at the branch of mistletoe hanging directly above him. That was the last thing you’d have expected to find at Josie’s. She certainly didn’t seem like the type of woman who’d go hanging holiday decorations of any sort in her bar, let alone mistletoe . You were suddenly even more grateful that you’d decided not to play pool tonight so you wouldn’t have to avoid standing beneath it all night. 

“So,” Karen began, the conspiratorial lowering of her voice drawing your eye back to her as she leaned forward towards you, “there’s something I’ve been dying to know for awhile and we never really get a chance to chat as just us girls so I haven't had the opportunity to ask.”

Raising your beer bottle to your lips, you took a deep drink from it under the weight of Karen’s stare. You had a feeling you’d need the liquid courage for whatever question she was about to ask you. Swallowing the drink down, you soon cleared your throat, fighting to keep your gaze on Karen and not Matt as he let out a bark of laughter that had your stomach squirming. He always looked unbelievably handsome with a broad smile spread over his beautiful lips–a look you enjoyed seeing on him. It was difficult not to glance at the sight.

“What’s uh, what’s on your mind?” you asked hesitantly. 

Her dark pink lips curled ever higher as she leaned further forward, placing her elbows onto the table. Her head tilted a bit to the side, a few strands of blonde hair falling forward and framing her face. The angelic appearance wasn’t fooling you though and your stomach twisted nervously.

“Do you like Matt?” she asked bluntly.

It felt like your heart stopped as the sound of billiard balls clacking together on the nearby pool table rang through your ears. Your lips parted in surprise before you could mask your reaction. Despite the fact that you had a feeling she was going to ask you something along those lines, hearing the question aloud still startled you. Out of the corner of your eye, you swore you saw Matt’s head turn in the direction of your table. Though there was absolutely no way he could’ve overheard Karen with how quietly she’d asked the question, but that didn’t stop the heat from once again rising up your neck and reaching your face.

“Oh, well, of course,” you replied awkwardly, pushing a few strands of hair from your face as you focused on your beer bottle. “I like all of you. That's–that's why I'm always here hanging out with you three.”

Nervously glancing up from under your lashes, you saw Karen’s face twist into a look that clearly said that wasn't what she'd meant at all. You shot her a nervous smile, hoping she wouldn't push it. Though as you grabbed your bottle of beer and brought it to your lips for another pull, it was obvious she wasn't letting this go.

“I don't mean do you like Matt as a friend,” she clarified. “I meant are you interested in him? Romantically speaking?”

Nearly choking as you swallowed your drink, you covered your mouth as you coughed into your hand. You weren't getting out of answering this apparently. It didn't help that it seemed both Foggy and Matt were glancing at your table as you sputtered on the beer, both of them shooting you curious and questioning looks. Across the table, Karen continued to smile innocently back at you as she waited for you to recover.

A few moments later you did, trying to wipe your now clammy hands on the thighs of your dress pants. Your eyes dropped down to the sticky wooden table as you thought about how to answer. Surely she wouldn't believe you if you said no considering the knowing look she was currently giving you. And if you answered truthfully but quietly there was no way Matt should be able to overhear the conversation at least. Right?

At the thought of him, your eyes nervously darted over to the pool table. Matt was lining up a shot, bent in half over the table and angling the cue in his hands.

“It's sort of hard not to like him like that,” you replied softly, eyes still lingering on him. “I mean he's…sweet. And funny. And incredibly smart and self-assured. Confident. Obviously very handsome. But I mean he's…”

Your voice trailed off, your attention still on Matt as he remained bent over the pool table. Brows lightly furrowing, it seemed like he was taking longer than usual to make his shot. A glance at Foggy beside him had you thinking he'd noticed it, too. Briefly you wondered what he was doing until Karen’s voice broke through your thoughts. 

“He's what?” she pressed. 

Sighing, your attention returned to your almost empty bottle of beer. Unclasping a hand from your lap, you reached out and grabbed the neck of the bottle. You shrugged lightly, unable to meet her gaze.

“Too far out of my league,” you muttered. 

Drawing the bottle up to your lips, you finished the last of the beer. As you lowered the empty bottle back to the table, swallowing down your drink, you spotted Karen shooting Foggy a look. You couldn't possibly have been imagining it now, clearly they were up to something. But before you could figure out what, Karen spun back around in her seat and shot you a bright smile.

“Look at that, you already finished your drink. How about I get the next round of drinks before we continue this conversation?” she offered.

She quickly pushed her chair back before you could reply, her attention focusing on Matt and Foggy. Eyebrows drawing together, a nervous feeling swirled in your stomach, mingling with the alcohol. 

“You boys need another round of beers?” Karen called over to them. “On me this time, in honor of our win earlier today?”

Matt's head tilted a bit to the side as he focused on her. “Oh, I don't–”

“Of course!” Foggy exclaimed loudly, cutting Matt off as he clapped him on the shoulder. “And you know what? I'll come with and help you grab them.”

Before you even knew what was happening, Foggy was waving you over enthusiastically with a hand. That nervous feeling only grew in your stomach when Karen turned, glancing over her shoulder at you with that bright smile that was clearly meant to be hiding something as Foggy called out your name. 

“Why don’t you come keep Matt company?” Foggy suggested. “And you know, make sure he doesn't cheat to win this game while I'm gone.”

Matt audibly scoffed, shaking his head and countering the accusation immediately. But you weren't paying too much attention to their playful banter as you awkwardly rose to your feet and began making your way over towards Matt. Instead, your eyes were occasionally darting up and eyeing that damn bit of mistletoe that Matt was once again standing directly beneath. Which was why you intentionally came to a stop at the corner of the pool table, trying to keep some distance between you, Matt, and that little bit of mistletoe. 

Though what you hadn't accounted for was Karen stumbling in her heels behind you and accidentally bumping into you, pushing you the few steps forward where you tripped directly into Matt. His hands swiftly darted out and grabbed onto your upper arms, steadying you as you tried to catch your balance. And when you finally did, you abruptly realized your own hands had flown to Matt’s very firm, solid chest to stop your fall. Your face flamed from embarrassment and you quickly withdrew them from him, crossing them over your chest awkwardly. But Matt's hands remained on your arms, keeping you close as the warmth of them seeped through the sleeves of your blouse.

“I am so sorry,” Karen suddenly began apologizing behind you. “My heel must've caught on something along the floor. I didn't mean to do that!”

“It's alright,” you replied, your face still burning as you gazed at the handsome face before you. “But uh, sorry for accidentally running into you, Matt.”

His hands slowly began to release their hold on you, that charming smile returning to his face as he remained focused on you. With how close you were standing to him, you could feel your heart slamming harder in your chest. He was just so unfairly attractive.

“Don't worry about it, sweetheart,” he assured you. 

For a moment you stood there staring back at Matt's smiling face, almost feeling mesmerized by the expression on it. But a loud gasp from just beside Matt broke you out of your staring and caused you to glance over his shoulder at Foggy. Your pulse jumped when you caught him pointing a finger at the mistletoe hanging directly above Matt and yourself. Before you had a chance to move, finally remembering that you'd been trying to avoid the damn thing, the words were already coming out of his mouth.

“It appears you and Matt have found yourself beneath some mistletoe!” Foggy exclaimed. 

Before you, Matt's head cocked to the side as his brows drew beneath his dark lenses. For some reason the smile on his face only grew wider as his covered gaze remained fixed on you.

“We have?” Matt asked curiously. 

“Oh, yes!” Karen added from your other side, pointing a finger up at the branch hanging from the ceiling. “Foggy’s right!”

A light laugh slipped out of Matt, the warmth of it raising goosebumps along your arms as you felt rooted to the spot in front of him. You weren't sure if you should move or not; whether you should attempt to run away and come up with some excuse as to why he didn't need to kiss you. But it didn't help that part of you was hoping he'd somehow want to kiss you.

“I find it quite interesting that our dear Josie would put up mistletoe in her bar,” Matt mused aloud. “She doesn't seem the type.”

“Well either way,” Foggy cut in with an awkward laugh, “it's there! And you're both standing beneath it! So you know what that means! I mean it is tradition after all.”

Eyes growing wide, you openly gaped at Foggy and Karen as she came to stand beside him, a glint of something reflecting back at you in her eyes. Your lips parted as a rush of questions raced through your mind. Had they been the ones to put up the mistletoe? Were they doing it to get you and Matt to kiss? And if that was why they'd been acting so strange tonight– why ? Why would they want you two to kiss?

The sound of Matt clearing his throat brought you back to the moment. Your mouth was still hanging open as you focused back on him, noticing the almost nervous smile now spread on his face. Why did he look nervous?

“Fog uh…has a point,” Matt said, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “It is tradition for two people to kiss underneath mistletoe.”

You could feel your pulse jumping in your throat at his words as behind him you noticed Foggy and Karen quietly making their way over to the bar, leaving you alone with Matt. As your gaze fell back on him before you, your mouth opened and closed a few times while you struggled to form a coherent sentence until one suddenly blurted out of you. 

“You want to kiss me?”

Your eyes instantly grew somehow wider at the question, your hand flying over your mouth to keep any further stupid thoughts from coming out of it. An adorable grin tugged at Matt's lips at your question, a small chuckle slipping out of him. Behind your hand, your teeth clamped down onto your bottom lip in sheer embarrassment. 

“Well, if we're being honest,” Matt began, one hand readjusting the glasses on his nose, “then I should admit I've wanted to kiss you for weeks now. The mistletoe is just…oddly convenient.”

Swallowing hard, you tried to control your breathing which had begun to come in shallower at his confession. He'd wanted to kiss you for weeks now? That fact had your heart hammering heavily in your chest as nerves raced through your body. You could feel your stomach flipping anxiously as you stood there entirely unsure how to respond. 

“But we uh, we certainly don't have to,” Matt said slowly, breaking the silence that had fallen between the pair of you. “I don't want to make you uncomfortable and ruin things between us.”

Feeling your opportunity to let him know how you felt slipping away, your hand flew from your mouth, hovering in the air between the pair of you as a loud ‘no!’ flew from your lips. The way Matt tilted his head at you, his brows rising up on his forehead as that grin returned to his face, had your cheeks once more burning tonight. But you couldn't let this moment slip past your fingers, not with how long you'd been thinking about it. 

“I'd like to,” you admitted awkwardly. “I mean I–I’ve wanted to–to kiss you, too.” You paused when the grin on his face grew wider, your stomach somersaulting at the sight. “Because I…I kind of have a crush on you…”

“Yeah?” he asked, head still canted to the side. “That's fortunate for me since I have a crush on you.”

“Seriously?” you whispered in disbelief.

Matt nodded, that boyish and charming grin growing ever wider on his lips. The lips you suddenly couldn't seem to take your eyes off of.

“Mhmm,” he hummed out. 

“I never knew…” you murmured, voice trailing off.

As you stood there trying to wrap your head around what he'd told you, Matt took a step closer towards you, closing the small bit of space. He reached around you, his arm almost grazing yours as he leant his pool cue up against the table. 

“So about that mistletoe,” Matt mused, lightly placing his hands on your upper arms again as he leaned towards you, causing your heart to skip. “We should…probably kiss, right?”

Your eyelids fluttered as you stared back at him, your breath catching in your throat with every inch he seemed to be drawing nearer to you. It was taking your brain far too long to comprehend what was happening, let alone to form much of a response besides the quiet ‘yes’ that slipped out of you. 

Matt's right hand released your arm and instead came up to cup your cheek. Gingerly he tilted your head, bringing your mouth in towards his as he finally closed the last remaining distance between the pair of you. The moment his lips touched yours, your eyes snapped shut.

At first his lips merely brushed against yours in a warm, gentle graze. The feeling sent a rush of excitement through your entire body as your hands flew up, gripping both of his muscular arms to steady yourself. He pulled back only a fraction from you before your lips were chasing after his, desperate for more than that soft, teasing touch.

He obliged instantly as if he knew–or had maybe heard the faint whimper of protest you'd made–and dove back forward again, connecting his mouth to yours with a bit more tenacity than before. His hand cupping your cheek held you more firmly to him as his plush lips passionately moved against yours in a way that left you gasping for air in the brief moments your mouths parted before inevitably connecting again. 

For a while neither of you seemed able to tear yourself away from the other, entirely oblivious to the entire bar around the pair of you. Your fingers had curled around the fabric of his dress shirt, gripping tight as you tried to hold yourself up. It felt like you were losing yourself entirely in Matt the longer the pair of you kissed and if you let go, you were afraid you might actually lose your balance.

Which was why it took you a minute to regain your composure when Matt finally broke the kiss. He only moved back a few inches from your face, his warm breath brushing gently over your lips as they remained parted. It was a moment before your eyelids fluttered open, taking in the sight of his smiling face before you. His lips seemed pinker as they glistened with both your saliva, the thought of which had a heat building low inside of you.  

“Can I maybe walk you home tonight?” he whispered. 

“Yes,” you replied automatically.

“And can I take you to dinner on Friday night?” he asked next. “Would that be alright?”

You nodded slowly, your eyes focused on his beautiful mouth. “Yes,” you whispered back. 

Matt's smile grew a little wider as his thumb brushed along your cheekbone. Your whole body felt like it was trembling now, your legs fighting not to give out beneath you. Your hands tightened further on his dress shirt, wrinkling the material. 

“And can I kiss you again?” he questioned.

You nodded again, this time more enthusiastically. “Please,” you breathed out. 

An amused chuckle slipped out of him as he leaned forward towards you once more. Out of the corner of your eye, just before you'd closed them again, you swore you saw Karen and Foggy exchanging a high five at the bar. But you forgot about that the moment Matt's lips were back on yours, kissing you more fervently than before as he backed you up against the pool table behind you.

[akariamai]

Forgiveness

Part 1, Part 3

Pairing: Ex!Matt Murdock x Writer!reader

Word Count: 1627

As the poor college student you once were, whose heart was crushed in one of the worst ways possible, you’d had no clue what was awaiting ahead to surprise you. The dream which seemed unreachable at the time. There was a bright future shining over you. The book you wrote a few years after you graduated from Columbia University slowly gained attraction. Suddenly your life has become a whirlwind of good news. You were rising to become a well-known author. Your books began appearing on the shelves of your favorite book stores. Your childhood dream was gradually becoming a reality. You were ecstatic, truly.

You were currently planning a new mystery thriller series in your condo. A giant cork board covering your wall as each piece of the mystery hangs. The cork board contained the entire timeline of your mystery. Red string showcases how they all connect. At first glance, many would’ve chalked it up as a mess. To you, it was your ongoing masterpiece. Notebooks and lone sticky notes covered your work space. A cup of steaming hot coffee was held close to your lips as you looked at the chaos you’ve established. It was your chaos and you treasured it.

Your show of appreciation was disrupted when your phone rang. You very rarely kept the sound on. Writing was hard enough without distractions and while your multitasking had gotten better, it was not that advanced where you could listen to the television while working on the backbones of your series and having your phone on standby. Your friends understood and rarely messaged you with the occasional meme or invitation to go out which you greatly appreciated. They were the best and you loved them dearly.

You walked toward your charging phone, checking the name before answering, “Hello beautiful.” You already knew the reason for this call. It was a reminder to get ready to go out. “I just want to let you know I did not work today.” Lie. “But I did admire my work with a cup of coffee.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” Their voice echoed a scanty teasing tone. It supported the mental image, that you created in your mind, of them tilting their head before placing their pointing finger on the lower side of their check. Unintentionally, you were called out on your bullshit. “Maybe because you're a workaholic and refuse to rest your mind and soul.”

You rubbed your forehead gingerly before rushing to grab suitable clothing, “There’s nothing wrong with getting ahead of work. My deadline might seem long but you never know when that pesky writer’s block comes to bite me in the ass.”

They laughed as you searched through your closest. “One night won’t make a difference.”

“How would you know? I could have a revelation at the bar with no paper or pen and forget about when I get home. A true tragedy for my fans.” You were being dramatic and for good reason. It was simply fun to annoy friends. They loved you no matter how annoying you can be and the good ones stick till the end. “Taking advantage of this abnormal desire to write seems to be a hell of a way to spend my night.”

“Which you have last night and the night before that and the night before that. I don’t want you to burn out and feel uninspired. I know how you get when you're pressed for time.” It was not pretty. You basically have a complete and utter meltdown. Scurrying to finish to reach the deadline while also not disappointing your fans or doing such a disservice to your characters.

As you could not win in this playful argument, you relented. “See you there.”

~~~

The glass bottle clanked when they were slightly tapped against one another and you and your friend cheered for good fortune. The place your friend had chosen was, to the untrained mind, a dump but places like these were the best. The tap water however cannot be trusted. While it looked ghastly, it kept so many memories within its walls. A secret only the building will know when everyone ceases to exist and more memories continue to be harbored. Tonight you will be one of those secrets. Another body the bar sheltered and one that will soon leave when the night is replaced by day. 

You didn’t notice them. Two old faces sitting in the same bar astonished you were so close yet in an entirely different universe. One watching with fond eyes, the other unable to do the same. One was ecstatic to see you once again, grown into the person you were meant to be, and the other, filled with guilt for how things ended. There was another with them, an unfamiliar face, and witnessing the jolting glances they sent to you.

“[Reader].” One whispered so lowly the others didn’t hear. The sound of your heart beat once again gracing his ears. He missed you. Once the tinted frames of Elektra were smashed away, he realized the devastating aftermath left in her wake. The relationship that was once wondrous and blissful was gone. Ruined and tarnished by his inability to not decimate his own happiness.

There was always one thing he wanted to say, after he freed himself from his own blindness, if he was ever granted the chance, was to apologize. His mishandling of the situation caused you so much unnecessary harm and there was only him to blame. He fell for Elektra charm and her assertions of being cut from the same cloth. Still there was no excuse for what he did.

“I’ll be right back.” He assured Foggy, who knew of his intentions, and Karen, who remained confused. Foggy remembered those late night talks after the whole Elektra situation detonated. Matt mourned the loss of a healthy relationship and shame remained to haunt him. If Foggy was being honest, he missed you. He loved to hang out with you and Matt despite the lovey-dovey gestures you’d paraded around him. It felt like a glimpse of what real love was.

Matt reached your table before asking, “[Reader]?” You had never known of his powers and yet always treated him like an able-bodied person. With the occasional but completely harmless quips surrounding his blindness. After all these years, he wondered of all the moments you would’ve shared together had he not doomed your love. He wondered if you laid awake flustered at the thought of his lips.

“Matt?” He looked different yet the same. The years have gone easy on him since the last time you’d spoken. He matured like fine wine. “What are you doing here?” Not in the bar. You wanted to add. Here by me.

He straightened his posture, “I wanted to speak with you.” And apologize. “Alone if that’s alright with you.” The conversation he hoped to have should not be for anyone other than yourself. At least for this specific moment. He knew friends (Foggy) would want an update.

Your friend gave you a look before you assured them that you would be fine. They walked away, too far to listen but not so much they’d lose sight of you. Matt took over the now empty seat and the two of you sat in silence. The agonizing tension striking the two of you like a club or, in this case, a cane.

“What did you want to talk about?” The relationship you once had was short-lived but memorable. Your first taste of what love should’ve been until it was spiked with poison. You had plenty of time to reflect upon your brief passion towards one another but you were still left with questions. Maybe they can finally be answered.

“I was - I’m sorry.” His head faced the stained table as if he was ashamed of himself and granted he should be. “I know we didn’t end off on the right foot and it was my fault. I should’ve handled it better but my naive younger self was thoughtless of the pain and anguish I’d caused you. There are no words to describe how embarrassed and ashamed I am for not apologizing sooner.”

There it was. The apology you’ve been missing for years and now you had it. Apologies are never enough, however, it is merely words seeking for an ounce of forgiveness. Forgiveness is a fickle matter to you. It is, in your mind, unnecessary when burying the hatchet of the past. Forgiveness is not for you but the person who hurt you. Moving on does not require forgiveness. Moving on, in its true form, is reflecting on what was done and finding a semblance of peace. 

You found yourself only able to mutter a simple thank you and the tension heightened. There was nothing more to say. Nothing that truly mattered in this moment. “I’d like to make it up to you.” He offered, “A redo of sorts. We can go to that diner we've loved.”

The thought almost made you laugh. A redo. At the place where it all began and ended. Moving on was one thing but the memories will always linger. The pain never truly vanishes. It merely blooms in a different form.

Shaking your head, “No.” The word spilled out of your lips with such sternness. Matt tensed when they reached his ears. “I don’t think so. While I do appreciate your apology, I’d rather not exhume what once was. Our love, no matter how short, is and will forever always remain six feet under.” You couldn’t fathom his train of thought. How ridiculously seeming it was. “I’d rather leave the past where it belongs and I suggest you do the same. Do, however, say hi to Foggy. I have missed him.”

Masterlist

[loves0phelia]

hi could you rewrite the scene in ep 6 season 2 where Electra (now y/n) and Matt kiss to not get caught by security but add your own twist please? :)))

Faking Kiss

Summery: After years you and Matt meet again during a mission?

Words: 3.1k

Warning: Spicy (not smut), violence, grammar mistakes.

A/N: Thank you for requesting i love this scene!

While girls your age were learning to ride bikes or learning how to count to one hundred you were taught how to take a punch. 

The people who had taken you from your family had taken away your childhood. You never got to dress up for Halloween, to go out and knock on people’s doors for candies. You never fell asleep to your mother singing you a lullaby. You never got to sit in a class along with other kids to learn.

You watch kids do all those things while you were perched on a roof with a sniper in hand. You dreamed of being like them. You needed to be free.

As you grew up you started gaining interest in law and justice so you stole books from local libraries while you were supposed to be on missions to kill and read, read and read again. You taught yourself everything you needed to know.

At the age of 17, you took the opportunity to run away. After reading various magazines about college and teenage life you created yourself a name, a life. Before that, all you were was a number amongst others.

During a mission, targeting a wealthy man, you removed the tracker in your neck, changed into civilian clothing, and stowed away your black leather suit in your backpack

Immediately after losing contact with you, the men you worked for began looking for you. For two years you stayed hidden, away from the radar, until at 19 you applied to college.

Since your escape, your once-short hair had grown long, your body changed, seamlessly blending you into society. With fake birth certificates, you became Y/N Y/L/N without any complications. Your fraud skills even secured you a spot at Columbia University in New York. Admittedly, it may have been risky, but you desired more than anything, to pursue law and justice, to help others unlike those who had disappointed you.

During college, you made your first friends. Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson. It was everything you ever dreamed of.

COLLEGE MEMORY

A very drunk guy with dirty blond hair laughed loudly as he swayed side to side with a white walking cane he held for support. 

“Watch out everybody! I'm blind, Matt Murdock!” he laughed, still walking like he had 5 shots of vodka in his system.

“Most people just say- Matt Murdock” The brunette who wore sunglasses, held his stomach as he laughed. 

“I look like most people?” he asked genuinely.

“I don't know, I can't see” The blind guy answered in a cocky way, proud of his joke.

“Well at the moment that might be a blessing, because I'm the only one who can see the beautiful girl in front of us”  That's what made you look up from your newly bought law book, that you had bought with your very own money. It was the first book you didn't steal from the library since you ran away and you were fascinated by it. 

“Oh?” The blind student stopped abruptly just like his friend had done.

“Hi,” The blond said, catching you off guard. Nobody had yet to try and talk to you on campus since school started about a month ago. 

You looked behind you to make sure he was talking to you and when you realized he was you answered his greetings. Your voice came out more like a whisper.

“Are you studying on a Saturday night?!” He yelled when he noticed the book on your knees that you were previously reading. You nodded and he gasped.

"Hey, Foggy, maybe we should give that a shot too," suggested the other, the extroverted one objected immediately.

“So beautiful lady, I'm Foggy and this boring one over here is Matt what's your name?” his eyebrows wiggled like gummy worms as he flirted making you giggle. 

You didn't know that Matt was starstruck by you. Your laugh, your scent and your aura were something right out of his dreams. 

You gave them your name and like you guys were friends for years, Foggy extended his hand down to you asking you to accompany them on a night of, and you quote, “mischievous adventures”

You grabbed his hand and he pulled you up to your feet before you guys started walking nowhere but everywhere at the same time.

As the night ended and the sun started waking, you walked to their dorm and when you entered, you watched Matt help Foggy into his bed like a toddler who had fallen asleep on the ride back home from the amusement park.

You chuckled as you watched him struggle, and a few minutes later, Matt and you quietly slipped out into the hallway.

“Hopefully we'll see you soon?” His hand brushed yours. You thought it was by accident but if only you knew how Matt had desperately tried to touch a part of your body all night. 

“Of course” Your smile was shy. You couldn't understand the strange fluttering feeling in your stomach as he looked at you. It was like something you had never experienced before.

After that night you three spent the integrality of the college year stuck together like glue. Every Saturday day was destined to hang out. Matt and you came so close to admitting your feelings but just as you were about to, they found you.

Freshly graduated, diploma in hand, you strode proudly toward the rendezvous point Foggy and Matt had designated. As you rounded the concrete wall outside, you spotted a car with tinted windows. Even though the car seemed inconspicuous, your heart sank as you noticed four men standing beside it. Locking eyes with one of them, a chill ran down your spine as the man pointed directly at you. Without hesitation, they all sprang into action, sprinting in your direction.

You dropped everything. Your diploma you were so proud of, your backpack with the books you had bought and your life.

END

Each passing year saw you found yourself in new cities or even countries, determined to evade their pursuit. But fate seemed to have other plans when you discovered yourself in Hell's Kitchen at the same time as them. Now, it was your chance to turn the tables and finally catch them.

You mapped out their plan and you found out they were organizing a gala to target parents with children they could steal and turn into their hit man.

You dressed up in the prettiest silk white dress you could find, your hair, now dyed in a different colour, was half up and half down curled and even though your features had changed a lot since your college years you applied makeup to make you unrecognizable.

You entered the gala with no problem. You were trained well you knew better than to get caught the first second.

Soft music and the clinking of champagne glasses rang in your head as you slipped away from the scene. You had to find out where they were keeping the children and you needed information. You knew exactly where to get it.

In a vault, in the boss's office. You would find the exact location.

You spotted a bodyguard, guarding the elevator as you made your way to it. You could have taken the stairs but you needed to be the least suspicious possible.

"Sorry, ma'am, but upstairs is off-limits, restricted area," he informed you, eyeing you up and down, prompting you to fake a pout in response.

“Ugh, the bathroom downstairs is all taken and I have to fix my lipstick, really bad” You crossed your arm under your chest purposely putting on display your breast.

You smirked when his eyes shifted to take a look.

“If it's just for lipstick I guess I can make an exception.” 

"Seriously? You're an angel," you beamed, giving his arms a playful rub as he obligingly pressed the floor button. With a ding, the doors slid open, allowing you to step inside. As the doors closed behind you, a smirk crept onto your face. It was too easy, as always. 

Now on the upper floor, you began looking everywhere for what could be the main office.

Your heels echoed loudly on the floor, earning a frustrated groan from you. Why did they have to be so loud?

You tried walking more discreetly until you bumped into a muscular body. The impact made your hair fall in front of your eyes, shielding your vision. His hands grabbed your forearms and before you could try to beat the man you were pushed against the wall in a dark hallway.

As his hand loosened, you quickly pushed your hair out of your face. Your eyes widened in surprise as you recognized the man you had bumped into.

“Matt?” You barely finished the word before his hand was on your mouth preventing you from uttering another word.

“Someone is coming” You stopped mumbling beneath his hand to be let free after he whispered in your ear. Everything was so silent you thought he was crazy until you heard the faint sound of boots approaching.

The guard paced down the dim hallway, clutching his weapon tightly, while you and Matt stood in the shadows. After he passed, you exhaled in relief as Matt gently released his hand from your lips.

“Matt,” you said, dumbfounded. Between all the people you could've run into it had to be him. The guy who you left behind without any explanation.

“You shouldn't be here y/n, it's dangerous,”  He said and your brows furrowed. How had he recognized you? 

“How did you know it's me?” you asked and he shook his head.

“It doesn't matter, you need to leave. These people who organized this gala are bad.” 

“I know Matt, I'm here to stop them” You admitted it wasn't time to come up with a lie. Even behind his glasses, you could see the confusion etched on his face.

“How did you know about them?”

“Why are you here?” You both speak over each other and before you could let him talk again his head snapped to the side, listening to something you couldn't hear.

“One of the guards is talking about you”

“How do you know that-” he shushed you and continued.

“He says you went to apply your lipstick but never came down?” he said, making you groan, you had taken too much time talking with him.

“It's a dumb excuse I used to get up here. Now if you would excuse me I have something to do” You pushed him gently out of your way and went to walk out of the hallway he had pulled you into. His hand quickly grabbed on to your arm again tugging you back.

"You follow me," he growled into your ear and then started walking. You couldn't quite explain why you trusted a blind man to lead you, but you did.

Almost like he knew exactly what you were looking for, he pushed open the door to the main office you were targeting. Flipping the light switch, the room flooded with brightness, light bouncing off mirrors to create an almost blinding effect.

You began opening every door, every drawer looking for the piece of information you needed. But you saw no signs of a vault or anything of the sort. You grabbed your hair in frustration. 

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

“Information where the kids they have captive might be. It was supposed to be in a vault in this exact room but I can't find anything”

“How do you know about the kids” 

“Because I was one of them” he listened to your heartbeat, he knew you weren't lying.

He wanted to ask more questions but he knew it wasn't the right time. You were running out of time, not gaining.

As he concentrated on the beat of your heart a harsh buzzing interfered with the soft sound.

He walked and touched the bookshelf with his fingers. He could hear the electricity travelling in the walls. 

He felt an interruption in the current when his finger grazed an old Shakespeare book. He pulled it down, and a secret door revealed itself.

“Holy shit, how did you know?” you smiled and walked into the tiny space the door that previously opened allowed you to walk in.

“I could hear the signal”

“Through the walls?”

"I can hear a lot of things. Look in this drawer," he directed, saving you the trouble of opening every single one by pointing you to the correct drawer.

 The paper with all the information you needed was on top of the files and books. Not very well hidden.

“We have to go, now” You folded the paper and quickly shoved it inside your bra.

You both ran in the main hallway but before you could get to the elevator an alarm started blaring and blue lights flashed. Matt grabbed your hand and dragged you to an empty conference room and through the frosted glass you could see multiple shadows with guns searching for you.

“You have to stay behind me okay? I don't want you to get hurt” You say before tying your hair up. 

"Oh, I know how to fight, sweetheart," he declared just before the men barged into the room where you were hiding. Without hesitation, Matt slid over the table and delivered a kick to one of them in the face.

Impressed but confused you had a sudden surge of energy, you sprang into action, fists flying and they clashed into jaws and noses. The room echoed with the sound of impact as yours and Matt’s strikes landed with an intense force.

Your movements were fluid and precise as you used your kicks and punches against the attackers. You and Matt fought as one, your movements synchronized almost perfectly.

And when the last men fell, defeated and broken, you both stood almost unarmed. But not for long.

you ran to the next level almost getting caught once again. However, you managed to hide again in another room. That's when the idea came to you.

“Kiss me” you whispered as you started to pull down your hair from your ponytail, making them cascade messily down your back.

"What?" he asked, his brows furrowing as he struggled to process what you said. 

"Kiss me, Matt, please," you pleaded. Without hesitation, he captured your lips with his own. 

As you kissed, you instinctively reached for his tie and pulled it. Your hands unbuttoned his shirt and you whispered against his lips.

“Act like we're having sex and act drunk” his lips went to your neck and his tongue laid against your pulse. You moaned loudly, exaggerating it a little.  Without needing to say anything his hand gripped your waist and lifted you on the table you were leaning on. His hands went higher and higher until he was pulling down the straps of your dress. At the same time, you lifted your leg and put it around his hip and his free hand grabbed it and squeezed the skin. His mouth came back to yours and he kissed you until you couldn't breathe.

You let out another moan of his name when the guards entered and put you both at gunpoint. 

“Don't move!” he yelled.

You and Matt put on a show of surprise. Giggling, you swayed on your feet, mimicking the unsteady movements of someone who had too much to drink.

“We are so sorry,” Matt said out of breath and tried buttoning his white shirt.

“We thought we could sneak in here… we'll be right out of here” he laughed before turning and the man grabbed his collar and pushed him roughly. Your heart rate elevated when you saw this.

“Be careful with him!” You said as you tried to wipe the red stain of lipstick that had smudged on your chin.

As the man restrained Matt, he aimed his flashlight directly at his unseeing eyes, prompting an eye roll from Matt that spoke volumes.

 Meanwhile, the second guard firmly gripped your arm, holding you in place. With a nod, the guard said in his walkie-talkie that the situation was under control and that neither you nor Matt was a threat.

“You need to leave,” he said and Matt continued apologizing before earning a firm “ Now!” from the man.

You grabbed his hand and walked away from them with a small laugh. You both walked to the now working elevator and entered with nothing opposing, 

“I don't know what you are Matt Murdock but you're not human” You laughed when the door closed. “You can hear through walls and fight while also being blind?” You heard him snort after you finished your sentence.

"We have a lot to talk about," Matt murmured as the doors of the elevator opened, lacing your hands and sharing a light-hearted chuckle at the absurdity of the evening. You both walked out of the Gala.

Making your way to your car, you glanced at Matt, wordlessly telling him your desire for him to join you. Without a word, he understood, falling into step beside you as you unlocked the car door.

You settled into the driver's seat, and he quietly took his place beside you. A moment of comfortable silence passed before you broke it with a teasing tone.

"Are you going to tell me how you did all that?" 

He met your gaze, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Are you going to tell me why you disappeared?"

 "If you spill your secrets first." you shrugged.

 "Fine, I'm Daredevil," he confessed.

 "What?!" your eyes grew three sizes and he simply nodded.

“I have so many questions,” you said as you wondered,

“Your turn” he grinned.

"Remember I told you those men raised me as a child earlier?" you began, your voice trembling a little. "Well, I ran away, and on the day of graduation because they found me. I had to leave everything behind. I loved you guys so much, Matt. I never wanted to leave, but I didn't have a choice."

With each word you spoke, he could feel the sincerity in your voice, and not once did your heart falter or deceive.

His hand grabbed yours for the millionth time that night.

"I was so lost without you," Matt confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Me too," you replied softly. 

"I don't want to lose you again," Matt admitted, his voice filled with a quiet intensity.

You intertwined your fingers in a silent promise. "You won't," you assured him.

At that moment, as you sat together in the car, you knew that you had overcome the past. Nothing would separate you and Matt. If anyone or anything tried to pull you apart you would fight it together.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

All stories are Matt Murdock x fem!Reader unless otherwise specified.

Join my taglist!

Wake Up Series (Complete)

Fake Girlfriend AU

In an attempt to stop the advances of an unwanted suitor, Matt Murdock accidentally condemns you to being his fake girlfriend. AO3 Version

Of Oak and Ivy Series (WIP)

College!Matt Murdock x Reader

In college, Matt Murdock had two best friends, Foggy Nelson and you. However, life had no intention of letting you graduate with him. When he reconnects with you in adulthood, he is troubled to see the hand God has dealt you and vows to use every tool at his disposal to save you from damnation. AO3 Version

In All The World (WIP)

Matt Murdock x Castle!Reader

In the past, Matt Murdock's self-destructive tendencies and martyr complex have driven his relationships past their breaking point. Yet, in the aftermath of the Castle trial, he begins a relationship with the kind-hearted character witness he’d been trying desperately to keep his distance from.

Despite his best efforts to shield you from his dangerous world, you persistently support and love him, accepting both his softer, vulnerable moments and his darker, guilt-ridden struggles. Your unwavering presence and understanding create a safe space for Matt, something he has never truly experienced before.

This series of one-shots follows Matt and the music teacher he is steadily falling for, despite her distant familial connection to The Punisher.

Small Creatures (WIP)

Soulmate AU

Matt Murdock always assumed he’d never meet his soulmate. After all, who would want to end up stuck with a blind vigilante carrying enough baggage for a whole jet? Unfortunately for you both, his cursed love is closer than ever and determined to support him as his paradoxical life falls apart.

Not in this alone (hc, fluff)

Life in a tranquil state (fluff)

Lifeline (hc, angst)

Fall Prompts 2023

A Gentle Touch (fluff)

Lack of Focus (hc, fluff)

In His Element (smut, minors DNI)

Renegade (H/C One Shot)

1k Celebration Masterlist

Various Headcanons

[missmarveledsblog]

Angel ( frank castle x reader )

SUMMARY : When frank meets Matt murdock's sister , he become intrigued more and more as he's around the  so called angel of hell's kitchen 

warnings : violence , fighting etc . mutual pining

Enemies to lovers

Eye scanning over the sign in such pride yet the occasion was not for such occasion , coming back to hells kitchen he was bound to find out she was home . so here Y/N stood outside NELSON AND MURDOCK LAW OFFICE ready to tell her brother she was home and a failure. The admiration didn't last long when she felt herself being pushed forward almost losing her balance completely. " asshole" she grumbled seeing the man not even stopping to apologise or even recognise his actions as he was walking into the same building .

She already rang Karen so at least one person was expecting her. Maybe the redhead could give her advice on the best way to break her news. Walking into the office she let her eyes scan around , it was the same as the pictures she was sent but being in the space physically was a whole other thing. She was proud of her brother and foggy , she used to tease the two and call them dorks all the time. Of course the same jerk from before was sitting there , deep expression on his stupid handsome face.

She rolled her eyes taking a seat barely sparing him a glance looking around to find a familiar face. She went to grab a magazine and heard a scoff looking to see the man's eyes locked on the one she had chosen . " typical" he muttered. " Excuse me, can I help you? '' she asked, almost gritted teeth . " No, just typical you type of gals go for that celebrity shit" he laughed. " You don't know me pal and all you should really be saying is sorry for nearly knocking me over but your type doesn't have a grasp on manners' ' she crossed her legs and began flipping through the articles . '' shouldn't have been standing in the middle of the sidewalk like a ditz then"he shot back . " should barge through people like you can't see them then" she growled. " Look when murdock comes, I'm seeing him first way more important than whatever you got going on" he scoffed. " how do you know what I want?" she rolled her eyes . " let me guess wanna bang pool boy and find a way out of the prenup" he chuckled. The sting of his words wasn't what she needed, not when she was looking down at the picture of her ex fiance and ex best friend's picture .

" hey y/n good to see you" Karen rushed to her side. " hey great seeing you actually i need to do something , i could meet you guys later at Josie's but don't tell my brother ok" she grabbed her things . " hey you ok" the red head face in concern til her eyes fell on the magazine. " shit i didn't know" she took it up . " i'll see you later" was all the girl called out, running out the office completely. " What's her problem?" the man scoffed. "Frank , that's Y/N as in Matt's little sister , she caught her fiance in bed with her best friend. I mean shitty enough dude's famous for some stupid business company so she has to see it everywhere" she ripped the magazine up . " ah shit" he sighed. " What did you do?" She shot the man a look . " i may have been a complete asshole and took my stress out on her, misjudged her completely too, i mean she looked at her , said she was her to get out of a prenup and banging her pool boy" he winced dodging the incoming balls of paper . " You know Matt's gonna kill you right , or she will" Karen growled, rushing off to find the woman herself.

What frank didn't expect was the two women walking backwards as a man held a gun at them . " sit there and tell me where Murdock is' ' he growled. "I'm Murdock '' her voice cool, calm and well intriguing to the man . " y/n i don't think matt can get you out of self defence murder twice '' Karen said confusing the gunman and frank castle . " i won't kill him but if he doesn't put the gun down i will severely hurt him buddy i ain't having such a great time so if you could fuck off it would be great" she huffed unbothered to the firearm directed at her. " you need help?,"Frank called both amused and curious about his tone . Usually he would handle the situation yet the women didn't seem to be worried . "No," she glared at the man . Frank watched as the man's eyes flickered between the two and her hand moved backwards feeling around the table. " Oh look it's matt" she smiled, making the man turn before she grabbed the armed hand , he watched as the magazine clip fell to the floor and she emptied the chamber in the ceiling before smashing the paper weight to the man's gut. " I warned you buddy I ain't having a good day. '' She huffed and punched him once and the man was out cold. "See I don't need your help or opinions" she turned to the man throwing the paper weight into his hands. " You should clean up" Karen winced seeing the blood on her knuckle.

" or you could explain why their bullet holes in my ceiling" she turned to see the familiar smirk of her brother . " what bullet holes, you can't see them" she rushed to him in a hug. " So if I was to stick my cane up there" he asked. " what the halloween prop you carry around" she shot back . " hey Y/N" . " Hey foggy" . " You ok?" Matt asked softly . " I mean i didn't kill him but he will have a headache" she looked down at the still unconscious man. " not what i meant" he chuckled. " I mean it sucked but Jesus those people were draining" she sighed hugging him again , he could tell she was lying but let it go as he squeezed her tighter. " Well, let's bring him to the office to see what he wants," he nodded to the man . "Well punisher there is waiting to talk to you and i need to get back to my hotel room but i'll meet you later" she walked out before they could say anything. " you told her?" Frank asked. " No, she's just good at that sort of thing," he chuckled .

Being in josie now that was way better than the gala's and pretentious socialite events. It was normal people with real life things going on . She saw her brother and the usual gang sitting as well as the man , who she now knew as Frank Castle . " hey angel's back" a voice called. " Yeah, I'm back," she laughed, heading towards the group. " Angel , devil really," Frank laughed. " except people know me" she said smiling a dig . " Hey, before I wanna apologise, I was having a bad day," he began . " and took it out on me yeah i got it" she shook her head rolling her eyes before heading to the bar before the man could even finish his apology. " hey i'm trying to be nice here" he followed. " Ok? You're still a dick , I mean I'm having a shitty time of it and I didn't take it out on those around me" she quipped. " usual please" she called. " Well then how can I make it up to you" he smiled. " Hmm that ones a thinker i'll get back to you" she smirked before taking a sip of her drink . " you're trouble," he shooting her a flirty grin . " You've no idea" she walked and left him standing there . " buddy she will have you praying" a man chuckled. " ain't that what angels are for" he chuckled, heading back to the group.

The rest of the night they let the worries of the world subside for once and enjoyed the moment . The flirty tension between Hell kitchens' own angel and the punisher was so immense that even her own brother could feel it. " I'm going to head off, I need to get up early to see some places" she yawned as they all booed. " hey i need a place to live plus you got jobs to be doing" she laughed . " Wait, I'll walk you back , lotta scary people out there" frank stood. " And I'm the scariest of them all so i'm ok" she laughed walking off . " She's not wrong," Matt snorted . " She is scary , she's made foggy cry before" Karen agreed. " that was only... five times" the man protested sloppily . " go follow after even i can see you want to" Matt teased. " Just don't sneak up on her," Foggy called. " How much is saying those two get together?" Karen asked . " We don't need to be on the obvious" Matt shook his head.

The dark streets of Hell kitchen held many memories both good and a lot of bad for the woman . passing the church seeing her standing there she shook her head still not as forgiving as her brother for the now sister's abandonment. The boxing gym her father spent time in training them both , to the old schoolyard she may have used to those lessons in .

she felt the presence following her like she was prey she felt it second she left the bar. Her brother wasn't the only one who could sense things turning to the dark alley . He stood wondering where the hell she went , one minute she was there and next gone in a split second , his boss wasn't going to be happy about that one that was for sure. Just as he walked further into the alley she watched from the shadows as he appeared making her roll her eyes she grabbed the familiar man holding her finger over her lips not to disrupt their new friend. She walked out, one movement swept his leg from under him and the mysterious man landed on his back. " Why are you following me , you know dark alleyways aren't safe right?" she asked, pressing her foot on his throat. Boss wants you , he knows you are special" the man choked out . " I mean of course I am but what does your boss think is so special?" she pushed harder. " he knows your enhanced" he spluttered and coughed. " your ex has been sharing it around sweetness everyone gonna want the angel" he grunted pulling a knife out only for her to kick it from his hand. " My ex lies honey I wouldn't listen to a word he says he told me he was eight inches " she walked just as he jumped up she swung around kicking him sending him to the ground .

" wanna tell me what that was about" Frank walked out by her side. " i may or may have not signed up for something when i was 18 turned out to be hydra and well got something extra in return" she shrugged. " extra?" . " yeah extra '' she shrugged and continued walking. They were out of the alley within seconds they were surrounded at gunpoint. " Will that extra help us here?" he asked, looking for his own plan. " can't a girl have a bit of mystery," she groaned, lifting her palms as the other men shouted for her to stop. The light on her palms glowing in a sort of purple hue as the guns they head pulled from their hands she used her other palm to pull the men to their knees as her own feet came off the ground . " You took long enough, '' she called out as the devil of hell's kitchen stepped forward. " i had a prior engagement," he gruffed. The two didn't speak for long when her hands pulled the guns apart tiny pieces falling to the ground as the men jumped up . the now devil and punisher fighting side by side in an all too familiar sequence of events . Her own feet hitting the ground panting, one of the assailants finding it the perfect opportunity to try grab her from behind that was til the back of her head hit his nose and the crack echoed through the streets before her hand grabbed his arm throwing him over her shoulder and hitting the ground with a thump . " this could have come up at any time" frank grunt dodging the incoming fists at his face . " I usually don't advertise to asshole men, I can levitate" she huffed, sending a punch to a man's gut . " Can you flirt another time?" Daredevil rasped, sending one to the ground as the three stood around now incapacitated men. " I'll leave the door open , you come on" she grabbed Frank's arm as the two walked off.

Thankfully due to the location and it being dead of night the staff in the lobby of the hotel barely batted an eyelash at their appearance when they strolled in clearly after some sort of altercation . " I'm surprised you're not an avenger or some shit" Frank quipped once both got into the elevator. " I turned them down, starks annoying" she winked until she felt the sting in her abdomen. " your bleeding heavy" he gruffed. " no shit Sherlock," she gritted . " we need to get you somewhere" he went to press the button but she grabbed his hand. " Just help me to my room" she panted, feeling the burning sensation taking over as the adrenaline was clearly wearing off. He wanted to yell at her but she knew more than he did in the situation so he held his tongue. Throwing one hand over his shoulder as his own wrapped around her waist keeping her supported, two walked down the hall as she gave directions to her room .

the minute the door shut she moved to the balcony door. Soon enough the man came in while she walked over toward the corner of the room and hands over the wound as she shoved something into her mouth. A muffled scream the men looked while a strong purple glow from her hands hit , she turned showing the bleeding stopped and the wound closed over. " See" she winced a sway in her step. " grab her she's going to pass out" Matt sighed before pulling the mask from his face. " why isn't this phasing you" frank brought her over laying her on the bed . " She's done this before huh?". " A few times actually , she nearly burned off tony stark's goatee after a comment on her ass " he walked towards the bed happy to hear everything appeared to be stable. " Why haven't you gotten her to help you out?" . " whether enhanced or not, she's my baby sister who used your brain" . " you Murdocks are trouble and pain in my fucking ass" frank huffed out pulling a bottle from the mini bar. " Well you like at least one of us and I know it's not me, '' he smirked.

" she is not safe here" he completely ignored the man's observation and sly comment . " I'll come back as well as me and we bring her back to mine , stay with her" Matt threw his mask on. " Well, where else am I going to go?" he looked up to see the man was already gone. " hate when he does that" he took his drink and seat . eyes stuck to her form how peaceful she was when her mouth wasn't running although he'd did secretly like it. But now that nickname angel made sense the ethereal effortless beauty that she had . He needed to stop staring before he got completely lost in her .

Matt returned half an hour later to some nervous looking kid driving the car as they carried her out . " how old are you 12 " Frank joked. " I'm the same age as Angel, I'm 24 sir" he squeaked out . " God Mr stark is gonna kill me" he muttered. " ok that's sorted come parker drive " matt got in the car . " She is still stable," he called back . " She hasn't woken up either, " Frank said, seeing her still sleeping head on his lap . " How's her healing factor holding? " the boy asked . " How's her, what , who is this kid". "Peter Parker sir , spiderman" he whispered in the last part . " She can heal herself," Matt added. "your fucking with me right" frank asked only for matt to lift her top slightly to show the wound from earlier was almost gone . " Anything else I'm missing here" he asked the two. "Not yet anyways thanks for lift kid" matt patted his shoulder as two got frank still carrying her as Parker drove off. " really he's the Web slinger" . " she waking up let her get inside" matt walked ahead. "Ominous asshole," Frank grumbled, stopping when he heard the little laugh . " hey if you're awake you can walk " he looked down to see her eyes shoot close making him laugh shaking his head carrying her in. " ok ok where here free ride over" she went to drop her but her feet hit the floor first.

"Little shit" he mumbled as she went straight to her bag. " oh shut up you were worried about her less than ten minutes ago" . " Worried about little old me , I'm honoured" she snorted, heading to the bathroom. " definitely a pain in my ass" he fell back on the sofa. " Yeah, tell that to you that thing you call a heart" matt chuckled. " fuck off and shut up" he added eyes locked towards the bathroom . " I hate to even say this but she's the same , she just hides it way better" Matt handed him a beer. " Who hides what better?" she asked. " Karen hides her feelings better" Matt spoke up . " Being blind didn't heighten your lying sense huh?" She took his own beer out of his hand before sitting on the sofa. " You sure he's actually blind though," Frank asked her. " finally someone else who questions it" she raised the beer up . " You two are made for each other" he walked out of the room . " we're right, I mean I changed this place around so many times and no accidents" she yelled out. "Goodnight assholes , angels don't cook, I don't need my place to burn down" he called back .

" pfft that was one extremely high as hell time and it only burned like half the kitchen down" she laughed nervously. " wait the saint in there let you get high" . " hey jesus isn't against weed , i mean i was first and last time was kinda snuck into a frat party , tried to be like yeah i'm cool , didn't end so well" she winced. " Something I gotta ask, how did you know who I was? Matt said he didn't tell you, " he asked . " I rang Matt during a time you guys were working together and well he said he was with a friend , the punisher you yelled for him to wrap it up along with more colourful words , so when i heard you today" she smiled . " Good memory," he nodded. " I've what they call the perfect brain. I don't use it that often clearly given my life choice but I remember things I hear and see made me prime candidate for that stupid trial they said it was" she grimaced . " the experiments , what made you do it?" . " Jesus, I never had so many questions and I've been arrested a lot" . " not very angel like now is it sweetheart" he teased . " I'm more fallen angel than heaven sent" she winked . " Well where did that come from then" he asked when he saw how her smile faltered. It seemed like the wrong question. " my dad called me , called me so many folks forgot i had a real name" her voice was less playful than before . " hey sorry i didn't mean to bring up anything bad for you" he rambled. " nah it's ok really , you wanna another beer , you hungry?" She stood up quickly. " I'll take the beer , I might pass on the food from that slight warning" he chuckled. " I'm ordering a pizza jackass" she rolled her eyes . " Well then yeah i could eat" . " I decide if you deserve it now" she tapped her chin walking backwards stumbling after hitting a chair . " blind my ass," she muttered as her cheek flushed and a frank laugh filled the living room.

" Hey, you're supposed to be on my side" she pouted. " with you murdock's nah" he shook his head. " oh shut up i'm already your favourite" she stuck her tongue out. " maybe" he muttered when she couldn't hear him . " I'd say we're even, I mean you being a dick at first to helping me out" she came in handing him the beer. " I think you owe me one for that actually" . " what would that be?". " I think you should let me think about that over dinner tomorrow night" he said calmly and cool yet his heart was beating so fast he was probably sure Matt could hear it and was gonna give him shit. " pick me up at 7" she played it cool and honestly glad her voice didn't betray her . " fuck it" was all she heard before her face was pulled toward him and her lips hitting his. It was sort of a kiss she never felt so much emotion in before , like maybe she was doing it totally wrong til now. She leaned more into the action tilting her head so she could deepen it. His hands gripping her waist before pulling her completely onto his lap like she was always meant to be there , the soft sigh from her lips told him she felt the same way . " NO HAVING SEX ON MY SOFA '' the yell made them stop ,foreheads resting against each other before they broke into a fit of laughter like two teenagers being caught by their parents. " would have been easier if he was deaf" she joked. " I HEARD THAT" . " to answer your question earlier , he definitely is not my favourite Murdock" he smirked before leaning up and capturing her lips again . 

[shiorimakibawrites]

Cat Man Do - Part I (Daredevil Fan Fic)

This started out as a one-shot but has just kept growing. It will be at least two parts long now.

Cat Man Do

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Secondary Pairings: Foggy Nelson x Marci Stahl, implied Karen Page x Frank Castle Word Count: 9600 Summary: Matt Murdock is having a bad night. He has been turned into a cat with a blizzard is coming in. Lucky for him, you came walking by. And you love cats. Warnings: Animal transformation, idiots in love, unresolved sexual tension, spicy dream (voyeurism kink, office sex, fingering, dirty talk), referenced sexual acts (female receiving oral sex, , fingering, female masturbation, hand-job, PIV sex, office sex) General Masterlist Matt Murdock Masterlist Tag List: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer , @beezusvreeland , @indestructeible , @what-i-call-men , @reblog-reblog666 , @flynnethenerd , @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment , @yarrystyleeza , @bellaxgiornata Also posted on AO3

June 8: Attempting to fix the tags along with tagging those I missed after temporarily misplacing my tag list.

Part 1

Nothing about the situation seemed all that unusual. Man putting his hands where they were very much not wanted. Victim’s tearful pleading only being met with a slap and a harshly whispered demand to shut up. Sour odor of fear. Coopery scent of blood through it didn’t smell like human blood. Herbs, both familiar ones used in cooking but a few that he didn’t recognize. The only peculiarity was the scent of ozone clinging to the man.

Matt yanked the man away from his victim who, rather sensibly, took the opportunity to flee. At first, he thought that the fight would be short. Very short. The man obviously didn’t know how to fight. He heard the distinctive cracking of bone, then the man desperately shouted something. The smell of ozone increased and suddenly there was . . . something between him and the man. Something he didn’t recognized – hitting it felt like the oddest combination of a pillow, cling film and static electricity. Whatever it was softened his punches to the point that he doubted the man was even feeling them.

Before he could puzzle that mystery out, the man began to speak again. Matt didn’t recognize the language but he recognized the cadence of a chant, the anticipatory menace. The sharp scent of ozone began to rise again. Pressure not unlike the air right before a lightning strike raised the hair on his body. Instinct screamed danger, threat. He couldn’t say why but he just knew that he couldn’t let this man finish whatever he was saying . . .

The man’s inexperience with fighting came back to bit him. Whatever he was doing to protect his torso, it didn’t extend down to his legs. Matt dropped down to use a low kick to sweep his legs out from under him. The follow-up throw kick to his head showed that he was also too stupid to protect his head. The man hit the ground hard and didn’t move.

Matt listened, then nodded to himself. Unconscious. Good. He opened a pouch on his belt and removed some zip ties. He secured the man, then send off a quick call to 911. He scaled the fire escape of the closest building and started putting some distance between himself and those approaching sirens.

He decided to call it a night. It was after one in the morning. He had work tomorrow. Besides there had been very little crime tonight. Probably too cold. And a big snowstorm had been predicted. When they closed up the office, Foggy said sky was completely covered with heavy dark clouds that made the twilight almost as dark as nighttime. Which matched with the shifts in pressure that he associated with oncoming storms. The smell of snow had been building all night. It hadn’t started snowing yet but it would any minute now.

But before he turned in, he would do a loop to make sure his people were safe and sound. One by one, he checked off the list. Maggie and the others at St. Agnes, Brett, Foggy and Marci, Jessica, and Karen. All good. Last but certainly not least was you, the assistant that he and Foggy had hired so Karen could concentrate on law school, by the virtue that your apartment being rather close to his own.

Matt had almost forgotten about the oddities of his last encounter when he started feeling . . . off. Lightheaded, dizzy, like he had gotten clocked in the head without his helmet on. Except he hadn’t, not tonight. Or other time recently. At first the feeling was mild, easily shrugged off. But soon it could no longer be ignored. When his world on fire dangerously flickered and he misjudged the distance between two buildings, he decided that maybe walking on the ground would be safer.

It was in the sense that he was no longer at risk of falling six or more stories. But he was so dizzy, it felt like the ground was swaying under his feet. It was nauseating. Worse, his world on fire was flickering dangerously. It was hard to tell where he was, where the buildings were, where the sidewalk ended . . . He took out his billy clubs, extended and snapped them together. It was too short to really substitute for his cane but it would do until he could get somewhere safer.

It took far longer than he was comfortable with but he managed to orient himself. He knew where he is. It was the faint odor of old smoke that helped clue him in. That building that was torched this summer. Not far from his apartment but another wave of dizziness warned him that he wouldn’t make it that far. But your apartment was very close. There was only one building between his location and your building. He would probably make it before he passed out.

This was not at all how he wanted to tell you about Daredevil but there was nothing he could do about that.

Placing his hand on the burnt building to help keep him oriented, he walked toward. He had just reached the corner when a new sensation arose. Sudden, burning pain. He bit down on his lip, trying not to scream. He collapsed, letting out a scream as he felt his bones start to bent and twist like he was doll being pulled apart by an angry child. Then everything went still and silent . . .

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

You were walking home. It was later than you preferred to be out. Much later. Especially when you had to work the next day. But your best friend’s boyfriend had broken up with her. Via Twitter. So she needed someone to bring over the ice cream and the booze. So you ignored the weather reports of the big snowstorm and headed out. First to the store, then to her place.

You held her while she cried. You listened and nodded while she vented and swore off men. You both ate way too much ice cream. You didn’t ended up drinking much. Mostly because you’d rather not be hangover at work. But also because the store hadn’t much selection in the booze department – apparently the delivery truck hadn’t shown up. So said booze was limited to one six-pack of wine coolers and a good-sized bottle of peppermint schnapps.

Which wasn’t ideal. Especially since your bestie didn’t really like peppermint schnapps. Said it always tasted too much like mouthwash for her. Which was fair. But after downing three of the wine coolers to your one, she decided to give the schnapps another chance . . . it might be the wine coolers and the wine she finished earlier talking but she said it wasn’t half bad.

You had a little but found peppermint too strong of a flavor all on its own. The mint-chocolate chip ice cream was more your speed.

You loved your bestie but you were glad that she had finally fallen asleep. She had offered to let you stay at her place. But she snoozed like a chainsaw when she was drunk. Also you had tried sleeping on that couch before. It had been uncomfortable. There was a broken something or other in the middle that had poked you in the kidneys all night. So you appreciated the offer but no thank you.

You were walking as fast as you could. Which wasn’t very fast. The sidewalk was rather precarious right now. It had snowed last week. Almost all of the snow had turned into gray slush but it was cold enough that several patches had frozen into near-invisible puddles. Puddles that were very slick.

You had slipped and fallen several times this week. You had started carrying clean, dry clothes in your work bag so you didn’t have to sit in wet clothes all day. Your poor butt had more than one bruise. It would have more bruises but if your boss was nearby when you slipped, he caught you.

Your very hot boss Matt. Not that your other boss, Foggy, wasn’t pretty. He was. Just in a totally different way. But the big factor was that Foggy was engaged, to someone he very obviously loved dearly. You weren’t that kind of girl. But Matt was single. Therefore you were free to admire his good looks and daydream about him all you wanted.

Which you did. Often. Maybe too much. You were pretty sure, with the exception of Matt himself, that everyone who frequented the office had caught you checking out his ass. It wasn’t your fault. He had the best looking ass in the tri-state area. Every suit he wore flattered that ass. He also, quite unfairly, bought shirts that were a size too small. The buttons strained to contain those big muscles . . .

‘Stop it,’ you scolded yourself. Walking at one in the morning was not the time to start daydreaming about your boss and speculating that he could hold you up against the wall while he . . .

You shook your head, feeling yourself flush despite the cold pinching your cheeks. You needed to keep your mind on the here and now, eyes and ears alert for any signs of trouble. You might be only a short distance from home. This might be Hell’s Kitchen where the Devil prowled nighttime streets for nefarious characters but . . . that didn’t mean you should act recklessly. Something could still happen. And while being saved by Daredevil sounded very exciting, it also sounded really scary.

A cry pierced the night air. It sent your heart racing, hands gripping the strap of your backpack while your eyes frantically darted around trying to locate the source of the cry. You couldn’t see anything. The street was eerily deserted for Manhattan, even for this time of night. Maybe it was too cold. The whistling wind was biting, even in your thick winter coat. Even when the air was still, it was beyond frigid. If it was above freezing, you’d eat your hat. Without mustard.

You kept looking but it was so dark. There had been some kind of problem with the streetlights on your block this week. The news said something about a short. You hadn’t really been listening. But the end result was that at least half the streetlights weren’t working. The building that had gutted by a fire was black and silent, looming over the street like giant gargoyle. Many of the windows in the surrounding buildings were dark. The few that were lit did very little to illuminate the darkness.

Then you heard it again. But this time you recognized the noise. It was cat making that distressed yowl. And it sounded like it was coming from the side of that burned building. While the building gave you all of the creeps, you loved animals. Better than you liked most people. You couldn’t just leave it here. Out here in the freezing cold with a blizzard on the way at best. Hurt or trapped at worst.

But to find that poor animal, you needed more light.

You reached into your bag and took out your phone. Dead. The battery was so low that the phone didn’t even try to turn on. You had forgotten to charge it. Again. What were you going to do . . . then you remembered the little flashlight on your key-chain. Something your mom had gotten you when she learn you were moving to big, scary New York City. It was a nice gesture but the cheap thing wasn’t very bright. But some light was better than no light. You pulled your keys out of your pocket and gripped the flashlight in your hand. With a soft click, it turned on.

As expected, it didn’t do much to pierce the gloom. But you walked toward the building anyway. The building looked even creepier and emptier up close. The crack-crunch of your boots on the thin sheets of ice and salt felt inordinately loud to you. Which only made your heart beat faster. You were starting to feel like you were in a horror movie. One of the dumb girls who ignores all the obvious signs of danger and gets chopped into pieces with an ax or something. Or one of the those people in the cold opening in an episode of Supernatural, going into creepy building blithely unaware that they just made themselves dinner . . .

Something crashed to the ground with a loud metal clang. You shrieked, wildly swinging around your flashlight. What . . . then you saw it. A rat messing with a can below a window with a row of similar cans on the still . . . You squinted, cans of food. The kind that wasn’t particularly tasty but cheap and filling. Both of which was more important than flavor if you didn’t have much money. And infinitely better than no food at all.

“It’s just a rat,” you told yourself. “Calm down.”

As if in answer, the cat meowed again. It sounded close. You looked around . . . garbage bags that had been torn open and their contents scattered, piled up frozen slush, a dumpster. Wait, there was a flicker of movement on the other side of the dumpster. Giving a silent prayer that it wasn’t another rat (or something worse), you walked over. As you got closer, your nose wrinkled. The smell wasn’t nearly as ripe as it would be during the summer but it was by no means a pleasant aroma.

By your efforts were rewarded. On the other side and slightly behind the dumpster was a cat. You crouched down, not wanting to loom over the animal and scare it. It didn’t look very frightened right now – it wasn’t puffed up, it’s ears were perked up, or hissing at you. But you’d like to keep it that way. In your experience, a scared cat was a biting cat.

You looked over the cat as best you could. It didn’t look hurt. Just cold and a little wet. Probably wouldn’t need a vet tonight. Beautiful cat, it looked a lot like a Havana Brown with a thick-looking coat of brown fur and that muscular little body. Smaller ears through you were used to seeing. All the Havanas you had seen had those adorably large ears like a Siamese.

The cat remained calm during this inspection, just sitting on something leathery and dark red lying on the ground.

“Hello there,” you said, your voice soft and low. Animals might not understand words but they did understand tone. You carefully extended your hand. “I’m not going to hurt you. You don’t have to scratch me.”

The cat meowed but allowed you to touch it. You ran your hands over the cat. It didn’t react like your searching hands had found anything tender. Still you frowned.

This cat looked cared for. Had obviously been socialized from a young age. Healthy coat and well-fed all added up to beloved pet. If it . . . he, you corrected after another look, was a stray, he hadn’t been one for very long.

“Did you get lost?” you asked the cat. “Or did someone abandon you out here in the cold?”

Despite your best efforts to avoid, you couldn’t keep the anger out of your voice at that second possibility. Nights this cold could easily be fatal, even more so with that blizzard rolling in. especially for a pet that was used to warm shelter during harsh weather. You just couldn’t understand the sheer cruelty of doing something like that. If someone didn’t want a cat anymore, fine. There were far more humane options than abandoning them to die in the winter streets.

Well lost or abandoned, you weren’t leaving this little beauty out here to freeze. “It’s awfully cold out here, kitty cat. Did you want to come home with me? At least for the night?”

Of course, your only answer was more meows. But they sounded positive so you decided to take them as a yes. You didn’t have a carrier with you. But your backpack would work as substitute. You opened up your coat just enough to remove your scarf which you piled into the bottom. Your previous fur babies liked something soft to snuggle into when transported like this. It would get your scarf dirty but it was washable.

But when you placed the cat in the backpack and tried to zip it, the cat jumped out. It didn’t run away. Just went over and sat on the red thing. After this happened two more times, you let out an exasperated sigh. Looking down at the cat, looking up at you from its apparently beloved red thing. Maybe you should purrito him . . . then you did a double-take. Blinked. Rubbed your eyes. But it didn’t change.

You had only ever seen it in grainy photos on the news or in the papers. But you still recognized it. The red leather armor of Daredevil. You supposed it could be a replica. Every hero in this city had fans who did cosplay. Daredevil was no different. But if this was a costume, someone had spent a lot of time and money making it.

Your earlier frown returned. No fan who had gone to all that effort would leave this by a dumpster to get ruined. And if it wasn’t a replica but the real thing . . . you couldn’t think of why Daredevil would leave his suit by a dumpster either. Like the costume, leaving it outside in this wet weather could severely damage it.

“Curious and curiousier,” you murmured to yourself. A look uncovered the horned helmet, gloves, and armed boots nearby. Not the sticks, however. There was a holster on leg where they ought to be. You cast your flashlight around and spied something red laying a short distant away. You went there and discovered the missing sticks.

Or rather a staff since it seemed to be be only one. It looked rather long for that thigh holster and you could have sworn there was supposed to be two . . . but maybe you were wrong. You never actually seen him. Just pictures. And Daredevil didn’t exactly stand still in excellent lighting to be photographed with a high-quality camera.

You picked it up and frowned. The staff seemed rather heavy. It wasn’t so heavy that you couldn’t swing it around easily but it was weighty. A person could do some real damage with this. It was not a prop. It was a real weapon.

“Holy shit,” you said, staring at the staff with more than a little awe. Because as crazy as it sounded, you were starting to think this was really Daredevil’s staff and that was really his suit back there. But you had little time to bask in that wonder. Because a big flake of snow landed on the stick. Followed by another and another. You looked up.

It had started snowing. You hurried back over to the suit, carrying the staff. You pulled your scarf out of your backpack, looping it around your neck for the moment. You picked up the suit and started getting into your pack. Assuming he didn’t leave it here in purpose, Daredevil was going to want this back and probably would appreciate not having it damaged by the wet weather.

How you were going to get to him was a problem for Future You.

Also it seemed like the cat wasn’t coming without the suit. Why he was so obsessed with it was another mystery for Future You to untangle. When you weren’t outside in a blizzard. You managed to fit most of it into your pack, which was a little tricky since you couldn’t put down the flashlight but you managed. You zipped it closed, glad that you had grabbed your hiking pack earlier. You’d never be able to fit this much of the suit in your regular pack. The staff didn’t fit. You’d have to carry it. Hopefully you wouldn’t run into anyone before reaching your apartment.

You propped the stick against the side of the dumpster before swing the pack onto your shoulders. You left the hip belt undone. Daredevil’s suit wasn’t anywhere near as heavy as the full pack for a long hike.

“Okay, Trouble,” you said, reaching for the cat. “Let’s go.”

The cat meowed but allowed you to pick him up and place him against your chest. His front paws rested on your shoulder while you supported his body with your arm. The hand was still holding your key-chain flashlight. Which would make holding onto him if he got squirmy difficult. You gave him a stern look. “No jumping out of my arms or being a wiggle worm, Trouble. Or I will purrito you with my scarf.”

He meowed again. It sounded like an objection.

“Don’t meow me, mister. You are clearly trouble, trouble, trouble,” you said, almost singing those last words. You blamed your best friend. I Knew You Were Trouble was one of her favorite songs. Therefore you had heard it several times tonight and the lyrics were kinda stuck in your head.

Carried in your arms, Matt suppressed an irritated huff. He wasn’t upset with you. He was upset about the situation.

The cat made a grumpy noise but stayed where he was and didn’t scratch. So you just laughed as you collected the staff and headed toward home.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

He wasn’t entirely sure how he had been turned into cat. He had an idea. That scumbag he left knocked out and left tied up for the police. Even if the only explanation for that thing that shielded the man from his blows and turning him into a cat was magic. Danny had sworn up and down that magic was real. His heart had been steady as drum but Matt hadn’t entirely believed him.

Or rather he didn’t want to believe him. People developing random powers – sometimes from exposure to chemicals or radiation – and aliens was enough weirdness for one planet. Earth didn’t need magic to be real too.

But Matt tried not ignore reality when it smacked him in the face. Someone had spoke some words and now he was cat. Magic was real. He would accept that and hope that other stuff straight out of a fantasy or horror novels weren’t also real. The last thing he needed running around his city was vampires. Or dinosaurs. Or something equally ridiculous.

He also had no idea how he was going to get himself back to being a human. His only working theory was that maybe, just maybe, Danny could do something. Or would know someone who could do something about it. It was long shot but he was the only one that Matt knew who knew anything about magic.

Assuming he could get in contact with Danny in the first place. Rather big assumption there. Until and unless he could, his only other option was wait and see if the spell wore off on its own. Matt didn’t like this plan. For one, he had absolutely no idea if the spell would wear off at all. Or if does, how long that would take.

A few hours would be ideal but when was Matt ever that lucky?

No, it was much more likely that he would be stuck like this for days. If not longer. Foggy was going to worry. And when he couldn’t find or contact Matt, he was going to get scared. And when he checked Matt’s apartment and found the suit gone along with Matt, he was going to assume the worst.

He hated the thought of putting Foggy through that. But there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t turn himself back. He couldn’t talk. These paws couldn’t hold a paw. He might be able to type but unless you had a braille keyboard or a refreshable braille display, he couldn’t tell what keys he was pushing. Randomly hitting keys was unlikely to produce a coherent message that would clue you into the fact he wasn’t a cat.

The only semi-positive he could find about this situation was that you had been walking near enough to the dumpster he had collapsed behind to hear his meowing. Through Matt couldn’t say he was thrilled that you were out this late. It was dangerous. Granted, most criminals had seemingly opted not to be out in the freezing cold but not all.

His heart had lodged in his throat when you had shrieked. His mind racing how he had missed someone beside you being outside and nearby. What was he going to do, he couldn’t protect you like this . . .

It was immense relief to discover it was just a rat.

But despite his desire to get yourself somewhere warmer and safer, he was unwilling to leave his suit behind. One person impersonating him and slaughtering innocent people was already one too many for his tastes.

Furthermore replacing it would be a headache. Jacobson wouldn’t be happy to learn the suit he had designed and made for Matt had been left behind a dumpster. Which was fair. He wouldn’t like someone treating his work in such a chevalier matter either. He might fix or replace it but in the meantime, Matt would be back to the black suit.

Which tended to make Claire and Foggy unhappy. They preferred he fight crime wearing something more protective. Which Matt couldn’t really argue with. Nor that the red suit was warmer than the black. Which was nice this time of year but not so nice in August.

He had felt a little silly hopping in and out of your backpack like that but it accomplished his goal. The suit hadn’t been left behind.

You had recognized the suit, of course. And seemed to realize that it was the real thing, not one of the costumes his fans made. Well, Foggy claimed he had fans who dressed up like him for something called Super Con. He hadn’t been lying but . . . why? Didn’t people find him scary? Too violent? Why not someone nicer? Like Spider-Man? Sure, he was snarky and a smartass kid but otherwise he oozed friendliness . . .

Warm air hitting his fur startled him but not as much as realizing that he was coated in snow. He hadn’t even noticed. Had he really been that much in his head? Apparently.

“No jumping down yet, Trouble,” you said to him, the arm holding him shifting a little. “We’re not quite home yet. I will still purrito you.”

Purrito? That was second time you had said that word. He didn’t know what it meant and wasn’t sure he wanted to.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Closing and locking your door behind you was a relief. Besides the fact that you were carrying was likely the real Daredevil suit (which was probably illegal in some fashion), the snow was really coming down. Even the distance between the dumpster and your building was very short, it was getting close to whiteout conditions by the time you arrived.

You propped the staff against the wall before kneeling down to let the cat go. He didn’t go far. Curious. Cats often hide when in unfamiliar places with unfamiliar people. Despite the fact he left you carry him without any trouble, you still kinda expected the cat to make a beeline for under your couch. Or your bed. But nope, just sat at the edge of entrance way, in a growing puddle of melting snow.

You quickly took off your pack and winter gear. The pack, the coat, and gloves were both waterproof so they were more or less fine. But your scarf and hat were just as wet as the cat. You’d have to hang them up in the bathroom to drip dry. Later. First, you needed to get the cat dry. Then get both of you warm.

After taking off your boots, you went and grabbed a towel from the stack still sitting on the coffee table. You had been in the middle of putting away your laundry – something along with folding it that you often procrastinated – when your best friend had called crying. You checked but the cat still hadn’t moved from his spot. You walked over to him and knelt down.

“Let’s get you dry,” you said and started towel-drying him. He was remarkably tolerate of this process. Marshmallow (may she rest in peace) would have been singing you the song of her people. Despite the fact, as a Persian, she had been groomed literally her entire life. Pumpkin or Oreo (may they rest in peace) would have tried to fight with the towel.

You had long ago developed the habit of talking to your cats. It made your apartment feel less lonely. So you didn’t think anything of telling him how much better behaved he was compared to those three of your previous fur babies.

“Trying to prove you aren’t trouble, trouble, trouble?” you asked. The cat meowed as if in answer. You laughed and checked on his coat. It was as dry as you could get it without using a blow dryer. But with the exception of Marshmallow, you had yet to meet a cat who didn’t try to run away from the thing making the scary, painfully loud noise.

And that was because Marshmallow couldn’t hear the scary noise. To her, it just warm air blowing on her which she had seemed to find wonderful.

Despite all that drama, you missed Marshmallow, Pumpkin and Oreo. Maybe it was time for new furry friend. Maybe this one, you thought, petting the cat’s fur. It was soft as velvet. In the better light of your apartment, you could see the reddish tones to the over dark brown color.

“If you don’t already have a home,” you said, thinking out loud. “Maybe I should call you Cinnamon. It matches with the color of your coat. But Trouble is so just perfect . . .”

The newly dubbed Trouble meowed. You laughed again. You couldn’t help it. He sounded so grumpy.

After another moment of consideration, you decided against the blow dryer. Thanks to the thickness of his coat, he hadn’t gotten wet down to the skin. He probably wouldn’t get matted if you let him air dry for the rest.

You mopped up the puddle on the floor with the same towel, then hung it up in the bathroom along with your hat and scarf. You walked deeper into the apartment, into your bedroom. There you retrieved your heating pad, the comforter from your bed, and one of the extra blankets from the top of the closet. It was time for part two – getting warmed up.

You carried the load out to the living room. The comforter was sat on one cushion but you made a little nest with the heating pad and blanket on the adjoining seat. Trouble seemed pretty comfortable being close to you but you couldn’t assume that he was a lap cat. You turned on the pad and went back to him

He still hadn’t moved very away from the entrance. Peculiar. You’d think a cat this confident would have started exploring. Cats are curious. Maybe he was more nervous than you thought. Through you’d think a nervous cat would be hiding somewhere. But Trouble wasn’t hiding and he didn’t run away from you. And you picked him up, his body wasn’t stiff. No tension in the muscles. He didn’t go limp like a Ragdoll but was still relaxed in your hands.

Hmmm . . . maybe his (previous) home was one where he regularly met strangers? Like he was a shop cat or something like that. Or his (previous) owner worked somewhere that allowed people to bring in their pets as long as they didn’t cause a disruption? Or traveled regularly like a show cat. He was pretty enough for a show cat. Any of those might explain why Trouble seemed so comfortable with a stranger in a strange place.

Or maybe he was just a people cat. Each cat was an individual after all.

You placed Trouble down in the nest. He didn’t immediately jump off. Which had been a possibility. Cats often didn’t like things that weren’t their idea. But this cat seemed willing to explore the nest instead of rejecting it outright. Giving everything a sniff, feeling the blanket under his paws. Not quite making biscuits but close.

Judging by the purring, Trouble seemed to be enjoying himself.

You would have loved to keep watching but you wanted something hot to drink. Normally you’d make coffee but it was already stupid late. Not the time to start drinking something with caffeine. So herbal tea it was. While the water heated, you remembered that you needed to charge your phone. But after that brief detour, you started shifting through your tin of herbal teas . . . what sounded good . . . you picked out the one calling itself Apple Spice.

You poured the water over the tea bag and enjoyed the rising aroma as the tea seeped. You couldn’t remember which spices were supposed to be in this tea. But it smelled like apple pie so you’d guess mostly cinnamon and nutmeg. Tasted more like apple cider than pie but you still enjoyed it. You carried your mug over the couch.

You sat the mug down on the coffee table for a moment so you could wrap yourself in the comforter and sit down. You pulled your legs up onto the couch under the comforter, shifting until you were sitting cross-legged. You leaned toward and grabbed the mug.

You had only taken a few sips before you felt paws on your leg. You looked down at Trouble. He was looking up at you beseechingly.

You smiled and lifted the edge of the comforter. “Come here, Trouble.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He crawled onto your lap, circling a few times before settling down. The low purr only got louder when your hand couldn’t resist the urge to pet. And scratch him behind the ears and under the chin. Despite the name you had given him, Trouble really was such a sweetheart. How could anyone abandon him on the streets to die? You just couldn’t imagine it . . .

‘Maybe,’ you thought. ‘It wasn’t on purpose. Maybe something happened to his humans . . .’

You yawned. You still didn’t know how Daredevil tied into this abandoned (or lost) cat. It was possible that was just a coincidence. That both Trouble and the suit just happened to be in the same place. But maybe the suit smelled familiar to the cat . . . maybe this was Daredevil’s cat . . .

.

“What would Daredevil name a cat?” you murmured to yourself. “Lucy Fur? Holy Terror? The Lord of Felines? Hiss the Devil-Cat?

A soft meow jerked you back to alertness before you could spill tea on yourself. But if you were falling asleep sitting up, you should put that mug down. You had drunk most of it. It was fine. You sat down the mug, leaned your head against the back of the couch. You just needed to rest your eyes. In a few minutes you’d tidy up, start unraveling those mysteries . . .

Just a few minutes . . .

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Matt listened as you fell into a deep sleep and contemplated life’s little ironies. When he had pictured laying on your lap, this was not the scenario he had in mind. It had been more like using your lap as a pillow while your hands ran through his hair. Sometimes the fantasy was a lazy afternoon where you two were wearing comfortable clothes and simply enjoying each other’s company.

Sometimes the fantasy turned dirty. One where the only clothing you were wearing was a shirt and panties. And he was unable to resist being so close to your core. Kissing and touching until you were squirming and his nose was filled with the scent of your arousal. Then he’d slide off the couch, then peeled off those panties hiding his prize. He’d kneel between your spread thighs and . . .

He shook his head. He couldn’t think about that. It was never going to happen. Before, he would have had a chance. You were attracted to him. More over, he had once (unintentionally) overheard you telling your friends that you liked him. In more ways in one. One of those was the ‘I want him to fuck me on his desk’ way. Your words, not his. And Matt would be liar if he said he hadn’t thought about exactly the same thing. Imagined your soft skin under his hands and your pretty moans in his ear while he buried himself deep inside you . . .

‘Never going to happen,’ he reminded himself. Even through you had also made it clear in that talk with your friends that you always dreamed being with him like (again quoting) ‘one of those disgusting adorable couples who snuggle every chance they get and give each other forehead kisses.’

But in his experience, people either interested in Matt Murdock or the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Not both. Never both. He didn’t expect you to be any different. Not once you knew that mild-mannered blind attorney Matt Murdock was Daredevil.

You were going to find out. You were too intelligent not to figure out that something was going on with your boss. You probably already had some questions. He knew you hadn’t missed those days when he had injuries that couldn’t be hidden by his day suit. Even when his injuries were completely hidden, you had noticed that he was moving wrong and asked if he was alright. So far you hadn’t questioned his excuses but he didn’t think you entirely believed them either.

Sooner or later, you weren’t going to placated by those (he was told rather flimsy) excuses. You’d want the truth. Perhaps you would draw your own conclusions about what was going on with him. Become worried about addiction or abuse. Perhaps you would confronted him about it – you were rather shy but concern for others seemed to bring out your courage.

This incident would drop all kinds of clues into your hands. Especially if you got the chance to inspect his suit more closely. He didn’t have his name sewn into the collar or anything as obvious as that. But his burner phone was in one of the pouches. Finding Foggy and Karen in the contacts was going to give you all kinds of questions.

He doubted you would make the leap that the cat you had rescued was Daredevil, rather than his pet cat or something. Which was understandable. If he was in your shoes, it certainly wouldn’t be his first theory. Or his second. He was living it and he was having difficulty believing it.

At least this time he had time to prepare for the upcoming conversation. Judging from past history, it was going to be unpleasant – yelling, tears, suspicions that he was more or less faking his disability. Followed by new distrust warring with previous affection. If he was lucky, enough of that affection would survive. And if that luck continued, you would accept his nature and agree to remain friends.

If he was unlucky . . .

And if he was very lucky, you’d break the pattern. You’d accept him for who he was, man and devil. The discovery of his darkness wouldn’t kill your attraction to him. You’d say yes when he asked you out, the first date of many . . .

Through Foggy claimed he was already dating you. Which no, he wasn’t. He would know if he had asked you out and you had agreed. And you would have kissed, at least, by now if you were dating. Foggy had rolled his eyes and muttered something along the lines of ‘Oh great, both of them are idiots.’

That aside . . . Matt knew he would never be that lucky. It was a beautiful dream. But that’s all it was. A dream. It was far more likely that he was going to be stuck as a cat for the rest of his life.

‘Through,’ he thought as he started to fall asleep. ‘Being your cat wouldn’t be so bad . . .’

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

You let out a frustrated whine.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear, his deep voice rich as honey. “You don’t want anyone to walk in and see you like this, do you?”

Like this meaning on your boss’s lap with your skirt hiked up around your waist, your legs splayed wide so anyone who walked in that door would get a good look at your panties. That wasn’t only thing they’d get an eyeful of. Your blouse was unbuttoned, the cups of your bra pushed down to expose your breasts. One of your boss’s large hands was fondling a breast, rolling the taut nipple between his fingers. His other hand was teasing your covered cunt, pressing far too gentle and fleeting touches to yourclit.

“Or is that exactly what you want? For someone to see you like this? Did you want everyone to know? That I’m touching you like this?”

You squirmed, feeling your face flush worse than it already was. The hand on your breast gave it one last squeeze before sliding down to grip your opposite hip.

“I think you do. You want someone to see how wet you are. For them to know how eager this pussy is for my cock.”

He pushed himself upward, a pale mimicryof thrusting you craved. But it did remind you of the hard, eager cock pressed tightly against your ass. It would be so easy. Just take off your underwear and let him get his pants off. Or at least enough of his pants off to free that cock. Your cunt clenched desperately. You didn’t care if he fucked you in this chair or on his desk. Just as long as he was inside you . . .

“Or even just my fingers.”

Fingers hooked around panties, pulled them away from your cunt. A single finger ran through your folds, coating itself in your slick. Tracing the entrance before the tip dipped inside. But rather than sinking deeper, it withdrew. Before you could protest, it dipped back in. Then back out. Again. And again. Always just the tip of his finger. Nothing more. You needed more. You tried to thrust up. But the muscular arm across your torso with its hand gripping your hip kept you pinned against him. All you could do was squirm . . .

“Matt,” you moaned, burying your burning face against his neck. “Please . . .”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

You jolted upright. You were trying to get to your feet before what had woken you even registered. Unfortunately for your dignity, your comforter had gotten twisted around your legs so your attempt only resulted in you falling on the floor. More fortunate you managed to avoid smacking your head against the coffee table. As you tried to get yourself loose of your own comforter, you sleepily wondered why you were sleeping in the living room.

Then everything came flooding back. The visit . . . the cat . . . the suit . . . the dream . . . you felt your face flush. Then you realized what had woken you up. Your phone was ringing. As you got yourself to your feet, you muttered unkind things about the phone. It had shattered the dream just as it was getting really good. And the place between your legs throbbing with need. It was tempting to ignore your phone in favor of slipping your hand inside your underwear . . .

But in the end, responsibility won and you got your phone. It had gone to voice mail before you got to it. You unlocked it and checked the phone ID. Foggy. Why would Foggy be calling you . . . then the time registered.

Your heart almost stopped. The office had opened two hours ago. You were late! Your fingers frantically hit the call back, praying that you hadn’t just gotten fired. You needed this job . . .

Foggy’s cheerful hello was a promising start.

“Sorry, I know I’m late,” you started before Foggy interrupted you.

“No, you aren’t. The office is closed today.”

“Huh?” You said, trying to remember Foggy or Matt saying anything about that yesterday. You couldn’t remember . . . but your brain didn’t exactly work before its’ morning caffeine hit. And thinking about Matt only made you think about the dream. Which made the wet heat between your legs even worse. “Why?”

“Because there is roughly three feet of snow? With more still coming down? And high winds that have already knocked out power in parts of Manhattan and might do the same here any minute now?”

You immediately went to the window and peered out. You didn’t have the best view but it was as Foggy reported. Snow piled high on the streets below while more swirled across the window, day not looking not much brighter than twilight despite already being mid-morning . . . “Wow, you aren’t kidding about the weather.”

“I never kid about the weather,” Foggy said with mock seriousness. “The city powers that be don’t recommend going out in that mess. And even if they did, I’m not walking in that for anything less than a life or death emergency. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you said.

“I called you earlier but you didn’t answer and didn’t call back. I just wanted to make sure that you knew not to come today. Probably tomorrow too. More depends on how long this storm last and how long it takes to get things running again.”

And to check that you were alright. Both of your bosses were worry-warts. Matt was worse than Foggy in that regard. Always got that worried furrow in his brow when you were going to be walking home alone, right before he offered to walk with you. Often you accepted. Mostly because it gave you an excuse to spent more time with him.

And he knew all these little hole-in-the-wall restaurants with the most amazing food . . . Through whenever you talked about those little side-trips, everyone – your friends, Foggy, Karen, your mom – always asked you if you were sure that Matt wasn’t your boyfriend . . .

Yes, you were sure. Those weren’t dates. If they had been, you would have been kissing Matt. And you definitely wouldn’t have been able to resist having sex with him this long if you were dating. So they were just a side-trip taken with your friend and employer.

“Okay,” you said, shuffling away from the window and toward your small kitchen. “Thanks for checking on me. Everyone else okay?”

“No problem,” he said. “Karen’s bunkered down with . . . er . . . a friend. Matt hasn’t call me back yet. I was just about to ring him again.”

You didn’t know Karen had a boyfriend. Odd that she had never brought him to Josie’s with the rest of the group . . . but then the second part of that statement caught your brain.

“Matt hasn’t called you back?”

“No,” Foggy said. “But I’m sure he’s fine. Probably just didn’t hear his phone ring. Matt sleeps like the dead sometimes.”

Not hearing something didn’t sound like the Matt you knew. Who seemed to hear everything. No matter how quietly you moved, he always knew you were there. But Foggy knew him better than you did. And he had lived Matt for years. If Foggy said Matt was a heavy sleeper, then he was a heavy sleeper.

Still his voice sounded odd. Like maybe he was worried but trying not to show it. But maybe you were just protecting your own worries onto Foggy.

“Okay. I’ll let you get back to that. Bye, Foggy,” you said, trying to keep those worries out of your voice. ‘They were unnecessary,’ you reminded yourself silently. Matt was blind but he was also a grown man. He could care of himself. He was fine.

“Bye.”

You tucked your phone in your pocket. Ugh . . . you were still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Your work clothes since you hadn’t changed before getting that tearful phone call. You had wanted to get that laundry finally put away before you found another excuse to avoid doing it. You needed a shower. Especially since the power might go out – who knows when you’d get the chance for another one?

You put on coffee and tried not to worry about Matt.

“Matt doesn’t need you fussing over him. Even if he does come in looking like he got into a bar fight sometimes,” you told yourself sternly. Like last Friday, he had been sporting a set of spectacular set of bruises across the right side of his face. Which he said was the result of missing a curb and tripping. Which sounded rather peculiar to you. Yes, he couldn’t see the curb but he seemed pretty skilled with that cane of his . . . and Matt moved with the cat-like elegance of a dancer.

Maybe even graceful blind men had trouble with two left feet sometimes.

Speaking of trouble . . . where was that cat? You hadn’t seen him since you woke up.

“Trouble,” you called out. “Where are you? Here kitty, kitty,”

You heard a meow. Not close by. But the coffee was on so you could look around. It took several minutes and more meows to find him. Trouble was in your bedroom closet, on the shelf above the clothing rod. You weren’t sure how he he managed to get up there but cats were like that. It was amazing the places they managed to climb up or squeeze themselves into. It seemed he had started exploring while you were sleeping.

Looking at Trouble, you frowned. Something was . . . off. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what . . . no, wait. You raised up your phone. You had been using the flashlight app to look in shadowy places like under furniture. You ran the light across the cat’s face, watching closely. Once, then twice to make sure you were really seeing what you were seeing. But you were. His eyes weren’t reacting to the light.

You raised one finger, then moved it back and forth in front of Trouble’s face. He wasn’t tracking the motion through his whiskers tilted forward, his little nose twitching. He was paying attention, his ears were up and pointed toward you. But his eyes . . .

“Are you blind, Trouble?” you asked, reaching back up to pet the cat. It was impossible to resist that sinfully soft fur.

He gave a soft meow as if answering your question.

Well, Trouble being blind didn’t change your plans. You were still going to adopt him if he didn’t already have a home. You made a mental note to have the vet check your theory about his vision when you took him in to make sure he was healthy as he looked. You were tempted to get Trouble down from his perch. You were pretty sure that he could back down without hurting himself. Without making a mess by accidentally pulling something down with him . . . that was another kettle of fish. And while most of what on the shelf was soft, some wasn’t and that stuff could hurt Trouble if it got knocked off while he tried to get down.

On the other hand, getting a cat out of a hiding spot could be tricky. Trouble hadn’t been aggressive with his claws even once but he might make an exception for getting grabbed and pulled out of somewhere he was hiding. Normally you’d purrito him but that high shelf wasn’t the easiest location to purrito a cat . . . the beep of the coffee maker interrupted your train of thought.

You decided to have some coffee, then consider how to get Trouble down from there. But halfway through that first mug, you heard a thump. One that wasn’t, thankfully, followed by any crashing noises. Just Trouble strolling into the kitchen, very casual. He stopped a few feet away from you, head turned you – ears alert, upright tail curled into a question mark.

“Yes, Trouble?” you said. Then thought about it for a minute. “You hungry? Breakfast?”

Another answering meow. But then you had another problem. You didn’t have any cat food. You had given the last of Oreo’s special food to a friend whose cat had the same dietary restrictions. But you did have some baked chicken. That should work. Cats usually liked chicken. Fingers-crossed that it wouldn’t upset his tummy. Or make him very sick because he needed a special diet.

You cup up the chicken and put some of it into a small bowl. You sat it down in front of the cat along with a second dish with water. After giving both bowls a very thorough inspection with his nose, the cat seemed to accept the offering and started eating the chicken. You put the rest away and made a mental note to set up the litter box. You might not always have cat food on hand but you had encountered enough unexpected cat acquisition to keep cat litter in the house. Muddling through a night without cat food was one thing. Without cat litter was something else and not an experience that bears repeating.

You drank your coffee and considered your own breakfast. You didn’t really feel like making anything complicated right now. Maybe scrambled eggs? With toast? That would be quick and easy. You nodded and made yourself breakfast. Scrambled eggs and toast didn’t take long and soon you were seated at your little kitchen table, listening to one of your regular podcasts while you ate and made plans.

First, your shower. Get yourself clean and put on some clean clothes. Something comfortable since you weren’t going anywhere and there wasn’t anyone to impress. At the very least, fresh underwear since your current pair was uncomfortably damp. Along with your thighs. You were alone but the thought still made your face feel warm. Maybe, while you were in the there, you should take care of the still almost-painful ache between your legs . . .

Tidy up your apartment. Pull your emergency kit from under your bed. The Daredevil suit and all its mysteries . . . your fork scrapped the plate. The sound this produced made Trouble flinch.

“Sorry Trouble,” you said. You had been so in your head, you hadn’t realized that you already eaten all of your eggs. You moved the plate to the sink, left your mug by the coffee pot – you’d drink more when you were done with your shower – and headed toward your bedroom.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Matt might actually be in hell.

He thought it was bad earlier, when you started dreaming and his nose was filled your heavenly aroma. And when he heard you moan out his name, begging him for something. Something he couldn’t give. Not while he was like this. He had scurried out of the comforter and hidden himself before he did something . . . rash.

But this? Listening to you touching yourself? It was worse. Far worse. When there was nowhere in your small apartment where he couldn’t hear the beautiful sounds you were making. Couldn’t smell the mouth-watering scent of your arousal. Couldn’t escape the knowledge that it was always his name being moaned out.

It was torture. Pure torture.

He wanted so badly to be himself again and in that shower. Holding your naked body against his own, fingers pumping into your cunt and toying with your clit until you begged him for release. After you shattered under his hands, would he fuck you against the shower wall? Or would you turn the tables on him? Push him against the tile and start working his cock with your hands until he was the one begging?

Would that be enough to satisfy you both? Or just the beginning?

He buried himself further into the pile of blanket and comforter in a futile attempt to muffle your gasping recitation of his name as you chased your release . . .

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

You walked out the bathroom feeling refreshed.

Your eyes searched for Trouble. You didn’t worry when you didn’t immediately find him. There were a lot of places in your apartment for a cat to hide. And when you went to collect last-night’s tea mug, you found him.

Or rather you found his tail. He had apparently attempt to hide himself in the pile of blankets but his tail was sticking out. You giggled as you reached out and tickled his tail. He meowed, squirmed around in the blanket until the tail disappeared into the depths.

“Not planning to come out of there, Trouble?”

The responding meow was loud, like a very firm no. which only made you giggle harder. But you left him in his blanket cocoon. He wasn’t harming anyone. If he wanted to hide for a while, you’d let him. At least he wasn’t trying to ‘help.’

TO BE CONTINUED . . . in Part 2

NOTES

The kick combination that Matt uses against the magic user is from capoeira, which is an Afro-Brazilian cultural practice that is both a martial arts and a dance. The movements require great bodily dexterity. It’s very cool.

Purrito means wrapping a cat in a towel, small blanket, or similar like they were burrito. It’s way of holding the cat without getting scratched since the paws are all inside in the burrito. Some cats find it calming as they like the gentle pressure all around them like a hug. But some don’t.

Havana brown is a cat breed developed from mixing the Siamese with brown domestic short-haired cats. They are brown to reddish-brown – right down to their whiskers – with green eyes. Very pretty cats.

Jacobson is Luke Jacobson, the fashion designer from She-Hulk. In this story, Matt saved him one night when he was in New York. He was appalled by Matt’s homemade supersuit. He demanded to make him a better one as a thank you for saving his life. And wouldn’t take no for answer.

Melvin Potter, his old suit guy, Matt has been representing as a way of apology for the trouble Melvin experienced during Season 3. Matt might introduce Melvin to Jacobson who is curious about his other red suit.