#matt murdock soulmate au

[munsonownsmyass]

Pain shared is pain lessened

Matt Murdock x reader

Summary: In a world where you share the injuries with your soulmate, it's not easy being you. With a reckless soulmate that seems to have no regard for his own safety, you have more bruises and scars than you can count.

Warnings: Mentions of injuries: bruises, blood, scars and wounds. Mild angst, a little mild hate. One kiss. But we end on a fluffy note. You know me 😅

Notes: Okay, this one is unbeta'ed and probably full of errors. I just had to yeet this into the tumblr-verse.

This is a request from the lovely @mindidjarin ❤️

Words: 2.5K

You’re grateful you’re with your friends when it happens. The pain is there instantly, so overwhelming that you start to feel lightheaded. Another wave of pain washes over you and thankfully Jessie catches you when your legs give in, sitting you down at the nearest table. For what feels like an hour, you can’t do anything but cry, hoping the pain will subside.

Your friends get it, they’ve been there too, but none of them have gone through as much pain as you have. It seems like your soulmate are reckless, not even caring if he gets hurt. You just wish you weren’t along for the ride.

“What the hell is wrong with this guy?” Jessie tries, not even knowing what to say. And what is there to say? Ever since you were a kid, you’ve felt every ounce of pain your soulmate has gone through, gotten every injury. Your only comfort is that your wounds are lesser than his, cause if you’d have to go through this life with all this pain AND blind? You would have lost it ages ago.

You google. You always try to google. ‘Man getting stabbed’. ‘Man losing a fight’. ‘Man being an utter asshole for putting his soulmate through shit’. Okay, maybe not the last one, but you are mad. Mad at him for not even caring, mad at yourself because you care. Cause the tears you shed every time aren’t just for you. They are for him too.

Why must he go through such hardship, such sorrow? What caused him to care so little about himself? Is he a hero? Is he a bad guy? In times like this, with Avengers and aliens, you wonder if he is somehow caught in the middle of that. Surely no normal person would have so many injuries. Unless he’s just a common criminal? Underground fighter?

Okay, you have to stop. You always do this. Sit for hours wondering. Your friends tell you to let it go, but it’s easy for them to say. They’ve all met their soulmates, some of them married for years. Jessie, the newest to leave the singleton island, still has a fresh pink scar on her forehead from when she tripped three weeks ago, practically falling over the guy who just hit his head, the same scar adorning his forehead. If only it was that easy.

“Are you okay?” Carmen asks carefully, handing you something to drink.

“No, I’m not okay. I haven’t even met my soulmate, and I already want to kill him.” You bite back, downing half of the beer in one go.

“At this rate, he’s probably gonna get himself killed before you meet.” Jessie mumbles to herself. You just shoot her a killer look, not even finding it remotely funny. “What?! You gotta admit it looks like this guy has a death wish.”

“Oh, I know! I got several scars proving that.”

“You should sue him.” Carmen, bless her heart, wasn’t the smartest girl, but she always tried her best. Still, you can’t help but throw your hands up in defeat as you continue to yell.

“Yes, great idea! Just gonna walk up to a lawyer and sue my soulmates ass for pain and suffering. That bodes for a happily ever after.”

“You know-” Jessie interrupts, caressing your arm softly, “-I have a friend. Karen. She works at a law office. Maybe they have some way of doing something? Maybe they could-”

“Thanks, but no. There’s no way they could find him and even if they did, I’m not gonna sue him. I just hope I never met him, cause I’m gonna kick his ass.”

A week later, the wounds had healed nicely, and the bruises faded, but the anger is still there. No, anger is the wrong word. You don’t hate him…. that much. You just wish you could have met him years ago, maybe spared the both of you some pain and suffering. Maybe his life would have been different if you had been there.

“We’re here.” Jessie stops in front of a door, and you sigh when you see the sign next to the door. Nelson and Murdock. Lawyers. Of course. You move to protest, but before you can say anything, she stops you. “We’re not here to sue, don’t worry. Our talk just made me realize it’s been a long time since I saw Karen, so I’ve invited her to lunch.”

When you enter the office, you’re met by a man handing a beautiful blonde some papers. That must be Karen. The man, who introduces himself as Foggy, disappears into his office with a smile. The two of you walk over to Karen, but Jessie quickly excuses herself, wanting to go to the bathroom before you all head out. Karen just gives you a bright smile, as she fixes some of the papers.

“You must be y/n. Jessie’s talked so much about you. Especially about that soulmate of yours.”

Of course, she had. You’re not even surprised, your many cuts and bruises always the subject for a good conversation.

“Yeah, he likes to fight, I guess. Always making sure I got a new bruise.” You laugh in defeat, knowing how you must look to other people. “People might start to think I’m being abused soon or something.”

“Have you tried looking for him?” She asks, putting away the rest of her paperwork as she looks to you with a curious smile.

“Well, it’s not that easy. New York is a big place.” You scoff, averting her gaze. Honestly, you’re not even sure where to start.

“Sure, it is. All you have to do is look for a guy who’s always-” Karen stops, looking at a point behind you, before her eyes dart back to yours. “-beaten up...” She almost looks like she’s seen a ghost. Just as she opens her mouth to speak, Jessie returns.

“So, by Karen’s horrified expression, I guess you’ve talked about Mr. Daredevil?”

“Daredevil?” You snort, “Is that your new nickname for him?”

“Well, he’s reckless, lives dangerously and keeps getting beat up, leaving you bruised.” Jessie crosses her arms, clearly not his biggest fan. You’ve always said you’d kick your soulmates ass when you meet him, but you’re starting to think Jessie might get to him first.

“Easy there, tiger. We can’t both gang up on a blind man.” You and Jessie giggle, but Karen doesn’t, her face white as she just stares at you. From the open office door, Foggy appears with an expression equal to Karen’s.

“Okay, what’s with the faces?” You ask confused, but before anyone can answer, the door opens and in walks what you assume to be the other half of Nelson and Murdock.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I went by the police station to-” Matt huff out, but stops as soon as he turns to face you all. “I didn’t know we had company. Matt Murdock.” He walks forward, extending his hand. As you take it, you notice the red glasses and the cane, So… A blind lawyer. That’s a first.

“How did you know?” Jessie asks softly, leaving the ‘since you’re blind’ part unspoken. Matt just smiles, probably used to questions like that all the time.

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” He just smirks, before gesturing towards his office. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Oh, Matt. Before you go-” Karen stops him with a grin. Foggy walks over to stop her, but she just brushes him off. ”One of the young ladies here want to sue her soulmate.”

Embarrassed, you take a step forward. “No, I don’t. They are just being dumb.” You push Jessie and Karen softly towards the door, just wanting to get away.

“What did he do?” Matt asks, tilting his head to the side with a questioning smile. If you weren’t so embarrassed by the whole thing, you definitely would have stayed, because he certainly was cute. Really cute.

“Nothing.” You lie, still making your way to the door, but Jessie just grin, turning towards the hot lawyer. “He’s reckless. So if you hear about a beaten up blind guy, let us know cause we wanna beat his ass”

You shoot Matt and Foggy an apologetic look, before pushing Jessie and Karen out the door. They just chuckle, not even apologizing for making you embarrassed. “I hate you guys.” You huff out, before walking out of the building.

Two months goes by and to your surprise, it’s without a single injury. You should celebrate, be happy over the missing bruises or cuts, but instead you worry. What happened to him? Was the last injury to much for him? Was Jessie right and maybe he’s…

You feel stupid, spending years complaining over the scars and bruises and now… You actually miss them. As painful and annoying as it was, it was a reminder that he was out there. That someday, somehow, you’d meet your soulmate.

Looking out over the neighborhood from your small window, you let your book fall, the fingers of your free hand idly tracing one of the scars on your chest. You often do that, touch the scars. It gives you a weird sense of serenity, knowing that despite all the pain, he is out there. Well, you hope he still is.

Truth be told, now that you think about it, you wouldn’t kick his ass if you met him. You just want him here, want to kiss away his pain or help him bear the burden of what troubles him. You’ve never been a believer, but ever since the injuries stopped, you’ve been praying he’s okay.

You’re jerked out of your strain of thoughts by a soft knock on your door. Looking at the clock on your phone, you wonder who it could be at this hour. You had no plans and weren’t expecting anyone. Putting the book away, you make your way over to the door. When you open, you see the cute lawyer Karen works for. But what he’s doing here, you really have no idea. “Uhm. Matt, right? You work with Karen?”

“Yes, I do. I’m surprised you remember me.” He smiles softly.

‘I remember because you’re hot’ you think but reason it’s better to keep that information to yourself. Still, you feel your cheeks flush red at the thought. But you brush it off. You shouldn’t be thinking like this.

“So, uhm… Why are you here?” You inquire, not even sure what you could help a guy like him with.

Matt sighs, suddenly looking uncomfortable. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, gripping his cane tightly. He looks to you, your image reflected in his red glasses. You wonder what his eyes might look like. Okay, this isn’t the time. Mentally scolding yourself, you open the door a little wider.

“Are you okay? Do you wanna come in?”

“I-“ he begins, but then stops. Clearly frustrated, he takes off the glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay, I… I think I’m your soulmate.”

For a moment, it’s like time stands still. It’s like all air leaves the room and everything turns blurry. Did… Did he just say what you think he said? You don’t even know how to feel. Overjoyed? He’s finally here, after all this time and your search would be over. But instead you feel confused and angry, filled with so many questions, like why the hell would a blind lawyer get beaten up so much? Why did he let himself get beat up? How long have he known?

“When did you… How… Why…” You try, but every question dies before they’re spoken. Where do you even begin?

“I know you must have so many question, I get that and I-”

“When did you know?” You ask, looking into his eyes. His beautiful hazel eyes. Fuck, you should focus.

“That day when you visited Karen. How many blind guys do you know who fights so much?” He shrugs, laughing softly. But you don’t laugh. You don’t even find it remotely funny.

“You knew for two months and didn’t tell me?!” You yell, punching his shoulder hard, but instantly flinch when your shoulder hurts. Fuck. It really was true.

“I didn’t tell you, because I was afraid you’d kick my ass, as you friend so beautifully put it.” He tries with a soft smirk and you hate to admit, that your resolve does vanish a little. Damn, he was charming and too cute for his own good.

“Okay. Okay…” You try to compose yourself, before looking at Matt again. “Why do you fight? Who do you fight? And HOW?! I mean, aren’t you blind?!”

Your voice borders on shrill as you stare at him, so confused. Matt looks in your direction, his eyes (his beautiful hazel eyes) not really meeting yours and he takes your hands gently in his. “I am blind, but I can see more than you can imagine.”

An hour later, your head is filled to the brim. Matt has told you his entire story, everything from his accident that left him blind as a kid to his night time activities as The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. A Daredevil indeed you grin, remembering Jessie’s words.

Along with the story Matt apologized so many times, never in his life wanting to hurt you like this. The reason behind broke your heart. He didn’t think he’d have a soulmate, never believing he deserved one. The guilt he had carried with him from he was a kid, believing he was the reason his father died to the people he had hurt along the way, intentionally and unintentionally, made him believe he didn’t deserve to be happy. 

“Matt, I… I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through. If only I could have found you sooner, I-”

“It’s not your fault.” He rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand, maybe more to his own benefit than yours. He has exposed himself, not only his entire story laid before you, but his secret identity. He’s vulnerable, waiting for your judgement over him and the thought makes your heart ache.

“I almost didn’t come tonight.” He looks up from your hand, his eyes searching for yours. “I was afraid you’d never want to talk to me after everything I’ve put you through. I can’t even imagine what you must think of me. How much you’ve hated me over the years. I’m so sorry.”

“Matt, you don’t have to-”

“Yes, I do. Do… Do you think you can forgive me?”

The tears in his eyes he’s been holding back, falls in a steady stream. In that moment, seeing him so broken over the hardship he’s put you through, you forget all the hatred and reach for him, cupping his cheeks. Without thinking, you lean forward and kiss him. It’s short and sweet, but it still makes your heart flutter.

Gently you pull away and hold his face softly until his eyes meet yours and right there you know. He is yours and no matter what lies behind you, is forgotten. You’ve found him and your heart have finally found its home.

TCF girls: @e-dubbc11 @itwasthereaminuteago @saintmurd0ck @pedrito-friskito @realfernmayo @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @mattmurdocksscars

Tagging: @lucy-sky @murdock-and-the-sea @murdockswh0r3

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

It's Hard to Dance With the Devil on Your Back [Soulmates AU]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Trope de Sept Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Soulmates AU Alternate Universe 1. A story set in a world where everyone has a soulmate, and something to indicate to them who their soulmate is and when they meet them. "You live in a world where soulmates are connected by their injuries - a new scar appearing wherever your soulmate has one. So why is your soulmate so hell-bent on getting injured?."

Warnings: No use of Y/N. Reader pronouns/gender not mentioned. Description of blood, implied that the reader was getting mugged just before the story starts. 

A/N: So in this AU, you and your soulmate share scars. With Matty, we know it's a lot. I tried to be as vague as possible about how the scars show up on the reader's skin in order to be inclusive, but if you have any suggestions for edits of how I could better describe things to make sure I'm being inclusive for readers of all skin types/tones, please DM me! I'm totally open to that feedback and making those changes!

WC: 550

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

There was blood on your hands. Crimson and sticky; and fortunately (or unfortunately, you weren't sure which) not yours.

Your savior hunched over, a shadow in the already dark alleyway, gripping onto his side as the wound you were trying to help him suture gushed all over your hands.

Three unconscious bodies were around you; would-be muggers beat to a pulp with acrobatic-like precision. He saved at least your wallet and your sense of safety in this city, if not your life. 

You’d heard of his reputation around town – The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen – and now were face to face with the man himself. 

“Come with me, my place isn’t far.” you offered. It was the least you could do.

He was too woozy and injured to resist, using your body as a makeshift crutch as he hobbled down the street beside you.

Manhattan rent is stupid expensive, so you shuffled around him in your miniscule bathroom while he sat on the lip of your bathtub, still breathing heavily. You mentally cursed yourself for not having a better stocked first aid kit. 

Reluctantly, he let you remove the mask. His hazel eyes darted at nothing as you drank in the identity of your rescuer.

You had a million questions, mostly about how a blind man spends his nights expertly beating up criminals, but you saved them for later, too preoccupied with the gash crossing his left ribs.

“Your soulmate is gonna have a hell of a time with this one.” you commented as you poked and prodded at the wound, pushing aside the shredded black fabric still covering most of his torso.

“My soulmate is probably used to it by now.” he replied, removing the useless shirt so you could work on his injury, exposing his entire torso to you.

A flash of heat washed over your whole body at the sight before you and the realization it brought on, starting at your head and finishing at your feet like a bathtub draining quickly.

His body was littered with the evidence of what he does every night, what he’s been doing for years. You had a good idea of when he started.

“What? What is it?” he asked, head tilting in concern, reacting to a gasp you hadn’t realized escaped you.

You took his hand, guiding it under the fabric of your shirt and traced his fingers along the skin of your stomach. The scar had faded over the years, but still remained raised and bumpy. It appeared there several years ago.

He licked at his pouty lips, brows furrowed as he ran his calloused fingers over your flesh.

You guided his touch to another, across your collarbone, still as red and jagged as the day it appeared.

And then he knew.

“You – you’re my…”

“Yeah.”

There was so much he wanted to explain to you, but he knew there would be plenty of time. Instead, he pointed to his left knee, curious about what was on his skin under the dark fabric of his pants. You chuckled.

“I fell off my bike when I was nine. Guess it’s not as exciting as the stories you can tell about yours.”

“No, but I’d like to tell them to you, if you'd let me.”

“Yes, I’d like that very much.”

[maple-the-awesome]

Color Blinded ||

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Words: 4,733

Overview: People are born seeing in black and white with the promise that they'll finally see color the moment they first look into their soulmate's eyes. For reasons that should be obvious, Matt has lost all hope in ever finding his own soulmate. I've been working on this dang prompt since the beginning of my blog and now finally, after suffering endless months of writers block and several rewrites, it's finally done in time for my 500 followers milestone🥳 ~ Maple

Marvel Masterlist 🖤 Fandom Masterlist 🖤 Requests

"Oh, those are beautiful!"

You hum at Karen's greeting comment which sticks in your head more than you'd care to admit. Leaning in to inhale the pleasant aroma, you decide that the bouquet certainly does smell beautiful if that's what she means, although you doubt it is.

Peeking at the bundle of roses through half-lidded eyes, you can't say you're particularly impressed by those dark veins carved into each delicate petal, only succeeding in making them appear both old and wrinkled. That being said, they're dreadfully boring in your own judgment, but even so, you don't doubt that they must look wonderful to everyone else.

"I'll take your word for it."

"Are they a gift from someone special?" Her hint is innocent enough, given through a giggle and teasing sway of her body yet it causes a sudden arrow to pierce your heart.

Ever so carefully, you select the best looking rose (still based on your own poor judgment) and hand it to the surprised secretary, "The corner store near my apartment just got a fresh shipment so I thought, since people usually like flowers, maybe I could bring some for the firm - as a sign of appreciation for all your help...I know. It isn't much, but I-"

"-That's very thoughtful of you."

You pray no one notices the way you turn a little too quickly to the voice, your heart lurching before filling with a familiar warmth that would be considered a welcomed comfort if not for how inappropriate it is in the given situation. Of course, because there's nothing appropriate about the way you view Matthew Murdock; your lawyer in whom you share a strictly professional relationship, thus respect and gratitude should be the extent of your feelings towards the man.

Alas, as Matt leans against his office door with a radiant smile that makes your heart flutter like a hummingbird's wings, you allow yourself to foolishly imagine - even if just for a blink - that said smile is built custom for you and you alone. How outlandish.

It's honestly quite pathetic how you're able to hand Foggy a rose without falter yet the same steady hand trembles like a leaf by the mere action of extending one towards Matt. There, you hover the blossomed flower in the air awkwardly before rather shamefully realizing your terrible error and the reason as to why he doesn't accept it despite your wordless prompt; he can't take what he doesn't see.

"H-Here. For you, Mr. Murdock."

"Thank you," His voice is whispered and deep - sinfully so - as his reach fumbles about until finally brushing against your hand which he uses to then guide his own to the rose's stem. The feeling of his calloused fingertips running all too slowly over your skin made you dizzy which is perhaps what ultimately led you to miss the miraculous way Matt avoids every thorn once officially claiming the rose as his own despite the complete clumsiness of his previous touch seconds ago.

You never stood a chance at functioning properly after that, far too focused on him as he lifts the rose to his nose for a sniff, letting it brush just under his nostrils with a tickle that makes the corners of his plump lips twitch upwards into his cheeks to form a gentler smile than before. Huh. He hasn't shaved recently it seems. His facial hair is more noticeable than it had been when you first came to the firm a few weeks ago -

"They're pink!" You blurt out, warmth immediately rising to your cheeks, "I, um...The shop had a list of all the rose color meanings and pink supposedly means gratitude, so I wanted to get pink ones. They are pink...aren't they?"

"Well, I'd sure say so! This has got to be the deepest shape of pink I've ever seen on a flower! Hey, think it'll look nice on my suit? Maybe I should start wearing one everyday?" Foggy's kind enough to reassure, holding the rose to his pocket and striking a few dramatic poses which gains a chuckle from Karen.

"Are roses even court appropriate attire?"

"Who cares? It's Wednesday! On Wednesday we wear pink, Karen!"

You stand in silence, watching as the two bicker playfully in a conversation that feels too distant to join yourself despite only being mere feet away. Filled with dismay once again, you find it difficult not to peer down at the remaining roses in longing, wishing to see even a blink of their bright hue.

You've heard pink's a beautiful color found in flowers and the sunset. According to your sister, a blanket in your house is an ugly shade of pink, and Foggy says the color suits Karen as she tucks her rose behind her ear carefully, yet you wouldn't be able to confirm any of those points. Your world is still locked in the curse that is monochrome...

"Are you wanting to get started discussing the case for tomorrow?" Your wandering thoughts are interrupted by Matt who sets a tender hand on your shoulder, showing a noticeable look of concern despite it being mostly hidden behind his black glasses.

"Oh yes, sorry! The case, yeah, of course..." Fortunately, the lawyer merely chuckles at your disorderly state before stepping aside and gesturing to his office with his cane. Gratefully you enter, taking your usual seat in front of his desk where you fidget while he takes his time sitting opposite and retrieving his case notes.

A bouquet of simple roses, regardless of their color, truly doesn't hold a candle to how appreciative you are to the members of Nelson and Murdock. Thus far they've provided quality work for a price you can actually afford on your tight budget, making them forever your saviors. Matt himself has been particularly helpful, treating your case as if it's been some sort of order given to him directly from God. He never wastes a second leaping into business and goes the extra mile by repeating himself as often as necessary to ensure you understand everything properly which is always nice, after all, you could listen to his voice for hours.

Seeing that there's still plenty to tend to involving your case, you expect Matt to begin promptly discussing any updates and what to be prepared for in regards to the lawsuit, however his hand instead hesitates over his notes before he moves it to his mouth to hide his cough, "I take it you haven't found your soulmate yet?"

"...H-Huh?"

Many would deem that a wildly inappropriate question especially for a lawyer to ask his client. Soulmates are sacred and intimate, not often discussed with strangers or in professional settings, however you'd like to at least call Matt somewhat of a friend - he's definitely treated you with the kindness of one - therefore you don't show any offense towards his innocent curiosity. After all, why should he be blamed? Apparently, you're the one stupid enough to make it so obvious that a blind man can take notice.

Ah, soulmates; a pair designed only for each other, holding such a special bond that meeting for the first time quite literally changes their entire perspectives on life in an instant. How so? Because everyone's born seeing the world in monochrome, color only being granted them once looking directly into the eyes of their soulmate for the first time. This is why you can't make out the color of your roses or the sky above or even the supposedly bright 'yellow' taxi you take here each day; you've never met your other half...

This realization and the knowledge that Matt's been able to piece it together strikes an insecurity of yours which you attempt to cover by redirecting his question quickly, "Have you?"

He laughs, although you'd say it sounds a bit bitter if you didn't know any better, "Wouldn't know if I did, I'm afraid."

Your face burns with embarrassment once more, shame sinking into your stomach, "Oh God, right. I'm so sorry, Mr. Murdock. I wasn't thinking - of course, you're blind, but...I mean unless your soulmate's blind as well, I would think - I would just think that they'd say something when you meet, so wouldn't you know that way?"

"I suppose so..." Matt gives a thoughtful hum, but it's soon followed by a frown, "Unfortunately, people aren't always truthful."

"You think someone would lie about being your soulmate?"

He pauses, his frown only deepening after being tainted by a sour memory, "...Someone did..."

You frown, too, at this confession, but it only takes a split second for this sympathy towards Matt to turn into fury, "Why would someone lie about that?! That's so cruel! I mean, I guess I could see why someone would lie with you because they'd have the opportunity and you're, like, the jackpot, so of course it would be tempting to keep you and all, but soulmates are supposed to be special! You can't force that type of bond and lying about it would only end up hurting both parties in the end!"

"'The Jackpot', hmm?" Matt echoes smugly at the end of your rant.

You blink, reviewing your own words in search of the mistake. After locating it, your face burns so warm that you should be worried about overheating, however you're a little too busy being embarrassed for that to cross your mind.

"Well yeah...You...You're a nice guy - from what I've seen, anyways. You're well mannered and you work hard to do what's right even if it's not financially rewarding in the end which are traits any girl would - should, at least, swoon over. You're also, um...You're not bad looking in any way..." You mumble the last part pathetically, pulling on the fabric of your shirt as a nervous habit.

You swear he leans closer over the table, his voice low and husky on purpose as if he can hear how fast it makes your heartbeat; as if he understands it's a dangerous temptation for you, "So, you find me attractive?"

"Yes, well, I'd, uh...I'd say you are, but..." you glance up at him for a second, hating how flustered even your reflection looks in his tinted glasses," - But I've actually heard Foggy say the same thing, hasn't he? Yeah, in fact, when I first came in he made that joke about how you get all the ladies because of your looks so apparently it's common knowledge through Hell's Kitchen that Matt Murdock is one good looking lawyer."

Much to your relief, he finally leans back with a chuckle towards your words, "Is that so?"

You nod too quickly, folding your hands over your lap and sitting straighter as a poor attempt to get your body and nerves to calm down, "Yeah...A-Anyways, about the case...?""Right, right. The case," he nods, fixing his glasses before returning his hand to the paperwork in front of himself. Little do you know, he hears the way you exhale and fidget in your chair, remaining flustered from the previous conversation well into the next, which is a thought that keeps that devilish smirk tugging on his lips.

It's gotten late - possibly the latest you've ever stayed at the firm. There's no longer a faint white glow of light peeking through the blinds, but there is a dim echo off the small desk lamp. While it protects the room from complete darkness, it's not enough to save you from having to squint at your paperwork to see it properly. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so difficult if you could just make out different color gradients…

Putting you to shame, Matt doesn't seem to be struggling at all. He effortlessly moves his hands over each textured line of his papers, reading faster than you ever could even in perfect lighting. You've stopped to watch him for a bit, noting the slightly darker strips of scars cutting across his knuckles and the vague change in shade against his palms - callouses, you'd guess.

If brave enough (which you unfortunately are), you'd sneak a glance at his face, hoping to make it secret and quick enough to temporarily satisfy that yearning in your heart. You stupidly convince yourself that this task will be easy considering a blind man can't possibly catch you staring, can he? 

You managed to do it exactly three times, losing count of the seconds in between each. The first two attempts were as promised: quick and like a shadow. You had looked up, eyes locking on his face while you tried to imagine the buzz against your fingertips which you assumed would be the effect provided if you set them run over his stubble. You had looked up again, focusing on the scent of his colloque. You can smell it from here and wonder if it smells stronger around his neck. 

You had looked up one last time, taking instant notice of the smirk Matt tries to lick away before ducking his head when that isn't successful. Absolutely mortified, you looked down at your lap with a stammering heart, promising never to sneak another glance at him again...It turns out a blind man can catch you staring…

Since then, you've remained like a statue, reading your files like a good girl because isn't that why you're here? Matt Murdock's your lawyer, not your eye candy! You should be treating him with respect, not gawking at him like a teenager does the boy band posters in her room!

Breaking this suffocating silence, Matt taps his own set off papers against the desk to file them into a neat stack, "Well, what do you think?"

"What do I think...?" You echo, crashing into the ground of reality so hard it knocks everything you've just read right out of your head.

"About the proposed settlement?" He leans forward a bit, his arms crossed over the desk and his eyebrow perked upwards. He's relaxed (as always), but carries a hint of concern in his voice that digs into your heart further than you'd care to let him in on. 

How pathetic is it that you swoon at even the slightest bit of care shown to you by a guy? Of course, you truthfully don't behave this way around just any guy, only Matt, however you'd feel better admitting you're starved of affection rather than say you’re entirely parched by the thought of the man in front of you.

"This is only an estimated amount that they've proposed. We'll go over official negotiations with the council, however I wouldn't recommend taking anything less than this offer," possibly sensing the way you play with your hands and chew on your lip, Matt adds softly, "As your lawyer and representative, I'll be there with you at every moment to ensure you aren't cheated in anyway. All you have to worry about yourself is listening along and signing the papers if you decide the agreed upon amount is fair. If you have any concerns, you can voice them directly to me and I'll deal with the council...I just want to make sure you understand that taking this settlement doesn't mean the company is admitting fault -"

"- They'll just be giving me money to keep my mouth shut."

"Pretty much," Matt nods with a frown, "You'll be signing a contract agreeing to never speak about the matter again - not the settlement itself or what happened. That means you won't be able to sue them at a later date nor does anyone within the company have to be held responsible for what happened either - unless the corporation decides to take corrective action itself."

You sigh, gazing over the paperwork while considering the offer. Going with the settlement, you'll leave with a pretty decent chunk of money (more than you make in a year's salary) which will be somewhat worth all the bullshit you had experienced at your former place of employment, however you're hesitant towards the idea of letting your asshole bosses get away with all the discrimination and favoritism they let poison your life for the last few years. Still...You really don't want to take this to an actual court where the outcome isn't guaranteed to be any better.

"...I understand," you sigh again, tangling a hand in your hair, "I just want to get this over with..."

"I'm sure you do. Nearly five years of being cheated out of raises and higher positions - anyone would be tired of it, but -" You nearly flinch when Matt's hand finds itself over yours on the desk, his thumb gently running over the skin. To top it off, he has that concerned expression again that makes him look so soft and loving…yet he’s only your lawyer, "- I don't want you to make a choice on that alone. If you truly want to go through with the lawsuit, I'll do whatever I can to make it less stressful for you -"

"- It's fine, Matt," you give your best smile, sandwiching his hand between both of yours, "I think the settlement is my best option. With it, I can start moving on with my life. That company took five years of my time, they're not getting a second more.”

He returns your smile. For some reason, he makes no attempt at moving his hand away. Instead, he lets you forget about it, not speaking a word of protest as you find yourself getting lost in the moment. 

How is it that you can feel more chemistry with someone in such a simple place - a broken down little law firm surrounded by paperwork - than you've felt on any date in your life? If you're this infatuated with a random guy like Matt, how are you possibly going to survive the heart tremors that your soulmate will give you?

"You guys are still working in here?" A part of you wants to celebrate Foggy's interruption as he peeks his head through the office door, but behind him you can see Karen slipping on her coat, letting you know that your time with Matt has officially come to end. 

"We've just finished actually," Matt admits, at last giving a tug to his hand that makes you instantly retract your hold over him in embarrassment, not that he seems fazed himself.

"Great, because it's whiskey Wednesday at Josie's. You know what that means?!" Foggy cheers, earning a chuckle from his friend who's already standing.

"That I'm gonna have to drag you home tonight?"

Shyly, you shuffle off to the side, wiggling on your own jacket while wondering how difficult it will be to get a taxi at such a late hour. You're prepared to wish everyone goodnight and be on your way, but then Foggy turns to you, "You're coming too, right (Y/n)?"

"Me?"

"Of course, the more the merrier!" He says.

"O-Oh, um..."

"It'll be fun," Karen insists.

You're still hesitant, not being one for bars not to mention you have so much on your plate this week. You should really get home and consider this settlement more - reread the proposal, recite your testimony in case you're quizzed about it later, mentally prepare yourself for the stress...

The final nail to your coffin is Matt - it's always Matt. Foggy and Karen are sweet and they make you feel welcomed, but Matt is the one with an inhuman ability to make you feel like a cloud simply by setting his hand on your shoulder and smiling so sweetly, "It might be a nice way to get your mind off of things."

How can you honestly say no to more time with him? Oh yeah, you can't…

You've never been to Josie's before, although you aren't surprised by that fact considering it seems to be an easily missed hole-in-the-wall bar with room temperature beer and sticky seats. Despite this, the others seem to be having lots of fun, officially having gone numb to all the health code violations around you guys.

Foggy and Karen are currently on their third round of playing pool where the loser must take a shot. You had played the first round with them and lost. After that, you decided it’s far more amusing to sit back and watch the show than to partake in it.

"I'm assuming you guys come here often?" You ask distantly, letting your voice drift off with the sound of loud voices and clicking glasses that makes the bar feel much busier than it actually is, yet somehow Matt still hears you.

He brings his beer bottle to his lips, poorly hiding his smirk, "What gave that away?"

"Well to start, the owner rolled her eyes the second we walked through that door and neither of those two have crashed yet showing they've had practiced -"

"- They could've had 'practiced' at any bar."

"We're not in a courtroom, you know, so don't have to poke holes in my argument like that…" You tease lamely, shifting in your chair to face him fully instead of Foggy and Karen at the pool tables. 

You've always cursed yourself for not being professional around Matt, but tonight you’ve officially met a new awful low. This table is small - small enough that when you moved in your chair, your knees ended up brushing with his. On top of that, he has long removed his jacket, his white sleeves sinfully rolled up past his elbows showing just a hint of the impressive muscle to his biceps. It's insane how much one little jacket can hide. You wonder how much muscle he had built elsewhere. His shirt is definitely too tight, not leaving much for your imagination -

"- What are you thinking about?" 

Your breath hitches, your eyes darting from his chest to his eyes. There's the damn smirk again - the same that makes you doubt whether he's truly blind considering he has such a good record when it comes to calling out your stare.

"N-Nothing..."

"'Nothing' makes you that nervous?" He's honestly having fun with this, isn't he?

"I...I was thinking about the settlement," you excuse, propping your elbow on the table while hoping to distract yourself by drawing invisible designs against the surface.

Matt crosses his arms, leaning back. You swear he purposefully bumps your foot with his, "As I've said, there's nothing to worry about. Believe me, they wouldn't have even offered you a cent unless they were scared of the dirt you have on them. We have this thing in the bag."

"You seem confident," you comment quietly, earning a devilish smile from him.

"Would you rather me be nervous?"

"Maybe not with a case, but now that you mention it, I don't think I've ever seen you be nervous before. It seems like I'm always the one stumbling over my own words."

"I suppose it comes with the profession. It wouldn't send the best message to my clients if they see me fumbling around. Believe it or not, but I've got an important reputation to keep as a 'jackpot' lawyer," Matt jokes, drawing a laugh from you, although you still feel a prick of embarrassment over the callback.

"Are you ever going to let me live that down?" You groan, hanging your head low dramatically, however the smile remains on your face and Matt knows it. 

"Not for a while, no."

"Be careful, Murdock. Keep teasing me so much and I might leave a bad review," you quickly snatch your glass, downing a gulp of bitter alcohol which gives you enough confidence to add, "Don't wanna ruin your status as 'jackpot lawyer', do you?"

He laughs heartily and shakes his head. The action causes his glasses to slip on his nose slightly. Anyone else wouldn't be so bothered by this, however he is, finding the new position itchy against his skin. Without thinking too much of it, he decides to remove the problem completely, taking his glasses off and setting them in front of himself, "You know what? Why don't we just call it a truce? If Foggy hears, I'll be the one who never lives it down."

"Aw, you seemed like you liked the nickname, though? Why the change of heart, Murdock?" You tease, your giggles echoing through your glass before you finally set it down and look at him. It's amazing how much alcohol and a bit of laughter can make you feel this at ease, but it doesn't last long.

"...What's wrong?" Matt notices your silence rather quickly, although it was the skip in your heart beat that truly set off the alarm in his head. Your whole body goes tense and he can once again feel your eyes staring at him which he normally doesn't mind nor would he mind if not for your sudden change in overall behavior.

When he repeats the question again in a whisper, you merely hum, barely catching his concern even then. Instead, you become lost in the moment, forced to trust your rapidly beating heart to guide your muddled brain as you speak without much forethought, "...You're eyes - they're beautiful...They're the most beautiful color I've ever seen..."

It takes Matt a second to catch onto your exact words, pairing them with your body's reaction that shares your sudden amazement. Even so, he's reluctant to ask, fearing one of the possible answers to his own question, "Am I...Do you see color right now?"

"I do...I can see color," you confirm breathlessly, your surprise soon transforming into a giddy grin that almost reaches your ears. Leaning forward, you try to get a better look at the man before you through your new vision. Your hand moves as if prepared to reach towards him, however you keep it hovering in the air, "...I can finally see color..."

When you let your hand slowly drift back down to the table, it doesn't take long before Matt's brushes over it, remaining there as his face twists into a series of emotions. First, there's hesitance and fear, then a flash of sorrow before finally a gentle smile. 

Staring into his unfocused eyes, you almost lose yourself, forgetting that you're in fact sitting in the middle of a busy bar with your lawyer who is apparently that one special person you're meant to spend your life with...but it's then that you come to another realization that almost jolts you away from him, your words in a panic, "I-I promise I'm not lying either! I'd never lie about this to you, Matt! I really do see color, so I think you're my -"

You don't get to finish your drawn off sentence before his lips are pressing softly against yours, his hand moving yours to his cheek where it had desired to be to begin with. You had no sense of time to tell you how long you remain like that before he pulls away, forehead set against yours as his breath cools your lips, "...I'm your soulmate."

"You believe me?"

He chuckles, pecking your lips in a kiss that doesn't last nearly long enough. Matt has never admitted it to anyone, however a part of him has always feared the idea of ‘soulmates’. If they’re found through color, how would he ever find his perfect match without sight and would they even want him? 

Those insecurities only got worse after he was lied to. He knew it was a lie, too - of course he knew, he can sense the signs the human body gives off while fibbing - yet he played dumb and pretended to believe it. Why? Maybe he was too poisoned by young love, desperately wanting to believe the woman before him was his soulmate. Perhaps he was just scared he’d never find his real soulmate anyways, so why not take what he was being handed since beggars can’t be choosers? 

Then you came into the picture. Matt may not be able to confirm your connection through any form of color, but he can definitely say he felt something special from the second you first came into Nelson & Murdock searching for help. 

Some part of him realized it by the way your laughter lights a fire in his heart or how the thought of you sticks in his mind like glue throughout each day and night. Still…He was too afraid to act upon this feeling - too afraid to let himself live the chance that you could even possibly be his soulmate, although he can feel safe admitting it now: he’s been silently hoping this entire time that it would be you and it seems his instincts have been correct.

"You're my soulmate," Matt whispers, returning his lips to yours for a third time that mirrors the first: a long and loving kiss that makes you both echo out the rest of the world as you hold dearly onto the fact that neither of you will ever have to be alone again.

[psychedelicword88]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Daredevil (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson Characters: Matt Murdock, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Karen Page, Claire Temple, Marci Stahl Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Fluff, Angst, Mutual Pining, Dorks in Love, Secret Identities Are Not Conducive To Romance Summary:

Franklin Philip Nelson is born with a bright smile and the word Devil burned over his heart.

[2-gay-possums-in-a-trench-coat]

I've hit the peak of my smut ear, finally after 3 years. Now I just wanna settle down in a gentle cottage in the woods with my 2 dogs, my cat, and read wholesome fluff.

....

BUT YOU HORNY BASTARDS DONT WRITE FLUFF ANYMORE!

[izbelross]

I'm reading the next parts of "Por la Vida que soy Libre" and I just can't believe the author hasn't continued it

😂 then I remember I'm the author and get even more pissed

🫠💀

[cheshirecat484]

This is absolutely riveting, I love the soulmate AU, Reader has a messed up backstory, and Daredevil is being as angsty as possible? PERFECT!!!

This is gonna be amazing, I can tell already 😍

Claimed by the Devil

Small Creatures, Chapter 1

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: When the well-known vigilante of Hell’s Kitchen saves you from disaster, you realize he might mean more to you than you thought.

warnings: swearing, Matt Murdock’s self-destructive tendencies, mentions of a cult and subsequent trauma, allusions to drowning

a/n: This is it, y’all! A Matt Murdock soulmate AU as requested by that poll a few weeks ago. A HUGE shoutout to @zomtart for helping me plan this AU!! I am so excited to share this new verse with you, I really hope you like it! As always, please let me know what you think by replying and reblogging! This chapter takes place about a month before the beginning of Daredevil S2.

w/c: 4.1k

“For small creatures such as we, the vastness is only bearable through love.” Carl Sagan

Since the creation of man, each soul was created with another. Two, sometimes more, mirrored fractions of a whole, destined to forge a bond. Particles of a spiritual atom, drawn to each other by invisible forces, finally satisfied through connection. Soulmates. Each body marked with a symbol, to help them find their other half. Sometimes a word or a shape, a small clue to start their journey.

For a while, that journey was short. It would still take time, of course, to meet your soulmate, to fall in love—but it took less than one lifetime, while the world was still small, the human race still growing.

After a few generations, and centuries of invention, the population began to travel. Groups of people living on all 6 continents, developing new cultures, traditions, languages. As they moved, the average distance between bound pairs grew. It became less common to ever meet your match. Humanity found love in other places, built families on opposite sides of the globe, living their entire existence without their intended.

With each non-bound couple, came children without bonds. Scientists have puzzled over the phenomenon for years, some drawing the conclusion that our biology began to reject the bond, to continue without it as if it was a recessive gene. Through countless wars and plagues, and the continued spread of humanity, finding your soulmate was almost an impossibility.

And then the pendulum swung back. Wars became fewer, food more prevalent, medicine more exact. Lifespans were stretched and, with the help of machines, it was easier than ever to find your soulmate. The damage of an era without them began to repair itself.

Within 5 generations, chances of forming a true bond soared from one in one-thousand to one in thirty.

A sharp vibration from your laptop interrupted the voice in your head. Glancing at the bubble that flashed across your screen, you rolled your eyes at the message. It was the seventh—yes, SEVENTH—in a string of emails from the same haughty woman demanding the pictures of her great aunt's 90th birthday party.

The party was beautiful, and the photos reflected that, but it had been less than 48 hours since the event. Every contract you signed gave you a window of 5-7 business days to edit the photos, more time depending on the length of the shot list you were given and the number of pictures they wanted. If this woman wanted professional, edited photos, she needed to give you a damn break.

Clicking on the small white cross in the corner of the pop-up, you huffed out a small laugh, imagining the fuming woman growing redder in the face when you didn't answer her at 4:02 on a Sunday afternoon. Setting your own hours, as well as being able to ignore frustrating clients during your down time, were just two of the perks of running your own photography business. The flexible schedule and lack of strict routine were a welcomed change after your upbringing in a highly controlled community.

While you did understand why experts used that terminology, you were much more content calling your “community” what it was: a cult. “High control group”—or whatever other politically-correct, secular terminology people wanted to use to describe a bunch of adults deciding to use their limited power to exploit others in the name of some bogus goal—was too polite for the assholes from your hometown. The bumfuck rural town where “religious” leaders congregated to torture dozens of children over a tiny, immovable mark on their skin.

A brand of the devil. That’s what they claimed soulmarks were. The sign of a being destined for evil. And, in order to save humanity from said evil, it was up to this specific community to cleanse you of your threatening aura, to rid the demonic energy from your body and spare your soul.

They’d used written and verbal propaganda, forbid outside contact, relied heavily on fear-mongering—the whole nine yards of brainwashing, all to supposedly grant the town salvation. Given that your particular mark was on the inside of your right wrist? Well, it definitely didn’t help the “damned” accusations coming your way.

Something flashed across your mind. A memory. Tepid water, turning frigid as you were forced deeper and deeper. All traces of oxygen slowly draining from your lungs, your body struggling desperately against the hands gripping you forcefully by the arms, holding you under.

Shuddering with discontent, your mark itched fiercely, as if it was trying to snap you out of the flashback. Absentmindedly dragging a nail over it to quell the unpleasant sensation, you inhaled deeply, studying the image as you did.

It was a simple thing, a series of a few lines just over the pulse point on your forearm. Two triangles, placed horizontally and pointing away from each other, with three small straight lines fanning out beneath. From your limited knowledge, it was a rune of some sort, though you hadn’t been able to narrow down the origin or meaning quite yet. Not scary enough to warrant the actions taken by your wonderful hometown though.

After surviving, and escaping, your upbringing, a lack of a rigid schedule was a necessity—which meant freelance event photography was a perfect career path. Unfortunately, an anxious mind and spontaneity didn't always mix.

It didn't matter that you didn't hear the messaging daily anymore. You were still struggling to unravel the mind games and indoctrination you'd been subjected to, hence the re-reading of this particular article. It wasn't the most informative, and the author clearly had a fully-realized bond herself, but it was the first piece of literature you'd ever read that wasn't propaganda.

There was a historical explanation for the disappearance of your condition, as well as a documented existence of others like you. Your mark didn't make you evil—it meant you were loved.

You re-read the blurb on days like today. Days where your conscience buzzed with apprehension, adrenaline flowing freely despite the lack of danger. There was something in the air around you. A warning, illustrated by the tiniest changes in your environment. On days like these, you felt like a bug beneath a descending shoe, scrambling to understand what was coming so you could make it out alive.

Expecting a disaster was illogical, you knew that. But reason wasn't the driving force in your brain on the anxious days. It was your desperate need to survive, to be prepared. On your bad days, your eyes flew open like you'd heard the door come crashing in or felt the cold steel barrel of a pistol against your temple—your body readying for a fight before you were even fully conscious.

Those days, your heart hammered in your chest, battering your ribs until they ached. Your lungs constricted when your blood pressure rose, each breath coming as a pant as you struggled to inhale enough oxygen. One wrong move and you'd send yourself spiraling into a full anxiety attack. Hopefully, you'd at least be able to stave that off over the last hour of daylight today.

Chewing at the edge of your thumbnail, you aimlessly scrolled through the page again, blowing out a terse sigh. The biggest annoyance when it came to your anxiety was that each experience was unique. There wasn't a universal solution. Sometimes, staying at home where it was familiar and safe was all you needed to settle your nerves. Other times, the constancy only made you more jittery.

As much as you'd wished that a sedentary day would slow your pulse and ease your breathing, that clearly was not in the cards.

Time for Plan B.

Growling almost inaudibly, you resisted the urge to start pulling your hair out strand by strand. Working up the energy to get through the door was always the hard part. As exhibited by your professional side, freedom to roam and choose your own path was vital. Despite your nervous brain trying to deny it, leaving your place to wander on a small adventure would be good for you in the long run.

When you'd escaped the clutches of the nutjobs running your old neighborhood, you'd made a promise to yourself–try at least one new thing every week. It seemed childish, but you'd missed out on so many things when under the control of the Order, you wanted to make up for that. Pretty quickly, it became clear that you thrived on flexibility and exploration.

So you kept up with it. Made a list of things in case you ever ran out of inspiration or couldn't decide what to choose next. That line of scribbles in a worn notebook came in handy on days where you disappeared into yourself, where you lacked the excitement that normally accompanied your little outings. Allowing the intense reluctance in your gut to churn, you reached for the leatherbound pages, sliding the book from where it lay on the coffee table and into your lap. Heaving out a breath, despite your protesting lungs, you thumbed through the paper, letting the smell of ink and coffee-stained parchment wash over you.

You weren't looking for something big. And the idea had to be plausible, there would be no mountain climbing or language learning in a single evening. Trailing a finger to the side of the dried ink, you skimmed each bullet point, eyes lingering on a particularly messy string of words.

“Golden Skyline Ink 48”

Thankfully, the gibberish you'd immortalized was recent enough that you could decipher it. Sunset photos of the skyline from the Ink 48 Hotel. You'd swung by the prestigious building for a meeting with a potential client, but you'd been too busy to snap a decent shot from the roof before your next errand of the day.

Pondering for a minute, you decided to go with your hesitant gut instinct. You craned your neck, hunting down your camera bag as you rolled your shoulder to unravel the tension balled up in them. Shoving up from your horizontal position on the couch, you closed your laptop and shuffled towards the door. Hefting the bag into your arms, you strode down the entryway.

Your hand reached for the doorknob at a snail's pace, halting mere inches from it as if the brass had a forcefield around it. ”You can do this.“ You muttered to yourself, forcing your fingers past the barrier and around the knob.

Stepping through the door, you flinched at the bright fluorescence of the hallway lights, hissing slightly like a vampire seeing the sun in a cheesy TV show. Swallowing the flash of pain in your head as the lights continued to beam down, you took another step. Here goes nothing.

Matt was grateful for the new body armor. He was, really.

He just wished Melvin’s talents included making the damn thing breathable. He’d never admit that, of course. On the spectrum of pain he lived with, being a bit overheated was closer to the bearable end. It wasn’t a stab wound or a broken bone, it wouldn’t impede his patrolling. If he could work through a punctured lung, he could handle a little sweating.

But when the nights got quiet and slow, it was more difficult to keep his mind from latching on to the discomfort–blown out of proportion by his fickle senses.

Sitting atop an apartment building on 55th Street, Matt could feel pure thermal energy bubbling up from the concrete beneath his feet. The waves of heat collided with his shoes, seeping into the rubber soles and blanketing his skin. Around him, the short ledge wrapping around the roof refracted more warmth, sending the sweltering air to smack directly into him.

He wasn't a fan of the heat, never had been, but the thick, skin-tight suit he was wearing only exacerbated the issue. Sweat beaded in the paper-thin gap between his skin and the fabric surrounding it, suctioning it impossibly closer to his body. Grinding his teeth in aggravation, Matt prowled to the edge of the roof, leaping off and rolling to deflect the impact from shattering any of his limbs. With a quick jump, he was back on his feet, taking off towards the next building in the line.

If he patrolled towards the Hudson and back around, he could escape the worst of the heat without neglecting his duty to the city.

Not that there was much action these days. The past handful of weeks, his outings in the suit had been unusually unproductive. It wasn’t that he was missing out on fights–it’s that they didn’t exist. Gangs were staying holed up, petty crime had taken a dive, even the steady drug or arms traders like Turk had gone radio silent. As much as Matt wanted to believe that his time as Daredevil had made a lasting impact on the city he loved so dearly, a current of doubt continued to whirl beneath his skin.

Crime was more likely in the summer, that was an inevitability. Increased temperatures shortened people’s fuses. Spats with loved ones were more likely to turn violent, miscellaneous expenses are more likely to add up and cause financial distress, it was statistically probable that he’d have busier nights leading up to the fall. And yet, here he was, twiddling his glove-clad thumbs while metaphorical tumbleweeds were swept down the streets.

He was confident something had changed, but he hadn’t quite determined what. So, despite the lack of problems he felt the need to solve, he continued to remain out until all hours, ears straining to pick up a scream or the explosive pop of a bullet leaving the barrel of a gun.

Body on high alert, he ambled towards the piers, vaulting from roof to roof in a familiar trajectory while his brain fought off an incoming onslaught of guilt at the notion of staying out. Foggy would be furious tomorrow, when he saw Matt gulping down the cheap coffee from their machine–which was held together by masking tape and sheer luck these days. Matt had foolishly admitted his conundrum to his business partner, remarking that the city had been eerily still lately, that there was less of a need for him. That he’d been searching so urgently for justification that he’d been going out before dusk.

The idea that Matt’s nighttime activity was no longer an absolute necessity had upset the tenuous understanding the pair had reached over said activity. A simple slip of his tongue and Matt was on the receiving end of Foggy’s chastising, being told he should take advantage of the lull and “get some goddamned rest for once”. (Foggy’s words, not his own.) The renewed argument had become such a frequent topic of discussion that Karen had almost been clued in a few times when Matt’s frustration had narrowed his senses. Just that morning, he and Foggy had been going at it when she’d arrived at the office, surprising both of them with her bright greeting and intrigued glance.

Hurling himself to the next rooftop, Matt huffed out an aggravated breath, clenching his fists as his muscles tightened with irritation, his friend’s desperate pleas echoing in his head.

“You can’t keep going like this.”

“You’re hurting yourself for nothing.”

“The city will be fine without you.”

That last one stung the most, ripping open an invisible wound he’d crudely stitched after taking down Fisk. His work had helped people. His infamous alter ego was the final straw in the case against the organized criminal, imperative to his arrest. To the people of this city, Daredevil mattered–which meant Matt Murdock mattered.

If he boxed up the suit…

No. That wasn’t an option. He couldn’t–

The shuffle of a shoe on concrete caught his attention, snapping him out of his downward spiral. His chest trembled as he panted in and out, his shallow breaths deepening as he focused in the direction of the noise. He wasn’t alone.

Mouth parting as his atypical radar closed in, his nose scrunched with slight confusion, brow furrowing with concern. There was a person perched on the brick ledge–a woman, balancing on her tiptoes and facing the city. She hadn’t noticed him, her pulse far too slow. Her hands held something blocky, the plastic object dragging along her skin as she positioned it, arms outstretched over the nearly 20 story drop to the pavement below.

He bit back an incredulous scoff as she bent further towards her death, practically rolling his eyes to the heavens as he approached. Not only was this position begging for disaster to strike, she had one headphone in, her lips moving as if mouthing along to the lyrics. She heaved in a dramatic exhale.

“Let’s try this again,” She murmured, finger slotting into a divot on an edge of the thing in her grasp, prompting a series of mechanical clicks to burst from it. Shutter sounds. A camera. A camera? You were risking your life for a photo?

Before he could judge you too harshly, your mouth twitched and your heart rate jumped. You’d realized he was there, then.

“You know, if you fall off that ledge, the effort you went through for that picture will be wasted.” He quipped, his lips twitching with a hint of a smirk as you squeaked indignantly.

It was only amusing for a moment.

As you whirled to face him, apparently surprised that he was there, you lost your footing, tumbling backward off the ledge.

For what it was worth, your little adventure had been going pretty well before the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen almost killed you.

There weren’t too many people out tonight, probably because it was disgustingly hot, so you’d made good time–jogging the few blocks to the hotel and sneaking into the elevator with a young couple who were too busy being at each other’s throats to care that you slipped in. The roof was vacant and more perfect than you could’ve dreamed. Swathed in the lights of nearby skyscrapers, you were presented with a gorgeous panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline at sunset, the stark red-orange hue of the sky peeking between towering steel.

Once you’d attached the proper lenses, you began snapping photos, but you couldn’t get the exposure to set correctly. To capture a good picture at this time of evening, you needed the settings to be just so. It was a tedious, attention-consuming process, that, when combined with the soft music blasting from your lone earbud, had prohibited you from hearing someone approach…until he spoke.

“You know, if you fall off that ledge, the effort you went through for that picture will be wasted.” His growl was low, but contained traces of a humor you weren’t expecting.

Damn your anxious self for startling so easily. With a tiny squeal, you slipped from the ledge, your careful posture crumbling as you fell. Your heart lodged in your throat, air rushing into your ears as you began to descend, but before you could even scream, a pair of warm hands grasped you firmly by the arm.

Face jerking up, your eyes locked onto the masked vigilante’s snarl of exertion as he hauled you over the cement shelf and onto stable ground.

Breathing shakily, still in his grip, your face went slack with a nauseating combination of shock and relief. “Th-thank you.”

He let out a puff of a laugh. “You’re welcome. That was a close call. Do I need to call a hotline?”

Shaking your head furiously, you scrambled to your feet, nearly tripping over yourself as you backed away from your savior. “No, I’m good, that wasn’t the plan. I just–”

As you began to retract himself from his hold, his thumb brushed over your forearm, tracing the faintest line over your exposed soulmark. When his fingertip made contact with the lines over your wrist, the world exploded.

When you were a small child, you’d electrocuted yourself when unplugging a lamp. It was an act of rebellion against your parents when they had demanded you clean up after compulsory bible study. The inflicted shock had careened through your entire body, feeling as though you’d been dipped in boiling water and then flash-frozen as your body tried to adapt to the new current. An abrupt change of temperature, the suddenness uncomfortable but the aftermath numbingly calm.

Touching the Devil felt like that.

Your mark glowed with warmth like embers in a dying fire. The hair along your arm stood on end, your heart nearly bursting with energy as you were clobbered with a realization.

“You..you’re my–” You whispered, taking a step closer to the vigilante.

His hand had clasped around your wrist, holding it delicately, chin dipping towards his chest. His breaths were labored, his complexion seeming to grow more pale as he ran a calloused finger over the mark again.

“I don’t–” Dropping your arm as if it had burned him, Daredevil’s face settled into an angry mask as he hurriedly stepped away from you. “I have to go.”

“W-what?” You stammered, running your hands over your arms as your body recovered from his touch, goosebumps undulating beneath your palms. “But we–”

“It’s late. You should get home before it’s too dark.” He responded tersely, turning away from you. Striding across the roof, his hand landed on top of the short stack of bricks, head turning over his shoulder with a sorrowful pout. “I’m sorry.”

Gracefully jumping over the side, he was gone.

Feeling dumbfounded and slightly defeated, you stared after him for a minute before shouldering your bag and beelining for the fire escape.

Karen stretched her arms over her head, groaning softly as the knot of tension between her shoulders unfurled. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she jiggled the mouse on the desk before her, turning her laptop back on to try and appear busy. After the law firm of Nelson and Murdock put Wilson Fisk behind bars, the clientele began to pour in–though whether that was for their proven representation skills or their shitty but functional AC, she wasn’t sure. Regardless, there had been a steady stream of walk-ins this week. And now that it had finally slowed down, she felt almost disappointed.

Being a secretary at the tiny little office was one of the most interesting things she’d ever done. Each case presented completely new realities, new opportunities and challenges. It was like she was given the chance to start fresh every day, and she was grateful for it. But in moments like these where the people filed out of the crooked doors, it made her a bit antsy.

Foggy and Matt were buried in new evidence for a guardianship revocation, holed up in Matt’s office, leaving her to schedule their appointments. She sighed, contemplating whether or not to interrupt them, to ask for something to do. Depending on when the guys would be heading out, they might want dinner or more coffee…

As she was running through a list of takeout that all of them could stomach, that hadn’t been ordered too recently, a shy knock startled her. Door creaking open, a woman peeked in. She looked to be about Karen’s age, a timid but determined look on her face as she slowly rounded the slab of rotting wood.

Peeking around the office, she looked amazed at the closet-sized space, eyes opening a little wider as her lips curved into a smile. Karen couldn’t help but mirror her soft grin, finding the awed stranger endearing.

“Can I help you?” Karen’s question was posed at a low volume, but the girl jumped anyway, giving her a ‘deer in the headlights’ impression, hands clenched around the handle of her purse.

“Oh, um..sorry, yes.” The newcomer shifted from foot to foot, creeping marginally closer as she responded. Her voice was soft, full of doubt. “I, er, I’m looking for Karen Page?”

“That would be me,” Karen smiled as encouragingly as she could. “Were you looking for legal advice? Because I’m not an attorney–”

Shaking her head, the stranger continued to step forward chewing on her lip. “That’s not why I’m here. I saw your posts about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen? If you have time, I had some questions?”

Karen felt herself flush, her eyes flitting down to her clasped hands as she suddenly felt very exposed. “Oh that’s not– I mean, I just wrote a few comments on some nasty blog posts, it’s nothing really. Why come see me?”

Inhaling shakily, the girl rubbed a hand over her arm, clearly trying to muster the confidence to reveal her reason for finding Karen. “I know this is strange but..I think Daredevil might be my soulmate? And I was hoping you might know where I could find him.”

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase

[munsonownsmyass]

LILY MY LOVE!! ❤️❤️ congrats on 200, its so so deserved

could i please make a request for matt murdock from the soulmate prompts? i couldn't choose between two so i'll leave the final decision up to you

Sharing injuries - receiving the same injuries (to a lesser extent) that their soulmate suffers from

or

Danger alert - people can feel when their soulmate is in danger

either way, i think our little devil would put his soulmate through the wringer before he finally meets her!

My dearest Mindi. I'm sorry it has taken me so long to make this. But thank you so much for this ask. It was really fun to make ❤️

Pain shared is pain lessened

[gl1tchgr3mlin]

I’m itching to write, but can’t decide what, so I’m gonna open up requests for anyone who wants to ask!

I mainly write reader insert fics!

Fandoms (and characters) I’ll write for:

-MCU (Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker, Deadpool, Wolverine, Scott Lang, Matt Murdock, the moon knight boys)

-Batman (Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake)

-Our Flag Means Death (any of them, I love them all, but also specifically Izzy and Frenchie)

-Trigun Stampede (Vash, Wolfwood, Knives, Meryl)

Tropes I enjoy, but aren’t necessary:

-friends to lovers

-enemies to lovers

-soulmates

-meet cutes

-fantasy AU

-monsters 😌

-religious/mythological references

What I won’t write for:

-underage

-noncon

-incest/pseudo incest

-heavy gore

Please specify if your request is platonic or romantic, or I will pick what fits best in my mind for the prompt given!

Nsfw requests are allowed, but will take longer to be fulfilled and posted. Nsfw posts will be marked as such, MDNI!

I look forward to writing for yall! 😊

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Trope De Sept Masterlist

Hi friends! In celebration of me hitting a major follower milestone, I'm going to be posting 17 new fics in September inspired by common tropes. (It has to be 17 because dix-sept in french is 17 and it's Trope de/dix Sept. Get it? Huh? No? Just me?)

First one will go up September 1st and I'm hoping to post the rest every M, T, Th, F and a few sporadic ones sprinkled in there. Please only interact with fics labeled SMUT if you are 18+ and have your age listed on your blog, or I will block you. Read all warnings in the individual fics. Schedule subject to change.

All work is my own. I currently only post on Tumblr. Please do not repost anywhere else or translate without my consent.

My Main Masterlist

Trope de Sept Masterlist

Fake Dating (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Proposal Gone Wrong (Sam Wilson x Reader)

The Morning After (Frank Castle x Reader) SMUT

Hallmark Special (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Song Fic (Bucky Barnes x Reader) SMUT

Misunderstood Breakup (Frank Castle x Reader)

Bodyguard AU (Billy Russo x Reader) SMUT

Enemies to Lovers (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Sleeping Love Confession (Loki x Reader)

One Bed (Steve Rogers x Reader) SMUT

Soulmate AU (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Sex Pollen (Bucky Barnes x Reader x Frank Castle) SMUT

The Snap (Frank Castle x Matt Murdock)

Secret (Frank Castle x Reader)

Crossover (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Five Things Fic (Frank Castle x Reader)

Car Sex (Matt Murdock x Reader) SMUT

[lindisworld]

lindi’s masterlist 🤗

Close || Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary- Soulmate Au! In which [Name] has Daredevil as a soulmate and Matt unwillingly wants [Name] in his life. However Fate does its job and always brings them together.

Prologue : “Meeting the one”

Chapter one : “Worried for you”

Chapter two : “Devil’s hour”

Chapter three : “Into the night”

Chapter four : “Brunch for everyone”

Chapter five : “The Punisher”

Chapter six : “Hello, you”

[roseallisonparker]

I’m With You

I’m With You

Premise: soulmate!au, takes place in a world where when you first lay eyes on your soulmate, you see color for the first time.

Inspired by Avril Lavigne’s “I’m With You”

Pairing: Matt Murdock x gn!Reader

Word Count: 9.2K words

Warnings: a brief description of losing virginity, mentions of drinking, violence, fluff, angst with a happy ending, a tad bit canon non-compliant

Note: It’s taken me a few weeks to fully write this but please let me know what you think! I’ve never written for this fandom even though I’ve loved it for years. I hope y’all enjoy. Special thanks to my sisters, my friends, and the mutuals here on this site that constantly inspire me with their talent every day.

Taglist: @mattsgirlsworld @stilldreaming666 @hellskitchens-whore @bellaxgiornata @acharliecoxedfan​

I’m standing on a bridge,

I’m waitin’ in the dark,

I thought that you’d be here by now…

There’s nothing but the rain,

No footsteps on the ground,

I’m listening but there’s no sound…

Wandering aimlessly in the rain through the city's wet streets felt like the best way to clear your head from the overwhelming loneliness that arrived with your final few months of college. The party you were just at was raving with energy from a successful finals week, but seeing all of your friends celebrate the end of this chapter in life with their partners had begun to burn a hole deep in your once hopeful heart.

Growing up, you had always imagined you’d find your soulmate in middle school like your parents had. They had run into each other in the cafeteria on their first day and had finally seen each other, their worlds blossoming with their first glimpses of color. The telltale sign that they had met their soulmate. You would fall asleep to this story they had shared with you running over and over in your mind, ideas of that rainbow-filled time of your life coming true fueling your sweet dreams.

The first day of sixth grade was filled with so much excitement. You had dressed well, eyes bright with hope as you walked into the first class on your schedule, awaiting the moment when you would finally see the world turn from dull greys into bright hues.

Nothing happened that day. You had hoped for the next few days that you would finally meet him, that you had missed him in the cafeteria.

Days became weeks. Weeks became months. Months became years.

Isn’t anyone tryin’ to find me?

Won’t somebody come take me home?

Moving to New York was an easy choice for you. After all of high school had passed without ever finding your soulmate, you decided that living in a city with a high density of population mixed with a large tourist rate would be your next course of action. Getting accepted into Columbia University with a scholarship was the perfect catalyst for you to pack your things, stuff them into a Uhaul, and drive down the highway until you reached the bustling island of Manhattan.

You chose Journalism last minute as your major but lacked the enthusiasm for it until you realized just how many people you would meet and the endless number of stories you would hear from those with similar experiences to yours. It helped lessen the loneliness and disappointment you experienced and strengthened your optimism. Investigative work became something you were fond of as well. Discovering the truth and using your resources to find the answers you craved was a skill you ended up being quite competent at.

In an effort to increase your chances of seeing your soulmate, every day you’d made it part of your schedule to take a walk around the surrounding neighborhood in the Upper West Side, scanning over every single person’s face, yearning to see the sky transform into the blue color you were told it was. 

One day during your sophomore year, you were taking one of those walks with your classmate Diane, the both of you blabbering about mindless things, making your way to your next lecture. 

“No, but Professor Stevens has to have it out for me! I swear, it’s gonna be impossible to pass.” You complained while the setting sun felt warm on your cheeks.

“Oh, I’m gonna place bets on that.” She teased, nudging into your shoulder. “Don’t let me down, babe.” She jokingly pleaded, the both of you laughing when suddenly she looked ahead and gasped. You froze, thinking something was wrong but you followed her eyeline to see another woman staring back at her with the same awe-struck gaze.

You’d never seen it happen before. That all-too-important moment when two soulmates found each other was something you hadn’t been fated to see yet. But here it was, and wasn’t it a sight to behold. You captured every look on Diane’s face, the wonder that washed over her features as her eyes flitted over everything surrounding her. Her smile was beaming. Almost unknowingly, she slowly pattered over to her soulmate, the other woman looking at Diane like she was the only other person in this world.

It was truly a beautiful sight, and yet you couldn’t help but feel the envy crushing your spirit unlike it had before.

Your senior year of college arrived quickly considering just how much studying you felt like you’d done in the past few years. The first day of classes for your second to last semester came around and you had to add extra credit to your transcript, choosing the most far-fetched language Columbia had to offer: Punjabi.

It wasn’t your first choice, but you were already set on Spanish, French, and Italian 101 courses, so Punjabi it was. The lecture hall assigned for the class was small, and you chose a seat in the back.  A few other students were quietly filing in, and you still had a few minutes to spare, so you got around to taking out your notebooks. The door to the room opened, and a loud voice accompanied the action. A student with shoulder-length blond hair, a cross-body bag, and a big, infectious smile spoke to someone down the hall.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll thank me later for this.” He dismissed the unseen person, their voice popping up next.

“Let me know if that girl ends up asking for your number, Fog.” The voice said. ‘Fog’ threw his hands out and shook his head.

“Shush, I’ll update you, Murdock.” ‘Fog’ loudly whispered, proceeding to close the door. He then turned around to face the room, every student including yourself staring at the mild commotion. Eyes widening slightly, he bowed his head and made his way to the seat beside yours in the back. Once he settled, you turned to him, curious.

“What girl?” You questioned in a whisper, your eyes scanning the small group of about fifteen students in front of you.

“Huh?” He squinted, confused.

“Which girl’s number are you hoping for?” You clarified, endlessly drawn toward love stories.

‘Fog’s’ gaze landed on a pretty girl seated at the front of the classroom, his eyes softening. “Her name is Charlotte,” His voice was quiet, sharing the secret with you, “She mentioned the class being on her schedule during a party. Thought she’d maybe ask to study or something…” He trailed off. Looking back up, he grinned at you. “What about you? Why’re you taking the class?” 

Foggy, whose name you properly learned shortly after your meeting, became your friend and study partner for the class after Charlotte started dating someone in her Sociology class. 

Punjabi was a complex language to learn and Foggy was sure to attend every class to make sure he didn’t miss anything. But one day, as class passed, he never showed. You shot him a quick text. U good? Missed u at class today.

You waited a few minutes, a reply popping in. Im downtown in the kitchen. Dad in hospital.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern and you quickly typed out your response. srry. hope Dad is ok. I’ll drop off notes at dorm. Roommate in?

A minute passed, and another text appeared. Yes. tysm.

You made copies of your notes at the library and then headed to Foggy’s dorm, heading down the hallway towards his room, having never been in this particular building before. You made it to the door, and knocked quickly, calling into the room, “Hey, anyone in there?”

You heard some mixed giggling from a woman and the guy who you assumed was the roommate Foggy had spoken about. A loud bang came from inside the room followed by a few rushed footsteps, and the door quickly opened slightly, revealing said woman covered in only a button-down shirt. You felt heat rush up your face at the sight, clearly interrupting something. The beautiful woman smiled with mischief in her eyes, her panting breath puffing out of her.

“Can we help you?” She asked with her mildly accented voice, smooth and playful. You then heard a slightly familiar voice coming from deeper in the room.

“Elektra, who’s at the door?” The voice, which you assumed was coming from Foggy’s roommate, rumbled in the background. In a panic, embarrassment taking over, you quickly shoved the notes into her hands, not wanting to interrupt any more than you already had.

“These are for Foggy. Tell him I said ‘Hi’ and that I hope his dad is alright!” You squeaked out, quickly turning away and walking down the hallway and around the corner.

Matt had shuffled up to Elektra by the door, hearing your booming heartbeat and rushed footsteps heading out of the building. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he nuzzled his nose into her neck, breathing deeply. “Who was that?” 

He felt her shrug and heard her carelessly shuffling through the papers in her hands. “Looks like Punjabi…” She said offhandedly, turning into his arms, “Now… where were we?” They got lost in each other once again, the notes falling to the floor, forgotten.

It’s a damn cold night,

Trying to figure out this life,

Won’t you take me by the hand?

Take me somewhere new,

I don’t know who you are,

But I, I’m with you…

I’m with you…

You didn’t think you would ever come to this. You had spent every night walking around town, making sure your eyes met every face they could. You made the big move, you got an entry-level job at the Bulletin, a career that would help you constantly be around new people. And you had saved yourself in every way possible so that when the time came for you to finally meet and be with your soulmate, you could reassure yourself that it would be perfect. That he would have all of you.

But now you found yourself on a random guy’s couch, whiskey running through your veins, your pants on the floor, and your head spinning with the realization of what you had just done. 

You had been sitting in one of your low points, drinking your sorrows away at a dive bar around the corner. He had begun to hit on you and the sweet words coming out of his mouth sounded so lovely to your ears. His name was John. He had shared his loneliness, sensing the same coming from you. And he had asked if you wanted to head over to his place. You answered yes. One thing lead to another. He didn’t know it was your first time.

It was quick. You were both inebriated and once it was done, he had left to use the bathroom. The shame of feeling like you were cheating on your soulmate and the meaninglessness of the ordeal filled your mind quickly, and you shoved your pants back on, running out the door into the cold night. You threw up outside on the steps of the apartment, falling back and hugging your legs to your chest, crying into your knees at three in the morning.

You couldn’t live like this anymore.

Since you were a child you had been living for the idea of your soulmate. Everything from what you wore to school to your extracurriculars in high school, where you moved, which college you chose, and which major you picked.

It hurt, and it was exhausting how nothing amounted to your efforts.

One day, you decided. You were no longer going to live for your soulmate.

You would start living for yourself.

Being cuffed to a table wasn’t your idea of living for yourself.

The dim lights of the interrogation room filled you with anxiety when you wondered just how stupid it was you were even in there. You were getting close to a breakthrough in the illegal heroin distribution going on throughout the city. You finally got a name; “Steel Serpent.” You knew there had to be more beyond that, so you began investigating different leads on where production could be. It turns out, once you entered one of the empty warehouses on the pier, you gave the space a once over and found the small packet of the drug, the now familiar script on the front marking the brand you had been searching for.

Before you could even put away the evidence with your gloves to take it back to the authorities and the Bulletin, the doors to the building burst open, and two detectives with their guns drawn headed toward you quickly with handcuffs ready in their hands, reading your Miranda rights, not even saying what you were being detained for.

And that’s how you found yourself staring at your tired reflection in the mirror, refusing to say a word to Detective Blake.

On the other side of the double-sided mirror, stood two up-and-coming lawyers. Foggy was given another call from Brett Mahoney (those cigars he bought his mom were really paying off) and he recognized your name from the one class you had shared in college, and it had been quite a few years since you’d last seen each other. Matt stood to his left, speaking to the officer who had arrested you, wondering why this innocent investigative journalist was arrested for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Why are they being held here? On what charge did you arrest them?” Matt had asked Detective Hoffman with a bite in his tone, knowing this was the same corrupt detective who had arrested Karen just a few weeks ago. He knew something was up and that quite a few cops were dirty at this precinct, and possibly every other one in this city. 

Just before the two were to enter the room to assist you, Matt got a phone call on his other phone meant for his nightly duties. 

“Please, excuse me.” He quickly excused himself to go and pick it up, hearing Claire’s screaming in the background. The Russians had found her. “Claire?”

Her muffled yells sent an immediate chill down his spine, the devil itching to claw his way free to save her. He shut the phone in his hand, turning to his partner.

“Something’s come up,” He calmly told Foggy, “Let me know how this goes.” He left the precinct without waiting for an answer, trusting Foggy to take care of this situation. 

Little did you both know that you just had your second close call for finally meeting your soulmate. 

When Matt lost his sight, one of the first things he mourned was how he would never get to know what color looked like. His memory of the world was bleak and grey, but when his senses started to kick in and paint a picture of the city around him, the world on fire was the best he would ever get. 

One night, after the accident, Jack Murdock sat with Matt as his son stitched up his wounds from a fight.

“Matty… have I ever told you about how I met my soulmate?” Jack asked softly, knowing the answer to the question, but sensing that his son would benefit from hearing about it.

“No, Dad. You haven’t.” Matt responded, feeling around his father’s forehead for the rest of the gash he was closing up, his usual swig of whiskey soothing the shakes in his hands.

“Well, it wasn’t a huge moment like you may have heard people say it is-” Jack winced as the needle entered his skin, “But it was magical.”

Matt’s hand froze, “Magical?” He parroted, intrigued. Jack nodded.

“It was about eight, no, nine years ago, and I was fighting in the ring of course. It was an open fight, and I didn’t have anyone to back me up when I was in the corner. A break between rounds came and I looked into the crowd.” His voice softened as he reminisced, encouraging his son’s hands to keep up their work.

“Your mother was there, looking at me, and the room was overwhelming me with all of the sudden color. But the timer was ticking, and I didn’t have time. I waved her over and asked for her help. To just clean my wounds and squeeze the water into my mouth. And even though the moment came and went, we both knew…” Jack trailed off. Matt finished tying off the last stitch, the quick pain snapping the older Murdock out of it.

“I was wearing red and yellow shorts that day, turns out. I stuck with them.” He finished.

It was the only time Jack had ever spoken about his soulmate. About Matt’s mother. 

When Elektra came into his life years later that night at the gala, they both knew they weren’t each other's soulmates. She had once told him that she thought she would never have one. And Matt resonated with that. He had once thought that God had punished him. That he was cursed. That he wouldn’t know he had a soulmate until they found him. 

But being with Elektra made him feel like he could go on through life without needing one. She saw that darkness in him and leeched it out, encouraging his dependency on her for making each day more bearable than the last. And when she faced him with the opportunity to finally get revenge on the man who ended his father’s life, Matt almost took it.

But his father didn’t want him fighting, let alone killing others. His father would’ve never wanted Matt to sin on his behalf. He couldn’t do it.

Even if he was fated to be damned to live life without his soulmate, he wouldn’t give God another reason to punish him. He’d at the very least have hope in that regard.

Turns out that simple false detainment without real cause was pretty illegal, and you were let out shortly after Foggy threatened to sue the NYPD, not only for your case but for a few others he had heard about. But it seemed even after you left the building with an old’s friend’s phone number and your freedom, you weren’t gonna be left off the hook that easily.

A few nights later on your way home late from the Bulletin, threatening footsteps were closing in from behind you, making your heart rate spike, your chest tightening in preparation for what was about to come. The man behind you had followed you for a few blocks and you had purposefully walked in a circle to affirm he was after you. Once the man had caught on, he decided to strike. And you were right because not even a second later were you shoved down into an alley, and a second man appeared from behind a dumpster. 

You screamed for help, your voice already hoarse from the tense energy you held in your body. You had landed on your hands and knees, feeling the asphalt scratch bloody wounds into your skin. You tried to scramble back up to run, but the second assailant had wrenched your arm to the side, pulling you into the brick wall of the building adjacent. Your head hit the wall first, immediate stars blinding your vision (definitely a concussion) and you heard their footsteps coming closer, your leg instinctively kicking out and making contact with one of them. They grumbled in pain but you weren’t strong enough, another helpless scream coming out of you. 

“Anyone, help me!” You screeched until you felt a knife placed against your throat. You immediately stilled and your breath hitched in your throat. They were speaking in a language you didn’t understand (it could’ve been Russian?) and you sent a quick prayer to the universe, feeling yourself calm down as you slowly accepted that you were probably not gonna make it out. Just as you closed your eyes you felt the man holding you shift to the side, the metal against your neck disappearing, the sounds of punches and grunts filling the alley. Another person had joined the altercation, but for the better, because it seemed like they were saving you. You kept your eyes closed, your knees giving out, falling to the ground. 

You huddled in on yourself, feeling a panic attack coming along as you reeling from the realization that you thought you were ready to die. 

You weren’t. Not really. 

And it baffled and scared you at how easily you gave up the fight.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize the sounds of attack had stopped, the only things you could make out were the sound of your heart pounding in your ears and the sound of heaving and panting coming from someone near you. You looked up to see him, a yelp coming out of your throat.

His chin was red with blood.

Red with blood.

Red.

Red blood. Faded orange lights coming from the streetlamps by the sidewalk. A dark blue dumpster. A green flyer for a dry cleaning service on the asphalt.

“Oh my god-” You let out in awe, looking back at your soulmate. The man in black that had been wreaking havoc across Hell’s Kitchen. He was your soulmate. You finally found him. You already felt the tears of relief falling down your cheeks. You smiled up at him. “It’s you.”

But something was off. He just tilted his head, as though he was listening for something. He wasn’t excited, surprised, happy. There was nothing to show that he was also going through the incredible moment of finding his soulmate. 

“Why are the Russians after you?” He gruffed out.

Your heart fell to your chest. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. You’ve dreamt of this moment for your whole life, awaiting that time when you could continue through your new colorful existence hand in hand with your soulmate. And he was acting like not a single thing in his world had changed. Your chest began to clench with dread. 

You stuttered out a confused answer, your tears now coming down your face for a different reason, “I-I don’t know why… Russians? I was investigating heroin leads and money laundering schemes…” Your voice was losing energy, your eyes searching the man in black for any sign that his life was changed as much as yours just was. Your chest felt like it could concave on itself with disappointment.

He just nodded, his head tilting once more, as though he was hearing something you couldn’t, and then he began to walk toward the darkness. “Take a cab home.” He gruffly said, walking away from you, and disappearing into the night.

You watched as your soulmate left you on the floor of the alley, bodies strewn on the ground beaten and bleeding. Your heart joins them there. 

He heard your screams from a few blocks away and started running on the rooftop, quickly making his way over and under any obstacle in his way. He could recognize the Russian coming out of your assailants’ mouths and could hear the knife’s sharp edge scratching against your throat. Matt leaped from above onto the first man, taking him down to the ground, but felt the second snap into action and pull him off of his partner. 

You had huddled down on the ground a few feet away, so Matt head-butted the second Russian, kicking the first in the chin. He could all of a sudden hear your heartbeat getting way too fast, and it distracted him for a moment, one of the assailants getting an uppercut in. Matt felt blood rush into his mouth, so he spat it out, blood dripping down his chin. Fueled by the pain, he made quick work of knocking the both of them out, his attention turning to you. 

He heard your breath stutter, and your heart race once again, assuming that you were looking at him. He could taste the salt from your tears and the fear in the air. You finally spoke, “Oh my god… it’s you.”

He knew the man in black was being spoken about across Hell’s Kitchen, with residents fearing his wrath. But you didn’t seem scared. He guessed you were thankful from the sound of your smile in your words. 

But he had questions he needed answered. “Why are the Russians after you?” He’d asked.

He could hear the confusion in your voice when you answered, and even though your heart was still racing, it wasn’t skipping with any lies. You truly didn’t understand why you were being targeted. He nodded and realized he wouldn’t get much out of you. Before he could ask if you were alright, he heard some more cries for help in the distance. 

“Take a cab home.” He muttered, swiftly disappearing deeper into the alley, making his way towards the violence he craved, violence that would soothe the devil that resided inside of him. He made a mental note to call the police as soon as he got the chance to report the two bodies he left there and moved on with his night.

After Ben Urich’s murder, you had officially stopped all leads you were chasing, too fearful for your life in case you were close to cracking something open. But low and behold, with the newly named Daredevil to thank, Fisk was in prison, those involved in the money laundering schemes were arrested, and the dirty cops that had plagued the NYPD were out and gone for good.

You had decided to make a quick visit to Nelson and Murdock to thank and congratulate Foggy on his win. You appreciated the new signage and made your way into the building, knocking on their labeled door twice before entering, being greeted by the sight of a blonde woman at the desk in the center of the room. She stood up and smiled at you, “Hi there, welcome.”

You smiled in response, stating your name. “I’m looking for Foggy, is he here?”

You heard quick footsteps coming from behind the office door and Foggy burst through, his arms outstretched, a wide grin on his face. “I thought I recognized your voice.” He walked up to you and you hugged him in a greeting.

“It’s so good to see you now that everything had settled down.” You said, pulling away and giving him a friendly smile.

“It’s good to see you, too.” He then gestured towards the woman who had initially greeted you, “Please meet Karen, our lovely secretary here at Nelson and Murdock.” You shared your name and shook Karen’s outstretched hand, her energy exuding kindness and beauty.

“Pleasure to meet you. Would you like some coffee?” Karen offered.

“Oh, sure! Thanks.” You gratefully responded. You reached into your bag fishing for the item you brought as you directed your question towards Foggy, “I’ve never met ‘Murdock’, by the way. Is he in?”

“Yes, he is.” You heard a new voice come from the office on the left, a man in a grey suit, red glasses, and a white cane stood in the doorway to what you presumed was his office. He made his way over to the two of you, his hand outreached. “Matt Murdock. I wanted to apologize for my absence when helping you get out of that situation a few weeks ago.”

His hand was warm in yours, his voice was deep and inviting, and his smile was downright gorgeous. You immediately felt a strange pull towards him. You played it off as common attraction, which Matt seemed to emit naturally.

“I finally get to meet you after all this time. You were Foggy’s roommate in college, right?” You remembered briefly running into his lover as you were dropping off homework and notes for Foggy when he was out for a day. Definitely not your proudest moment. 

“Yeah, we got lucky with that, didn’t we, Fog?” Matt smirked in the direction of his friend, the two of them obviously the closest of friends. During this, you finally found the piece of paper in your bag just as Karen came back out with your coffee. “You seem like two creams, two sugars.” She said, guessing correctly. 

“Yeah, thanks.” You giggled, holding the piece of paper out to the three of them. “So, I never did pay you back for helping me out.” Foggy began to open his mouth to protest the check in your hand, but you insisted. “No, please, that was a really scary time you helped me through and you deserve the compensation for your work.” You then handed the check to Karen, who gasped when she saw the contents of it. 

Matt spoke up, “What does it say?”

Karen exclaimed, “Ten thousand dollars!” Everyone’s eyebrows rose in disbelief, and you just nodded and chuckled at their reactions. 

“I genuinely had so many savings in the bank and saw how much you guys love this city and how hard you’d work to make sure justice was served.” You’d explained, their faces still full of shock, “Not many firms can say the same.”

Foggy shook his head, “But why so much for about two hours of work?”

“Well, if it’s too much for your services, then think of me as your investor!” You took a look around, taking a quick sip from your coffee, noticing the simple state of the office space. “No offense, but maybe it could help this place feel like an actual attorney’s office?”

Josie’s was not too packed for a Friday night, and when Foggy had reached out inviting you to drinks with the rest of the firm, you accepted, hoping to drink away the loss of your soulmate. Not that anyone knew who your soulmate was. No, every time you saw Daredevil mentioned in your coworker’s piece for the week or his name splashed across the tv every other night on the news, you kept your misfortune to yourself.

It hurt. Being left there on the ground of the alley after the life-altering moment of seeing the world bloom with its bright hues. You couldn’t sleep that night and stayed up to watch the sunrise. You saw the sky blossom with purples, pinks, yellows, oranges, and blues. The sky was something you didn’t care to look at often unless it was to see if rain clouds were coming in. Now you craved the view of a crystal clear sky next to the vivid trees on the sidewalk.

With a glass of whiskey swirling in your hand, you zoned out from the different conversations at the table.  Karen was seated next to you, with Matt and Foggy opposite of you. You didn’t know how long you were silent for, pondering over just how shitty you felt when you felt a knee nudge against your leg from under the table. You looked up and caught Matt’s gaze directed towards you, his eyes hidden behind his glasses as usual. 

“Everything alright over there?” He had quietly asked, trying to not interrupt the animated conversation Foggy and Karen were having. You took a deep breath, trying to live a little more in the moment.

“Uh… yeah.” You muttered. 

“You sure? Anything on your mind you wanna talk about?” He offered. His red glasses reminded you of the blood on your soulmate’s fists. You felt a pang in your heart. 

“Maybe later.” You acquiesced. You threw back the rest of your drink and caught Matt's grimace from the corner of your eye. Your glass made a solid thud as it landed back on the table.

“Anyone wants another drink?” You asked.

You definitely needed another drink.

“And so, Matt and I walk into the conference room, most of the interns are in there already because someone’s alarm wasn’t set.” Foggy accused pointedly at his friend.

“Typical Matt Murdock.” Karen chimed in.

Matt shrugged in a ‘what can you do’ way. 

“And in the rush, all of a sudden I noticed her pink blouse. Pink! Marci was sitting there, not even looking up at me while my whole world changed. Matt was so confused why I stopped walking, he asked if we were in the wrong room, and when she heard that and looked up…” Foggy’s gaze when thinking about the memory was so fond and lovestruck.

You and Karen shared an awed gaze, reveling in Foggy’s clear emotion.

“I remember her gasp and that look in her beautiful eyes… well, the rest is history. We did have a few bumps in the road, but we eventually made it out the other end together.”

“Yeah, you did.” Matt agreed.

"Still can’t believe I got so lucky.” Foggy laughed in disbelief.

“That was a beautiful way to meet your soulmate.” You complimented. You were happy for your friend, but your voice was a little slur, the liquor you had throughout the night building armor around your heart which was useful since you were hearing someone’s normal experience when meeting their soulmate.

Karen sighed, her shoulders slumping a little in disappointment, swirling around the beer in her bottle, “You’re the only one out of all of us Fog, we’ll live through you for now.”

“He’s not the only one-“ You blurted.

You weren’t supposed to say that.

Whoops.

You felt everyone’s eyes turn towards you, their wide-eyed stares ranging from shock and excitement to confusion.

“Why haven’t you told us, what-?” Karen exclaimed.

“Oh my god, when did this happen?” Matt asked.

“And this important fact wasn’t mentioned?” Foggy complained.

“Woah, woah guys.” You shook your head, their questions hitting you quickly, but being drunk did a horrible job of keeping a lid on your information. “I didn’t tell you guys- well, I haven’t told anyone actually- because my soulmate rejected me.” You said factually, trying to not let the emotion slip in, but failing.

Your friends deflated, Karen then taking the lead. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. You must’ve been so hurt.”

“Well, it was a few weeks ago and I’m genuinely considering the theory that maybe I wasn’t rejected.” You felt tears well up in your eyes. "Maybe something is wrong with me and I wasn’t his soulmate. Maybe I’m nobody’s soulmate.”

You felt Matt’s hand touch yours on the table, a sympathetic expression directed toward you. Karen also rubbed your arm in comfort. Your grin was sad and pitiful.

“Who is the guy? Have you tried contacting him again or something?” Foggy piped up, his genuine need to help others so clear at that moment.

You shook your head, a delirious, helpless laugh coming out of you, “I can’t contact him, it’s impossible.”

“We can help. Just give us a name and we can get to the bottom of this.” Matt encouraged you.

You felt insane with your next words. “Well, if you can contact Daredevil, let me know.”

Everyone froze again, but for some reason, the air felt incredibly tense. Matt and Karen’s comforting gestures stiffened, and Foggy’s eyes wandered quickly around the table, something akin to fear and shock in his eyes. You took the sudden silence for agreement.

“See, told you. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen left me on the floor of an alley after he saw me.” You felt a small sob bubble up in your throat, “My life in an instant had finally changed for the better, and he didn’t even give a hint that his had changed as well.” You dropped your head into your hands, trying to shake the sadness out of you.

“I’m so sorry to bring the mood down, guys. Forget I said anything, please. I don’t wanna think about this anymore.” You pushed out of your chair with a screech and began to go to the restroom, not looking up to see their faces. “I’ll be right back.” You muttered.

Once you closed the door behind you, you felt the tears quickly coming back, the embarrassment of your story hitting you. You felt their stares and knew that Nelson, Murdock, and Page were a supportive group of people but you couldn’t tell if they believed you or not. Their reactions to your soulmate’s identity were confusing and hard to decipher, but the pain and helplessness of your situation came back in full swing once you finally let it out and told them. It felt freeing yet shameful simultaneously and the mix of emotions threw you for a whirlwind.

You quickly splashed some water from the sink onto your face, washing away the tear tracks, and rolled your shoulders back, hoping to walk out ready to end the night on a high note. Giving yourself one more look over, you walked back out to the busy bar, watching your three friends speaking very animatedly to each other, Karen and Foggy seeming like they were talking to Matt while he was just sitting there looking a little dumbfounded. Probably something that happened while you were gone.

You pulled back up to your seat, smiling at the group, “So, what did I miss?” You looked over their faces, silence filling the space once more. Matt’s face had lost a significant amount of color. “And why do you look like you’re gonna faint, Murdock?” Matt barely opened his mouth when he was interrupted.

“Oh, he’s fine. Karen and I were talking about the dreadful upcoming election…” Foggy interjected.

And the conversation about your soulmate was forgotten.

Or so you thought.

He had left them there.

He had found his soulmate and he was too distracted to even notice.

‘Well, if you can contact Daredevil, let me know.’

He was in too much of a shock when you said those words. He froze. He could barely think. And his friends didn’t know what to say either. The minute you had gotten up to head to the bathroom, they bombarded him.

“Matt, what the fuck-?” Karen started.

“How did you not know?” Foggy was baffled.

“-How could you leave them in an alley?” Karen was pissed.

“I could’ve sworn you both had met in college. How did they meet Daredevil before Matt Murdock?” Foggy’s harsh whisper-yell filled Matt with a confusing sense of shame.

“I don’t think we ever had the chance, I-” The guilt began to eat him alive. “I was following a lead on the Russians and heard two of their assailants attacking so I saved them but I couldn’t hang around.”

“Matt, they think their soulmate doesn’t want them. Hell, you now know you have one!” Karen exclaimed, trying to find a solution to this seemingly huge problem. “I don’t want to tell you what to do since it’s your identity on the line, but you should tell them.”

“Dude, she was heartbroken,” Foggy added, not quite forgetting just how messed up you looked like you felt.

“I didn’t notice in that alley…” Matt muttered in disbelief but suddenly remembered your words from that night.

‘It’s you.’

You had tried to tell him. It was quick and easily a misunderstanding, but he didn’t sense how devastated you were when he was leaving. And you of course didn’t know that Daredevil was actually blind and couldn’t see so you mistook his lack of reaction for both of the worst-case scenarios possible.

God, how could Matt ever reject you when you’re what he’s been waiting for his whole life?

He had given up hope for years, settled for less, and pushed relationships away through self-sabotage because nothing ever felt quite right. It was really just his luck that he’d met you in the way he did, in a way that would mess up everything.

You returned to the group, your heart beating steadily in your chest, and in an overwhelming realization, the sound became the most important thing to him. Your voice was a treasure, and your scent was cherished, your presence was all-consuming. In an instant, it was like all of his senses were attuned to you, and Matt didn’t know what to do about it but run.

Quickly finding his voice, he interrupted, “I’m gonna head home for the night guys.” Gathering his coat and briefcase in his arms, he then turned to you.

“I’ll see you again next week?” He carefully questioned. He heard your heart skip at the question, pleased that it seemed something about you was tuned to him as well.

“Yeah… for sure, yeah.” You nodded, your breath hitching when you realized he was speaking to you specifically. You wished you could see his eyes from behind his glasses because something was telling you that his gaze was deeper than it had been. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

He grinned with tight lips and took a breath to say something, but stopped himself, shaking his head and going for a simple, “Good night.” Matt walked out of the bar, leaving you echoing the sentiment as you wondered why Foggy and Karen were giving you strange looks and why Matt had suddenly left you craving more of him than ever before.

‘Next week’ came two nights later in the form of a visitor you weren’t expecting.

Even with the streets of Hell’s Kitchen feeling safer than they did before, your hand was in your bag, keeping firm contact around your taser. You made it around the corner of your block, the flickering street lamps unsettling you, when a clang from above frightened you.

Quickly looking up, you saw a shadowed figure on the fire escape above, your stomach dropping to the floor, fear flooding your system. A scream began to bubble out of your throat when the figure leaped from the platform, but it was quickly paused when you caught sight of the short horns, the deep maroon of the suit recognizable. You flinched and took a few steps back, startled by the sight of your soulmate and confused why he was there in front of you.

“What do you want?” Your words were cold and questioning, the weeks of pent-up pain and betrayal fueling the anger behind your question. Daredevil flinched at the sound, his voice gruff as he spoke.

“Can we talk somewhere private?” He requested. Your eyebrows furrowed in curiosity, and your anger almost made you refuse him immediately. But you couldn’t deny the need to hear what he had to say, to understand why he didn’t want you even if the answers hurt you.

“My apartment is a few buildings down. You’re welcome to come up, but I don’t think there’s a way my neighbors won’t see you.” You offered nervously, wringing your hands together after a sudden bout of anxiety. Daredevil gently nodded.

“They won’t see me.” He responded softly, moving into the alley nearby.

“But it’s this way-” You gestured to your right, confused.

“I’ll be there.” He assured, slipping into the darkness.

You stood there for a few moments, dumbfounded, but made your way to your building, trying to tame the anticipation building in your heart. Once you locked your apartment door, you set your bag down and walked further into the living space, waiting for the sign of your soulmate’s arrival. 

A few knocks on the window to your left made you jump, the figure on the fire escape giving a small wave. You walked over, unlocking and opening the window. 

“So that’s what you meant, huh?” You teased as you backed away, and the absurdity of the moment made you laugh with a hint of shock, especially when you took in the sight of The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen standing next to your couch. He chuckled as he closed the window, the sound pleasing to your ears. But you sobered up very quickly, clearing your throat and settling on the couch, taking the initiative, “What do you want to say?”

He took a deep breath, his body language a little shy, and nodded, “Well, I’d like to explain myself… and tell you how sorry I am for what I must’ve put you through-”

“Why?” You interrupted.

He stood bewildered “Why am I sorry-?” 

“No, why did you leave me there?” You stood, the built-up frustration flowing out, “Did you not want me? Are you already with someone else?” Your voice quivered a bit, tears beginning to well up in your eyes.

He whispered your name and shook his head, taking a few steps closer.

“Why did you act like nothing happened, like it wasn’t the best moment of your life-?” 

“I didn’t know!” He exclaimed, his hands reaching out helplessly.

You froze. “What?” 

“I didn’t know… I couldn’t have.” He explained as he stepped closer, and you couldn’t help but let him.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, confused as ever.

“I… I’m…” He stuttered as he struggled with his next decision.

“You’re what?” You implored, not quite expecting what came next.

He ripped his mask off, and suddenly you were staring into Matt Murdock’s eyes for the first time, his gaze landing around your shoulder. His breathing was heavy and yours felt stuck in your throat.

“Oh.” You muttered, your knees feeling a little weak at the onslaught of information that you just absorbed. You took your seat on the couch once more, not trusting your legs to hold you up. 

Matt stood still as his eyes begged for understanding, “Please tell me you’ve realized why I didn’t treat you like you deserved.” He spoke quietly, slowly walking to where you sat, kneeling on the floor by you, “If I had known, I would’ve gotten down on my knees and thanked God for your existence…”

The tears in your eyes overflowed at the sight of your soulmate in front of you. He gently rested his hands on the sides of your knees and reverently placed his lips against them, next reaching for your trembling hands to hold them in his own.

“I would’ve kissed your hands, and asked for your name…” He continued, and you noticed the shine in his eyes, your hand squeezing his in return, as his gaze pleaded for mercy, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He whimpered guiltily.

“Matt…” You whispered as your palm laid on his stubbled cheek, “I understand.” It all made sense now, and you felt the anger and hurt slowly leave your soul. You comfortingly kissed his temple and rested your foreheads together, a small smile gracing your face. “I forgive you.”

His lips quivered in relief, your cheek being caressed by the back of his hand. “I don’t deserve you.” He breathed out your name like a prayer, his head bowing down before he wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his ear to your chest, the beating of your heart sounding so sweet from that close. Your hands felt for his shoulders as you embraced him, pressing another kiss to the top of his head, reaching to run your fingers through his mussed-up hair.

Matt shuddered at the feeling of your hands on his back and craved more, pulling away and leaning closer to you, his digits running over your lips, “May I?” He hoarsely whispered.

He felt you nod, your voice breathless as you pleaded, “Please.” 

And his mouth met yours, your lips curiously getting acquainted with each other. Your sharp intake of breath at the sensation of the kiss encouraged Matt to lead with all the passion he felt. You leaned further into him, taking and giving as the sensations almost overwhelmed the both of you. Nothing had ever felt this right in your life.

He slowly raised over you, adjusting both of your bodies lengthwise om the couch, your hands running over the hard planes of the suit, his lips still connected with yours, a certain heat expressed in his movements. You pulled away, panting, running your fingers over Matt’s face, admiring him.

“You’re so beautiful,” You softly spoke as your breath mingled with puffs of air, your nose nudging into his, and your eyes closed as he guided his lips over your features, worshipping every part of you. You wrapped your arms around his figure, shuddering when his hips pressed into yours, his stubble rasping against your neck. “And we should take this slow.”

He took your suggestion literally, slowing his intent kisses, pulling himself up to his hands, “Would you like to stop?” He asked with concern, his eyes still glazed with an emotion you knew you matched.

You nodded. “Yes, please.” He began to sit up, but you grabbed his hand before he could fully get off the couch, “I don’t want you to leave.”

A soft smile graced his features, the fond look directed towards you causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. He squeezed your hand in return, “Would you like me to stay?”

“I would love for you to stay the night…” You lowered your head in mild embarrassment, “I’m not ready to let you go yet.” You admitted.

He shook his head in agreement. “Where’s your bathroom so I can get out of this?” He gestured to his suit, and you giggled as you pointed to the far end of the room.

“It’s over there.” You told him, and he began walking, awe filling your brain as you tried to wrap your head around how he did what he could. “How do you do… everything you do?” You struggled with how to explain his nightly duties.

“Well, for one, I wasn’t born blind.” He started, not closing the door or turning on the light in the bathroom as he began to strip the suit off. “I lost my sight when I was eight in an accident where chemicals spilled into my eyes. My senses became incredibly heightened and I was trained by someone like me to hone in on them and use them to fight.” He explained his past and his abilities and you tried your best to not to stare at his bare chest through the dimly lit space, his chest piece off and on the ground.

“Your senses? Like, echolocation?” You questioned as you moved into your bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes yourself.

“Well, yes, but it’s not just my hearing that’s amplified, it’s everything else as well.” Matt’s voice sounded closer to bedroom, and you froze at his words.

“Everything else?” You nervously inquired, pausing at your drawer as you looked for a shirt that could fit Matt.

“You had sushi earlier today from that shop down the street. You’ve got eggs, leftover rice, garlic, and an onion in your fridge.” He took a few steps closer to your bedroom. “I can hear your neighbors on the first floor watching Jeopardy. And your heart is pounding.” You could hear the smirk in his words, and turned around to see him clad in only black compression shorts, feeling your heart race some more.

Matt moved his way closer into the room, continuing his list of things, “I can tell your shampoo has tea tree oil and the scent of it is fresh in your hair, so I’m assuming you washed your hair either this morning or last night.”

“Last night,” You confirmed, your eyes wide at the impressiveness of the information he was providing you with, your voice stuttering nervously, “S-so you really can sense everything, huh?”

He nodded with a cocky smile, pausing a few feet away from you. God, he looks glorious, you thought.

“Does that make you nervous, sweetheart?” He teased.

“No!” You lied, feeling so nervous with your really attractive soulmate just a few steps away from you calling you such a sweet name.

“Are you sure?” He asked, closing the space in between the two of you, your change of clothes and the shirt you found for him bundled up close to your chest. “I can also sense when people aren’t telling the truth, you know.” 

You anxiously giggled, shoving the shirt into his hands, walking around him and heading towards the bathroom to change for the night, “Uh… do Foggy and Karen know about your nightly duties?” You diverted, hoping to change the subject away from you.

Matt nodded, “Yeah… they didn’t find out in the best way” You detected disappointment and regret in his tone. “They don’t want me to be out there every night.” He admitted. 

“Because you get hurt?” You assumed, walking back into the living space where he was now clad in a shirt, waiting for you.

“I did… I do,” He looked down, guilt overshadowing his next words, “And I will get hurt. This isn’t something I can just stop-”

“Matt-” You interrupted him, sensing where he was going with this, and you walked up to him, resting your hand on his arm, “Is that what you want? To stop?”

He took a deep breath in, closing his eyes and shaking his head, “No. I don’t. I can’t stop.”

“Then don’t.” You said it like it was the simplest of solutions, and Matt was shocked by your generally calm and accepting reaction to his second life, “You’ve made a difference in Hell’s Kitchen, Matt. You’ve saved me amongst countless others when the law failed to.” You explained, finally able to express your gratitude for his selfless heroics. It became clear to you at that moment just how good of a person your soulmate was. Not only did he spend his days helping people without payment, using his knowledge of the law, but he also spent his nights saving those who were tormented by the evil that worked in the darkness.

You had always known that you would love your soulmate, but Matt was genuinely someone you could love not only because of who he was, but for the kind of person he was.

How did I get so lucky?

You looked down, continuing, “I don’t want to pretend like I won’t be nervous and worry about you when you’re out there, but please don’t feel like you have to change who you are. I want to be a safe place for you to be who you have to be.”

Matt simply wrapped his arms around you in response, trying to convey his appreciation for you with his tight, secure embrace. He sighed once more, tension leaving his body slowly as you ran your hands up and down his back.

“What did I do to deserve you?” He mumbled, but you quietly shushed him and place a small kiss on his cheek, grabbing his hands to lead him to bed. Once you were both settled, he nuzzled into your neck, the front of his body pressed against yours, your legs entwined.

You were silent for a few minutes when Matt interrupted the quiet, “I’m shocked you didn’t know the Russians were after you.”

You gasped in faux offense, “Woah, I was close to the heroin production sites and the script on the packets was in Mandarin! How was I supposed to know the Russian Mafia was connected?” Matt’s huffs of laughter warmed your heart, the feeling of cuddling with someone you were meant to care about filling you with happiness.

“I dunno, maybe Daredevil has to help this journalist once in a while to help connect the dots.” He jokingly suggested, rubbing his hands up your arms, his voice gruff with the late night.

You giggled, “I’ll take all the help I can get.” You closed your eyes, feeling sleep begin to overcome you.

“What are we gonna tell people when they ask how we met?” You asked, every bone in your body relishing how calm and content you finally felt.

Matt’s breath was warm against your ear when he sleepily replied. “We have the rest of our lives to figure that out.”

fin

[marveltrumpshate]

July 2024 MTH fills

The best way to see all the fills that have been shared with us is our monthly roundups tag or our #MTH-fills channel on our Discord, but you can also view them through the following methods:

Our Tumblr tags: 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, 2023

Our AO3 collection (only has works posted to AO3; see "subcollections" for specific auction years)

Completed works tag list

To find specific content, use our completed works tag lists above which includes instructions on how to search for a particular character, gen or romantic relationship, universe, and fanwork type. 

SOLO CHARACTERS

Miguel O'Hara

@caiabresebun - Art of a shirtless Miguel tied up shibari-style for @moonyroony

GEN/PLATONIC RELATIONSHIPS

STEVEN GRANT & JAKE LOCKLEY & MARC SPECTOR

@tiptapricot - "Caótica Belleza (por lo sentido y lo sinsentido)" (transfem MCU Marc Spector-centric 5+1 fic) for @melaphyrex

SHIPS

BUCKY BARNES/HOWARD STARK

@ruquas - The second installment of a wartime epistolary fic in the form of handwritten letters between Bucky and Howard for @fuckyeahhowardstark

BUCKY BARNES/STEVE ROGERS

@call-me-kayyyyy - NSFW post-CA:CW Steve/Bucky shibari art for gfawkes (more SFW but still a bit NSFW version on Tumblr)

JACK ROLLINS/BROCK RUMLOW

Nixie DeAngel / @nixies-creations - "Sharp Blades, Thin Ice" (Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow hockey AU fic. Accompanying aesthetic here) for @kalika999

LAYLA EL-FAOULY/MARC SPECTOR

tiptapricot - "Caótica Belleza (por lo sentido y lo sinsentido)" (transfem MCU Marc Spector-centric 5+1 fic) for @melaphyrex

LOKI/STEVE ROGERS

@fohatic / @moon-language-0 - "Cold Comfort" (MCU Loki/Steve and eventual Steve/Tony dystopian AU fic where Loki wins in 2012, takes over the world, and takes Steve as his prize) for @bulkyphrase

MATT MURDOCK/FOGGY NELSON

@grumpycakes - Art of monk Foggy meeting demon Matt Murdock for @amazing-spiderling

STEVE ROGERS/TONY STARK

@areiton - "who's gonna know you, if not me?" (Steve/Tony D/s soulmate AU fic where Steve navigates being Tony's dom while grappling with grief after being found and Tony struggles with his trauma from being forcibly trained to be a sub for Steve his entire life) for Usagi, @tehroserose, @ruquas, @sabrecmc, @sayahs-corner, @oper1895, and @romancebyfaye (MTH 2022)

@fohatic / @moon-language-0 - "Cold Comfort" (MCU Loki/Steve and eventual Steve/Tony dystopian AU fic where Loki wins in 2012, takes over the world, and takes Steve as his prize) for bulkyphrase

@iam93percentstardust - "Labyrinth" (Steve/Tony Regency A/B/O AU fic where Lord Tony Stark has resigned himself to a life as a spinster when he meets alpha Steve, one of his sister Sharon's suitors) for Ruquas, @massivespacewren, sabrecmc, RoseRose, @dweetwise, @gotlostonmywayhome, tsmk2013tsmk, @gottalovev, oper1895, @otpcutie, sayah1112, E_Greer, and @ishipallthings

Nixie DeAngel - "Letters For My Heart" (MCU Steve/Tony fic where Tony finds a box of Steve's things that has Tony's name on it. Accompanying aesthetic here) for gottalovev (MTH 2022)

[plussizefantasia]

Flufftober 2023

Yes, It's true I will be participating in the flufftober challenge this year in the hopes that I will get out of my writing slump! For 31 days, I will post fluffy drabbles and one-shots for fall with some of my favorite characters. Below the cut is the schedule for each day and what I am writing! If you'd like to be tagged in any or all of them, let me know! I hope you enjoy all the spooky and fall vibes I will send out into the universe.

divider credit: @royallaesthetics

 Bakery AU w/ Bucky Barnes

 Meet Cute w/ Steve Harrington

 Morning Snuggles w/ Tony Stark

 Playing with their Hair w/ Thorin Oakenshield

 Book Shop w/ Loki Laufeyson

 Cooking Dinner Together w/ Spencer Reid

 Patching Them Up w/ Matt Murdock

 Rainy Day w/ Jim Hopper

 Love Confession w/ Eddie Munson

 Bakery AU pt.2 w/ Bucky Barnes

 Dancing Together w/ Steve Rogers

 Shooting Stars w/ Peter Parker

Soulmate AU w/ Kili Durin

Leaves w/ Jasper Hale

Fireplace w/ Remus Lupin

Blushing w/ Steve Harrington

Dreams w/ Eddie Munson

Teacher AU w/ Loki Laufeyson

Sweaters w/ Aaron Hotchner

Hiking w/ Thorin Oakenshield

Pumpkin Patch w/ Steve Rogers

Haunted House w/ Eddie Munson

Apple Picking w/ Aaron Hotchner

Ghost AU w/ Matt Murdock

Costume Party w/ Peter Parker

Coffee Shop AU w/ Spencer Reid

Decorating the House w/ Tony Stark

Witches w/ Emmet Cullen

Corn Maze w/ Steve Harrington

Pumpkin Carving w/ Steve Rogers

Trick or Treat w/ Bucky Barnes

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Finding You

Small Creatures, Chapter 2

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: 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.

warnings:  minor swearing, misunderstandings, awkward meetings

a/n: there isn’t a ton of Matt in this chapter, but there will be MUCH more of him from here on out. We are running straight for the hurt, comfort, angst, and fluff of this story, y’all. As always, please reply and reblog! And a huge shout out to @zomtart for helping me create this AU!

w/c: 4.5k

You couldn’t shake the feeling of him. 

A tight coil of smoke, constantly twisted around your every limb. Your dreams were now hazy with clouds of ash, the bitter taste of charred organic material blanketing your tongue when you woke. 

On the surface, he was dangerous, filled with a rage that burned more intensely than any flame in this realm. You understood that it was meant to scare you, to create distance. But, you were drawn to it like a newly hatched moth–seeking its warmth and light, not shying away from its destructive power one bit. 

Whether your intense longing was due to your bond or simply a lack of self-preservation, you weren’t sure. 

Walking home after the Devil snatched you from the jaws of death, it all suddenly made sense. One of those “you have to feel it to believe it” kind of things, meeting your soulmate. Your steps were unsteady and too light, like your weight was constantly fluctuating as you moved, or you were being carried along by an external force. You felt thoroughly inebriated, oxytocin and dopamine saturating every cell.

With each wobbly pace home, your chest pulsed with clipped waves of pain, like you’d been bruised. But even the dull ache couldn’t ruin the pleasant floaty feeling carrying you back to your place. 

At points in your life, you’d heard musings. Of what it was like to be bonded with another. Though none of them had ever truly made sense until now.

You were torn, unsure of how to feel about it all. On one hand, knowing he existed was comforting. You weren’t crazy or damned or any other awful thing people sometimes said about marked souls. On the other, watching him creep away from you in terror was definitely a blow to your ego.

It was possible he’d had to go take care of something—there was never a dull night in the Kitchen—but given how your mark was radiating a concoction of doubt, shame, and another feeling you couldn’t quite place…it was probable he was truly not interested. You needed a clear answer, though. Whatever his decision was, you’d respect it, but you needed to be sure before giving up on him.

Therein lay the issue. How could you ask him for a clear answer when you didn’t even know his name? You had no idea where to begin looking for him, or if he could even be found.

And what would you say if you did find him? “Hi, you clearly want nothing to do with me but apparently we are destined to mean something to each other so here’s my card”?

What if he was in love with someone else? He could be married, have a family..oh god what if he was married–

A familiar voice called your name, snapping you out of the trance you’d apparently been in. Ripping your gaze away from where it had been listlessly staring at your coffee cup, you met your friend’s amused look with a sheepish laugh.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Imogen shook her head fondly, clearly not actually upset that you’d zoned out.

“Nothing more important than whatever’s on your mind. Spill,” She giggled, poking your arm with a manicured finger.

You groaned, pulling your exposed limb out of harm’s way. “Midge, it's nothing–”

“It's not!” Crossing her arms, the woman across from you gave her best attempt at a stern mom stare. “You've been out of it all day. We've been friends long enough for me to recognize when you're stuck in your head. So tell me, what's got you in such a funk?”

Sighing, you dropped your chin to your chest, overwhelmed with indecision. It's not that you expected Imogen to react badly, but how much could you tell her? I mean, he was a vigilante, a criminal. Would she truly be ok with that?

Taking a leap, you allowed her to clutch your hand, your nerves settling slightly under her encouraging gaze. “I may have met my soulmate last night?”

As if an earthquake had suddenly struck Manhattan, the two flimsy cups standing on the table quivered as the table vibrated beneath them. Your friend had erupted with joyful movement, kicking her feet and gripping your hand painfully tight as she shrieked gleefully.

“WHAT!? WHEN? HOW? Tell me EVERYTHING!” Eyes boring into yours with more enthusiasm than you'd ever held for something, Imogen beamed at you.

As much as you appreciated her zest for life, the other patrons in the small cafe were glaring daggers in your direction, apparently not willing to risk hearing loss for a stranger's happiness. Sending them an apologetic glance, you lay your free hand on Imogen's.

“Hun, I love you, but people are staring.” You chuckled, flicking your eyes to the annoyed regulars behind her.

“Alright, alright, I'll try to contain myself,“ Midge rolled her eyes. ”What's his name? Is he cute? Oh gosh, I shouldn't have assumed it was a he–”

Shaking your head, you patted her hand reassuringly. “'He' would presumably be correct. He sort of..helped me out last night.”

“Helped you out how?”

Deciding on an altered version of events, you left out the part about him donning a mask and saving you from certain death. Two birds, one stone in terms of things Midge would worry over.

“I was trying to snap a picture on the roof of Ink 48. He saw me struggling to get in position and..spotted me? I guess? When we touched...god, Midge. You weren't kidding.” Your voice was breathy, your heart pounding as you thought of his beautiful smirk, his warm hands.

“It's..indescribable.” She agreed, her smile softening as she studied your love struck expression. “What's his name?”

Averting your eyes, you felt a haze of lingering doubt settle over you. “See, that's why I've been out of it. We connected, forged a bond or whatever you want to call it, and he ran away. I..didn't get a good look at his face and I have no clue what his name was so I'm kind of at a loss.”

“Oh sweetie,” Midge pouted, dragging her chair closer to wrap an arm around you. “No leads? He wasn't wearing anything with a company emblem or an ID badge?”

“No, and honestly..I don't even know if he'd want me to track him down. I mean, he ran, Midge. Full on beelined outta there like I had the plague. He could be married? Or just not interested?” Your voice trailed off. You were at a loss, that much was clear.

“Or!” Imogen interjected, her voice optimistic as always. “He was surprised and he panicked. I think we both can relate to that.”

You raised a brow at her in disbelief, but Imogen was undeterred. “Babes, it's a big thing, finding your soulmate. Cut the poor guy some slack! He's probably nervous just like you are.”

“It's possible.” You relented. “But I still don't know if I'll ever see him again.”

“You will.” Your all-too-positive companion shrugged, withdrawing her hand from your hold. “You're way too capable and determined not to.”

“You're too sweet to me.” You scoffed, heat fluttering in your cheeks.

“I'm just being honest!” She giggled, tossing back the rest of her coffee. “C'mon.”

“Where are we going?” You laughed, draining your coffee so Midge could toss both cups in a nearby waste basket.

“You're going to show me exactly where you met him and we'll see if there are any cameras or other things we could use to track him down.”

Steps faltering, you blinked in shock before scurrying after your friend who was confidently traipsing out of the store.

Shifting the strained handle into the crook of your elbow, you angled your body so the weight of the large bag bumped against the flesh of your hip, rather than knocking into unsuspecting strangers. One solid kick from a passerby and the carefully stacked contents would topple–either into the street or onto you. Regardless, you’d have a mess on your hands and you’d be out a solid chunk of money. Take out wasn’t cheap these days, dammit.

You just hoped the hefty bill would be worth it.

It had been almost a week since your run-in with your soulmate and you were still mostly at a loss. Despite Imogen's confidence and your combined dedication, you were no closer to knowing his identity. Your failure to find anything definitive at the scene was partially because nothing had been left behind and almost entirely because Midge was still under the impression you were looking for a standard nine-to-fiver.

You weren't quite sure how to come clean, not when she'd spent so much of her free time over the past few days accompanying you to the same street, scouring the crowds for anyone who might look familiar to you. But, until you knew whether he wanted you in his life, you were hesitant to confess  the one thing you did know about him.

After the third day of returning home empty-handed, you'd cut your friend loose. Telling her you were going to regroup before trying again. As lovely as Midge was, she was as clueless about the Devil's whereabouts as you were.

The internet, however, was chock full of fanatics and critics overly willing to share the opinions they had about him. In general, the city appreciated his efforts--the local message boards and blogs brimming with praise and gratitude. You couldn't help but feel a gleaming rush of pride with every compliment, appreciating the citizens for recognizing the man's work.

Of course, there were negative threads too. Calling Daredevil a threat and a coward. Screaming at him to give himself up, leave the crime-fighting to law enforcement. At first, you'd engaged with those users too. But, after one argument sparked so much rage you almost shattered your laptop screen in an effort to remove yourself from the fight, you began to ignore anything less than positive. Whether because of your bond or your genuine admiration for your soulmate, the disapproval created a primal urge to protect, to defend. Standing by wasn't an option, so you put blinders on to filter out the objections.

As a whole, however, the online forums were helpful. There were a few sites dedicated to tracking local vigilante news, allowing you to assemble a makeshift map of places the Devil frequented. You'd reached out to a few of the more active users to see if they could help you, but pretty quickly realized that the claim 'daredevil is my soulmate' was probably more common than you'd originally thought. So, for now, your feeble, hand drawn maps would have to do.

Unsurprisingly, Daredevil seemed to have a flexible schedule that mostly revolved around where he was needed. The idea of staging a crime, or intentionally putting yourself in harm's way did occur to you, but you weren't that desperate quite yet. And you doubted that would be well-received. Instead, you categorized locations by number of sightings and planned to work your way down the list.

Tonight, you were starting just before sunset for the roof of a building near the Clinton Community Garden. According to your limited research, the crimson-clad vigilante was often spotted between 47th and 50th street, around the intersections of 9th or 10th. A decent area to start with for sure, given that it was pretty central within Hell's Kitchen, and 10th street was a haven for petty crime.

Two failed attempts to buzz into apartment buildings later, someone finally answered your request over the intercom, unlatching the door for you. Dashing up the stairs two at a time, your stomach was in knots by the time you found a roof access door. Your every breath was measured, laden with doubt in the wake of so many possibilities. Pulse racing, you gulped in the humid evening air, bending at the waist to allow blood flow to your brain.

You'd been so nervous to confront him, you'd neglected your own needs. Dehydration and low blood sugar were only exacerbated by this obnoxious heat. Cringing at the realization, you paced to the edge of the roof, settling into a cross-legged position with your back against the squabby brick perimeter. With the back of your hand, you swiped at the beading sweat along your brow, doing your best to mop it up.

Now for the fun part. Waiting.

Patience was a virtue that didn't always come easily to you. Especially when your anxiety stepped up to the plate. Twiddling your thumbs, anticipating every possible thing that could go wrong only made time pass more slowly. And it wasn't as if there was a deadline you were inching towards.

Not a set one, at least. The food you'd brought wouldn't last forever, though you were hoping the thermal bag would keep it from spoiling too quickly. If it didn't, well, you'd feel pretty foolish for bruising your arm carrying the sizable thing around town.

Lifting the strap from where it was currently digging into your shoulder, you set it carefully on the ground, peeking inside to inspect the contents. Everything looked ok, thankfully. A bit banged up from the journey, but mostly unharmed and definitely just as tasty.

Relaxing into the prickly surface holding you upright, you scanned the skyline, admiring the wash of pinks and oranges slipping between skyscrapers. You hadn't wanted to tote your camera around in addition to all the food, but you were regretting that decision now. Somewhat remorsefully, you pulled a paperback book from an outside pocket on the tote. Imogen would be thrilled you were finally starting it.

The book was better than you'd expected. A historical fiction novel about the Nazi invasion in France–something you knew very little about. It managed to keep your attention for nearly 90 minutes, though you did take brief breaks to stretch and scan the horizon for a familiar figure.

As much as you wanted to stick it out, the food wouldn't last too much longer. Knee-deep in a mental quarrel with yourself about whether to give up for the night, your stomach dropped–yanked by an extreme force as if you were driving over a massive hill. It was intoxicating, thrilling and terrifying all at once.

Scrambling to your feet, you teetered on wobbly legs, nearly faceplanting on the concrete. All sense of balance had been ripped from you, as if the flat roof had been replaced with a trampoline, bouncing with every step you took. Before you could regain your bearings, a shadowy figure appeared at the opposite end of the roof.

His chin was angled down, mirrored fists clenched on either side of his broad, menacing stance. In the sliver of remaining sunlight, you could make out his sharp jawline and pink lips–your heart fluttering as they parted.

“You shouldn’t be up here.” He strode toward you, graceful and precise. Far more coordinated than you felt at the moment.

“Please,” You murmured, focus lost in the glow of fading light lining his body, a flexible halo around him. “Please, I-I just want to talk.”

“Are you sure you have time?” Stopping his approach about 10 feet from you, his mouth twitched with a smirk. You were surprised to sense humor in his words. “Seems like you might be late for your dinner plans.”

Chuckling weakly in response, your face flooded with heat. Something about his presence made your brain melt into soup. His confidence and cocky attitude stole the explanation right off your tongue, leaving you to stand there uselessly until he nodded to the rectangular bag lying at your feet.

“Oh, sorry, um,“ Scurrying for the shining handle, you pulled it into your arms, extending it out to him. ”I brought this for you actually.”

In a remote corner of your stomach, a tiny curl of something warm unwound. Surprise, then a much stronger sensation, not unlike fondness or gratitude. A mix of both perhaps?

“For me?” As he whispered, you couldn't help but smile. Those sudden emotions, they were his, not your own. The hesitant acceptance continued into his rasping voice.

“If you will accept it, then yes. As a thank you. For saving me and, well, for everyone else you’ve saved.” You answered, taking a step in his direction.

Hands shooting up, blocking an incoming hit you hadn't thrown, his guard slid back into place. With each inch you moved forward, he withdrew, like there was an invisible barrier forcing the two of you apart.

“I don't do this for handouts.” He growled, shoulders squaring off. You'd spooked him somehow.

“I never said you did.” You shrugged, sending him a soft smile. Retreating towards your end of the roof, you drew the bag towards your chest. “I just wanted to thank you, and to ask you a few questions. I figured they would be easier to swallow if I had something for you in return.”

Tilting his head at you, Daredevil flexed his fingers, no doubt fighting the urge to lock them into fists. His tongue dipped between his lips, sliding over the lower as he pondered. “What sort of questions?”

A bubble of pride rolled up your throat at the idea you'd gotten this feral cat of a man to trust you, even marginally. “About the other night. Nothing about your identity or anything, and if they seem too invasive you don't have to answer them at all. I'll respect whatever boundaries you need to set, but I would have regretted never asking. Does that make sense?”

The stubby horns on his helmet arced in semi-circles as he nodded. “I think so.”

“I just...did you feel it?” Grimacing as the question slipped out, you tried to clarify. “I mean, that's a horrible way to ask that but, er, when you..caught me, I think something–”

“Yes.” He interrupted you, his voice barely audible.

“What?”

Another coarse nod. “Yes. I felt it.”

“Oh my god,” You'd expected this answer, but you were still dumbfounded. “I thought maybe I was just crazy.”

“You're not crazy.” He huffed, a glimpse of his teeth shining in the city light as he smirked.

“So, that means we're...” You trailed off, not wanting to scare him away with the word.

The Devil stilled, his jaw quivering as his teeth grit together. The fragile peace you’d somehow achieved began to crack.

“It's ok!” You hurriedly reassured him. “I don't, I'm not–”

Tripping over your words, you held up a hand. After a deep breath, you tried again. “It's up to you what we mean to each other. I didn't come here to nag you, or demand things from you.”

“You didn't?” The question was posed as a statement. He didn't believe you.

“Not at all. That wouldn't be fair. To you or..well, to the other people in your life. I just wanted to know if it was real and to show my appreciation for the other night.” Shifting your weight from foot to foot, you watched as his posture slumped slightly.

“You didn't,” He sighed, crossing his arms. Holy shit was he hiding saplings under there? “You didn't have to do that.”

Swallowing harshly as you collected your thoughts, you giggled nervously. “I know, but I wanted to. Can't be easy to eat while flipping around the city.”

Another puff of breath, a hint of laughter. “What exactly is my reward?”

Chewing at the flesh of your lip, you fumbled for the zipper. “Well, I wasn't sure what you liked, so I brought a few options. They're sort of all over the map.”

Laying out the thin cotton blanket you'd packed, you withdrew a myriad of plastic containers and lined them up, describing each as you went. “Gnocchi and bolognese from Il Tinello, very hearty and comforting. If you want something a bit different, an Alice sandwich from that shop 'Toasties'? And, if you don't eat animal products, seitan satay from Plant-Blossom.”

“You weren't kidding.” The Devil remarked, creeping towards the edge of the blanket. “You ventured all over the city for this. You didn't–”

“Please don't feel bad!” You rushed out, stomach sinking at the guilty little pout on his face. “I was looking for something to do. Besides, you deserve a decent meal for sticking around to hear me out.”

“As much as I appreciate it, it's more food than I can eat.” The man protested, crouching beside the edge of the blanket, not quite crossing the boundary yet.

“I'll have some of whatever you don't want. And, if we still can't finish it, well I'm sure there's someone around here who will take it.” You reasoned, settling atop your folded legs. Despite your nerves, you kept your voice steady and your stature unassuming, not wanting to activate the man’s “scary Devil mode” again.

“Thank you.” Kneeling on the concrete, the vigilante cocked his head at the lineup of options, fingers dancing over his thighs hesitantly. His gravelly voice diffused into a murmur, showering you like a spray of glass beads. Cool and solid, steady as rain.

You nibbled at the inside of your lip, smiling softly as the treacherous defender of the city flushed pink in the pale golden hue of the sun. Despite his harsh exterior and skeptical nature, you were swooning at the glimpse of the man behind the mask. He was passionate and humble, truthfully taken aback by your gratitude. “I'm pretty sure I'm the one who should be thanking you. So, are you hungry?”

Lips splitting with a beautifully subtle grin, the Devil nodded. “Always.”

Satisfaction tugged at your heart, making you crinkle your nose as you held back a proud smile. “Help yourself!”

You hadn't been lying to him, the array of options was for his benefit; it wasn't much of a repayment if he didn't enjoy the food. As his hand reached for the first take out container, you realized there was something in it for you as well. In addition to him answering your brief question, and spending more than a moment nearby, you'd end up learning about him.

Something as simple as choice of meal wasn't overly revealing, but it confirmed some suspicions you had about your other half. He wasn't adventurous for the hell of it, his decisions–though seemingly rash–were purposeful and thought out. You understood the enticing pull, the desire to stick to your routine or things you already knew.

Bruised fingers popped the seal on the gnocchi, cradling the warm plastic tub with a fond glance in your direction. “Did you happen to bring silverware?”

Heat rushed to your face, embarrassment swatting at you as you scrambled for the utensils in your bag. “Oh gosh, yes, I am so sorry–”

“Don't apologize.” A comforting weight settled over the back of your hand, the rough pad of a thumb brushing over your knuckles. Tearing your eyes away from the packets in your grip, your mouth hung open in surprise as Daredevil tenderly swiped his finger over your skin. You froze in place, scared that the smallest twitch would ruin the moment.

Face slackening with realization, the man dropped your hand, sliding a set of plastic silverware out of your loose grip. “This will work. Thank you.”

Shoulders hunching, he pointed his body away from you, still kneeling rather than fully relaxing into a seated position. Busying yourself with your own plate of food, you tried to shove down the disappointment that gnawed at you, your fragile consciousness unable to stave off the feeling of rejection as he turned to face the city.

“Has it been busy tonight? The crime fighting, I mean?” You posed the question, hoping to bridge the literal and metaphorical gap once again widening between the pair of you.

The man opposite you hummed thoughtfully, swallowing before he spoke. “Not too bad.”

“That's good. Hopefully you'll be able to get some rest, then. If you need rest, that is. I mean, if you don't have a day job that would make it easier but how could you afford to live in this city? I guess you could probably bounce around and evade capture, but that sounds exhausting. How do you–” Cutting yourself off, you clamped a hand over your mouth. “Shit, I am so sorry. I really didn't mean to ask about that,  I'm just nervous which tends to make me ramble.“

Scratching at the back of his neck, Daredevil curled further in on himself. “I, uh, I guess I can't blame you for being nervous.”

“Oh, it's not your fault.” You promised, shaking your head violently. “I'm sort of like this with everyone. Lack of experience, I guess.”

Studying you for a moment, his lips briefly flickering with a smile. “I understand that. People are complicated.”

“Understatement of the century.” You huffed, a familiar blossom of warmth pooling in your chest when he echoed the chuckle.

Sitting in cozy silence, you ate quickly, stealing peeks at the muscular man every so often to gauge his discomfort. As much as you wanted to believe you were making progress, the rational side of your brain recognized the finite nature of this exchange. It was likely that he didn't intend to do this again. This was a favor extended to you for your appreciation.

As darkness descended on the skyline, cloaking the stark angles in shadows, a tightly wound knot of sorrow clogging your throat as you tried to finish your sandwich. Choking down the last bite, you lifted the final plate.

“Don't suppose you'd want any of this for the road?” Ignoring the tremble in your words, you began folding the blanket, avoiding his gaze.

“Sure,” He gently accepted, prying the container from your grasp and taking extra care not to make contact with your skin. “Thank you, again.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” You croaked around the lump in your throat, coughing to clear it. “Just, be safe out there.”

Giving you a sad smile, the masked man nodded firmly. “I’ll try my best.” 

Swaying awkwardly as you stood, shouldering your bag on the way up, your mind raced through its entire vocabulary in an attempt to find the words for a proper goodbye. You’d interacted with this man for less than an hour, yet he meant the world to you–but telling him that would be weird, wouldn’t it? You really needed a manual for these things. A roadmap to help you tread lightly, avoid landmines. Unfortunately, you were pretty sure the whole “my soulmate is a vigilante” thing wasn’t common enough to warrant an expert. 

“I, um, I’m going to head home before it’s super late. But, here–” Rushing through the excuse as quickly as you could, you held out a tiny rectangle of cardstock, holding your breath while he slipped it from your outstretched fingers. “My phone number is on there if you, er, if you ever need it.”

Chin dipping towards his chest, he cocked his head, studying the scrap of paper. “I appreciate it. Be safe getting home.”

“I will.” You vowed, blinking back the building sheen across your vision. “Take care of yourself.”

Before you could stumble and say something he didn’t want to hear, you made your exit.

Taglist: @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04

[buckyarchives]

BuckyArchives Masterlist

Welcome! I know my username says ‘Bucky’archives, but I do occasionally post character other than him and outside of marvel! Anyways, I’m Sophie and I go by any pronouns, I don’t share too much about myself but I promise I’m friendly and my inbox is always open. Enjoy reading and below is my full Masterlist and almost everything you need to know! Notes, reblogs and comments are VERY important, i don’t know what readers life or don’t like if you don’t interact so please, I beg — interact with me. Even if it’s small.

DNI! basic dni criteria (racist, homophobic, misogynistic .etc) under 16. just don’t come here to just stir up drama, don’t like what you see? Scroll. Not hard to grasp.

My AO3 | want to request something? Click here!

GUIDE | 🎞️=personal favs. ⚡️=smut. 🍂= over 5k. 🎟️= unfinished

series

Metal Arms and Short Skirts ⚡️🍂

Waltzing in as the new head of Avengers medical decision, impressing everyone and… scaring Bucky Barnes your incredibly short skirts. While Bucky is having a hard time seeing his arm as anything other than a weapon, you’re more than happy to help him

The Balcony scene 🎞️🎟️🍂

The one where theirs two winter soldiers, and now it’s time to make amends. Untill you and Bucky Barnes run into a homicidal 5’4 talk problem

The Domestic Life of Living With a Runaway Assassin 🍂🎟️

You hate many things in life. You hate soulmates, you hate the avengers, you hate guns, you hate loud snorers and complicated relationships. Bucky Barnes is associated with all those thing yet you can seem to hate him (Soulmate!AU)

One-shots + Two-parters

The Trials and Tribulations of Getting Bucky Barnes a Second date.

Bucky Barnes hasn’t kissed someone since the 40s and he needs some practice…

Little mermaid🎞️🍂

A mission gone rogue and Bucky Barnes has to depend on you to save him, and a few of your unlikely friends found midst the Atlantic Ocean.

Bedless

Relapsing wasn’t great, ever. But Bucky Barnes is there. (SH WARNING)

Day After Tomorrow 🎞️

Bucky Barnes’ enhanced hearing is both a blessing and a curse. Eavesdropping, loud music, footsteps and when his sweet neighbor has been coughing her pretty head off all day.

First impressions ⚡️

Who’s would guess that meeting Matt Murdock’s best friends for the first time involved drunk giggling and impressive cock-blocking. (Male reader)

Second, first meeting 🎞️

After the meteor, Chishiya notices the all too familiar person. Their pull towards you - like maybe you’ve met somewhere? (GN reader)

Night Shift🍂

After months of Bruce Wayne being a regular at the waffle house you work at, you soon realize you have been messing up his order the entire time (GN reader)

Untitled

You don’t trust the new masked vigilante, the batman, but after a couple flirty interactions and him saving you from a possible mugging — you begin to change your mind.

Untitled 🎞️

After many stressful nights dealing with the riddler and his fathers past, all Bruce Wayne wants if for you to stay.

We’re not really strangers 🎞️🍂🎟️

You got cheated out of your life and now you can’t trust. Sebastian stan doenst know how to love full heartedly. He’s in a movie you didn’t write, but you did, but you want admit it - or do you? Loneliness begins to consume sebastian, as for you but you are two people from two different worlds: yet this tug is so intense it will eat you both raw

5 Years of Peace🍂

You and Bucky go to Vormir

Graceland too.

Ellie Williams didn't care much for trusting new people, she needed to keep the ones she had. Until you came around.

Just A Game

if anything, you and Bucky Barne's relationship was just a game. Who will win and who will break?