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souliebird · 7 months ago

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[[and then I met you || ch. 17]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

Words: 4.3k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

“No.”

Minnie plants her little feet firmly on the sidewalk and pulls her hands out of your and Matt’s grips so she can make her point by crossing her arms over her chest. A pout starts forming on her face and you have the feeling this is as far as your daughter will be going.

Across the street looms Clinton Church and you can understand why your daughter does not want to go anywhere near it. The building is as imposing as it is grand with its traditional architecture half shadowed in the morning sun. There is light reflecting off the many windows, casting little glares that you are sure Minnie can interpret in multiple ways - including eyes looking down at her.

Try as you might, you can’t imagine what else your little one must be picking up from the building. Is there someone praying inside? Or chanting? What sort of terrifying noises is the building making? How many rats are scurrying around the grounds, hissing and eeking and becoming unseen monsters?

How many real monsters are there?

Right now, the only monster you know of is the one in your chest named Anxiety. It is roaring inside you and causing all sorts of ruckus.

You know Minnie can pick up on your upset, and it is probably influencing her, but no amount of breathing exercises or chamomile tea is going to relax you.

Meeting someone’s parents is always going to be nerve wracking under any circumstance - but meeting the mother of the man who fathered your child? Who already has a unique and slightly estranged relationship with her son?

Frankly, you’d rather give birth again.

To make matters worse for your over analyzing, Matt's mother is a nun.

You have never interacted with a nun before, and your mind has been nonstop screaming that you are going to make an absolute fool of yourself. You are convinced you are going to say something dumb - like Jesus is stupid or some other blasphemous thing.

You don't even know what counts as blasphemy, but you know your mouth will find a way to make you want to sink into the floor and disappear forever.

You are on the same page as Minnie and don't want to take another step toward the Church.

“No?” Matt questions, tilting his head down towards his daughter. He looks a bit baffled, like he can’t understand why she’s taken such a stance. You know he is nervous about the meeting as well, having told you such earlier, but you don’t think he realizes how much his nerves, on top of your own, are affecting Mouse and her fear of the new big building.

“No.” Your daughter repeats, giving a tiny stomp of one foot to emphasize her point.

“No, what, sweetheart?” He kneels down to be on the same level as her, but you have a feeling that isn't going to help much. Minnie has made her decision and trying to sway a determined, upset toddler is a near impossible task.

“I don't wanna,” she tells him, her voice starting to get whiny. She turns away from him to press herself into your leg, her pout growing even bigger.

Matt knits his brows together, confusion clear, “You don't want to go to the park?”

Technically, you are supposed to meet Matt's mother in the Church park that is between the main building and the orphanage but as far as you are concerned, all of the grounds are Church. Apparently, your daughter feels the same.

“No. I don't wanna,” she declares, which quickly turns into the chant of, “I don't wanna, I don't wanna, I don't wanna!”

You can feel the tantrum coming and intervene, scooping Minnie up and hugging her to you. She instantly clings to you, burying her face against your neck with an additional almost screech of, “I don't wanna!”

You start to gently rock her from side to side and rub at her back to try and soothe her. You kiss her hair and promise, “We don’t have to go, baby. It is okay.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel like a grade A asshole.

Matt’s face crumbles into heartbreak and you totally deserve to walk into traffic. He had opened up to you about his mother - about how she had left him as a baby only to end up raising him after his father had been killed - but not telling him who she was. He told you how he only recently learned the truth - less than a year ago - and how hard it was for him.

But now he had you and Minnie and maybe, just maybe, you could all learn to be a family together.

Anxiety overdrive kicks in and a potential solution tumbles out of your mouth, “What if we go somewhere else instead? Somewhere we’ve been before?”

Matt lifts his head up at you, so you see yourself in his glasses, and for a second you think he's going to argue - insist you go to the Church playground - but then he tilts it towards where you don't want to go. You don't know what he is listening for, but after a moment, he stands again. He steps closer, a hand going to sit on your waist and trapping Minnie between the two of you. She stays nestled against you, little fist tight on your shirt, but you find yourself breathing a little easier at his touch.

“Would the office be okay? Foggy is out meeting clients and Karen is at the Bulletin today, it will just be us.” He offers quietly. Relief washes through you at the suggestion - you think the office would be a much easier meeting place.

But it is not your decision to make. You gently bounce Mouse to get her attention and ask, “Do you want to go to Daddy’s work?”

She doesn’t respond right away, but you feel her twist your shirt in her hands. You can tell she is thinking over her answer, so you wait, trying to focus on your daughter instead on how firm Matt’s hand is on your waist. It takes about twenty seconds, but Minnie finally nods into your shoulder.

“Okay, We’ll go to Daddy's work.”

To reward her for being so brave, you press a kiss to your daughter’s hair and Matt quickly mimics you. Minnie clings tighter to you at the affection and you think she is going to remain tense and upset until you are far away from the Church.

“Okay. Wait here, I'll go tell Sister Maggie about the change in plans,” Matt tells you and you wonder if it is really okay with him.

You know you and Minnie meeting her is important to Matt, but is the location important as well or is it just convenient? You are too wound up to ask and fearing you won't like the answer, you keep your mouth shut and focus on rocking Mouse.

Matt gives Minnie another kiss as he tightens his grip on you just slightly. It isn’t painful, but you get the impression he does not want to let go. You want to lean into the touch, your overactive mind telling you it might be nice if he never let you go, but before you can process those feelings, he is pulling away and crossing the street.

You step to the side, so you don’t impede foot traffic, and watch as he navigates past the cars and disappears around the side of the large building. Once he is out of sight, you look down to your daughter.

You want to ask her why she doesn’t want to go to the park at the Church, so you can better understand how she sees the world, but you also don’t want to put too much pressure on her. She’s already clearly upset, and you think trying to get her to answer your questions will just make things worse.

So, you focus on making things better for her.

“Would you like your headphones, Minnie?”

That gets her to lift her head up to look at you, squinting like she’s trying to determine if this is some sort of trap. Eventually she gives you one curt nod before hiding her face again.

You are a pro at being able to maneuver to get into your purse while carrying a toddler and soon enough you are handing over neon blue headphones. She needs no help in unfolding them and situating them over her ears, and once they are on, she snuggles herself back into your arms. You have no issues or complaints with the action - you simply begin to rock her again and hope this mood subsides once you are at Matt’s office.

You think about ways to get Minnie to interact with Matt’s mother as you wait for Matt to reappear. You think this might be the perfect time for parallel play - you’ve got a few coloring books stuffed in your purse, along with some small toys. You think it may be best to let her do her own thing while the adults talk, and that she comes over when she’s ready.

You hope that Sister Maggie understands that would be ideal - you know she helps to raise children, so she must understand that some kids are shyer than others. Pushing Minnie to interact when she’s fussy will only result in tears.

Possibly your own.

A few more minutes pass before Matt returns to the sidewalk followed by who you assume to be his mother. She's dressed in a gray and blue smock dress and matching habit, which is far less intimidating than the all black look you were expecting. She has an air of authority about her, holding herself tall as she walks, and you have the feeling she is a no-nonsense person.

You pray to a God you don’t really believe in that this meeting goes better than you fear it will.

You move to meet the pair as they cross the street to you and offer what you hope to be a warm smile. The smile, though not as overtly friendly as yours, is returned and Matt does the honor of introducing you. You adjust your hold on your daughter so you can shake the woman's hand.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Matthew has told me wonderful things about you,” Sister Maggie says before directing her attention to her granddaughter. “And who might this little one be?”

To no surprise to you, Minnie attempts to burrow into you more at the question, smushing her face hard into your neck. You rub her back, trying to let her know everything is okay.

“This is Minnie, she's a little shy right now.”

Sister Maggie gives a knowing nod, “New places can be intimidating.” She drops her voice just slightly, in what you guess is an attempt to be comforting, and addresses Minnie, “Did your father tell you this is where he grew up?”

He did - you and Matt explained the outing to your daughter, but you don’t know how much she understood. You do know no amount of sweet talk will change her mind, even if it is about her new favorite subject - her Daddy.

“I don't wanna go,” Mouse mumbles against you defiantly. You aren't sure if Sister Maggie can hear her, but you know Matt can. He steps forward, once again boxing in Minnie between the two of you and leans down to kiss the back of her head.

“We're not going there, princess. We're going to Daddy's office, remember? You've been there before,” he whispers into her hair. She shifts around in your arms a bit before giving another nod. You can feel her jutting out her bottom lip against your neck and part of you thinks you should call this all off and reschedule - but you aren’t going to do that to Matt.

Sister Maggie is watching your little family’s interaction, and you can’t bear to look in her direction to see what her reaction is, if she has one. Your anxiety has only prepared you for the worst.

“Perhaps we should start heading that way instead of saying where we are not going,” the nun advises after a moment and instinct and rational has you agreeing with her.

“I think that would be best.”

Matt pulls away from you and Minnie and you watch with downcast eyes as Sister Maggie offers her son her arm. He seems hesitant to take it, but he does, and your little group starts moving away from the Church and towards Nelson, Page, and Murdock.

The walk is quiet and you use the time to try and desperately calm your nerves, if only for the sake of your daughter.

You think about Matt and what kind of person he is - he is full of love and care. He got those traits somewhere, and whether you argue Nature or Nurture, Sister Maggie has certainly influenced that. Did she encourage his Goodness? She must have had some sort of positive influence if he is not only wanting her to be in his life, but his daughter’s life, as well.

You know some people believe family comes before anything, even if they treat you horribly, but you also know that if Sister Maggie was not a Good person, Matt would not allow her near Minnie.

He wouldn’t risk losing his relationship with his daughter.

That is something you have no doubts about.

As you arrive at Matt’s office building, Minnie lifts her head up off your shoulder. She wrinkles up her nose like she’s thinking hard before pointing to the plaque that state’s the firm’s name. You give her a warm smile, proud of her for recognizing it, but that only makes her squirrel away again.

This is the behavior you are used to seeing from your daughter in public - overly shy and not wanting to interact. You aren’t sure if the nerves and uncomfortableness from the church still linger, but you hope that once you are upstairs, she will start warming up a little. You won’t push her to do something she doesn’t want to do, but for Matt’s sake, you would like her to at least try talking to her grandmother.

Matt leads you all into the building and up the stairs. Sister Maggie runs a finger over the banister as you climb the stairs, giving a pleased hum, “Franklin did an amazing job cleaning this place up. Tell me that nose of yours helped in getting rid of all the mold.”

Matt huffs at the comment, “The property manager hired someone to come do that.”

“And did they get it all?”

Matt’s mouth presses into a thin line and you already know the answer.

“No, we spent a weekend getting the rest of it.”

You stop in front of the Nelson, Page, and Murdock office, and as Matt fishes out the key, you look up and down the hallway, mulling over what is implied.

“You cleaned the whole building?”

“Oh no, we couldn’t get permission from the other businesses to do that, but we did what we could to the public space and our offices. People feel comfortable here now.”

The door is opened and as you all file in, Matt suggests hanging out in the conference room. It has a nice window and plenty of space to sprawl out, so you have no objections.

You set Minnie down as Sister Maggie and Matt head into the other room. She instantly clings to your leg, practically hiding behind it. You pet her hair a few times before pulling her away just enough so you can kneel down to talk with her. As soon as you are at her level, she is trying to get into your arms again.

You let her hug onto you as you let her know what is going on, “Hey Mouse, do you remember earlier when I told you we were going to meet Daddy’s Mommy?” She nods but says nothing, so you continue on. “That is her. She wants to talk to me and Daddy and you and get to know us so she can be part of our family, too. But you don’t need to talk if you don’t want to, okay? I have your coloring books and you can color while we talk.”

That gets her to pull back just a hair and peek up at you with big brown eyes, “What are you gonna talk abouts?”

You smile at the question and gently run your hands over her back, “All sorts of things, but we’re going to end up talking about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. If you don’t want us to talk about you, you can tell me, okay? We’ll talk about something else.”

“But I don’ gotta talk?”

You nod, and let your bag fall off your shoulder. Minnie’s new zoo themed coloring book and crayons are easy to pull out and you offer them to your daughter. She lets go of you to greedily take her toys and hug them to her chest.

“You don’t need to talk,” you confirm. “Do you want to sit at the table, or do you want to sit on the floor?”

Minnie considers the question, and you take advantage of no longer being hugged onto to stand up. Your little one peeks towards the conference room, then back up to you, and declares, “I wanna sit on Daddy’s lap.”

You feel so much pride over your daughter making such a bold decision.

“Okay, let’s go ask Daddy if you can sit in his lap.” You know Matt would never deny her, but you do want to drill in making sure Minnie asks permission first.

She waits for you to lead the way before following you into the conference room. Matt and Sister Maggie are sitting opposite each other, and Matt has already scooted his chair out and is holding his hands out to help Minnie into his lap.

“Daddy!”

She hurries to him and gets scooped up and crushed into a hug. She hugs back best she can while holding her coloring book.

You take the chair beside Matt and finally allow yourself to look at the nun across from you. She’s watching Matt and Minnie with an almost unreadable expression, but there is something soft behind her eyes - like she’s been keeping it repressed for years.

But then she catches you looking, and the softness is gone, replaced by that All-Knowing Nun look you’ve seen in movies before.

“How old is she?” Sister Maggie asks, and you can’t help but flush at her directness.

“Almost four, her birthday is on the 28th,” you reply, forcing yourself to not completely avert your gaze and hideaway.

She raises her brows before turning her sharp gaze to Matt, accusing him with, “You did not mention her birthday was coming up.”

He has the decency to look a little bit ashamed, “There were a few other things to cover, first.”

The older woman shakes her head, “Priorities, Matthew. I may be new to being a grandmother, but you know well I have raised plenty of children and we have never skimped on birthdays. We may not always have the money to spoil someone, but we do well to make sure they know they are loved.” She looks back to you, “Do you have plans for the day?”

“Oh, um, the zoo. We’re going to go to the zoo,” you tell her.

Beside you, Minnie has slipped down into Matt’s lap, so she is sitting. She has started to flip through her coloring book, examining each picture before making her decision about what to color. At the mention of the zoo, she quietly mimics you, “Going to the zoo.”

Matt breaks into a smile at the words, looking proud as can be that Minnie spoke around his mother. He wraps his arms around her middle and you have the feeling he wants to crush her to his chest again but is resisting.

Sister Maggie seems to know Minnie isn’t speaking to her, but just in general, and keeps the conversation to you, “That sounds like a lovely birthday. Zoo trips are always a delight with the kids.” She tilts her head slightly to the left before continuing on, “Matthew said you do not have a support network.”

“That isn’t what I said!” Matt quickly says, before turning his head towards you, “That isn’t what I said.”

Sister Maggie scoffs, “It is what you meant, and it is not a bad thing. You more than anyone know what it means to have a support network. Now,” she says your name gently and offers you a somewhat kind smile, “You are welcome to come to the Church and use any of the services we offer, and you may come by anytime you need, day or night. We will always have our doors open for you.”

You stare across the table as you process the words she has said. Shame and embarrassment course through you at the idea of Matt talking about you. You know you’ve never really had anyone to turn to, but the thought of others discussing such matters makes you want to crawl into a hole and cry. Yet, on the other hand, the mere offer of being welcomed at the Church has you spiraling in all sorts of good and overwhelming ways.

But of course, instead of being thankful, the words that tumble out of your mouth are, “I’m not religious.”

“That changes nothing,” she says simply and somehow, sits up straighter, “I have been given a second chance to know my son and through this a blessing of a granddaughter. I will not run from these responsibilities again and -”

“Daddy,” Minnie suddenly says, cutting Sister Maggie off while pouring all her crayons out on the table, “Pick a color!”

Matt’s cheeks turn pink at the interruption, and you try to not slide down in your seat. You know you can’t expect your daughter to sit there quietly, even if she’s being a little fussy, especially if Matt is around. She’s a toddler.

Matt clears his throat and asks, “What colors are there, sweetheart?”

“There’s green, and blue, and purple, and red, and orange, and yellow,” she lists off, holding up each crayon as she does.

“Let’s go with red.”

“Okay!” Minnie picks up the chosen crayon and begins to carefully start coloring in a gorilla.

Since she spoke up on her own, you try to engage with your daughter to bring her out of her shell, “Can you tell Daddy what animal you’re coloring?”

You expect her to answer happily - after all she loves explaining things to Matt and she’s been learning all her zoo animals.

So of course, she does not do that. She whips her head around to look at you, and with the sternest little voice you have ever heard, barks out, “I don’t gotta talk!”

Your first instinct is to laugh at the outburst, but you bite down on your lip to control yourself. The urge passes quickly, and you decide you should praise your daughter for setting her boundaries, “That is right, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I’m sorry.”

She narrows her eyes at you for a moment, clearly judging you, before turning back to her artwork.

Only then do you allow yourself a chuckle.

To your surprise, Sister Maggie laughs as well. “Well, she is certainly a Murdock.”

That gets your attention and you and Matt both let out a curious, “Oh?”

“That little glare was all Murdock. I have seen it so many times from Matthew, who got it from his father,” she says and there is almost a fondness in her voice. “I expect the hands on the hips pose is genetic as well.”

Your eyes go wide at that. Matt’s father has never been brought up in depth before - you read the news article about his death in an online archive, and he was almost brushed over when Matt told you about his mother. You assumed, like your own parents, it was a sensitive topic.

“I..didn’t know that,” Matt starts slowly, and you can practically feel the emotion bubbling inside him. Without considering it, you reach across the small gap between your chairs and take his hand, squeezing it. He instantly squeezes back. “I don’t remember him ever doing that.”

“I suspect he tried to not let his frustrations show around you, but it is something I remember clear as day - Jack with his hands on his hips, glaring at the refrigerator because it dared to lose power during a blackout,” Sister Maggie tell him, before she motions to her eyes, “They may not be the same color, but that look is the identical.”

The room goes quiet, save the noise of Minnie scribbling. You keep your hand around Matt’s, trying to communicate you are there for him in his love language. He starts to roll his bottom lip between his teeth, and you wait for him to react before you do.

“You…,” Matt starts after a few more moments, voice almost warbling, “don’t talk about him. You don’t talk about him like that - what he was like.”

“Yes, well, I’ve never had reason to,” Sister Maggie says. She places her hands on the table in front of her, clasping them together, and she looks like she is about to give an interview. “But that has changed, clearly.” She looks from Matt to you, “Matthew said you were looking for family history. I do not have much from Jack’s side, but I can tell you what I do know, and I keep my own meticulous records. I believe reviewing these things, medical and non-medical, together, will…help us heal.”

You look to for his reaction. His mouth is parted, and he looks like he is going through his own emotional rollercoaster. You know how important family is to him and how dear this information must be to him, so you make a decision.

You lace your fingers with his and smile at Sister Maggie and ask, “How did you meet Jack?”

“Ah, yes, now that is a colorful story…”

a/n: maggie is v hard to write

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#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader

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bellaxgiornata · 5 months ago

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Cabbage & Tears

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Mom!Reader Word Count: 2.3k [Collection Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: breastfeeding, postpartum hormones, emotional hurt/comfort, and a little sweet Matty fluff

Summary: For the past week since Matt and you had both been home with your newborn, you've been struggling with the initial drop in your hormones post-birth and breastfeeding. But tonight you finally hit a new low while Matt is out.

a/n: I'm attempting to keep these "blurbs" (I know, this one is more of the length of a one shot) as realistic to postpartum and pregnancy experiences as possible. Also, Matt was too perfect for this idea with his senses. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Collection Tag List: @danzer8705 @glowstick-lesbian @flowher @geminadeckerwritesstuff @shiorimakibawrites @beezusvreeland @ebathory997 @maryyymothhh @4happilyeverafter @sleepysleepymom @kezibear @charmedkim @midnightramble @carolinaxvz @1988-fiend @marcysbear

Sliding the bedroom door shut carefully after yourself, you held your breath in anticipation of the oncoming high-pitched wails from behind the solid wood door. It had become quite the familiar sound in the apartment over the past week now ever since you and Matt had brought your baby boy home from the hospital.

Standing entirely still at the door for a good few seconds, you continued to hold your breath, your hands still grasping the door handle in case you needed to head back into the bedroom to comfort your week old newborn. It was a long moment before you dared to finally take a breath in, the tension leaving your muscles when the apartment wasn't suddenly filled with the sound of a newborn crying again. Releasing a sigh of relief, you were satisfied that you'd finally managed to get the baby down to sleep for a bit tonight.

Hands falling away from the door, you glanced down at your chest. Your breasts were sore and engorged, pain radiating through them as they sat confined in your nursing bra. For the past two days you had been struggling with the increased milk production that your son's recent cluster feeding had brought on. Now the next chore you needed to tackle on your list since you finally had a free moment was to unclog the milk ducts that you swore were leading you straight towards mastitis. From what you'd read about the infection online, and from how you'd been feeling further run down since you'd woken this morning, you figured you were already teetering dangerously on the cusp of it.

Slowly shuffling your way towards the kitchen on bare feet in the silent apartment, the light from the billboard across the street illuminating the space in tones of purple, you felt a wave of unprompted sadness wash over you. Truthfully you'd had these random moments of feeling absolutely miserable ever since giving birth, even if you were still overwhelmingly happy and in love with Matt and your new little addition. But now you weren't sleeping well through the night with the baby here, even if Matt was awake helping you as much as he could. And the over-the-counter medication that you were able to take only mildly helped to relieve the pain you were still experiencing in the aftermath of childbirth. Not to mention, having to wear the equivalent of a diaper afterwards in front of Matt had only made you feel worse about yourself and your changed body.

You knew all the crying you'd been doing lately was due to the significant drop in your hormones that you'd been warned about. The ones that made you an emotional mess far more than you'd ever been on just your period alone. You'd spent most of yesterday at home with the baby just periodically sobbing while Matt was at the office, and more than half the time you were aware the tears were unnecessary. You hadn't wanted Matt to know that you'd been crying at home though, so you'd done your best to fight the melancholic feelings back once it neared time for him to return from work that evening. If he somehow had picked up on the fact that you'd been crying with his heightened senses, he hadn't said anything.

You had been determined not to bother him with your problems–something you'd been doing ever since you'd first found out that you were pregnant. Your problems just seemed trivial in comparison to what he was dealing with at the law firm and as Daredevil. So you kept pretending like you were fine, pulling out your usual tricks to keep Matt's senses from detecting any lies. Which was why you'd practically urged him to go out again tonight. You knew there was something big going on in the city and he was clearly itching to deal with it, and you had wanted some time alone to stop pretending that you were fine–and so you could deal with your clogged milk ducts while crying in peace. So you’d promised him that you had no issue watching the baby for a few hours more by yourself while he went out.

And now that you were really alone, you felt the tears coming again as you stopped in the kitchen. Opening the fridge door, you carefully bent down towards the vegetable drawer and tried to ignore the pain shooting through your body at the movement. Reaching your hand into the drawer, you pulled out the produce bag which contained a fresh head of cabbage.

Gently closing the fridge door with the produce bag in hand, a few tears slipping out of your eyes and trailing warm tracks down your cheeks, you brought the cabbage over to the counter by the sink. Feeling pathetic with what you were about to do as the tears began to pick up their pace, you began to tear a few leaves from off the head of cabbage. Switching on the nearby faucet, you rinsed them briefly under cold water as a choked sob fell out of you.

You'd already tried many things for the clogged ducts by now, most of which seemed to prove fruitless. Warm compresses, hand expression, steamy showers, bags of ice on your chest throughout the day. You'd even desperately grabbed your vibrator and used it to massage your breasts in the hopes of breaking the clog and finding relief after some tips you'd read online, but nothing had really worked. Now you were so desperate that you'd had a head of cabbage delivered to the apartment this evening–which had woken the baby as he'd just been about to fall asleep on you an hour ago–to try what amounted to an old wives tale. But you were desperate for relief, so here you were willing to stuff leaves of cold, damp cabbage into your nursing bra.

As you stood by the sink adjusting the leaves in your bra, you felt like you'd hit a new low. The tears continued to fall despite the comforting chill of the cabbage that was reducing the burning ache of your breasts. With a sigh you readjusted your shirt before putting the rest of the head of cabbage back into the produce bag.

Turning and heading back over to the fridge, you placed the bag back into the vegetable drawer just as the sound of the roof access door opened in the other room. The unmistakable heavy footfalls of Matt's boots had your eyelids slowly lowering, a soft sigh escaping you. You'd hoped he would be out for a bit longer still, not wanting him to witness you like this right now.

“Sweetheart?” Matt called out, his booted feet making their way down the stairs to the living room. “Is something wrong?”

Inhaling a deep breath in, you willed the tears to stop as you closed the fridge door. Wiping the back of your hand across your damp cheeks, you shook your head and tried your best to smile.

“Just tired, Matty,” you answered him. “And I've got a bad headache. You know, from the lack of sleep.”

As you made your way out of the kitchen and over towards the living room, you saw the way Matt’s head curiously canted to the side at your response. The billboard across the street was casting a yellow glow over him as he removed the horned cowl from his head, his sweat-dampened hair clinging to his forehead.

“So was your night successful?” you asked him, hoping to change the subject.

“Yeah, it was,” he answered off-handedly. “Why have you been crying, sweetheart?”

“Oh, I–I wasn't. Not really,�� you said before you could stop yourself. Catching the way the corners of his lips curved downwards, you realized he'd probably caught the lie in your words. “I mean, it was just rough getting him to sleep again tonight,” you backtracked quickly. “And you know–crazy hormones and all.”

Matt tossed his cowl onto the coffee table, his eyes narrowing curiously as they studied you. It didn't escape your notice how he was focused on your chest, clearly listening to your heartbeat and your body. Crossing your arms over yourself, you mentally prepared for the expected onslaught of questions as he made his way towards you.

You expected him to probe further about the scent of your fresh tears in the apartment, or the skip in your heartbeat when you'd answered him. Maybe even the waver in your voice that you weren't convinced you'd successfully hidden this time. But what you hadn't expected was the way he'd stopped a foot away from you, his nose twitching as he visibly sniffed the air before pulling a face.

“Sweetheart,” he began slowly, his face twisted in distaste, “why do I smell…cabbage?”

It was impossible for you to control your reaction to his question. Your face immediately scrunched up, tears once more filling your eyes and spilling hot and warm down your cheeks. You felt a surge of sadness hit you hard as you abruptly crumpled in half, a sob flying out of you that you tried to muffle behind your hands.

Matt darted forward instinctively the moment you'd moved. His hands grasped tight onto your shoulders, keeping you upright as a look of concern drew itself across his face. His eyes were frantically scanning around you, darting over your face and then jumping down towards your body.

“Hey, what's wrong? What's going on?” he asked.

You could hear the strain in his tone as he clearly struggled to remain calm. Eyes snapping shut as the tears continued to race down your cheeks, you shook your head as Matt pulled you tight into his chest. Turning your face, you buried it against the strange material of his red suit, your arms wrapping back around yourself in a tight hug.

“It's me,” you croaked out. “I smell like cabbage.”

Matt's hands, which had soothingly been running up and down your back, briefly paused at what you'd said. You didn't dare move your face from where it was pressed against his chest, too embarrassed to see the expression on his face.

“I…don't understand,” he replied carefully.

Trying to fight back a sob, you answered him, your voice muffled by his suit. “I have some clogged ducts,” you began. “From the cluster feeding. Nothing is–is clearing them. Pretty sure there's an infection starting now.” You paused, exhaling a shaky breath. “I've tried everything. Everything recommended online except–except stuffing stupid cabbage in my bra.”

Your voice broke on the last few words, cracking as more tears spilled faster from your eyes. Unwrapping your arms from your chest, your hands clutched pathetically at Matt’s suit, your body aching from the flu-like symptoms you'd already begun experiencing.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Matt murmured tenderly, his arms wrapping tighter around you. “No wonder it feels like your body is warmer tonight. You've got the beginning of a fever, don't you?”

You nodded wordlessly, your eyes still closed as you clung to him for comfort. Though even you could smell the scent of cabbage filling your nose as you did, the scent of it making you feel even more pathetic.

“Why didn't you say anything?” Matt asked gently “I could have stayed home. Tried to help you or even just watched the little nugget so you could take care of yourself.”

Face still hidden against Matt, you shrugged. “Because it's stupid in comparison to what you're dealing with,” you muttered. “And I thought I could handle it.”

“You have the beginning of an infection,” he countered softly, his hands still making soothing patterns on your back. “That's not stupid, sweetheart.”

“I feel awful,” you whispered into his chest. “Feels like I'm sick.”

Matt sighed, his arms still firmly holding you to himself. Lowering his head, you felt him press his nose into your hair before affectionately placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I can tell,” he told you. “Your body is definitely fighting off an infection. Why don't you get into bed and I'll find a way to help you once I get out of the suit?”

Reluctantly releasing your arms from around Matt, you leaned back and examined the serious expression on his face. His arms were still loosely holding your waist, his eyes focused around your heart as he waited for an answer.

“Are you sure you want me to get in the bed? I'll most likely make it smell like cabbage,” you pointed out, half-joking but half-serious. “Knowing you, you'd probably smell it for weeks.”

Matt chuckled before gesturing his head over his shoulder towards the bedroom. “Yes, go on, sweetheart, I'm sure. You could make the bed smell like rotten eggs for all I care if it would help you. Now go,” he pressed, lightly pushing you towards the bedroom. “Go get in bed and let me take care of you for once. And if our little nugget wakes up, I'll take care of him, too. You need some rest.”

A small smile slipped onto your face as you nodded. “Thanks, Matty,” you murmured.

“Don't thank me, angel,” he replied. “We're in this together, right? You, me, and the little nugget you’ve got sleeping soundly in there.”

“Right,” you agreed softly.

Matt released his hold on you slowly before you began making your way around him and towards the bedroom. As you neared the door, you heard the familiar sounds of Matt beginning to slip out of his suit and you found yourself grateful that he'd come home when he had to help you. Even if you felt absolutely foolish with cabbage currently stuffed in your bra, because you had a feeling this would be a moment you both looked back on and laughed about in the future.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil #the oh baby collection

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farfromstrange · 9 months ago

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Now That We Don't Talk | Frank Castle x F!Reader

BONUS FIC

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Read Is It Over Now? for better clarity.

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader (past Matt Murdock x F!Reader)

Summary: You go home with the guy from the bar, and he makes you forget about your ex.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral f!receiving, use of "attagirl", slight Dom!Frank, song references, unprotected p in v, dirty talk

Word Count: 2.9k

A/n: You wanted a part 2, so you're getting a part 2! Anyway, I don't write Frank often, so I hope it isn't too bad. It's also not as spicy as you probably expected, but I wanted this to fit the vibe of the previous fic (link above). You don't need to have read it to understand this, but it is highly recommended because some references might confuse you. Thank you all for taking part in this event!

You believed that your life had ended when you lost him. He painted your world in the brightest colors, but by breaking your heart, he took them away. All that was left to see was a boring shade of gray in a sea of sadness.

Matt told you from the start that being with him wouldn’t be easy. You were willing to try. He needed someone, and you wanted to be that someone to him. You accepted him unconditionally.

In the end, giving everything wasn’t enough. He chose her over you, and the castle you two had built came crashing down on you while he stood idly by.

You’re not a bitter person, you have never been, but he made you fall for him; he made you believe that there was hope for the future and that you would grow old together. He stole years of your life in which you were trying to save him from himself. In return, he took the best care of you, but that doesn’t matter much now that he has taken your heart and shattered it like a glass of red wine on a white cloth.

When you left him, you thought the distance would kill you. You truly believed that this was the end of everything, not just your relationship with the man you thought was the one but yourself as well. “This isn’t what it looks like!” he said the day you found out the ugly truth.

“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. The pain burned brighter than the sun, and it dried your eyes before they could even shed a tear.

He argued with you that, “It was just a kiss,” but you not once believed him.

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”

“No.”

It was at that moment you lost all of your trust in him—in what could have been or should have been the two of you, forever—and it was also the moment that Matt realized he had lost you.

You believed that he took everything you ever were that day because your life revolved around him, and only him.

You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said, begging you not to leave.

“Fuck you!” you had never sworn at him until that day.

You still remember the way the necklace with his initial felt when you tore it off your neck and tossed it at his feet. He knew you better than anyone, and you felt like you finally belonged somewhere. That necklace was a symbol of your undying love, or so you thought, anyway. Now you know that he may have known you to some extent, but you didn’t matter enough for him not to climb into bed with his ex-girlfriend.

You couldn’t even look at the necklace. He told you, “This is a piece of my heart,” when he gave it to you on a snowy Christmas Day three years ago. You cherished it the same way you cherished his soul. He was broken, but he was your broken man. He was everything to you.

Matt Murdock was your moon, your son, and your entire universe. It all seemed far away that you could ever feel about anyone this way again.

You saw a future with him. Married, a house in the suburbs, and working with Foggy and Karen in their new law office after everything they’ve been through. You were a hopeful person back then.

Karen told you that he went to a party a couple of weeks after you separated. He didn’t look like himself. You wonder if he felt anxious, knowing his only source of comfort was no longer there. You wouldn’t know until you asked him, but you refused to answer his calls.

Part of you felt euphoric, knowing that he was broken too, but you also felt angry because he was the reason you found your heart beyond repair as he stepped on it like a burning cigarette, and in your mind, he had no right to feel this way.

You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock! I wish we’d never met.

“Another one for the lady,” a voice says beside you.

Your empty glass of tequila disappears and a full one slides in its place. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on.

“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger.

“Nah, don’t thank me.” He gets up from his seat and sits down on the empty bar stool next to you. “You look miserable,” he says.

“What if I am?”

“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”

You huff but offer the stranger your hand. You introduce yourself.

He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say.

You thought nothing and no one could pull you out of the dark hole your breakup tossed you into. You believed yourself dead and long beyond the point of redemption. You accepted it. You swallowed in your misery, giving up on finding a new purpose in your life because the one great thing you had was no longer yours. He fell into a grave that he dug for himself, and he dragged your relationship down with him.

Looking into Frank’s eyes now though, you no longer feel like a corpse. And you realize that you are not dead, not at all—you are very much alive.

The door almost breaks off its hinges when Frank shoves you into his apartment and back against it. The decision to come back to his place was fueled by a lot of alcohol and the way he looked at you. You were desperate to feel something other than the hollow ache that has consumed you every day for months. His eyes told you that he may be able to give you just what you need, no strings attached.

The way he kisses you breathes new life into your mangled soul. He swallows your mouth and your needy moans with his own, and his tongue forces itself down your throat as your teeth clash in a fight for dominance. You’re both tipsy, but he seems to know just what he’s doing.

His calloused fingers burn against your skin. In the back of your mind, Matt is still so present. His hands are the ones you can’t help but compare him to.

The way he used to kiss you before fucking you into the mattress for hours on end, switching between tasting and fingering you until you were whimpering and begging him for release might have screwed you up forever. He told you one night that he wanted to ruin you for any other man. Back then, you both still believed that you would grow old together.

It is truly ironic how fast things change when you are truly happy and believe that nothing can burst your bubble.

Frank’s large hands brace against the door on either side of your head. His lips disappear from yours. “Who is he?” he asks, his voice rough like gravel.

You meet his eyes, unsure of what to say. Your mind is everywhere but here, and yet it is right with him. Whether it is alcohol or self-loathing, you’re not sure.

“What?” you whisper.

“You’re trynna forget someone. Who is it?”

He is a lot more perceptive than you thought.

You swallow, blood rushing to your head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t–” you didn’t what? Think? You feel utterly pathetic.

Instead of throwing you out though, like you expected he would, he reaches out to caress your cheek. His eyes soften as they gaze at you. “Whoever he is, he obviously didn’t treat you right,” he says. “If you want to go, I’m not stoppin’ you, but if you wanna forget whoever is fuckin’ with your head, I’ll make damn sure you forget his name by the end of tonight.”

There is something excitingly terrifying about the look in his eyes. A shiver runs down your spine, and your thighs clench at the thought of feeling his hands somewhere other than your face. Somewhere other than your hips and thighs. His kisses knocked the air out of your lungs. You want more, you need more, but you don’t know if you can take it. Not him—even though you’re also not quite sure if you can take him—but also the offer he is presenting to you. As lucrative as it sounds, fuck, you are not over Matt. And you’re not sure if you can ever forget him.

You want to though. You have to. And you want to be thoroughly fucked into the next day and forget the name of the man that makes you so fucking angry.

“Talk to me,” Frank coaxes your head toward him. “Do you wanna forget the useless bastard that made you feel this way?”

“Yes,” you manage a breathless whisper.

“Did he hurt you? Break your heart?”

You nod.

“You deserve better.” His grip tightens, and his hand slowly slides to your neck. “I’m not, but I’ll fuck you so hard, you’ll forget his name and scream mine loud enough for this fuckin’ city to know who’s making you feel good. ‘s that what you want, hm?”

He’s dangerous, but that has never turned you off, even when it should have.

And when you finally open your mouth and tell him, “Yes, please. Make me forget,” the switch inside of him flicks completely.

He takes his time to worship between your thighs. His tongue buried in your pussy, his lips sucking on your clit without mercy. He eats you out roughly but sensually, keeping you spread wide open for him with both of his hands and a force unmatched—like a five-course meal, and he has all the time in the world for you.

You’re lost in the throes of pleasure. You want to buck your hips against his mouth because no matter what he does, you’re on fire and you just can’t get enough, but he is so powerful that you can’t fight him. He has you at his mercy, your body in his hands, and all the control in the world over you.

You pull at his hair, moaning helplessly as he feasts on your pussy. You’re going mad, you’re sure. He’s doing this on purpose, driving you to the edge before stopping the wave. Frank waits until your orgasm is just far enough for you to last a little longer, kissing the inside of your thighs, and then he dives right back into your wet folds. He thrusts his tongue into your hole, licks up to your clit, and then sucks on the swollen bundle until your legs are shaking in his hands.

“Jesus, Frank!” you moan out. A trail of sweat runs from your temple down to your breasts.

Your hands search for something to hold onto, tangling in the sheets and the pillow behind your head before pulling at the fabric. You tried pulling at his hair, but he wouldn’t let you.

“That’s right,” he growls. “Come for me.”

Your back arches off the mattress. His name leaves your lips in a desperate shout as your orgasm crashes into you.

“Attagirl.”

Your brain is hulled into an endless fog, but Frank doesn’t stop.

Soon, you’re on your stomach, gripping the headboard as he pounds into you from behind. He is long and thick, and with every thrust, he forces your face deeper into the pillows. Your eyes have rolled back into your head. He hits that spongy spot inside of you whenever he pleases, and the gurgled moans from the pit of your throat spur him on to speed up, change the angle and thrust even deeper.

He pulls out all the way, thrusting back into you with full force until he is completely sheathed in your pussy. Your heat consumes him, and he sees red. But so do you. He has reduced you to a few incoherent thoughts, babbling his name in the wake of the drool that is dripping from the corner of your mouth.

And when you come this time, it is pulled back straight against his chest with his fingers rubbing circles over your already abused clit. You come with a scream of his name, and nothing else matters but his cum in your cunt and the unbelievable depth of the feelings he is eliciting within you.

You drop to the mattress like a wet towel, covered in his and your cum, and your sweat that has mingled with his. His smell lingers in the sheets as you bury your nose in it. He collapses on top of you. The crushing weight of him offers a sense of comfort that almost makes you cry. And he holds you as though you mean more to him than a One-Night stand he picked up to help forget a man who broke her heart.

“What’d he do?” Frank asks into the silence later that night.

You are lying on his bed, covered by only his thin sheets. He’s sitting on the other side, nursing a glass of Bourbon. He held you, he cleaned you up, and he offered you some clothes, which you denied. He is kinder to you than you thought he would be, and it warms your heart in a way you can only deem utterly dangerous with how vulnerable you are. Broken people make dumb decisions, and you do not ever want to go through the same pain again.

At least you know that you are still desired. That you’re not dead. Perhaps, there is still hope for a better future. You made Matt Murdock your life for the longest time, and maybe, as you realize now, that was a mistake. There is more to life than him, and you can live without him. That it took fucking a stranger after weeks of being miserable baffles you, but some things are just meant to happen. Maybe it was destiny, after all.

You look at him when Frank repeats his question. “What’d the bastard do, hm?” he asks.

Where do you even start?

When you last checked in on him through your mutual friends—you know it wasn’t the best choice, but you couldn’t help it—they told you that grew his beard, and he last had a haircut when you were still together. It suits him, apparently, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at a picture of him.

Foggy told you that he isn’t taking home girls when they go to a bar, even though he could have all of them. He’s sad. He drowns himself at work and beats his fist bloody every night. The old you would have jumped up to help him. And it is true that you will probably always love him, in a way, but you refuse to crawl back to him.

The more you gave, the more he took, and at the first chance at getting a woman he claimed to no longer love when she came back into your lives, he took her. He couldn’t have wanted you as badly as he claimed if that was enough for him to flush years of loving each other and going through hell together down the drain, knowing it would break your heart into a million pieces. That is probably the worst part about all of it.

You take a deep breath. Frank is still staring at you intently, waiting for an answer. “He fucked his ex,” you finally confess. “Four years of being together and it still wasn’t enough.”

His grip tightens around his glass. “Want me to pay him a visit?”

You chuckle, but you know that he would. “No. But thank you.”

Matt was fading long before you left. Even if you did choose to forgive him, you couldn’t be his friend, so things are better the way they are now. You paid the ultimate price for sacrificing your heart to a man who had too many struggles to deal with himself.

In the silence, you find a little light. “At least I don’t have to pretend to like Jazz anymore,” you say.

Frank takes another sip, asking, “Jazz?”

“Yeah, Jazz. He loves it. He…He’s special. Well, he was to me, anyway.”

“Special? Fuck, the guy did a number on you, huh?”

You scoff. “You have no idea.”

The only way back to your dignity is to learn how to be without him. You have to turn yourself back into a mystery and learn how to trust someone again before your fragile heart breaks again.

“You still talk?” Frank asks.

You shake your head. “No. It’s over now,” you say. “We don’t talk anymore.”

“Told ya. You deserve better.”

“Nah.” You reach for his glass, taking a sip of the bitter liquor that you used to despise. Looking up at him through hooded eyes, you stretch his leg toward him.

You need to keep forgetting Matt’s name, no matter what it takes or the reminiscing will surely kill you.

“Right now,” you murmur with an irresistible smirk that makes him leap at you as soon as the words pass your lips, “I just need to forget he ever existed by screaming someone else’s name.”

Frank captures your lips in a bruising kiss, leaving you speechless and breathless all the same.

Matt chased you, he caught you, and then he lost you. And now that Frank has you, you never want to look back.

Now that you don't talk.

I don't have a tag list for Frank, so I'm just leaving this here.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle smut #frank castle #the punisher #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x you #frank castle x you #daredevil #charlie cox #from the vault #bonus fic #inspired by: now that we don't talk

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 7 months ago

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matilda - m. murdock

a/n: hey guys i have back pain and i have daddy issues so i wanted to write a quick blurb about it. so. sorry if you guys cant particularly relate to this one it's for me <3 warnings: ANGST, reader cries a lot, probably cursing, lots of daddy issues, lots of being upset, mentions of fathers being drunk, matt picks up the reader but matt in my brain can lift like 250+ so, uhhhh i don't know guys just angst and daddy issues ! word count: 1.2k summary: you have daddy issues and back pain. matt does his best to help. pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader now playing: matilda - harry styles "i don't believe that time will change your mind/in other words, I know they won't hurt you anymore/as long as you can let them go"

Matt finds you on the floor of the kitchen, your knees hugged against your chest. He is so tired, bruises starting to really hurt after sitting all purple and blue on his ribs and his arms. He’s just in his boxers his hair damp from a shower.

You are just in a pair of boxers and a muscle tee. Your knuckles are white, and you are staring into space in the most literal definition. It’s four a.m. You are a twenty something year old adult, you have not slept in your mother’s bed in years.

And yet, you feel like a child.

And your back is fucking killing you.

Matt sits next to you on the kitchen floor, goosebumps shooting up his skin as his feet and palms feel the cold, rough tile floor. His hand finds your arm and gently rubs his thumb against your skin.

“What’re you doing on the floor, sweetheart?” His voice is low and thick with sleep. He is so tired, that his words aren’t nearly as poetic, sappy or flirtatious as he wants them to be (maybe not all at once, but he most certainly wished they were better than that).

You consider lying to him for a moment. Really, you do. You could tell him that the floor is just more comfortable, that you want him to fuck you right here against the tiles, that you just could not sleep, that there is nothing deeper than a busy brain that cannot calm down.

“My dad called me while you were away.” You tell him, your voice soft. Matt will be able to hear it no matter how loudly or quietly you say it. And at your confession, he tenses. He has a complicated relationship with your father, but his relationship is calm compared to the raging waters that make up how you feel about the man.

“Okay,” he starts, rubbing your arm gently. “And what did he say?”

You blink.

“Nothing. Nothing that should have made me feel like this.” You tell him, a horrible taste in your mouth. From what, you do not know. Matt doesn’t respond right away, waiting for you to tell him more. “He was drunk.” You say quietly.

“Oh.” He knows you don’t drink. He knows you have a very complicated relationship with substances. “I can understand why that might be upsetting..” he tries, and you shake your head, your face twisting into frustration, anger, and perhaps a hint of sadness.

“He’ll never change.” You whisper, too afraid to be any louder, too afraid that maybe from miles and miles away, your father will hear you. That maybe if you say it any louder, it won’t be a secret anymore, and that you’ll start crying if you say it any louder. “He’ll never ever change.” You say, and your head turns to look at him.

And you stare at the man that you love, and you stare and stare, and you think about Jack Murdock who loved his son so much that he was willing to die for him to have a better life, that he was entirely selfless when it came to the person you are lucky enough to call yours.

And you think about how your father wants nothing to do with you. He never did. Not really.

That’s when you start to cry.

It starts with a few tears rolling down your cheeks, salty and fat, as if they hold all of the memories your brain has locked away to protect you. Then, the tears come out faster, and faster, until you are choking on your own breath, racking with sobs. Matt’s arms are around you in an instant.

He pulls you close to him, and you feel bad for getting tears all over his skin. He’ll tell you it’s his fault for wearing just briefs. He pulls you into his lap, and while you cry into his neck, his hand comes down to your back and slips under your shirt, gently rubbing it up and down.

You twitch at the feeling, your back still aching as you sit with him, the pain contributing to your tears. Matt’s lips kiss your forehead, and he just holds you for a long time. Your breathing becomes short with how violently you’re sobbing.

“Hey, easy..” he says softly before he tilts your head up to look at him. “Your breathing isn’t healthy. Come on, watch me,” and he takes deep breathes in and out, expecting you to copy his attempts. When you’re finally at a point where you an breath on your own, Matt begins wiping your tears gently.

“Sorry…” You say quietly. He just shushes you softly and leans in to kiss your cheek.

“You never have to apologize for your emotions.” He promises, “I love you so much. I am so sorry he’s like that,” and now Matt is crying and he’s not sure why, but you feel awful about it, so your shaky hands come up to wipe his tears and he wants to laugh at your attempt at gentleness because he wonders how often you were shown the same kindness and his heart aches at the most realistic answer.

“Honey, you never have to worry about him again. You made it out, he can’t hurt you anymore..” He tells you, and you try to believe him. “You’ll never feel anything except safe and loved, I promise.” He says quietly, before leaning in to kiss you gently. “Is there anything else?” He senses that you are in physical pain too. Partially because he can tell by how your jaw clenches that you are tense, but even without his super senses, he just knows you aren’t feeling well.

He knows you too well.

“My back is killing me.” You confess, and he frowns. “And my head now.” Your head always hurts after crying.

“Okay,” He nods, “Hold tight,” and somehow, your fucking angel of a man picks you up off the floor and carries you to bed. He steps away only to grab you a glass of water and some Advil. You take it quietly, chugging the water before he sits on the bed next to you.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You whisper, still upset, but so so grateful. He just smiles sadly and leans in to kiss you gently. Then, he pulls away to ask,

“How about I give you a quick back massage and then we get to bed? You must be tired. I know I am.” You sigh and nod, shifting so you’re laying on your stomach.

Matt leans down and kisses your shoulder before whispering, “I meant it you know. You made it out. You’re safe. You’re loved.”

And even without being a human lie detector like him, you can tell he’s telling the truth. It makes you cry more, but Matt stays to wipe the tears away. He’ll always stay. And he’ll always tell you as much when you need the reminder.

You’re safe.

You’re loved.

These words echo in your brain as you drift off to sleep, Matt holding you close, fingers tracing patterns into your skin as you fall into a dreamless sleep, focusing on the warmth that radiates off him.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #daredevil #daredevil fic #matt murdock #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #daddy issues #angst #back pain #matt murdock x gn!reader #matt murdock x sad reader #daredevil angst #daredevil blurb #matt murdock blurb #matt murdock blurbs

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peterman-spideyparker · 10 months ago

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my tears ricochet (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader) 1/5

Author’s Note: Hi! This is technically a combination of two ideas--one that I've had for a bit written in my idea notebook, and another I got about a week ago (mildly induced by me watching Gossip Girl for the first time despite knowing all of the major plot points). I don't usually do angst, but boy is it here in this series. Enjoy, and I apologize in advance if I make anyone sad.

Summary: You and Matt Murdock come from different worlds: Matt, the son of a prize boxer from Hell’s Kitchen, you the daughter of a clothing designer and doctor on Park Ave. Meeting in law school was just chance, just was much as you falling for your friend. But fate had different paths for the two of you that pulled you apart, and you felt pain with each tear. Now, just over ten years later, you two meet again by chance, and everything and nothing has changed.

Warnings: Angst, unresolved feelings, lingering love and fondness, canon-typical arguments, language, mentions of death (reader is a widow)

Other Characters: Elektra Natchios

Word Count: 1,807

To say that Matt was annoyed with Elektra was an understatement. Pulling him away from a date was one thing, but pulling him away from a date to go to a ritzy gala? He was pissed. Maybe he wouldn’t mind it if he liked that kind of stuff, but he absolutely hates large crowds, people pretending to be things they’re not to look better than others. It’s just a place for the upper crust to brag. One of these things was the reason that he met Elektra in the first place; while their relationship had its moments in college, that is a moment he repeatedly visits in his mind with regret. There was absolutely no reason for Foggy and him to be there at that event—they were just two stupid college kids crashing a party, and it changed the course of his life.

Even though Elektra made sure to get him a soft tux, it still felt like it was suffocating him. It was too much, and it was only adding to his discomfort and annoyance. He knows there’s a mission to focus on, but he can’t keep his mind on track. Matt half-listens to the plan Elektra is talking at him about as they stand with champagne flutes in hand, and just as she slips away into the crowd, he hones in on something that has to be a mistake. He puts down his untouched drink on a tray, slowly tapping over toward what has to be an anger-endured hallucination. But as he gets closer had he picks up a familiar scent, he knows he’s not imagining anything. Oh God, he’d never forget that smell. How could he the it’s attached to every memory he has of you?

“Angel,” he breathes.

He can tell that it catches you off guard by how your posture changes, how your heart skips, and how your breathing increases. You turn slowly and Matt can sense how your eyes widen softly in surprise and something more. Matt listens to your heart flutter like a hummingbird’s as you try to keep calm and dull your buzzing senses.

“Matty,” you breathes, color rushing to your cheeks. His name sounds like honey dripping from your lips. He’s missed that sound. He’s missed you. So, so much. You clear your throat to regain your composure. “What a surprise. It’s lovely to see you here.”

“(Y/N/N),” he murmurs. Matt is simply shocked by meeting you here after ten years—he doesn’t believe his senses that it’s actually you. But it is.

“Please,” you whisper, mildly embarrassed and suddenly very conscious of yourself as you dip your head and smooth your gown. “No one has called me that in years. (Y/N) is fine.” You sound as if you’re going to cry from nerves—definitely not how you had been just a minute earlier speaking with someone in the crowd. It might slip past someone else, but not Matt. He knows you, no matter how long you’ve been apart.

Matt’s face shifts from surprise to something he can tell you can’t quite put your finger on. “You . . . How have you been? I mean, I’d assume well judging by the scale of tonight and your role in it all.”

“‘Well’ isn’t the word I’d use to describe it.”

His brows furrow. “C’mon, (Y/N/N). Everyone that’s here is because of you and the work you’ve done. This . . . This is more than you could’ve ever dreamed of when we were at Columbia. You’re doing more than Foggy and I could hope to achieve in our entire career.”

“‘Well’ isn’t happy.”

“You’re not happy?”

You give him a sad smile. “I fit into the mold of the perfect Upper East Side darling: went to private schools, society debut, got my degree, worked to established a successful career, got married. Unlike my fellow wives of the Upper East Side, though, my marriage ended in death instead of divorce. Besides, this isn’t anywhere near the work I hoped I’d be doing. ‘Well’ is just a mask I have the burden of putting on everyday.”

Matt’s eyebrows pull down, his heart sinking to his stomach. “You’re not happy,” he breathes softly, pain and sadness painted all over his face.

“I’m not,” you admit, holding back tears to save face. “I haven’t been in years. We talked about it at Columbia—this life wasn’t what I wanted. I was naive to think I could have anything different. But at some point . . . My happiness stopped mattering. It wasn’t important. I just needed to become the woman I was expected to be, and I did.”

“Angel.” He moistens his lips. “Your happiness does matter. When you’re happy . . . (Y/N/N), it lights up the people around you. It’s infectious, it’s like sunshine, it’s . . . It’s why I fell in love with you in law school.”

That sentence is a knife to the heart, and the slight shift in your stance tells Matt that he knows what he just did was not the best move.

“It’s a shame it wasn’t enough to keep us together, then.”

Your words kill him, but no matter how they hurt, he knows they’re true. “(Y/N/N)—.”

“Do you know when I first fell in love with you, Matt?” He just looks at you as he holds on to his cane. Nervous. Fragile, even. “Two weeks in, fall semester, first year of Columbia. We were studying in the library, and it was late. You could tell I was losing steam and giving up, and you took my mind off things and cheered me up by balancing a ruler on that huge, beautiful nose of yours like a goddamn otter. The way you smiled when I laughed . . . That man who had a passion for the law, wanted to help those that needed it most, fiercely loyal, he’s who I fell in love with. He’s who I thought would stand beside me through anything. He just never felt the same, no matter much I wished he did.” That salt Matt tastes in the air tells him that you desperately want to cry right there in the middle of the party no matter who is around, but you catch the eye of someone else in the room—a silent savior in the conversation. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go mingle with guests. It was lovely to see you tonight, Matthew.”

“(Y/N/N), wait, please—.”

“I’m sorry, I have to go.”

Matt’s frozen as he listens to you walk away, interacting with the people at the party as if your conversation never happened. He feels a hand rest on his shoulder before it slowly runs down his arm and hooks in the crook of his elbow.

“We need to go,” Elektra whispers. “Now.”

Gently tugging him along, Matt feels like he’s having an out of body experience. He doesn’t want to leave, not with you here, not when every fiber in his being is telling him to stay and catch up, talk, try and fix what was lost—what he broke—during your last year at Columbia. Unfortunately, his shock and awe at seeing you again is perfect for Elektra to use to drag him out of the building and into the car waiting for them, giving the driver a new address.

“Well, I was only able to recover part of the files, thanks to someone getting distracted. But, I read some notes on a desk calendar, and the portion of the files that we really need are—.”

“Did you know this was (Y/N)’s company’s party? Did—.” His blood runs cold at the thought that crosses his mind. “Does she know what she’s involved in?”

“She’s not involved at all. One of the charities that her company supports is involved—someone higher than her has their signature all over the paperwork. She is in the dark.”

“Then we need to protect her. We—.”

“The best way to protect her is to take down the Hand. She’s fine, Matthew.”

“No, she’s not. (Y/N/N) . . . Tonight, she was like a ghost of the woman I knew in law school,” Matt tells Elektra.

“She’s fine.”

“She’s not.”

“She made choices and is living with them. She’s fine.”

He feels shell shocked. Everything is telling him that that couldn’t have been you, even though all signs point to yes. “Those weren’t her choices. I could’ve been there for her—I should’ve been there for her to tell her that what she wanted was important and mattered more than what her parents thought. I . . .” He hangs his head in shame. “I let myself get distracted by something that didn’t matter.”

“Matthew—.”

“Her life could’ve been so different if I stayed with her. My life could’ve been different.”

“It would have been a life you hate. When you have someone like that . . . it doesn’t matter what you do. Their status will take precedence. Any life different than that that tries to mesh with it . . . It would go up in flames, no matter how hard one tries.”

“I could’ve made her happy, Elektra. I could have at least made sure that she was okay all these years, something. But I abandoned her. And I never told her why.”

“It’s not like she didn’t land on her feet. Besides, it never would have worked between you two.”

There’s something different in her voice that Matt can’t quite put his finger on, but it fills him with rage.

“You don’t know her like I do—did. We would have made it work, we could have done it. Status be damned, she—.”

“Your big heart is blinding you more than you already are. You don’t get it. It’s not just her social standing. You’re too different personality wise. Do you really think she could handle what you do in your spare time? Don’t you think that would shatter her, tear you two apart?”

“She’s part of the reason I started doing this!” Matt snaps. “She . . . Having any kind of relationship doing what I do is difficult. It wouldn’t matter if she was completely in the dark or out with me every night. (Y/N) would stay. It would work with us. I know it. She wouldn’t give up on me.”

He senses Elektra’s 180 shift in her demeanor. “Fine. You can have your movie moment with her, but you finish this with me first.“ She shifts in her seat. “I’m telling you it won’t last. You say I don’t know her, but I do, Matthew. And she will leave you broken because she never will be able to accept all of you.”

“You know, maybe she wouldn't. Maybe it wouldn’t last. But I wouldn’t forgive myself if I never tried to repair that bridge.”

“Your heart will always be your Kryptonite, Matthew. Mark my words.”

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siampie · 4 months ago

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Risk and Reward||Chapter 9: Like Real People Do

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Just fluffy moments between you and Matt.

Warnings/tags: lots of fluff and a hint of angst.

A/N: Sorry for the late update, life had been hectic lately. And also been dealing with some face pain due to a wisdom tooth. Commentaries and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Previous Chapter || Chapter List || Next chapter

Masterlist || join my taglist

Tag list: @marytheweefrenchie; @sunflowersandsapphires; @abbyhaslongshorts; @schneeflocky; @danzer8705;

@ebathory997; @sarraa-26; @cheshirecat484; @rebeccapineapple; @msjb2002

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Song the title is referring to:

I had a thought, dear, however scary

About that night, the bugs and the dirt

Why were you digging? What did you bury

Before those hands pulled me from the earth?

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask and neither should you

Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real people do

The soft music filled your apartment while you hummed, swaying lightly, to the song. Enjoying one of those rare moments where you felt in the mood to cook a full meal for yourself. The pan singing as the freshly cut vegetables were frying in the hot oil. You added the broccoli to the stir-fry you were cooking, your eyes caught sight of the numerous drawings on your fridge. They had been made with love by your nieces and nephews. Your goddaughter, now 6, were also learning how to write now. So, of course, some of drawings were now accompanied with love notes.

“Je t’aime, Marraine.” (I love you, Godmother.)

The words were misspelled, and she still needed to get a grasp on grammar. But every time you read the words; you felt your heart swell with love. And the few times she came to visit you, she was proud to see her pictures on your fridge. And she and her siblings, and her cousin, drew more of those stick figure, knowing their arts would find room on your fridge and walls.

The shrill sound of your ringtone pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Ah, you’ve reached the procrastination hotline. Please hold…indefinitely.” You answered the call.

“How many of those do you have?” Your sister’s voice came from the other end of the line.

“As many as I need.” You shot back. “So, what’s up?”

“I need to vent,” she declared.

“About?”

“Our brother; Henry.” She dramatically sighed.

“I’m listening,” you puffed out a long breath.

“So, you know how he decided to let mom have access to his kids,” she started. You hummed, “well, now, his in-laws are getting involved and asking me, why don’t I want mom anywhere near my boy?”

“How is that any of their concerns? It’s your kid, you get to decide who’s in his life or not. Why are they getting involved?” You asked quite angrily, you never liked your brother’s in-laws. They were quite nosy people, always wondering when you were going to have kids, while your own father just let you live your life at your own pace.

“Oh, that’s not even the best part,” Ann continued. “They think it would be beneficial for my son to meet his maternal grandmother. Can you believe that?”

“I can believe they haven’t been hit enough in their lives, that I can believe.” You replied, your sister chuckled. “No one cares what they think. Axel is your son, and you are his mother. If you don’t want our mother to meet him, it is your decision. And frankly, bad parents don’t get to be grandparents. So, I’d say don’t let her meet your little boy.”

“Thank you,” she exclaimed. “I thought I was going crazy over here.”

“You’re not, don’t worry,” you reassured her. “And I’m fairly certain, Dee would agree with me.” You killed the fire under the pan, “what did Henry say to that?”

“Nothing. As usual.” Ann scoffed, “Didn’t defend my decision or even tried to explain to them why I wouldn’t want that.”

“It doesn’t need explaining, they know our story. It’s quite understandable why you wouldn’t,” you leaned your elbows on your counter. “Do you want me to give him call?”

“No, it won’t be necessary,” she told you. “I just needed to know I wasn’t alone in this.”

“You’re not,” you assured her. “Just to let you know, if you do decide to let her see little Axel, I won’t be mad. I’ll support you no matter what, you know that right?”

“I know,” she sighed. “Would you?” she questioned you, “would you let her in?”

“No,” your answer was firm. “Never again. Do you want to let her in?”

“No,” Ann was a firm as you in her answer. “She doesn’t deserve it.”

“Exactly,” you nodded. “Don’t let them get into your head. They’re not your in-laws, so, their opinions don’t really matter.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “So, whatcha doin’?”

“Cooking some stir-fry, and then some netflix and chill—or maybe some video games, haven’t decided yet.”

“Oh, come on!” Ann groaned, “It’s Friday night, you’re single. You should be out there having fun, meeting new people. Do this for me, let me live vicariously through you. Please!”

You huffed out a laugh. She had yet to know about Matthew. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to share him with your family, you did. You wanted them to know about the new man in your life. You wanted them to share in your happiness. However, you were just very protective of your relationship with Matt. You wanted to keep him for yourself a little while longer.

But this was your sister. Your first ever best friend. It didn’t seem fair to hide it from her. Not when she came to you first, after she had said yes to her, then, fiancé.

“Well,” you started, “it’s been a very long week. And I didn’t feel like socializing tonight.”

“Typical,” Ann snorted.

There was a knock on your door. “And who said I was single?” Your feet made no sound as you quietly walked towards your door.

“You have a boyfriend!” She squealed, “tell me everything.”

You shook your head while pulling your door open, revealing Matt on the other side.

His tie was loose and crooked around his neck, his dark and soft locks, a mess on his head. A grin was plastered on his face, your lips tugging up at the corner, mirroring his.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he greeted you. You caught the smell of Josie’s stale beer in his breath as he leaned in to rest a soft kiss on your lips.

“Hey, Matty.”

“He calls you ‘sweetheart,’” your sister’s voice rose from your phone, reminding you that she was still on the line with you. “What’s his name?”

“Matt,” you answered quickly as Matt let himself into your apartment. “I’ll be right with you, okay?” He nodded with a smile, shedding his coat.

“So, that’s you meant by Netflix and chill, uh?” You sister teased,

“No, I genuinely meant Netflix and chill,” you hissed at her as you watched Matt sit down on your couch.

“No one means Netflix and chill when they say Netflix and chill,” Ann told you. “It’s what my husband and I get up to when baby’s with grandma.”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “I don’t need to hear about that. Absolutely not,”

“Alright, sorry,” she chuckled. “I’ll let you join your beau, but first tell me the basics. What’s his name? What does he do in life? And how hot is he? And most importantly, how long have you been dating?”

You looked up, your eyes landing on the back of Matt’s head. “Alright, basics,” you turned around and leaned against your counter. “His name is Matthew Murdock. He’s a lawyer and has his own firm. He is blind and very—very hot. And sweet as honey. And it’s been—almost four months.”

“Almost four months? And you kept it from me?”

“Says the girl who only told us she was pregnant at the six months mark?” You reminded her.

“It’s not my fault, the props I needed to make the big announcement took too long to be delivered.” She defended herself, “when do we get to meet him?” Ann questioned excitedly.

“Not yet, I don’t want you to scare him away.”

“We won’t, I promise,” your sister said, her voice going a little higher.

“We’ll see about that,” you snorted. “Look, I gotta go. My boyfriend’s over.”

“Okay,” she retorted. “Go Netflix and chill, ‘all night long,’” she sang the last part.

“Alright—bye bye.” You said before hanging up.

You put your phone on the counter, heaving out a deep breath. You had not lied to your sister, you didn’t feel like socializing with anyone that night, so, you opted out of your usual hangout at Josie’s. You walked up to the couch where Matt had settled in, waiting for you patiently. Leaning over the back of the couch, you put your arms around his shoulders and laid a kiss on his cheek. His hands came up, his fingers wrapping around your forearms.

“Not that I’m not glad to see you,” you started, “I’m very glad to see you but aren’t you supposed to be at Josie’s with the others?”

“I’ve been looking forward to spend some time with my girlfriend, and she doesn’t show up,” Matt said quietly.

“I did warn you,” you told him, one of your hands raking through his hair.

“I know,” he gave a pleased hum, “I thought I skipped on the hangout and come and find you here,” your lips tugged up at the corner. “I just missed you,” Matt admitted, pulling your arm away from around his shoulders, to rest a kiss on your wrist.

A soft smile made its way onto your face, “I missed you too.” His lips found yours, kissing yours in a weird angle over the back of the couch. You pulled away, “do you want some food? I cook a really mean stir-fry. Or so, I’ve been told.”

You later found yourself lying in bed, with Matt’s nose buried in your neck. His body was draped over yours, not crushing you under his weight. His weight on top of yours felt comforting, you loved feeling the way he was relaxing under your touch. You wanted to ravish him here and there, but you were enjoying this cuddle session too much to put a stop to it, in favor of mind-blowing sex. One of his hands found its way under your shirt,

“Long week?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah,” you replied in the same manner. “My workload has sort of doubled, I also had to go to meetings. Too many if you ask me,” you explained, your hand rubbing up and down his spine. “I just wanted to enjoy a night to myself, without having to socialize with anyone.”

Matt kissed your collarbone, “sorry, I’ve ruined that for you.”

“I’m not complaining,” you smiled softly. “And you haven’t ruined anything. I had a few hours to myself staring at a wall, which was truly relaxing,” your lips found his brows. “And you’re not anyone, you’re Matt. My ruggedly handsome boyfriend,” a small giggled escaped your lips.

He moved off of you slightly, and you whined at the move. He leaned on his elbow, facing you, his sightless eyes staring at your chin. “Stare at a wall?” His brows were scrunched up.

You giggled again, he smiled at the sound, “yeah, stare at a wall. Technically, not for hours and it wasn’t really a wall. But I do stare at nothing at times, and let my mind wander to the confines of the universe.” You finished with a solemn tone.

“The confines of the universe, uh?” He laughed, “what does that entail exactly?”

“Well,” your hand ran up his arm, “it’s just another way to say daydreaming really.”

His hand slid higher under your shirt, “what were you daydreaming about?”

Your face flushed in embarrassment; the top of your ears heated up. You usually didn’t share the object of your daydreams. It was in your opinion too intimate for anyone to be let in, and also, you didn’t want them to judge you for it. You’d rather tell him something about a really embarrassing experience than to share what they were about.

You started toying with the short sleeve of his black shirt, “nothing really interesting. It’s just, you know—” you shrugged up one of your shoulders. “—stupid stuff, nothing too important,” you cupped his face, your thumb running across his cheek, rough under your fingers. “And that’s not the point.”

“What’s the point, then?” Matt smiled at you.

“The point was that daydreaming is really relaxing and resting. It’s like my brain shut off, but not completely. My mind can just wander aimlessly and it’s beneficial—for the health.”

“Ah,” he nodded, “should I try it then?”

“You should,” you replied. “Studies showed that people who ‘practiced’ daydreaming have better control over their emotions, have more empathy and are naturally better problem solvers.”

“You read a study about daydreaming?” His eyebrows went up.

You barked out a laugh, “yeah, I looked it up.” You bit down on your bottom lip, “you think I’m weird, don’t you?”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you are weird. I know you are,” you slapped his shoulder. Matt burst out a laugh. “It’s part of your charm.”

“Huh, uh,” you nodded.

“Truly, it is. Next to your voice,” he laid a kiss on your throat, “to your laugh,” another kiss on the corner of your lips. Your breath hitched in your throat. “Your weirdness is one my favorite thing,” his lips brushed against your temple. “It’s very entertaining.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Very much.”

He dove for your neck, and started peppering kisses, down your collarbone, up your neck, before attacking your face. The action sent you into a fit of giggles. Being spurt on by your laugh, Matt kept on doing it. Conversation about your daydreams, or your weirdness completely forgotten. Especially when the peppered kisses turned into something more passionate and heated.

You were nearing the four months mark in your relationship with Matt. You often wondered how you’d gotten so lucky with this man. Everything seemed so easy with him. You, who needed alone time to recharge your social battery, found that you didn’t really need one with him. It was the complete opposite, spending time with Matt, recharged your social battery even faster.

Spring was slowly fading away, making room for Summer. The rising heat in the streets of Hell’s Kitchen had a way to irritate people. Walking to work with Amelia, had given you a glimpse into how quick and prone were to anger. All because of the rise in temperature. You didn’t truly mind it, although, at night you did leave a fan on, and slowly wore less and less clothes to bed.

“There isn’t even a lick of wind,” you complained to Amelia. “We should have taken a cab.”

“To go to Josie’s? You’re out of your mind,” Amelia snorted. “Don’t be such a wuss, it’s not that bad yet.”

“What do you mean yet?”

“I mean it’s only the beginning, and it’s going to get worse.” Amelia patiently explained. “It’s not for the weak.”

“Thanks that’s really helpful,” you said as she pushed the door open. “The coldest beer you have, Josie, please.” You almost begged the woman, sitting down on the stool.

“You’re so dramatic,” Amelia huffed out a laugh. “So, weren’t you suppose to meet up with lover boy tonight?”

“He cancelled,” you nodded, turning your stool to face Amelia. “He’s still working on his big case. Needed to tie up some loose ends.”

“When’s the court date?” Amelia questioned; Josie pushed your beers towards you.

“Not for another month,” you retorted. “But you know court case takes a lot, and they need to make sure that they covered all their basis. So, they won’t have any surprises when it comes to trial.”

“You did a deep dive on this, didn’t you?” Amelia cocked up of her eyebrows.

“Not exactly deep dive, but I did look it up,” you gave her a sheepish smile. You took a sip of the cold beer, “That feels so good.”

“You are so not surviving the summer,” she joked.

“Oh, I will. Just to spite you, and Summer.”

Your window was cracked opened slightly, in hopes you would feel some breeze to alleviate the heat. You lied down on the cold floorboard, staring at the ceiling. He had cancelled again that night. His latest case was more complex than he had anticipated. It wasn’t that big of a deal, you understood. But adding to the cancellations, his absences on Fridays at Josie’s had also become more frequent. It wasn’t unusual. He had been unavailable on some Fridays, in the beginning of your relationship, working on opening statements. And you had often popped in to visit him, and fell asleep on his couch while he did so.

It wasn’t unusual.

And yet, you couldn’t help but feel that Matt was probably pulling away from you. Maybe that was the moment the other shoe would drop. Maybe you were right, everything with Matt was too good to be true.

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#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock fic #matt murdock x fem!reader #Spotify

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animelovelover123 · 5 months ago

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Marvel Master List

A list and links to all of my Marvel fanfiction works, from 2014 to present. This includes stuff I posted on other sites, not just on Tumblr. I apparently had too many stories to fit on one post so I had to separate them. Here is the list to all lists -> Master of Master Lists

If any of the links are broken or you have suggestions to make the list easier to navigate, let me know.

Pink heart divider by @superawesomelurkaccount

The shity Marvel divider was made by me in MS Paint. (Feel free to use it if you want, just give me credit for the mess I made please, thank you.)

Spideypool (Wade Wilson x Peter Parker)

Won't Wake Up Compared to Them What You Think About What Would They Say? (Part 1 of Picking Peter Up From School trilogy.) One or the Other Let Me Be Happy Left Hanging Forever What They Say (Part 2 of Picking Peter Up From School trilogy.) What Do I Care (Part 3 of Picking Peter Up From School trilogy.) A Moment To Mope An Average Morning With Steve Stark-Rogers He's Cold No One Would Care (Can be platonic.) How Peter Got Sick A Hot/Cold Date He Get's It An Omega/Alpha Story Why Did You Leave? Coming Out of the Closet It's Gotta Be Your Name Won't Look (Part 1 of Crossdressing trilogy.) Gonna Burst (Part 2 of Crossdressing trilogy.) Wing Fic Can't Wait Forever Spideypool Go To See The Deadpool Movie High School AU (Side Stony and Brutasha) Not How It Was Supposed to Go (Part 3 of Crossdressing trilogy.) Worth The Risk (Sequel to Hot/Cold Date) All That Work, Gone One Small Step at a Time Aunt May to the Rescue Welcome Home Neko AU (Catboy) Oral Knotting Just Us

Stony (Tony Stark x Steve Rogers)

Different, But Nice A New Kind of Team Work Not Like Other Nights I Know How You Feel (With some Stucky) Waiting For the Perfect Moment An Average Morning With Steve Stark-Rogers We Need To Talk What You Tell Them Steve's Birthday Present Coming Out of the Closet Never There But Won't Go Away Someone to Listen Papa Bird This Isn't Working Our Secret Little Game

Superfamily (Steve and Tony are Peter's parents.)

Compared to Them One or the Other An Average Morning With Steve Stark-Rogers He's Cold Unlike Father Unlike Son Unlike Father Unlike Son (Extra) A, Tiny, Early Superfamily Christmas Story Coming Out of the Closet It's Gotta Be Your Name

Stucky (James "Bucky" Barnes x Steve Rogers)

I Know How You Feel (With some Stony) Are You Worried About Me?

Cherik (Charles Xavier x Erik Lehnsherr)

God Help Me

Reader-Insert

Clueless (Thor x Reader) Woman in My Bed (Loki, Tony Stark, Charles Xavier, Steve Rogers, Wade Wilson, Matt Murdock, Erik Lehnsherr, Peter Parker, Logan, and Bruce Banner x Reader)

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devils-dares · 2 years ago

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Could I request Matt Murdock x wife!reader, just something with them, they have a toddler aged child (named after Matt’s dad). Maybe hurt/comfort. Thank you

wordcount: 1383

warnings: assault, bit of blood, daredevil is daredevilin', hospital

-----

“C’mon buddy, let’s get home.” You felt bad, almost dragging Jack home from urgent care. He’d been steadily getting more and more sick, so you’d decided to take him tonight. One hand gripped his little hand and the other scrunched the brown bag with his prescription inside. You’d made him some soup earlier, and wanted nothing more than to give him a bath and put him to bed, and then fall into your husband’s arms to sleep.

“Care to help me out, Miss?” You hear a voice call out, presumably to you, but you keep on walking. You could hear the man grumble and the jingle of the coins in the can quieten, but you thought nothing of it as you slightly quickened your pace, deciding your best bet would be to pick Jack up as he was struggling to keep up with you.

“Mommy?” He whined, presumably upset with the pace you were keeping, bouncing him up and down on your hip with the speed.

“I know honey, but we gotta make it home. Don’t you wanna surprise Daddy before he gets home?” He nods enthusiastically, hiding his face in your neck.

“Mommy, that man is catching up with us.” Jack says, his dad having taught him about being vigilant of his surroundings.

“Yeah, bug?” You say, trying your best not to sound nervous, trying to dig into your pockets to find your phone and dial Matt.

You never made the call.

The man had grabbed you by the waist, practically throwing you into the alley next to you. Jack had landed safely, but you landed on your back. Sitting uo, vision blurry, you reach a hand to the back of your head where it had made contact with the ground, warm blood seeping onto your fingers. Your phone had skidded away from you, the cracked screen tauntingly displaying your husband’s picture and phone number.

“What’s in the bag?” He asks, gesturing a knife wildly to the prescription bag on the floor.

“Sir, please-” You try to reason with him.

“I asked you a question!”

“It’s flu medication! Flu medication for my son, please there’s nothing of worth in there.” He dumps out the bag on the ground, a bottle of medication rattling on impact. He picks it up and checks the label, and he must have realized that it was no worth to him as he threw it on the ground. You gesture to Jack, and he makes a mad dash to position himself behind you.

“You’ve gotta have somethin’ of worth on you, lady.” He turns the knife towards you, but before he can make impact, a sickening crunch of bones interrupts him, landing him against the ground in a rough fashion.

“Leave them be.” A voice rang out, one that sent chills down your spin as well as a feeling of warmth and comfort. The man foolishly takes a swing at Matt, and his actions are met with yet another hard impact.

You pull Jack into your lap, covering his eyes and ears so he doesn’t have to witness his father’s other personality. Matt pulls the other man up by the collar of his shirt, pushing him up against the bricks and throwing his fist, not stopping until you mutter his name under your breath.

“Get lost,” he says, “I don’t even want to find you messing with anyone else.” The man nods, sprinting away with gashes across his face to escape Matt.

“Daddy!” Jack runs over to Matt as he kneels down, burying his head in Matt’s shoulder.

“Hi buddy.” His voice is still hoarse from the grunting and the adrenaline running through his veins.

“Can you grab your medicine and Mommy’s bag while I check on her?” Jack nods and Matt plants a kiss on his head before getting up to check on you.

“Where’s the blood coming from?” He asks, voice softening with use.

“My head, back of my head.” He takes his glove off, gingerly weaving his fingers through your strands of hair, stopping when he feels the warmth of blood and your quiet whimper.

“You’ll have to go to the hospital for this,” he says, “they have to make sure it isn’t a concussion.”

“Can you come with?” You ask.

“Course I can. I just gotta run home to change. Is it alright if I drop you off there?” You nod. He stands, reaching his hands out to take yours and help you stand. He turns to Jack.

“Can you hand Mommy her purse?” He nods, your purse almost dragging on the floor because of how small your son is.

“Matty, what-”

“Don’t worry your head about that. I’ll drop you off, take him home, and then change and meet you at the hospital.” He presses a kiss to your lips, and then leans down to carry Jack on his back.

“Are you holding on tight?” He asks, and Jack hums his agreement.

“I can walk on my own,” you say, Matt immediately taking a defensive stance, “I can make it, it’s only a few blocks.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I can make it. Keep Jack safe and make sure he takes his meds, I’ll see you when you put on appropriate clothes.” He shakes his head.

“Fine, but I’m following you all the way.”

“Okay.”

He’d called Claire while following you, asking her to take care of you. She agreed, and was there to bring you in from the door. Your cracked phone buzzed a few minutes later, a message appearing from Matt saying he and Jack had made it home.

“Is it throbbing?” Claire asks.

“Starting to.”

“Hm, that’s the adrenaline wearing off.” She separates your hair, cleaning off the sticky blood with alcohol wipes to make sure the bleeding has stopped. She does her assessment, diagnosing you with a concussion, and keeps you there for monitoring.

“Matt’s here,” she says after about twenty minutes, “he brought the kid.” Sure enough, you hear the stomping of little shoes running down the hallway towards your room, little four-year-old sneezing and sniffling Jack pushing himself up onto your bed.

“Mommy!” He shouts, nuzzling up to you. You laugh, watching him burrow his way into your blankets. Claire pats Matt on the shoulder, and he turns his attention towards you once she steps out.

“Hey,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “how are you feeling?”

“Head’s throbbing, but I’ve got Doctor Jack,” you tickle his sides and he giggles, “to take care of me.” Matt smiles down at the two of you, reaching up to remove his glasses.

“I was telling Daddy, he went ‘boom!’ and ‘pow!’ and he scared that man off, Mommy! Did you see? Daddy looked so cool!” Jack excitedly babbles.

“I did see, bug, but you gotta keep that a secret, okay?” You say.

“Daredevil is my favorite superhero.” He says, and Matt grins widely.

“Okay, buddy. Let’s get on this couch and let Mommy get some sleep, okay?” He nods, reaching his arms up towards Matt, who takes him and lays him on top of his chest.

“Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Daddy.” He says, voice still nasally but sounding just a bit brighter.

“Goodnight, Jack, we love you.” You say, turning over and letting sleep take you.

Matt stays awake, the background noise of the hospital too loud to rest. Jack is mouth breathing on his chest, and he can’t get mad at the kid either, he’s getting over a nasty flu, and the patient in the room next door has a wheezing issue. His head aches.

“Matt?” He hears your voice call out.

“What is it? Are you in pain?” He whispers back.

“No, but I can hear you thinking.”

“It’s just loud,” he sighs, “struggling to rest.” He hears you sit up, rummaging around somewhere.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“Here, catch.” You toss him a small container.

“What’s this?”

“Earplugs. Just enough to block out most of the sound, but not enough to block out what’s near you.”

“You didn’t have to.” He says, slipping them in. Sure enough he can still hear your’s and Jack’s heart beats, but not the wheezing next door anymore, or the beeping a few floors away.

“How’s that feel?” You ask.

“It feels amazing, thank you.”

“Love you, Matty.”

“Love you too.”

#matt murdock #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock request #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x wife!reader #matt murdock x wife reader #dad matt murdock #dad!matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil

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hellsburners · 1 year ago

Note

def need some more perv!matt !! If u want to can u write some perv!matt x dom!reader ?

me and the devil

a/n: kinda related to my first fic but you can read it alone. pairing: matt murdock x gender neutral!reader word count: 930 warnings: 18+ warning, perv!matt, toy use, dom/sub themes, sub!matt, dom!reader, tonight you punish the devil

masterlist | more matt murdock

The devil’s heart raced because of the situation. He could feel the blood go in and out of its chambers rapidly, anxiety creeping through his skin. He felt the way you pressed into his thighs, your hands gripping on through his clothes. You were giving him gentle kisses on his abdomen, soft pecks on his hard muscles. Your fingers wandered to the hem of his trousers, where the fabric meets skin. Your fingers drew circles on his pale skin teasingly. You slowly raised his shirt, slightly licking your way to his chest and his hard nipples. You licked them and you heard him moan. The trail your tongue was making finally led to his neck, where the stubble felt rough on your cheek.

“You’ve been unfair,” you whispered to his ear, giving it a teasing nibble. “Playing with yourself without me. What should I do about that?”

“Deal with it,” he said begrudgingly. You continued your back down, leaving his compression shirt bunched up to his chest. Your hands caressed his chest and played with his nipples. You added more pressure to them, giving them a little pinch.

“And let it slide? You think so little of me Matthew,” You palmed the tent forming in his pants. “Here’s what we’ll do, you’ll lay here while I deal with this.” His cock throbbed from your actions. You began to undress his pants, his cock standing hard all thick and big, the head pink from the torture. You began to lick the base of his dick, he closed his eyes as you licked up the shaft. You began to tease the tip, tracing your finger on the sensitive slit. The devil cursed, you took this as a sign to take the head in your mouth, letting saliva pool in your mouth. You took him deeper, your nose hitting the base of his center, all seven inches in your throat. He places his hands on your hair to form a better grip on you. You quickly pinned them down to his sides.

“No, love, your hands stay here, at your side. You’re not allowed to touch me,” he cursed from your order. You went back to sucking his dick, not forgetting to fondle with his balls. His body began to tense, his hands gripping onto the sheets, his teeth sinking into his lip. Your grip on his dick started to tighten. “No, no, no, Matt, loosen up I’m not letting you cum unless I say so.”

He tried to plead, calling The Father and The Son’s name. There was no god in these four corners tonight. No angel will come down to strike you, because tonight you had the devil in your hands, and he's here for you to punish. You let out his cock drenched in spit, the head leaking a white substance. Tonight you are to offer something to the devil, not yourself, no, he doesn’t deserve that yet.

“Do you trust me?” you asked, he nodded in return. Behind your jeans pocket was a small black object, around three and a half inches or so. It was made with silicone and a silver button attached to its end. The devil could hear you lube the object in your hands.You began to draw circles around the rim of his hole teasing it. He began to whimper, a moaning mess in front of you. With your left hand you gripped his cock, your thumb resting on the wet tip, your other hand holding the black object, slowly inserting it in his hole. You could feel a resistance from the contracting muscle. You whispered some comfort to him, telling him to relax. The object began to go inside him smoothly.

You continued to suck his dick afterwards, your arm gently pushing the object in and out. You could feel his cock throb more. He was fighting the urge to moan wherein the neighbors could hear. You pressed on the silver button once, he let out a strong moan, his forehead drenched in sweat. Tears start to pool from his eyes as you click on the button two more times, the vibrations of the object pulsating through his core.

“I, fuck, I need to cum, please let me cum,” he begs. You tell him a little bit more, you’re not done with him yet. He curses, in his mind the devil was in heaven, the pleasure both good and bad. He jolts from the sudden thrust you made with the vibrator, you must have hit the right spot. You released his cock from your mouth and quickened the pace the vibrator had in his hole, your other hand quickly stroking his red leaking cock.

“Do you want to cum now?” you said teasingly.

“Yes, please, I need to, so bad.” He was shaking at this point. You started to stroke the sensitive head of his cock. The vibrator still pressing into his sensitive spot.

“Let go then,” as if those words were a switch, the devil’s body began to contract. The word fuck spoken repeatedly as thick spurts of cum shot from his cock. Your hand and his abdomen covered in the warm fluid. His moans turned growls and died softly as he rode his climax. You turned off the vibrator while slowly pulling it out. He looked like a mess, covered in both sweat and cum. You licked the cum from your hands as you laid next to him, his arm wrapped around your waist. He snuggles himself in your body giving thanks.

“I need you to do that to me again.”

reblogs/feedback/likes are welcome all the time :>

if u want to get updated on new fics just tell me and i'd make a tag list

#matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #daredevil smut #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x male reader #daredevil x male reader #matt murdock x male reader smut #daredevil x male reader smut

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chvoswxtch · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! I was wondering if I could request Matt x black widow reader where they’re training together and she finally tells him where she learned to fight, but he’s surprised because she seemed like she didn’t know how to protect herself?

hi my love!

I got super carried away with this one and clearly I was in an angsty mood when I wrote it oops but it does have a nice ending I promise! thank you for the request! 🖤

warning: contains swearing, brief mentions of spiciness, mentions of violence, abuse, & implied sexual assault all in relation to the red room program (if any of these themes make you uncomfortable, please feel free to skip! you will not hurt my feelings, I promise!) word count: 3.9k

show me what you got.

Half of Fogwell’s was illuminated by the sunlight coming through the large floor to ceiling windows at the back of the gym, casting a golden glow over the worn equipment and faded walls. The other half that was furthest away from the sun’s steady rays was lit well enough that you could see a clear path to not trip over anything, so you didn’t bother turning on the lights. Matt never did anyway. Not only because they were of no use to him, but he had also mentioned that sometimes the buzz of electricity in a building could be overwhelming to his senses.

Matt had been adamant about teaching you self defense lately. You weren’t sure what happened that awoke this sudden need in him, but he had been bringing it up insistently for two weeks until you finally broke down and gave into him. He claimed it was purely because he wanted to know that you could defend yourself if something were to happen and he couldn’t get to you in time, but there was a feeling in the pit of your stomach that told you there was more to it. Saying no to Matthew Murdock was nearly impossible, and it wasn’t that you didn’t want to let him teach you. It made your heart swell with adoration that he genuinely just wanted to keep you as safe as possible. But there was something Matt didn’t know about your past that had you denying his argument…until he finally wore you down like he always did.

You leaned against the edge of the ring with your back to the door, humming along to the music that was currently playing through your headphones. Matt had told you he was running late for your first little session together, so you figured you had a little time to kill. Glancing around the old gym, you smiled to yourself as you tried to picture little Matty running around as his dad trained on the mat that was in front of you. The first time he had brought you here, he told you some of his fondest memories he had of his father, and it made you feel special that he felt comfortable sharing something so intimate with you. He spoke of him so proudly, and with so much love, it made you wish you’d had a chance to meet Jack, and that he’d had a chance to see the incredible man his son had grown up to be.

A hand grabbing onto your waist quickly broke you out of your trance, and you instinctively grabbed onto the person’s wrist, swiftly spinning around and twisting their arm behind their back as you grabbed onto their shoulder to lock them in a painful position. A familiar head of brown hair doubled over before you had your eyes widening in horror, and you immediately let go of Matt’s arm as you ripped the headphones out of your ears.

“Oh my god, Matt…I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear you come in, I had my-fuck, are you okay? I’m so sorry, baby.”

Matt straightened up as he rubbed at his shoulder, turning around to face you. His eyes were blown completely wide open as he stared in your direction, a look of pure surprise etched onto his face.

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, no I’m fine. I didn’t…didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t! I just…didn’t know it was you. I mean I don’t…I’m not sure who else I thought would be…I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”

Matt was still for a moment, tilting his head slightly to the left as his blank eyes remained fixated in your direction. His lips parted slightly, tongue coming out to quickly wet them while his brows pulled together slightly in the center of his forehead in curiosity.

“How…how did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“What you just did. How do you know how to do that?”

Fuck.

“I…I was…taught.”

“By?”

Please let this go, Matt.

“It…it was a long time ago. I’m out of practice anyway.”

“Not that much.”

The look on Matt’s face caused your anxiety to spike, sending your blood rushing through your heart at an unforgiving pace. He must have heard the uptick in your rhythm, because he immediately squinted his eyes.

“Why are you so nervous right now?”

“I’m not.”

“Why are you lying to me.”

Matt’s plump lips were settled in a tight, disapproving line. There was a hardness to his voice that had guilt flooding the pit of your stomach. You hated lying to Matt. It wasn’t that you wanted to, you were just absolutely terrified of losing him.

“You said you wanted to teach me, and you were so excited when I finally said yes…I didn’t wanna take that away from you. I’d much rather learn from you than who I did anyway.”

Letting out a deep sigh, you took a step forward towards him and placed your hands on Matt’s shoulders, gently massaging the one you’d caused pain to.

“Besides, you’ve been so busy lately, this is a chance for us to spend more time together. And you can teach me everything I don’t know.”

The soft smile that graced your lips immediately disappeared when you realized the translucent level of betrayal that covered Matt’s face hadn’t faltered.

“How am I supposed to do that when I don’t even know what you do know.”

The vexation you detected in his voice felt like a bullet ripping straight through the dense tissue of your heart. He had every right to be upset with you right now, you knew that deep down, but there was still an ache echoing in your rib cage.

“Matt-“

“What is it? What are you hiding?”

“I’m not-“

“Don’t give me that shit. You’re lying to me, right now. Don’t lie to my face like I can’t tell. I want the truth.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Matt let out a dry laugh, his face a twisted mixture of shock and disbelief as his full brows raised several inches upwards.

“Not that simple? Do you think telling you the truth about me was simple?”

“In comparison, yes.”

Matt looked as though you had physically slapped him across the face, and the sight made your stomach twist with regret. His face immediately hardened, and he squared his shoulders as he stared down in your direction.

“I want the truth. Now.”

“Matt-“

“Or we’re done.”

A quiet gasp slipped past your mouth at the conviction in his statement. He meant it.

“I won't be with a liar. Not again.”

There were traces of pain and treachery in the venom he tossed at you, and it had guilt seeping into the very marrow of your bones. You knew exactly what he was talking about; who he was talking about. A brief thought crossed your mind that he might be disgusted if he found out just how similar the two of you were, and the sins you shared.

He must have taken your silence as an answer, because he was angrily grabbing his gym bag off the nearby bench and stalking towards the door to get as far away from you as he could. Panic began to rise in your throat, and you didn’t know what the fuck to do.

You could let him go. Convince yourself it was for the best. That he was going to leave the second he found out what you were anyway, so might as well get it over with now. You could spend the rest of your life trying to erase his memory, fool yourself into believing you could find happiness after him, and die knowing the one person you had ever loved had walked away from you because being a coward was the least awful thing about you.

Or you could tell him the truth. You could try things his way; kneel at his altar and bind your hands in his, say a prayer of his name and beg for the same mercy and forgiveness he had given her. It was a cheap shot to dare a man of faith to not practice what he preached, but it was an even bigger gamble that he might let the Devil decide on his behalf instead.

“I was a widow.”

Matt instantly paused at the door, hand stilling over the handle for a moment. He slowly turned around to face you, a considerably softer expression on his features as he spoke quietly.

“You had a husband?”

Clicking your tongue against the inside of your cheek, you leaned back against the ring and crossed your arms over your chest.

“No, not that kind. I meant…I was a black widow, Matt.”

You had seen more shades of revelation flash across Matt’s face today than you ever had the entire time you had known him, and that made you nervous. He was not an easy person to shock. This man had been through the goddamn ringer, had friends that had powers and abilities, had his ex-girlfriend die in his arms twice because of some supernatural shit, and yet you were still able to surprise him. That wasn’t something to be proud of.

As he parted his lips to speak, you quickly cut him off and began to pace back and forth furiously.

“Look before you say anything, just…let me explain. I…I didn’t tell you…it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you. Okay, it had nothing to do with that. I just…I wasn’t sure how you would react-“

“How I would react?”

“I’m not done.”

“Y/N, I told you I was Daredevil. That’s a pretty big bombshell. You didn’t think that was the time to tell me this?”

“No, I didn’t-“

“Why?”

“Matthew I am trying to explain that, but I need you to shut the fuck up first.”

Matt clenched his jaw, cocking his head to the side slightly to crack his neck as he let a deep exhale out through his nose. Carelessly tossing his gym bag onto the floor with a thud, he motioned with his hand for you to continue before settling both of his hands on his hips in a stance of annoyance.

“I’m not like you, Matt. Okay? I’m not a hero. There are things…things that I did that I can never undo.”

“So you were a spy for a shitty government and did shitty things. You broke codes and laws. You think I don’t understand that? I may not commit espionage Y/N, but I break some of the very laws I took an oath to uphold nearly every night. You lied to me about something you knew I could’ve understood. I mean, it’s not like you killed someone.”

The carelessness of Matt’s words and the accusatory tone of his voice had you seething. He must have sensed your swift change in mood because the humorless smile on his lips quickly evaporated. You balled your hands up into tight fists to control the way they shook with rage, chest heaving slightly with jagged breaths as your voice dipped an octave lower.

“What is it you think widows do exactly, Matthew.”

Regret flashed in his eyes the moment he stumbled across his mistake, and the realization of your words settling in had his mouth hanging open in horror.

“Let me tell you exactly what we’re trained to do. It isn’t just lies and stealing. It’s also seduction, orchestrating crises, persuading wars, but most importantly, assassination.”

Anger boiled throughout your bloodstream as you spoke. You weren’t sure if you were more pissed at Matt for being an insensitive asshole, or about the life that was taken away from you, but all you could see was red. You’d never gotten a chance to be angry about it before, and now you couldn’t hold back the fire that burnt through you.

“You think losing your father was hard? I was taken from my family. I don’t even know who the hell they are. I’ll never know if they even wanted me, or if they willingly gave me up. I’ll never know their names. I’ll never know if they’re even still alive. I will never know anything about them. You think Stick was rough on you? I grew up in the Red Room, Matt. What you had was a fucking daydream compared to the nightmare I lived.”

“Y/N-“

“You wanna know how many girls survive the training program? One in twenty. I was the lucky one out of the twenty.”

Matt’s face immediately fell at your words, letting his head hang in shame as he swallowed thickly.

“Was your first time nice, Matt? Was it romantic and with someone you loved? Someone you trusted?”

Matt clenched his jaw tightly, squeezing his eyes shut as his hands trembled slightly at his sides.

“Y/N-“

“I’ll spare you the details of mine. But I can assure you it was not nice. It was part of my training, and there was no love or trust being done to my body. It was being used as a demonstration in seduction to complete a mission.”

A tiny piece of you knew this wasn’t fair. You shouldn’t be trying to invalidate Matt’s trauma with your own. But he wanted the truth, so you were giving him all of it.

“I can’t tell you how many times my body was violated, inside and out. And do you wanna know what I got for being the lucky one to graduate the program? Torn open and ripped apart. I didn’t just have my life ripped away from me, I had my ability to create life ripped away from me too. You were broken down and molded into a hero by your city. I was broken down and molded into a villain by mine. You made a choice to be the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. I never got that choice, Matt. I never got a choice until the Red Room finally fucking fell, and then I ran. I ran as far away as I fucking could.”

You thought the haze of madness was what had consumed your vision, but as it finally became clear when you blinked, you realized your face was streaked in tears. Matt’s shoulders shook with remorse, quiet sobs and sniffles leaving him as you noticed the tracks of melancholia on his own face. All of that pent up rage and resentment…he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve any of it. He deserved better.

“I have been trying…so hard to forget that part of my life…to make up for the things I’ve done. I didn’t…I didn’t want to keep it from you. I didn’t want to lie to you. I just…I was so scared…I was terrified to lose you because you are the one good thing I have ever had…I didn’t want you to hate me-”

“Hate you?”

Matt’s voice was just as broken as his face, and it only twisted the knife further. In a few short strides he was in front of you, frantically shaking his head in disbelief.

“How could I ever hate you?”

“Because I am everything you stand against, Matt.”

“That’s not true.”

“I’ve killed-“

“That wasn’t your choice. None of that was ever your choice. How could I ever hold something against you that was forced on you?”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that he still wanted you. But that tiny little voice in the back of your head kept screaming that this is where he would leave you.

“Y/N-“

Matt brought his hands up to gently cradle your face, a look of pure agony covering his features as his sweet honey eyes dripped with sorrow.

“You were a little girl taken from her home, abused and brainwashed, and used against your will by evil people. That does not make you evil. I know you never wanted to do any of those things they made you do. I can feel how much it hurts you, sweetheart. I do not hold any of that against you, I swear.”

“I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself, Matt.”

“Oh, honey.”

Matt immediately pulled you into him, wrapping his arms protectively around your body as he held you as close as physically possible. He gently brushed his fingers through your hair, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead while you sobbed into his chest.

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s okay, my love. I know it hurts. I know that guilt you feel. You can make peace with it. I can’t promise you that it will be easy. There are some days…that are going to be a lot harder than others, and you’re going to feel…like you don’t deserve that peace or forgiveness at all. But you do. And I will be there with you, every step of the way.”

You gripped onto Matt tightly like he was a lifeline keeping you afloat in the middle of a violent sea storm. He was the first person that had made you feel safe since you’d moved to New York. Finding out who he really was only made you feel safer. He was the scary thing in the dark that all the real monsters feared, and he was yours.

“Whoever you were before…whatever you did, it doesn’t matter. I only care about who you are now. I love who you are now.”

“I love you, Matt. I love you so much.”

Love used to be a four letter word to you. An emotion you’d never felt, but feigned for personal gain. A genre of literature, film, and music. A holiday created by corporations for profit. But the second you met him, that all changed.

Love was Matthew Murdock. It was his dazzling smile coupled with charming dimples that made your knees weak. It was the warmth of his hand on your lower back as he guided you to the side of the sidewalk furthest from the street. It was the way he always smiled when he said your name, and how it rolled off of his tongue almost in a beckoning manner. It was his jacket over your shoulders when you’d insisted it wasn’t ‘that cold’. It was the trust in sharing his troubled past, his deepest fears, his haunting insecurities, and his greatest sins.

It was the first time he touched your body. It was the gentleness and undivided attention while he made love to you as you shared your first intimate moment together. It was the first time your body had ever been shown love and it took everything in you not to break down at how softly he caressed you and how patient he was with you. It was the space he took up in your heart and the home he made within you.

It was the verity in his voice when he whispered those three words into your ear for the first time, and the way he made you feel worthy of them.

“I love you, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’m not leaving you.”

“Please don’t tell Karen and Foggy. I…I don’t want them to know.”

A part of you knew they would understand. They were your chosen family as much as Matt was. But telling Matt the truth was difficult enough. You weren’t sure you could do it again. You didn’t want to risk your past life ruining your new one.

“I won’t. We can keep this between us.”

“I…I don’t think-“

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain yourself. I understand.”

Letting out a deep breath, your shoulders suddenly felt a lot lighter, and that weight that had been heavy on your chest was finally gone. For the first time in years you felt like you could actually breathe.

“Thank you.”

Matt pulled back slightly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he gazed down at you lovingly.

“For what, honey?”

“Still loving me.”

“You didn’t stop loving me.”

“Matt-“

“I’m not always a hero, sweetheart. I don’t always go out every night to protect people. As much as I hate to admit it out loud, sometimes I enjoy beating the shit out of people that deserve it. I’ve been driven to that edge of wanting to take someone’s life before. There’s not always purity in what I do.”

“But there’s heart, and good intentions.”

“Which is exactly what you have too.”

Matt leaned in to bump your nose with his, tracing the underside of your jaw slowly with his index finger.

“Well, if the Devil said it, it must be true.”

The tension in Matt’s shoulders seemed to evaporate as a smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth, and your lips only split further into a grin as his mouth mirrored yours. There was a wicked glint dancing around in his eyes, and his tongue glided along his bottom lip slowly as he cocked his head to the side.

“So…did you all have like…a uniform or something?”

Puzzlement furrowed between your brows at Matt’s question as you tried to figure out where he was going with this.

“Like…a suit?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, why?”

Matt couldn’t contain the suggestive smirk that took over his entire mouth, arching one of his brows playfully as he jutted his chin in your direction.

“You still have it?”

Your mouth immediately fell open, pulling back to deliver a soft punch directly into Matt’s chest as you stared at him incredulously.

“Matthew Murdock!”

“What?”

“You can’t even see!”

“But I can feel.”

Matt wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, moving his hands down your waist slowly to grab at your hips while sinking his teeth into his bottom lip seductively.

“You are unbelievable. Everything I just told you…and that’s where your head is at.”

“Both of them, actually.”

“You are the worst Catholic I have ever met, you know that?”

“Why do you think my confessions take so long?”

Pursing your lips, you swatted at Matt’s chest again, pushing him away as you backed up to rest against the ring. You tried to contain your grin as he snickered, prowling towards you slowly with mischievous intent.

“Well?”

“I might have kept it, just in case.”

You could see Matt’s excitement clearly in his eyes, but he remained in his spot just a few inches in front of you as a timid smile tugged at his mouth.

“You don’t actually have to wear it if you don’t want to. If it’s…too much for you. I know you might have certain feelings associated with it.”

“Not really. I repurposed it and made it my own when I came here. It doesn’t belong to them anymore. It’s mine.”

Matt’s lips parted slightly, and you could see the flush of red blooming on his cheeks and coating the tops of his ears. His excitement was starting to be evident in other places, and you couldn’t help but smirk as he stepped in closer.

“You know, I’ve heard black widows are extremely dangerous.”

“Get in the ring and I’ll show you.”

Matt’s face lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree as he placed both of his palms on the mat on either side of you to cage you in with his body.

“You gonna take it easy on me?”

“Oh I think you can handle it, Daredevil. I thought they called you the man without fear? You scared, baby?”

Matt’s eyes were wild with hunger, a ravenous grin stretching his lips open to show off his gleaming teeth as he leaned in to let his warm breath fan over your lips.

“Show me what you got, sweetheart.”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x black widow!reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock request #daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil request

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 2 years ago

Note

Could you write something about Matt Murdock x fem!reader and they adopt a little boy (about 1-2 years) and how they raise him through the years as their only child?

I just want to se Matt loving his son more than anything in his world. I feel he's a boy dad 😭❣

hii, I absolutely love this. however, I’m very sorry, after re-reading the ask, I forgot to write it as their adopted son, I got too into the idea of them looking alike. hope that’s okay and not a dealbreaker, I can rewrite it if you’re not happy with it. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

fort stories

Matt Murdock x f reader

wc || 0.7k

warnings || just fluff (use of mommy and daddy - but it’s used in a parental way)

masterlist + rules

taglist

“Michael.” Matt says teasingly, walking around the living room with his hands out in front of him. “Am I getting closer?” He widely grins listening to the stifled laughter behind the sofa. “Daddy’s gonna find you.” Hiding a chuckle as he pretends to search under the coffee table. “Mommy, I just can’t seem to find Michael.”

“I don’t know where he can be… he was meant to be washing his hands for lunch.” You joke along, setting the plates on the kitchen table.

“We might have to eat without him.” Grinning as he walked around the sofa. “Too bad… it’s his favourite sandwich.” Poking his head around to Michael crouched on the floor, immediately snatching him and swinging him over his shoulder. “Got you.” Grinning as he blew raspberries on his son’s side, carrying him over to his high chair.

“What do we say to mommy?” Matt asks, gesturing to something. “What do we say for being late?”

“Sorry.” Micheal gazes up at you with brown doe eyes, a toothy grin displayed as he picks up his sandwich.

“It’s okay honey.” You smile, brushing his brown hair to the side. Stroking over his back as you take a seat beside him.

In times like this, Michael was the spitting image of his father, not only did they look the same, but he also inherited his dad's natural charm and wit. Even more bizarrely, they apologised the same way.

“Where were you hiding this time?” You ask snacking on a grape.

Michael turns to look at Matt, his smile blown huge as he whispers. “Sofa.” Pointing his apple slice into the living room.

“Again?” You quietly question, displaying a playful face as you entertain him.

Matt smiles wide behind his sandwich, turning around to face the boy in question. “And I can never seem to find you.”

“You’re so much better at hide and seek than your daddy is.”

“He is… I’ll find you next time though.” Matt’s nose scrunched up as grinned.

After lunch, you had some errands to run outside the house, but when you returned home, you were met with the most heartwarming site; your husband and toddler, snuggled together in a fort they built under the dining table.

Whispering and snickering when they heard you approach.

“What are boys giggling about?” You ask, placing the grocery bags on the counter.

“We’re talking about how pretty mommy is, aren’t we Michael?”

“Yeah.” He sweetly laughs.

“Any room for one more?” You ask, poking your head into the tent.

“No.” Michael announces, his hands tightly attached to his dad's arm.

“Come on Mike, there’s space here.” Matt sweetly presses, gesturing to the empty patch beside him.

“Please, Michael? I’ll lay next to daddy, you won’t even know I’m there.” You grin, trying to bribe him.

“Okay.” He huffs, letting go of his father.

“Thank you, angel.” Kissing his cheek as you crawled your way in. Laying beside Matt and cuddling into his side as Michael did the same on the other.

“Daddy?” Poking his head up.

“Yeah?” He says slowly, copying his son’s lingering tone.

“Superhero story?” Cutely grinning as he perched his chin on Matt’s chest.

“A superhero story? About who? The super-strength P.I or… the guy that had a glowing fist?” Entertaining him as he named others that weren’t of interest to him right now.

“No.” He sighs. “About fifth.”

Matt’s head tilts to the side in slight confusion. “Fifth?”

“Fifth.” He repeats, a tad louder. “The baddie.”

“Do you mean Fisk, sweetheart?”

“Oh, you want a story about him?” Matt’s lips tugged into a smile. “I’ve got many stories about him.”

“Make sure to leave some details out, yeah?” You whisper into your hand, subtly laughing.

The three of you snuggled together under the cosy canopy, listening attentively to Matt describe numerous stories of the infamous New York villain. From what Michael had already previously heard from Matt’s stories, he was infatuated with Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Asking and pleading for months to get the costume for his upcoming birthday. He didn’t yet know that his father was also his hero, but that made it all the more sweeter.

@mattymurdock1021 @sweetheart-of-the-wilderness @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @redecoratestan @kpopgirlbtssvt @scarletsloveletter

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock blurb #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock imagine #matthew murdock #matthew murdock x you #matthew murdock x reader #matthew murdock fanfiction #matt murdock x fem!reader

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itwasthereaminuteago · 1 year ago

Text

|| Star-Crossed ||

Pairing: Frank Castle x Female reader

W/c 13.3k

Tags/warnings: Romeo & Juliet style gangster forbidden love Punisher/Daredevil AU, super-protective Matt, Jack Murdock is alive and well, some pretty old fashioned chauvinistic values, violence and injury, (protected and unprotected) p in v sex, oral (f rec), *spoiler* (kids in the future).

Author's note: Aaaaah it's finally done! I started this in December 2022 and I've had to leave and come back to it several times trying to work out how I wanted it to go. Huge big massive thanks to @mindidjarin , @the-fox-den and @theradioactivespidergwen for all the beta help!

If you enjoyed it, let me know!

Epilogue

The Italians and the Irish. The Castigliones and the Murdocks. Two mob families that have been feuding for generations. One mired in dealing arms and the other in throwing deadly punches with them - running illicit underground fight clubs and loan sharking.

Matthew Murdock was one of the best fighters in the entire city; after all he was the boxer Battlin' Jack Murdock's son. 'The Devil O' Hell's Kitchen' they called him.

And he was your big brother.

He would certainly have some choice words for you if he knew where and who you were with right now.

"Princess, fuck, you're somethin' else y'know that?"

Your body felt flushed with heat and bliss as you collapsed in Frank Castiglione's lap in the back seat of his car, laughing as his stubbled jaw tickles you when he kisses up and down your neck, like he's still hungry for you.

"You say that every time Frank," you smile as you push yourself up off him, tutting as he ties up the condom and throws it out the fogged window before cleaning himself up.

Sometimes you have to pinch yourself to remind yourself that you aren’t dreaming. When the man that was so terrifying they gave him the nickname of 'The Punisher' was between your thighs, or you were between his, life felt like a fever dream.

"I'll buy us a villa in the Lakes. You'd fuckin' love it there sweetheart, I just know it. You'll wake up and enjoy your morning coffee on the bedroom balcony overlooking the water. I'll treat you so goddamn right…"

The scene he painted with his words was so clear in your mind and yet- "Frank we can't -"

"Baby, you deserve more than what I can give you in a half hour in the back of my car."

You pretend not to hear, adjusting your dress to look a little more decent.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me this is enough for you.”

You sigh softly. You didn't need to see that puppy dog look of his to know life wasn’t fair.

"No Frankie, you know it's not, but I can't be with you like that… my father and Matty would kill you if I ran away to Italy with you!"

He tucks some of your disheveled hair behind your ear. "So you're just gonna keep leading me along like this, huh? I wanna be with you baby. I want you."

"Frankie I want you too, but they'll get suspicious if I spend any more time out and about. My da and brother think I'm taking a dance class right now."

He half snorts with laughter. "Yeah well when we 'dance' you do got some smokin' hot moves sweetheart; but I don't want you showin' them ones to anyone else."

"As if I would." You say with mock indignation. "Anyway, it's a good enough cover for why I'm always so worn out when I get home!"

Frank just smirks. "Let me at least take you dancing for real. Tell the old man you're going out with your girlfriends one night."

You roll your eyes. "Aye and if one of my da's men sees me out with you? You’ll be dead and I'll at least be locked up with a flippin' chastity belt forevermore after that!"

"Baby," He pleads and his words hit you in the heart and gut, "I've gotta be with you. We gotta find a way to make this work."

You push up off of him, frowning slightly. "The only way it could work is if you go straight. Get out of the family business and be respectable. Then maybe my da would at least listen to us instead of reaching for his gun."

He just laughs. "Me? Respectable? Well I wouldn't be able to give you trinkets like this if I was makin' a 'respectable' living now, could I?"

He produces a gold necklace from his waistcoat pocket and places it in your open palm, smiling at your surprise. It's a fine dainty sparkling chain with a little heart hanging from it. You turn the heart over and your breath catches in your throat as you read the small engraved letters 'FC' in flowing script.

You feel giddy. "Oh Frankie…"

"Now you have my heart, sugar."

You want to scream out. Why did you have to go and fall in love with a boy from a crime family? Why did it have to be a Castiglione? It went against everything your two families stood for. Why did everything have to be so damn complicated?!

You lean forward to kiss him, fingers smoothing down his lapels. "Frank, I… I love it, but you know I can't wear it…"

He nods, resigned. "Yeah, sure." It feels like you've just kicked a puppy. You lift up your heel and slip it into your shoe for safekeeping.

"But I'll keep it with me, always."

He at least manages a smile and you kiss him again, chiding him as he sneaks his hands in places that'd make a priest blush.

"I've gotta go…"

"Ten more minutes, five even! Please babygirl, I'll make it worth your while." He pleads so prettily for the son of one of the cities' biggest mobsters and you very nearly crumble.

You extricate yourself from his grasp, trying to stay focused. If you got home late there would be questions. Your family was very protective of you. "You always make it worth my while Frankie."

"Dancing. This Friday. Wear one of your pretty dresses… mm, and don't bother with the panties."

"Frank!"

He hands you your coat, his lips pressed into a smile that you want to kiss off his face. "Can't blame me for tryin'. Fuck, I'm missin' you already."

"I'll seeya. Be careful." You say opening the car door and looking around to check the coast is clear before scooching out.

"Friday, yeah?" He calls after you hopefully.

You turn and flash him a grin as your heels clack away down the alleyway. "Friday."

"How was yer dancin'?"

You just about manage to stop yourself from jumping six feet up in the air as Matthew appeared seemingly out of nowhere as you closed the front door behind you.

"Oh excitin' and tirin', as usual." You reply, hanging up your coat and placing your keys on the sideboard.

"Where's da?" You ask, noting that his coat was missing from its usual place.

"Out. He's meetin' some new guy. One of' the big fight brokers from the other side o' town. He can fix us up with some top names, reckons we can make some real good money."

"Why aren't you with him, Matty? You bein' the best one an all…"

"Yeah I'm goin'. Wanted to make sure you got home okay first. You've been getting back later 'n later each time yer out. Da was worried. An I was too."

You laugh. "Oh Matty, you're so damn sweet, but I'm fine as you can well see. Us girls just love to gab on after, you know that."

He didn't look convinced but he nods all the same and that's when you see the blood drip down from behind his ear.

"Matthew yer bleedin'! I didn't know you had a fight tonight?" Your hands reach for his shoulders to keep him still as you have a closer look and then guide him towards the bathroom.

He shrugs. "Wasn't somethin' I planned exactly, one of the fuckin' Castiglione lads showed up at the gym.

"What? Who was it?"

It couldn't have been Frank, there was no way, but that didn't stop your heart creeping up your throat.

"One o' the younguns, just shit talkin' and tryin' to stir up trouble. Managed to clip me before I booted his arse down the street. Christ, I'd love a real excuse to fuckin' kill the lot of em…"

You stay silent, focusing your attention on gently cleaning the small cut and sticking a plaster over it.

"There. It's only a wee one, thankfully."

"Sis, yer a doll. Always lookin' out fer me." He pecks you on the cheek before grabbing his own coat and heading out. "We'll be back afore eleven. Stay inside okay?"

"Alright Matty, see you later."

It felt like you had been waiting months by the time Friday finally rolled around. You met the girls, Karen, Marci and Dinah at the dancehall, trying your best to pay attention and stay engaged in conversation but you found yourself constantly scanning the bar for him.

You freeze as you feel a hand on your waist and you whip around with your fist raised, ready to clock the slimeball who had dared to touch you.

"Woah, sweetheart!" Frank raises his hands in submission and chuckles as your expression changes from pissed to adoring in a fraction of a second.

"Frankie." You purr as he slides his arm further around your waist and takes your softening fist in his hand.

"If you're done with the fightin', may I have this dance?" He asks, leading you onto the crowded dance floor.

You nod and flash him a smile, trying to calm your excitement and allow yourself to melt into the solid mass of him, as you drift further away from your group of friends. "Missed you Frankie…"

He pulls you even closer and you can feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of your dress.

"Missed you more. You look so gorgeous darlin'," he says. He dances with you for a while, and oh, he's got all the moves - spinning you around and dipping you for several songs before he's guiding you towards a quiet corner away from prying eyes. You giggle as he noses your ear and kisses your neck, and when you meet his hungry mouth his fingertips dance up the outside of your bare thigh making you shiver.

"Someone might see!" You warn. You should break away, but you're eager for his touch and he knows it.

"Don't care. I need a taste baby. Been thinkin' bout you all week. Can you feel that?" He asks, and it's a dumb question because he's rock hard against you and it's driving you insane. Your mouth goes dry as he takes your hand and holds it over the front of his pants. "That's what you do to me princess, fuck… that's what you do."

You glance around, your nerves on fire with the excitement of getting caught but no-one is paying the two of you any mind.

"What about the bathrooms?" you pant into his mouth as he kisses you breathless again.

He grins, trying to hold in his groan as you squeeze his clothed cock in your hand. "What about 'em sweet girl?" He teases, knowing full well what you're implying.

As soon as the stall door's locked you pounce and it throws him for a loop. He's usually the one to take control but he'll be damned if he won't let you get what you want. You place both of his hands underneath your skirt right on your bare ass and you swear you could get addicted to seeing the expression that appears on his face as he realises you've honoured his request and you're not wearing a shred of underwear.

He squeezes your warm flesh as you unbuckle his belt and open his pants, taking his thick cock in your hand and giving him a few firm strokes. You slip your hand into his pocket and find what you're looking for, tearing open the packet hurriedly and rolling the condom onto him before you hike up your leg and urge him to pull you up.

It's a struggle for you both not to moan at the sensation as he sinks inside you. He turns you both so your back's against the stall, wrapping your legs around him and bracing his own legs wider so he can fuck you the way you crave.

You hear people coming into the toilets, laughing and chatting but it's no big deal, it's the kind of place that young lovers meet to spend some 'quality time' together, and you two were no different. You'd asked your friends to let you know, unlikely as it was, if any of your family appeared, so you felt as if this was the closest to having a relaxed intimate time with Frank as you could get.

You're at eye level with him as he thrusts into you against the stall, you love being able to see his face when he's inside you and watch him try to hold it together when he comes apart.

"Frankie," you moan, "oh fuck… feels so good!"

He kisses you again and it's so possessive you almost lose it, his hand reaches up to grip the top of the stall to give him more leverage to drive into you deeper and harder.

"Princess, you're a fuckin' dream. Touch yourself baby, make it feel good, that's right baby, let me feel it too."

You do as he says, unable to curb your impassioned cries as it takes almost no time at all to near the peak of your pleasure.

"F-fuck Frank- ohh god-!"

He curls in against you, his breath hot and heavy, letting go as he feels you spasm around him with the last few desperate thrusts.

"Marry me." He pants, still holding you tightly up against the stall door.

It takes a few seconds for the post orgasmic fog to clear from your brain so that you can process the words you think you just heard coming out of Frank's mouth.

"W-what?"

"Marry me darlin'. I'm askin' you to make me an honest man. Will you?"

"In the toilets? While you're still inside me?!"

He chuckles. "Hell, I know it ain't Paris, I just… I love you."

You beam from ear to ear, laughing too. Suddenly it doesn't matter where you are, you're just overflowing with unfiltered glee at his words.

"Oh Frank, I love you too!" his lips meet yours over and over, raining kisses all over your face until you're both laughing so hard you have to slip out of his embrace.

"You uh, haven't given me an answer, sweetheart..."

You can't help your sigh as you press your palm to the side of his face. "I told you before baby, a miracle would have to happen for us to be married. I want to, Frankie, I really do more than anything but I just don't see how."

He kisses you on the forehead before he cleans up and helps you fix your hair and dress. "Yeah, I know." He sighs.

You practically hop, skip and jump up the stairs when you get home, so elated with Frank's admission of love for you that the prospect of never being able to actually marry him couldn't even drag your mood down. Matt comes around the bottom of the staircase to see what all the noise was about.

"A good night then, love?"

"Oh Matty, it was just perfect!"

He smiles wide. "Glad to hear it pet, love seein' you so happy."

You were dancing around so much that you failed to notice the necklace Frank had given you fall out of your shoe and land on one of the stairs.

But Matt noticed it. You'd disappeared into your room by the time he'd picked it up intending to give it back to you. But then he ran his thumb over the charm again and again, gritting his teeth harder each time he read the engraving. He couldn't believe it.

He tried to stop the rage he felt rising from his gut, but this wouldn't stand, that was for sure. His little sister would not and could not ever be associated with that Castiglione scum. Matt's hands instinctively curled into fists. He was going to hunt down that son of a bitch and after he was done with him he knew he would never be going near you again.

When you come out of the shower and dress, the house is deadly quiet. You knew your dad was likely down at the gym training with the boys, but you called out for Matt, eager to hear about his next fixture. You loved your brother like no one else. After your mum was gone you were brought even closer together, most days you were never apart and even when he started fighting he'd always have the time to teach you some technique and even let you cut loose on him at the gym after school. He was so very protective of you when you started seeing boys, none of them were ever good enough for you and if he had his way you'd probably die a spinster.

"Matty?" His jacket was still on the peg. Then a glint on the sideboard caught your eye. The necklace.

Oh no.

Fuck, it must have fallen out earlier and he'd found it. You picked it up, brushing your thumb over Frank's initials. Your heart dropped like a stone as you knew what Matt was likely to do.

When you reach the warehouses down at the waterfront, you could already hear the commotion. A large circle of people stood near one of the huge open loading doors, mostly Castiglione men and some women, shouting and gesturing towards the center. You run up, forcing your way through the crowd to find the cause.

Your eyes find Frank first. He'd look so fine if this was any other situation. The muscles on his chest and arms rippled as he stripped down to his vest. He was wrapping his hands with cloth as a few of his clan around him amped him up with whoops and hollers.

Opposite him stood your brother, still in his regular clothes with his shirt sleeves rolled up.

Your stomach lurched with a rioting combination of butterflies and bile.

They were going to fight.

"No!" You shout, pushing your way past the crowd and running between them. You're not sure which one of them you were yelling at, your heart tearing itself in two with the prospect of what was about to happen.

"Go home wee girl," Matt barks, and Frank catches your eye.

"He's right for once baby, get out of here. You don't need to watch me beat his ass."

"Frankie, no! Just let me talk to him, you don't have to do this, you don't need to fight!" You wheel around to face your brother. Your blood.

"Please Matty, you don't understand! Stop," your eyes burn with the tears that threaten to flow. "Please don't, you can't… I love him!"

You try pushing him back but it has little effect. He keeps on staring past you in the direction of Frank, his head tilting minutely as he listens to him tie off the last of the wrap and clap his hands together, testing them.

"I think I understand enough. An' I'll be talkin' to ya later, that's for fuckin' sure, now get on home!" Matt growls.

You shiver, feeling sick with anger and the sheer frustration that the two men you love with all your heart were going to fight because of you. It wasn't heroic, it wasn't romantic, it was raw and ugly and you wished you could do something to stop them.

"You wanna set rules?" Frank asks.

Matt almost snorts with laughter. "Rules? Rules?! Don't think ya know the meanin' o' the word seein' as you've had yer greasy mitts on my fuckin' sister!"

Frank wasn't going to publicly shame you by telling him that it was you who had come to him. No, if there was ever a hope for the two of you he'd play this clean and right by your family like you wanted.

"Fine." He nods, smacking his fists together and starting to circle his opponent. "C'mon then Murdock, if you wanna do it this way, ding-ding. Let's go."

They drew up fast to each other and it was Frank who threw the first punch. Matt easily ducked it, dodging to the side and countering with his own punch that you couldn't see land through your tears; but it hit its mark as you hear that sick sound that you would usually relish when you watched the betting fights. But not today.

You run back home in a daze, unable to think of anything other than what if Matt kills him, and what will your father do to the two of you if he doesn't?

Tears continue to blind you and your heart is a dull, burning weight in your chest as you reach the front door. You can hear the TV on in the living room so you run upstairs avoiding the inevitable questions. You throw yourself on your bed and cry into your pillow until you finally hear the front door slam.

The voices of your father and Matthew are muffled at first and then your da is shouting. You cower as you expect him to come crashing through your door but it doesn't happen. A little while later there's a soft knocking at your door and Matt's voice floats through. "Little dove… c'mon lass, it's over."

You let out a loud sob, the horror of what he might have done washing over you, he'd never killed anyone before but…

"I hate you!" You push yourself up for long enough to scream through the door before burying your face in your bed covers again; pained heaving breaths wracking through your body as you cry your heart out.

He comes in and sits down on the edge of your bed as you turn away towards the wall. "You'll love me again soon enough. I've saved you a life o' heartbreak angel. He knows he won't be comin' near you again."

He sounds stuffed up, like his nose might be broken. Good. The words do little to stem the flood of anger you feel but now you know Frank is alive at least. "You can't stop me from seeing him, and you sure as hell can't control who I love!"

Matt smooths his hand over your arm but you jerk away from his touch.

"Here, shush now, you want Da rippin ya a new one? I've only just managed to calm 'im down cause he's none too happy about the situation. You're a smart girl, you know this can't be. A Murdock and a Castiglione?" Matt spat the name like the taste of it in his mouth disgusted him. "It's bloody ridiculous! There's never been a time we've not been dead set against each other. And ya better not have been tellin' him any of our business… Da will go properly spare then."

"I’ve never told him anything! I don’t care about the stupid business because I'm in love with him Matty! I love Frank and none of you can change that."

Matt sighs deeply, his voice hardens. "That's enough now! You'll get over him eventually. There are plenty of better men out there that deserve ya anyways. I won't hear any more about it, an neither will Da. It's finished."

He makes you feel like a child and you can't stop your tears. You cry softly, your blanket damp and crumpled from gripping it so hard.

Matt gets up. "We'll see ya downstairs for tea."

The door closes, and you feel more alone than ever before.

When you finally drag yourself downstairs to eat something your mouth drops open as you see Matt's face. Your earlier suspicions were correct, Frank had managed to break his nose, he had more than a couple of cuts on his brows too that Da had stitched for him, and from the way he moved around the table you could tell he was decently bruised. The fact that Frankie had gone down swinging was little comfort when it was your own kin hurt.

You ate in silence. Neither you nor your father were ready to look each other in the eye, nevermind speak. On the way to your room you looked for the necklace but it was gone.

You cried yourself to sleep.

You spent most of the day alone in your room. Your father came in to check on you, but as soon as you opened your mouth to talk about Frank, he shook his head, slammed the door and left you angry and resentful all over again.

At night you found your bedroom window locked but that wasn’t going to put a stop to your plans. Using a hair grip and a lot of determination, you jimmied it open and climbed out and down the fire escape. Nelson's was where you were headed, they owned almost the entire meatpacking district and their main shop wasn't far from the house. Everyone went there so you knew you might be able to find out about Frank.

The bell tinkled as you entered and Foggy was just closing up. But as soon as he saw it was you, he pulled off his apron and leapt over the counter to wrap his arms around you.

"Oh honey!"

"You heard?"

"You're surprised?" He asks as he leads you to the back of the shop so you're not seen. "It's pretty much all anyone's talking about. Actually thought your old man would have you locked in."

"Yeah well, so did he…"

Foggy laughs at that. He's Matt's best friend and practically family to you, and out of all of them he's the one that doesn't treat you like you're still a kid. You could trust him not to grass you up for sneaking out.

"Foggy, please tell me, have you heard anything about Frank, is he okay?"

"Well your bro didn't pull his punches… He's pretty banged up from what I've heard, and uh, he’s in the infirmary. That much I do know."

Your heart feels like it's banging against your ribs and your stomach twists into a tight knot. "Oh my god, Foggy it's that bad? Wh- I need to- I need to see him!"

Foggy places his hands gently on your shoulders trying his best to calm you down. "Hey, it's okay. As far as I know it was just a precaution for concussion. Um, and for stitches, cracked ribs, and stuff. I know it's not what you wanna hear, but it coulda been a hell of a lot worse."

You swallow past the huge lump that's formed in your throat thinking about some of your brother's unluckier past opponents. "Yeah…"

He sits you down, gesturing at the makeshift bar beside him. "Tea, or…?"

"Something stronger, Fog."

Foggy sighs and uncaps a half full bottle of scotch. He pours two glasses, and you quickly down the scotch, not caring about how rough it is or how much it burns.

"You know I don't judge but geez, what have you gotten yourself into?"

You grip the glass tightly and wait for Foggy to give you another finger of scotch before answering. "He's so good to me, Foggy.. Nobody sees it and no one understands. They're just blinded by this fucking age old rivalry between our families. it's insane! I love him, he loves me and I don’t know why everyone can't just mind their goddamn business? Why can't we just be together?!"

He sighs again, deeper and more fraught this time. "The thing is, this is much bigger than love hon. This… it could trigger another war. You think your pop is pissed at you? I don't even wanna imagine what Don Castiglione is gonna do to his son even after what Matt's done to him over this. Your families don't cross, and when they do blood is always spilled!"

Your brows knit together, face falling at the thought of how Frank might be punished, how he'd be kept from seeing you too. "Foggy, I need to see him. I know you must have contacts, you can help us meet without anyone knowing… please? Please can you do this for me?"

Foggy paces nervously. He loves you so much, would do near anything for you but…

He runs his hand slowly down his face. "Look, you just can't be seen near Frank at all, okay? You can't risk that and neither can I. But I do know someone; a nurse actually. She's a good friend and I might be able to get a note to him for you through her. But that's it, okay?"

He wheezes at the surprising force as you fling your arms around him and he gives you a small smile as you hug him tightly in gratitude.

"Thank you, Foggy!"

"There's our big cock-for-brains! How're the ribs, Francesco?"

Frank winces as he shifts on the couch to sit up as Billy swaggers in and throws himself down beside him.

"Better, asshole." he grumbles back.

Billy smirks. "Oh! Last time I checked I wasn't secretly fucking a Murdock but I'm the asshole? Heh, yeah that's a good one."

Frank doesn't even dignify his comment with a response but Billy keeps going.

"So, is she nasty? I'll bet she is. Does she fuck as well as that brother of hers fights? Actually, thinkin' about it she does seem to spend a lot of time with him-".

Billy gags as Frank suddenly grabs him around the throat, ignoring the dull pain in his body as he pushes him hard into the seat, choking.

"C-christ Frankie relax, I take it back! Fuck, I don't mean it, I just needed to know how serious you are about this girl!"

Frank lets him go with a growl. "You're fuckin' lucky you got such a pretty face Bill. If you were anyone else I woulda messed it up. 'Course I'm serious."

"Yeah, yeah I can see that," he half laughs, coughing and rubbing at his throat. "Well, you better have this then." He hands Frank a folded up piece of paper.

Frank's eyes light up as they flit over your words, but then he scrubs his hand over his face shaking his head, his worries sinking in.

"What is it?"

"Shit, she thinks it's her fault that we were found out. Shouldn't have given her that damn necklace… should have been more careful… fuck!" He pushes himself up with a groan and starts pacing the room, the muscle in his jaw twitching and ticking as he thinks.

"I've fucked this up. I need to see her."

Billy's expression turns to concern. "Frankie, you love this girl, right?"

The intensity of Frank's look gives him the only answer he needs.

"Maybe you should just lay low for a while. The last thing you wanna do is potentially stir more shit up and get both of you in an even worse way. Just keep your head down, focus on the work, and then… who knows? Hell might freeze over."

Frank hates the idea of you thinking he's abandoned you, it guts him, but he knows Billy's right. He has to keep his distance for now.

Fuck, he misses you.

A week goes by after you gave Foggy the note. And then another… and another. He can't possibly have given up on you, surely? But hope of ever seeing him again in the way that you did before starts fading quickly along with your anger at your brother. You had blamed him for everything, for perpetuating the rivalry, for telling your father, for putting Frank off you. You cried until you felt as though you had no tears left to cry.

Matt tries his utmost to distract you from your moroseness, dragging you along to his fight fixtures that you used to love watching. But every one of his opponents that he beats just makes you think of Frank.

There had been word of a huge arms shipment arriving at the docks later that week. Your father, uncles, and cousins spent most of their time planning on how they would get their hands on it before the Castiglione's could. It was a major job and a big risk, but if they could pull it off, it'd mean they could start selling weapons on the side and make even more money. You tried to talk your da out of it, piling up all the reasons he shouldn't get involved. But if there was anyone he was gonna take family business advice from, it was not going to be you.

"Matty I don't like this. We’ve got enough fingers in pies surely? We're doing alright, why is he so keen on going ahead with this job?"

Matt bounced gently against the ropes of the ring. "He wants to get one up on the Castiglione's, angel. He won' let your little dalliance hold shame over us, he wants everyone to know who's boss."

Shame. The word made you grit your teeth till your jaw hurt, you were sick of this. Your father was a proud man, too proud sometimes. Nothing about it felt right but neither Matt nor your da would give your concerns the time of day.

When the big night arrived you were ordered to stay behind, meet up with your girlfriends and go dancing or see a movie or something. Stay out of trouble.

Like hell.

You carried on as if you were happy to stay home, but as soon as Matt and your da left to meet the others at the warehouse you followed a little way behind. You couldn't shake off the bad feeling that was slithering up your spine.

Frank smacked the cartridge back into the handgun he had just finished cleaning and laid it down on the massive table along with a gleaming array of other weapons.

"Ragazzo, you ready?" Billy's voice drew him out of his silent brooding.

"Yeah, yeah. Gear up and we'll head to the docks. M'just itchin' for somebody to step out of line." Frank growls, slipping his gun in the back of his pants.

Billy throws him a grin and secretes his own arsenal of firearms and knives about his body. "Y'know, I kinda hope they do, I just love to watch you work, Frankie."

It was late when the boat docked. The Murdocks had intercepted it on its way in further down the river, overturned the guards and crew and steamed in ready for when the Castiglione's would inevitably be waiting for their delivery. You knew a couple of your cousins were stationed around the yard, lurking in the shadows of the huge containers just like you were. You knew how to stay hidden and move like a shadow when you needed to. Once a Murdock…

You see the Don's men arrive right on time, none the wiser as to what has happened until the gangplank is lowered and it's your da that steps out, flanked by two of his heavily armed henchmen. You couldn't see your brother.

"What the fuck is this?" Don Castiglione spits. He is every inch the gangster, tall, broad and extremely intimidating. You'd never seen him this close before but you could now see a bit of him in Frank.

"You Irish mutts think you can just take what's mine, huh? I'm insulted! You should stay in your own little game Murdock. Take my advice, the guns do not suit you.

His men move forward and your da holds up a hand. "Now fellas, we don't wan any bloodshed tonight. If ye take a look around you'll find yer outnumbered n' outgunned. So, if ye will jist step aside we'll be loadin' these up in our trucks and'll get out of yer way and we'll hear no more about it, right?"

You see the rest of the Castigliones gradually appearing from out of the woodwork, and then you see him. Your heart sighs with relief that he's okay as far as you could make out. The glint of his piece shines in the moonlight as he moves to stand near the Don, who whispers something to him.

"Francesco, you are going to make good on your… mistake, and bring me my guns, capiche?"

They stand stock still for a long moment as Frank stares him down before they both suddenly spin on their heels as a deep voice like burnt gravel cuts the silence; effectively interrupting the confrontation.

"Gentlemen. I believe I can resolve this rather… delicate situation that we have here…"

It's Wilson Fisk. The fucking Kingpin.

The metallic clack of weapons all around being raised and aimed at the newcomer echoes around the yard. However, the huge figure and his men remain unperturbed.

"Mr Murdock," he continued calmly, "if you would please step aside, I will take what is mine."

Your blood runs cold. You knew your da would never back down. He was stubborn and tenacious and had definitely passed that trait on to you and Matt. Damn his fucking pride, you wanted to run out between them. Where the hell was Matty?

Just as you predicted your da stood his ground, finger hovering near the trigger.

"Y'think yer the fatcat around here don't ya, son? Well, I'm 'fraid to say that yer jist plain fat. Now run along an' let us men finish our business eh?"

Time slowed to a crawl. It was like everything was running through a sea of molasses. A shadow leaps over the railing of the boat onto the dock, it's running towards Fisk's men, Frank runs too as you see too late as Fisk's right-hand man raising his gun at your father. The shadow plows right into the second man who had also brought out his weapon, tackling him down to the asphalt. Several shots ring out like cracks of thunder and you scream as all you can see is your father dropping to the ground, there are more gunshots and then it's all over as quickly as it had begun. Your eyes frantically search the scene trying to understand what had just happened.

Fisk is gone; disappeared into thin air along with one of his men. The other of Fisk’s henchmen was lying in a pool of blood at Matt's feet, one or both of the families had shot and killed him. You run out as you see your father being helped to his feet by Matt. They are alive and unhurt and you thank whatever gods would listen.

It's then you see another body lying limp in front of them.

"No….no no no!" You hurtle across the yard towards it, Billy Russo and the Don are heading exactly the same direction.

Towards Frank.

"Jesus Christ girl, what are you doing here?!" Matt rages at you. You fall to your knees as Billy turns Frank over onto his back, feeling for a pulse and listening for a breath; any sign that he is still alive.

Your father's voice is muddied in the background as the two families crowd around the scene. "H-He… that boy saved my life… he saved ma fuckin' life!"

Blood seeps from Frank's stomach onto the ground.

"Frankie no, no don't die! Don't you fucking die! You hear me?!" Tears flood down your face as you grab his hand and squeeze. Billy puts pressure on the wound, slapping his face a couple of times trying to get him conscious. "C'mon bro, c'mon wake up for me! Wake up!"

A van screeches up nearby and the Don orders his men to lift Frank and put him into the back. You climb in beside him, ignoring their protestations and grateful for Billy who snaps at them in finality. "She's coming with us.."

Matt runs up to the van after making sure your da is taken care of. "No… c'mon we need to get gone. You shouldn't even be here!"

"He saved our da, is that not worth anything?" You sob at him as Billy climbs in with you.

"Leave her be." Billy says. He slides the door shut and Matt's left standing as the van speeds off into the night.

Frank suddenly draws a wheezing breath as you hold onto his hand in the back of the van.

"Oh thank fuck. Frank! Frank, can you hear me?" Billy practically yells at him, ripping up his shirt and pressing it to the bullet wound as Frank gasps and groans in pain.

"Y-you holdin' my hand Russo?" He croaks, and you give it a squeeze, leaning over him so he can see you.

Your eyes briefly flick up to meet those of the Don, who has been silent the whole time.

"Frankie, you're okay." You tell your lover. "They're taking you to a doctor. You're gonna be okay."

"Darlin'," he tries to sit up, starting to cough and you hold him down. "What you doin' he-" he coughs again and Billy helps keep him still.

"Shh, yeah I'm here, just don't move, don't move." You try not to think about how much red there is pouring out of him and onto your hands.

"Fuck… fuck it hurts- your dad, he okay?"

You stroke your fingers through his hair and try to smile. "Yes, oh god Frank, yes he's fine, he's fine! Now shh, don't speak, just hold on for me alright? You're gonna be okay, it won't be long.

You share a worried glance with Billy and hope that it's not far now.

Billy barrels through the A&E doors ahead of you and the Don's men who are carrying Frank.

"We need help here! Where's Claire? Get me Claire Temple!" he growls, taking an empty gurney from a nearby orderly and helping get Frank on it as he drifts in and out of consciousness.

A woman in scrubs very quickly appears from the triage area and immediately takes control.

"Okay… we got a gunshot wound, anything else you wanna tell me? Was he conscious before now?" she asks you. A flash of recognition passes between you both, you had seen her patch Matt up after his fights a few times.

"No, no nothing else, yeah he was talking just a moment ago. He's lost a lot of blood on the way, can you help him, please?!" You plead.

"We'll do our best. Please wait here."

Billy pulls you along as you both follow after the crash team taking Frank through the double doors, but Claire stops him short after she lets Frank's father go through with them.

"Hey, we're family too!" He protests.

"There's too many of you to let into the room, please, just wait here. Someone will update you as soon as we can. Right now, our main priority is to get him stabilised. Please, let us do our job."

The two of you reluctantly move over to the seating area as the other men go back outside to the van. Billy paces as you sit chewing your nails down to the quick.

"What you said…"

"What?" Billy asked.

"'We're family'." You say, catching his eye.

He stops his pacing, looking at you with sincerity. "If you're important to Frank, you're important to me. It's that simple."

You give him a small nod, returning to biting your nails and waiting with worry.

Billy sits down beside you. "I'm sure he'll pull through. The fucker is hard to kill." he smiles and you return it, thankful that he's here.

"Yeah, he's gotta be alright."

After a few hours, Claire comes through the doors and you and Billy quickly get to your feet.

"He's stable. We were able to take the bullet out. It nicked an artery on the way in, but thankfully it missed his vital organs. We did have to give him a transfusion as he had lost a lot of blood. But, he's been stitched up and resting comfortably.”

"Oh my god," you felt the leaden weight lift off your shoulders slightly. "Claire, I can't thank you enough… Can we see him?"

She nods. “You can. Just know that’s going to be groggy from the drugs we gave him. But I’m sure he’ll still appreciate the company.” You and Billy thank Claire before going into Frank’s room.

He was groggy as Claire had warned you, but he returned the soft squeeze of your hand as you knelt down beside the bed. "Frankie, I'm so glad you're alright!"

"See, told you he was hard to kill." Billy said, patting Frank on the leg and smiling at him.

Frank chuckles, wincing slightly. "Yeah, you're not gettin' rid of me that easily. Baby, I'm sorry I got you into trouble. It's all my fault." He's looking into your eyes as he speaks, his hand reaching weakly for your face and you feel the bite of tears returning.

"Hey now, don't you cry over me darlin', I'll be alright. Everything's gonna be just fine, you didn't do nothin' wrong."

You sniff and laugh a little, stroking his hand that's cupping your cheek and wiping away your tears. "I'm the one that's supposed to be saying that! I missed you…"

"I missed you too. Not that I don't appreciate it, but you shouldn't be here. You should be with your family. With Fisk back on the scene it's dangerous baby, for all of us. What were you even doin' down at the docks?"

"I just had a bad feeling…" you interlace your fingers through his. "...but because of you my father is alive and well. I'm right where I need to be."

You're suddenly aware of an imposing presence as the Don entered the room. The man's even bigger than you had thought on seeing him up close.

"Ah, so finally I get to meet the bella ragazza causing all of the trouble? The little bird that has my Francesco's heart, hm?"

Frank rolls his eyes. "Papa…"

You step forward. "I- I'm sorry Don Castiglione, I really didn't mean to-"

He takes your hand kissing the back of it briefly. "You make my boy happy, and so I am happy. So good to finally meet you, however I wish it were under better circumstances."

You swallow your nervousness down, nodding, actually surprised with how easy going he seems in private. "Thank you sir, it's great to meet you too."

"We are taking Francesco home tomorrow to recuperate, why don't you come and stay at the house with us? We have many rooms and I am certain he will recover faster if his love is nearby, hm?"

You're unsure what to say to such a generous offer, but Frank answers for you. "She'd love to papa."

You nod politely, still a little intimidated by the Don. "I would, but only if you're sure."

"It would be my pleasure, my dear."

Frank kisses the back of your hand. "Alright, I hate to say it but you better scoot, sweet thing. There's some shit we need to sort out…"

You sigh, not even being shot could stop the 'big men' from having their secret meetings. You bid the Don thanks and goodnight and catch Billy at the door. "Please will you make sure that he rests tonight and he doesn't do anything too stupid?"

Billy just chuckles, "you know that's an impossible ask, right?" He pulls you into a quick but surprisingly heartfelt hug as you stand up. "But I'll do my best bella nemica.

Frank can't help laughing softly at the nickname, groaning at the pain as it makes his stitches pull. "Oh that's a good one Bill, I'm stealin' that. You take care darlin', love you so much."

"I love you Frankie, I'll see you tomorrow!"

As you walk out into the hospital foyer you find your father waiting for you.

"Da, I…"

He pulls you into his arms, squeezing you so tight and you hug him back, relieved. "You shouldn't have been there tonight…"

You slump against him, the exhaustion from everything that happened suddenly hitting you like a truck. "I know, I'm sorry. I had to come, I was worried about you both. I'm so glad you're alright."

"Is he… okay?"

You're surprised he cares at all about Frank but you nod. "Yeah, I've just seen him, he'll be fine. Where's Matty?"

"Out with boys patrollin', makin sure the streets are safe. Listen pet, I'm reckonin' we need to meet with the Castigliones to try an' organise some kind of truce. If Fisk is back and makin' a play to control the Kitchen we're gonna need more people an' it makes sense to join our forces."

You stare at him, your eyes wide not daring to believe. "Tell me you're serious. Please tell me you mean that da."

"That boy saved ma life, little dove. An it's war now, this changes things."

"But you've always hated them! Is Fisk really such bad news that you'd forget everything you drilled into me and ally with them?"

"Darlin, ye have no idea…"

When you get back home you spend most of the night into the early morning talking with your father. He asks so many questions about Frank. He asks about his family and about your relationship, and you answer what you can. In turn you grill him about Fisk, and he paints a dour and terrifying picture. You understand now why he'd go back on his previous vow.

"I need ya to arrange a meetin' with the Don. D'ya think you can talk to yer lad about it pet?"

"Uhuh, actually he offered me a room there so I could spend some time with Frank while he recovers… but I know what you're going to say so-"

He cuts you off. "Ye knew I was goin' to tell ye that ah think ye should go?"

Your jaw almost hits the floor in disbelief. "You do?"

"Aye, you'll be safe enough there. Don's got a lotta men, an' that Russo I know is a good shot."

"Matty won't be happy."

"No, but don't you worry 'bout that, I'll see to 'im."

You look into your father's eyes, and you can see he's asking for your help. You were scared. Kingpin had taken control of the shipment after everyone had scattered and who knew what else he had up his sleeve or when he'd choose to strike next.

But this… this might just be the way to bring him down. If he knew anything about Hell's Kitchen, he'd never suspect an alliance like this. Fuck, even you would never had imagined it could be possible.

The next morning you pack a bag, call a cab and go over what you're going to say to the Don when you get there. Matt must have stayed at the gym last night and you don't get a chance to speak with him. In a way you're almost glad as he'd probably chew you a new one for doing this.

The cab pulls up on the huge gravel drive and four well-armed guys in fine fitting suits give you a thorough once over and check your bag when you get out.

"Hey! Keep your paws to yourselves, you animals. She's good." You are so relieved to hear Billy's voice, and he flashes you his charming smile while guiding you towards the imposing front door.

"We figured Francesco would be safer here. The doc at the hospital wasn't keen on that idea, but what can they do?" He takes you straight inside. "You are here to help me look after the lil shit, aren't you?"

You follow him down the marble floored hallway, your eyes flitting around taking in the rather opulent but classic decor. "Of course, and who wouldn't rather recuperate at home if it's like this, holy crap!"

Billy smirks as he opens a door and ushers you inside the plush room.

You were so pleased to see Frank's smile. "Am I glad to see you again, sweetness." He tells you.

You bound across the floor to the huge bed that your beau is resting in. You're relieved that he looks so much better. You hold his face in your hands and are happy to see that he's back to a healthy colour. You pepper gentle kisses all over him, letting him know how happy you are that he’s better. Billy leaves you both to it and you're grateful to have some time alone with Frank. And so it seems, is he.

"Frankie, you look good, how are you feeling today?" you ask, squealing in surprise when he pulls you into the bed to lie beside him.

"Careful baby!" You exclaim before he's capturing your lips, not caring about the pain in the side of his gut if he gets to taste and feel you again. That wild want is there in his eyes when you break away and it's hard for you to resist giving in to it when his hands begin to roam over you.

"God I've missed you, missed having you…"

You huff at him. "Frank, you know I'd want nothing more… but you've got to rest, you've been shot for Christ's sake!!"

"Yeah, yeah I know," he says, the corner of his mouth pulling up mischievously. "but there's still some things I can do…"

You feel the heat in your face even as you shake your head at the audacity of him. He never gives up, yet another thing you love about him.

"Just be serious for a minute. My da’s asked if you can arrange a meeting between your father and him. He thinks our families should work together to stop Fisk."

He stops messing with you as he considers it. "Well shit, ain't the worst idea. And you agree?"

"I do. It makes sense, and it's the last thing Fisk would expect.

Frank mulls it over for a moment and then calls for Billy. "Hey man, can you get my dad in? Think we've got a proposal for him."

You're suddenly nervous for a different reason, hurriedly standing and smoothing down your clothes as the door opens. Frank reaches for your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"Hey, don't you worry baby." He reassures you under his breath. "Just tell him what you told me."

When you relate your own father's thoughts to the Don you're surprised when he doesn't interrupt, instead listening intently.

"...and where might the meeting happen?" He asks with interest.

"I think I know a place."

Foggy's in good spirits when you drop in to the shop. He’s glad that you’re okay, but his pleasant mood doesn't last when he hears what you've got to ask him.

“You want me to have The Murdocks and Castigliones under the same roof? Are you kidding me?”

"But your place is neutral ground, Foggy! There won't be any trouble I promise you."

He paces around frantically. "No trouble?! You can't promise me that!"

You fiddle with the snack display by the counter. "Look, I know it's a lot to ask, but if we can stop Fisk from becoming a permanent fixture everyone will be better off. Please Foggy, for the sake of the Kitchen." He stops his frantic pacing and pins you with a worried look.

“Fine. But if anyone gets shot, remind yourself I told you this was a bad idea.”

A couple of weeks later you found that Foggy wasn't exactly wrong in what he had told you. With the heads of both families and their closest lieutenants gathered in the large space of the Nelson's back room, the air quickly grew thick with tension. Matt arrived first with your father; stopping in his tracks as soon as he sensed you. You hadn't seen each other since that night at the docks.

"Matty-" you start. "alrigh' dove." he replies, only giving you a curt nod as he makes his way to the end of the long table. You sigh. This was going to be a long night.

When Frank comes in Matt stands quickly, his chair shrieking along the floor with his fists bunched at his sides. The Castigliones bristle, fingers itching and ready to reach for weapons. The tension was ramping up fast and it felt as though the meeting was about to fail even before it could begin.

"Ahh there he is. The golden boy. Fuckin’ cunt of the hour." Matt snaps.

"'The hell…?" Frank starts.

You found yourself getting to your feet.

"Christ Matt, will you just behave? Frank saved our da's life, does that mean nothing to you?"

"Aye it goes a way, but does he think he's better than us? That you're safer with him, with them, than us? Was that why you didn't come home, pet? Was this all his fuckin' idea too?!"

You'd never seen Matt this upset and angry before. You had to calm him down before something irreversible kicked off between the families. Frank shot you a concerned look but didn't interfere; knowing that anything he said could make things even worse. You pull Matty aside, whisper-yelling at him.

"Hey, listen to me Matt. Me staying at the Don's was da's idea, and getting everyone together was his too! Did you not know that?" You hiss.

Matt huffs. "No. I just thought that…" he paces before running a hand down your arm. "we're the ones that keep ya safe, love, yer family. Not them. It just feels like-" he stops himself, unable to fully admit his jealousy.

You urge him to continue, you don't want there to be bad blood between the two of you, especially now.

"I worry about ya dove. I know ya say ya love 'im, I just don' wanna see y'get hurt. When you're wit me, you're safe, y'can't get hurt. You know I love you too."

His expression is so honest it makes your heart burn.

"Matty, I love you so much, and I know you're just looking out for me but please, you've got to let me live my life for myself. I'm a grown woman now. You don't need to keep protecting me from everything!"

He sighs with resignation and you squeeze his arm.

"I know you're not sure about Frank but he really does love me, and I don't believe that he'd ever hurt me intentionally. And this? This is the best shot we've got at Fisk, you know that. Please don't throw this away Matt, do it for the Kitchen if not for me!"

He softens as you plead, "I'll do it for both of youse."

You kiss him on the cheek and whisper a sincere thank you before returning to the table where discussion is already underway. You walk over to stand beside Frank and kiss him swiftly. He's a little surprised that you'd make your relationship so public with the current situation as it is.

"S'everythin' okay princess?" He asks nervously as you place your hand in his, and let out a thankful sigh along with a shitload of tension.

"Everything's grand, Frankie." You say with a genuine smile. "Let's get this started."

The heads of the families agreed that they needed to find out what resources Fisk had, how many men and how much firepower he possessed before they made their move. It was proposed that members from each side should scout it out, and ultimately it was decided that Matthew and Frank would go.

As you watched Frank slip his pistol into his holster and give you a wink, you were reminded of the day you had first laid eyes on him. It felt like a lifetime ago even though it had been just over a year since you'd walked to the store with Matty, and Frank and Billy had been in there.

"Well that's my day ruined. Can't breathe in this town without runnin' into a Murdock, or two." Billy had remarked, looking you up and down with dark eyes and a devilish smile.

Matt stiffened, moving in front of you, jaw and fists clenched. "Y'know this is our territory Russo, so get lost or I'll help ya find your way out..."

However, your attention had been on Billy's companion, who you would later find out was the Don's son. His face was set hard, but he had warm brown eyes, and a big boxer's nose that drew your gaze. When they had left the store Frank had looked back over his shoulder, the faintest smile on his lips as he threw a wink your way and you found your face heating up.

Now they were heading into dangerous territory working together. Your heart was in your mouth as they both finished kitting up, arming themselves to the teeth just in case shit happened to go south.

"Please be careful." You say to Matt, your words somewhere between a prayer and a blessing.

"M'always careful, love." He replies before he lets Frank talk to you.

He brings your hand up to his lips and kisses the back of it as he looks into your eyes with a serious expression. "You promise me you'll go straight on home, yeah? Don't want you on these streets tonight baby."

You stroke the side of his face and bring your forehead to touch against his, breathing him in. "I promise. And promise me you'll look after each other."

Both men nod and then head for the door and you and your father head for home.

Matt stops Frank with his arm as he listens to check that the way is clear for them.

"Alrigh', we're good." He confirms after a couple of beats.

"Reckon we can get a read on em from up on that roof there, it covers most of their exits." Frank suggests, and Matt nods and follows. When they're situated, hunkered down side by side behind a low wall, Frank feels the oppression of something waiting to be said. The muscle in his jaw ticks as he clenches it and he can't stand it anymore.

"C'mon man, can we just get this over with? Say what you gotta say, I know you wanna. I can take it."

Matt swallows his pride and turns to his former foe after taking a pensive breath.

"Yeah, you're right, I have got somethin' t'say to ya. M'sorry. I was wrong about ya an I've been a right shitebag to you an ma sister all this time. But, there's a right thing to be done an' I'm hopin' tha we can move on?"

That wasn't what Frank had expected at all, a swift one-two knocking his brain around in his skull, but it felt like a dark cloud was lifting and he actually started to smile.

"I know you're just lookin' out for her Murdock, I get it, and I really appreciate you sayin' that. Might not have seemed like it but I've got a lot of respect for your family after meetin' that girl."

Matt nods. "Feelin's mutual. I shoulda just trusted her in the first place but y'know what's she's like, always gettin' hersel' into trouble."

Frank chuckles quietly. "Don't I know it."

They keep watch for a few more hours, noting the comings and goings of Fisk's men. After clocking where the weapons are stored, they manage to sneak in and get a good idea of what kind of firepower they have before reporting back.

The two long feuding families of Hell's Kitchen drive the Kingpin out of their territory in a spectacular blaze of fire and fists. He certainly didn't expect the Murdocks and Castigliones to team up and take back what was theirs; which was a huge advantage for the families. When Frank and your brother returned triumphant you leapt into Frank's arms, kissing him over and over and until he was almost begging for air.

When word spread of the victory everyone headed to Josie's to celebrate, but Frank knew his fight wasn't quite over. There was something else he had to do.

He's feeling like he knows real fear for the first time in a long while as he approaches Jack Murdock in the bar. He's got just one aim. One question.

Jack nods at him as he comes over, signaling the bartender to pour them a couple of whiskeys.

"Alright lad? We did good, eh?"

"Yeah, that we did. You, uh, know why I'm here?"

"Aye son, I know. C'mon then, out with it." Jack says to him.

Frank's mouth nervously forces a smile and he takes a deep breath before he begins.

"Sir, I'm sure by now you know just how much I care for your daughter, and if you don't, well… thing is I love her. Love her with all my soul and with your blessin', I want to ask her to spend the rest of our lives together.."

Your da raises an eyebrow. "Oh aye, is that so? An' would ya do right by her? 'Cos ya know if y'don't you'll have the whole clan comin down on ye like hellfire?"

"I know that and I will. She's my life now sir, couldn't love no one else more."

"Alright boy, but y'know we'll be watchin' ya."

He grins and raises his glass to Frank's own. "Well y'have my blessin', and I've no doubt she'll be happy wit ye."

Frank breathes out a solid sigh of relief and can't wait to tell you, to ask you to be his forever.

When he does it's a little bit more romantic than a toilet stall in the dancehall. He picks you up in his car the next evening. He's got the top down and is waiting next to the open passenger door as you step out of your house. You take his breath away every single time he sees you but tonight it's different, you no longer have to hide your love for each other. He takes your hand, takes all of you in, your dress, your hair, your beautiful smile. He knows he's a lucky man.

"Where are we going to baby?" You ask, but he only smiles and tells you to hold tight. You're curled around his arm the whole way as he drives you both to the hills outside of the city.

When he pulls up at a quiet parking spot you get out and can see the twinkle of the city lights below mirroring that of the starry sky. When you turn around to show your excitement he's pulling a hamper and blankets out of the trunk.

"Oh Frankie, this is so gorgeous! Thank you so much!" You squeal as you help lay out a blanket and he digs out some delicious treats, glasses, and a bottle of wine.

"Gorgeous spot for my gorgeous girl."

He opens the bottle then fills your glass and his own, and you raise them to clink and take a sip. He watches you looking out at the view, a mild breeze weaving through your hair. You're just sitting there and he almost can't believe how head over heels he is for you. Things could have turned out so differently but he's eternally grateful that they didn't.

When you turn to him you can't help but giggle at the insanely adoring way he's looking at you.

"What is it?" You smile, taking a bite from a plump red cherry.

Frank brings his hand up to the side of your face, his thumb passing lightly over your lips as you look up at him with your big eyes.

"God, I just…"

You tilt your head in curiosity as he reaches into the hamper for something, producing a small black box which he opens in front of you on bended knee. It's his mother's ring, a delicate and twisting precious metal band set with a small sparkling diamond glinting up at you.

"Oh Frank…" you gasp, any other words are lost in your surprise but he carries on.

"I love you baby, so goddamn much. And I know I asked you before but I'm askin' you now, proper. Your da gave me his blessing and I'm hopin' that you will too… please say yes darlin' and marry me? I've wanted to be yours since the first damn time I saw you. What do you say? Talk to me baby, don't leave me hangin' like this!"

Your hands come up to frame his face and you kiss him over and over and over as you answer an excited 'yes!' between every one. He's laughing with a smile so big as you hold out your hand for him to gently take the ring and slip it on your finger where it fits perfectly.

You kiss him again, this time it's slow and lingering on the lips and he wraps you up in his embrace as he deepens it, laying you down on the blanket underneath him. Your fingers slide into his hair and his hands squeeze the roundness of your ass eager to feel each other as your kisses become more heated and desperate.

Your eyes meet. "I'm yours forever now, Frank, make me feel like it."

He wastes no time answering your request, running his hands over your body, nipping and kissing at your earlobe and just below as he caresses your breast, and you push your hips up against his moaning with pleasure. You slip a hand down to feel his hardening cock through his pants, frantically scrabbling to loosen his belt and free him as he curls his fingers around the waistband of your panties pulling them down, his lips almost never leaving your skin.

"Baby, baby… mm, goddamn you're so perfect for me." He murmurs and you let the night sky hear just how good he makes you feel as he slides his fingers through your slick folds, teasing at your clit with light strokes.

"Yeah, you like that, huh? That what you need?"

"Frank please, I can't wait! Just- I need you…" you plead, pressing your body up against him and stroking your soft hands up and down his erection to make sure he gets the message.

"Oh shiiiit… alright sweetheart, shh-shh. I got you, I got you…" he whispers against your skin as he pushes his pants down and your silky dress up, quickly rolling on a condom. He moans along with you as he finally sheaths his thick length inside where you need him the most. both of you gasp at the feeling. You claw at his shirt, pull him as close as you can when he starts to rock into you. Every thrust of his hips has you desperate for the next, you want him so deep so that you can feel him for days after this and you tell him so, driving him crazy and making him fuck you even harder.

"Anythin' you want, I'll give you anythin' love, just wanna see your pretty face when you come for me."

He wraps a strong hand under your thigh, pulling it up making you moan out again at the new delicious angle, arching underneath him as he draws back almost all the way out and then fills you back up again, taking you so easily to the edge of an earth shattering climax. His hand comes up to cradle your face, watching you, seeing the love he feels for you reflected in your beautiful eyes.

"Frankie, you're gonna make me-" As you approach the precipice, the only thing in your mind is that he's yours and you are his.

He seals his mouth over yours, tongue teasing against your own, your whimpers muted as he does all he can to make you fall apart, to pulse and clench around him, your vision whiting out with only this blissful sensation spreading through your body and the sound of his voice in your ears while he talks you through it.

"Yeah baby, that's it my sweet girl… god I love you so fucking much-"

You cry out to the stars as you share in this intimate moment, showering each other in endless, breathless declarations of love.

Epilogue

#frank castle x female reader #frank castle AU #punisher AU #frank castle smut #frank castle fluff #romeo & julier gangster AU #daredevil AU

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bellaxgiornata · 1 year ago

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All These Years [Part 1: "Saturday Night"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You met Matthew Murdock unexpectedly at Columbia University and you couldn't deny that there was an instant attraction–for you. But for Matt, you became as close of a friend to him as Foggy did. As the years pass by, your feelings only grow for your best friend, but all you can do is watch as he dates and sleeps with every other woman on campus and eventually in New York City but you.

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 3.3k

a/n: Welcome to me starting yet another Matt Murdock series. This one isn't intended to be too long, but this story will be told in a series of installments (much like my series Falling For the Devil is). It will be angsty and there won't be comfort for a long while. This series will follow Matt and Reader briefly through college and then after, all the while Reader pines secretly for Matt. You can find the installment list for this series here. If you're enjoying it, please leave me some love!

Sprawled out across Foggy’s bed and lying on your stomach, you focused on your laptop on the mattress before you. Absently chewing on your thumbnail, you were trying to finish your assignment for class while simultaneously trying to tune out the Foo Fighters blasting from Foggy’s laptop just next to you. As you worked, your left hand dropped down the side of the messy bed, fingers feeling around for your beer bottle on the floor. A moment later you found it, your hand curling around the neck of the bottle and picking it up. You brought it to your lips for a long drink, eyes never leaving the laptop screen.

You often spent your Saturday nights hanging out in Foggy and Matt’s dorm because your roommate was usually fucking her boyfriend. It wasn’t a secret. So you usually spent the evening either drinking with the pair of them, working on assignments, or both. And usually both Matt and Foggy were here with you, their dorm room filled with the sounds of teasing jokes and loud laughter from the three of you. It was a ritual that you’d all always splurge on takeout, the room smelling like pizza or burgers or Thai. And that was how every Saturday night had gone since you’d met both Matt and Foggy. Except on the evenings Matt was out on a date.

Like tonight.

And on those nights, you always drank and worked on homework. Generally while Foggy sent you sad, knowing looks and occasional comments telling you to just admit your feelings to Matt, which then usually resulted in you denying your feelings wholeheartedly.

But the truth of it was, Foggy was right. You’d had feelings for Matt since the day you’d met him at the library six months ago.

Frantically your thumbs swiped across your phone screen, typing up a message to Professor McCarthy discussing the details of your current project. You were hoping to make some headway on it at the library today, planning to work in the quiet confines of the library away from your very sexually active roommate.

You were almost finished writing the message when you ran straight into something incredibly solid, your phone almost falling right out of your hands at the collision. But before you had the chance to even glance up and see who it was you had hit, a loud handful of heavy thuds rang out before a sharp pain shot up through your right foot.

“Son of a motherless donkey!” you shouted.

A loud snicker came from in front of you, but a very enraged librarian yelled out over the noise and drew your attention.

“We do not shout in the library, miss!” she scolded. “Keep your voice down or leave!”

You shot her a sheepish, strained smile as your foot throbbed in pain. She glared at you a moment longer before returning back to her computer, your attention finally focusing on who you’d apparently run headlong into. And then you’d almost jumped back in surprise, not expecting your victim to be the guy grinning down at you. He was wearing dark glasses which covered his eyes, but even despite that, you could easily see how attractive he was. Your mouth felt like it had gone dry instantly.

He was beautiful .

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I should have been watching where I was going, I’m sorry.”

“Quite alright. And I apologize for dropping my books on you,” he said, the grin never leaving his face. “Didn’t break your toes, did I?”

“No,” you said, a nervous laugh leaving you. “Let me just–”

You bent down to help him gather his books at the exact same moment he’d bent down to do the same, which resulted in the pair of you bumping your foreheads together. Standing bolt upright, your right hand flew to your forehead rubbing the sore spot as you cursed under your breath. An amused chuckle sounded before you, the noise drawing your attention.

“What? No more interesting curses that time?” he teased, the palm of his hand briefly rubbing his own forehead. “I’m not suddenly the son of a fatherless goat now?”

You flushed, shaking your head but unable to fight down the smile that was spreading over your lips. “Uh, no,” you answered. “Sorry, I uh, I can grab your books.”

“That’s alright, I can grab them,” he assured you.

“No, really,” you pressed, “I caused you to drop them, I can at the very least pick them up for you.”

“But I dropped them on your foot, and judging by the way you shouted, it sounded like it hurt,” he countered. “And, well, they’re my books. Makes me responsible for them.”

You watched him curiously as he finished with a shrug, wondering why he was so adamant to argue with you instead of just accepting your help. Eyes falling down to the very large texts he’d dropped on your foot, you skimmed the titles of them–and then immediately laughed. His head tilted curiously to the side in response.

“I’m missing something, what’s so funny?” he asked.

You gestured a hand at the texts on the ground by your feet. “Law student,” you said.

“Yes?” he replied, eyebrows rising above his glasses.

“No, I mean, it makes sense,” you explained, focusing back on his handsome face. “Why you’re arguing with me about something so ridiculous. You’re a law student.”

The corners of his lips twitched upwards at your words. “Are you implying I enjoy arguing, miss…?”

You bit your lip, hesitating for a brief moment before you offered him your name. And then you nodded. “Yes,” you told him. “I am in fact implying that, because you’re doing it again. Looking for something to dispute.”

He went quiet for a moment, his head still tilted a little to the side. Your eyes took the opportunity of his silence to take in the sight of him before you, studying the boyish grin still on his lips and appreciating what you could see of his face. Gaze dropping down, you noticed the way his dark tee-shirt fit his chest, displaying more muscle than you’d have expected on a law student. He clearly spent some time at the gym. You’d also noticed the cane in his hand and deduced immediately that he was blind and therefore thankfully couldn’t see you checking him out.

His hand reached out in the space between the pair of you, drawing you from your ogling of him. You curiously glanced back up to his smiling face.

“I’m Matthew,” he said. “But I go by Matt.”

Your own hand quickly darted forward, shaking his offered hand. The brief contact of his warm hand wrapped around yours caused your heart to hammer wildly in your chest, something nervous flitting around in your stomach. And then you quickly drew your hand back, too afraid to accidentally hold onto his for too long and have him thinking you were strange.

“Tell you what, if you tell me your major, I’ll let you pick up the books,” he suggested.

His offer caught you off guard and you laughed, shaking your head. “Oh you’ll let me pick up your books, huh? The ones that nearly broke my toe?” you teased back.

He flashed you a broad smile, the brightness of it lighting up his handsome face. Your mind momentarily went blank at the sight before you found yourself suddenly blurting out your major and then picking up his scattered textbooks from the floor.

Eyes still focused on your laptop screen, you lowered the almost empty bottle of beer sightlessly back down to the floor beside Foggy’s bed. You spent a moment typing a few things up for your assignment, but your hands came to a stop over the keyboard the moment you heard noise just outside of the door.

Your heart sunk to your stomach when your ears registered the giggling mixed with the sound of Matt's deep, rumbling voice on the other side of it. Foggy glanced up from his notes, his attention drawn to the sound, too, before you saw his attention shift down to you on the bed beside him. He took one look at your face and was shooting you an apologetic smile, his mouth opening as he was about to say something.

But then Matt and a pretty blonde came barging in through the door of their dorm and Foggy's mouth instantly closed.

"Oh, sorry, were we interrupting?" the blonde asked, eyeing you and Foggy.

"We were just studying," you told her, voice strained.

Her nose scrunched up as if the thought of homework on a Saturday night was just that repulsive. You bit your tongue as she wrapped her arms around Matt’s waist, drawing herself into his side. Something painful and sharp coiled in your stomach as you watched him smile and drape his arm around her shoulders in return, his own brows creased at your words.

"Really?" he asked. “That’s all you’re doing?”

"Uh, yeah dude," Foggy stated matter-of-factly. "We usually study every Saturday night. You know that."

The blonde laughed, turning and burying her face against Matt's broad chest. Jealousy flared like a fire in your veins–scalding hot and all-consuming. In the six months you'd known Matt, you'd watched him go on dates with a handful of different women. All of them beautiful. And you were always left wondering why you'd never been good enough to be asked on a date by him.

"Right, yeah," Matt said, flashing you both a smile. "I just forgot my scarf."

Your eyes watched as he felt along his nightstand, grabbing his dark scarf off of it. The young woman stood on her toes, resting her chin on Matt’s shoulder. Your heart ached at the scene unfolding before you.

"You know, my roommate is out," the blonde said to Matt, her tone suggestive and not quite quiet enough for you to have missed.

Your eyes snapped down to your laptop's screen instantly, trying hard to ignore that nauseous feeling churning in your gut as you bit down harder on your tongue. There was only one reason they'd be going back to her dorm with her roommate gone. You weren't stupid.

It's not like you didn't know that's what Matt was doing with all these young women he’d been going out with, but you usually didn't have to witness his conversations about it. You didn’t need to look up from your laptop’s screen to know what he was reaching for in the top drawer of his nightstand now, the blonde once again giggling from her place wrapped around him.

Gritting your teeth together, you fought hard to keep the burn of tears at bay. You would not cry over this. He was just your friend. He wasn't yours. He could sleep around if he wanted to. It’s not even like he was being an asshole about it–these women wanted it. And honestly, you couldn’t blame them. You had often wondered what it would be like to have sex with Matt. Or to even just be wanted by him, even for a moment.

You tried to focus on your homework, desperately attempting to ignore the thunderous pounding of your heart in your chest and the way Foggy was staring at you from the corner of your eye. You would not let this make you cry. Because it was just a stupid, silly little crush on your friend. That’s all it was. And it would eventually pass with time and you’d laugh about it someday with Matt, joking about how absurd it was to have ever thought the two of you could have feelings for each other.

“Enjoy your studying ,” the blonde said, her voice cutting through your thoughts.

You glanced up, watching as she sent you and Foggy a wave before leading the pair of them towards the door. Matt was laughing lightly, wrapped around the back of her with his cane folded up in one hand and the unmistakable gold foil of a couple of condoms hanging out of his back pant’s pocket.

You laid frozen on the bed, your heart further sinking to your stomach as your eyes lingered on their retreating forms. Eventually the door closed behind them, a loud giggle erupting before all you could hear was Foggy’s laptop still blaring Foo Fighter’s “Best of You” and feeling like you were being mocked by the universe itself.

Foggy’s hand on your shoulder caused you to jump on the bed, startling you out of your trance. Head whipping in his direction, you glanced up at him with raised brows. His own were drawn tight and low on his forehead, a deep frown set onto his lips.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, of course,” you instantly answered. “I’m fine, Fog. I told you, I don’t like Matt.”

His hand squeezed your shoulder gently as he whispered your name. “Then why are you crying?” he asked.

Right hand darting up, you wiped the back of it against your cheek. Unexpected dampness hit the back of your hand and you swallowed hard. Clearing your throat, you forced a smile back onto your face and turned your attention back to Foggy.

“I’ve just been staring at this screen for too long,” you lied. “Eye strain, you know? It’s a bitch.”

You pushed yourself up into a sitting position, turning and bending over to grab your beer from the worn wood floor. As you brought it to your lips to finish off, you heard Foggy saying your name softly again behind you. Swallowing down the beer you rose up to your feet, that forced smile still on your face.

“I’m grabbing another, you want a new one?” you asked, gesturing at his beer.

“Come on,” Foggy said seriously, glancing down at his laptop long enough to lower the volume of his music. “Don’t lie to me here. I’ve known you for months now. Everytime Matt is with some other chick you have this look on your face like someone punched you in the gut and then poured gasoline over your expensive programming laptop. I’m not blind like Matt, I see the way you look at him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you muttered.

You made your way to the mini fridge across the room, tossing your empty beer bottle in the recycling bin the guys had next to it. Opening the door, you bent down and pulled out another beer from the case you’d brought over. Rising back up to your feet, you grabbed the bottle opener from the top of the fridge, popping the bottle cap off. As you took a pull, you turned back around and saw Foggy sitting on his bed staring at you very seriously, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Can you just be real with me for a minute here?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes, taking a step away from the fridge to lean up against the wall. “Fog, we’re just friends. Matt is my friend,” you stressed.

“But you like him as more than that, don’t you?” he pushed.

You ground your teeth together, your hand tightening along the bottle of beer as Foggy continued to press forward with his questions. That angry, jealous monster in your gut was thrashing inside of you, begging to be let out, but you tried to shove it down.

“He’s my friend,” you said sharply.

“Then why does it make you cry when he goes off to have sex with other chicks?” he pressed.

“I told you, I wasn’t crying it was–”

“Don’t lie to me,” Foggy cut you off, shaking his head.

“Fine!” you snapped, pushing off of the wall and crossing the room towards Foggy. “I like him, okay? I’ve liked him since I ran into him at the library and he shot that stupid fucking charming smile of his at me! But he only sees me as a friend, so it’s fucking pointless!”

Foggy’s face fell, his eyes softening as he stared back at you. You threw a hand out, shaking a finger at him.

“No, uh uh, don’t look at me like that, Fog,” you said firmly.

“Why don’t you say something to him?” he asked. “Tell him you like him?”

Your hand flew up, two fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as your eyes fixed upwards on the ceiling, fighting back tears. You really didn’t want to cry over Matt. Not tonight. Not again.

“Because he clearly only likes me as a friend,” you answered.

“You don’t know that!” Foggy exclaimed. “You’ve never told him how you feel!”

“Fog,” you began, pinching the bridge of your nose even harder, “I see you guys basically every day. It’s been like that for almost six months now. If Matt was interested, he’d have asked me out by now. But he hasn’t because apparently I’m not good enough for Matthew Murdock to ever–ever want.”

You couldn’t help the way your voice cracked on the last word, your eyes snapping shut as the warm flood of tears slowly snuck out of your eyes. There was a creak of the bed before you felt Foggy pulling you into a hug, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tentatively wrapped your arms back around Foggy.

“That’s not true and you know it,” Foggy whispered. “You’re vastly smarter and funnier and sweeter than all of those other girls he brings back combined. You’re a damn catch, inside and out, and I’m sure Matt sees it.”

“No,” you disagreed, shaking your head as a loud sniffle left you. “He obviously doesn’t feel that way. That’s why I’m just his friend , Fog. Nothing more. But I don’t–don’t want to talk about this anymore, okay?”

You pulled away from Foggy, wiping the back of your hand across your cheeks. Foggy had a sad smile once again on his face as he let out a little sigh, nodding his head.

“Okay, so what do you want to do tonight?” he asked.

You shot him a look, gesturing your beer at your laptop. “Have you suddenly suffered from amnesia? We’re working on homework.”

Foggy pulled a face, waving a hand at the open laptops behind him. “Fuck homework, let’s have some fun,” he said, a grin quickly appearing on his face. “You want to go to the bar? I can break out my awesome dance moves.”

You couldn’t fight the smile drawing its way onto your face as Foggy flailed his arms and shook his hips not very in sync with the song playing from his laptop. He abruptly stopped, his eyes widening as he gasped.

“Oh! Or we can get some late night noms!” he exclaimed. “You want tacos? I would kill for some tacos.”

“Okay, yes,” you grudgingly agreed. “Tacos sound like heaven right now and I really don’t want to work on homework anymore.”

“Yes!” Foggy exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air dramatically. “Finishing all of that can be a tomorrow us problem, but tonight–we feast!”

You laughed, shaking your head as you brought your beer to your lips. “Okay,” you agreed, “but let me finish this beer and save my work.” You took a long pull off of the bottle as you made your way around the bed towards your laptop. “And for the record,” you added, “I don’t think we can afford to feast, Fog.” You gestured your beer between the pair of you. “Broke college kids, remember?”

“You know what?” Foggy said, focused on turning off his music and closing out of his open tabs. “When Matt and I are rich lawyers and you’re a rich programmer, we’ll have a night feasting on tacos in honor of our college selves.”

A sharp pain hit you in the chest at the mention of Matt, but you kept the smile on your face as you finished turning off your laptop. You really didn’t want to think about him right now. Especially not with what he was doing.

“Sounds like a plan,” you agreed.

Bringing your beer to your lips, you chugged the last half of it down, hoping to drown and dull that lingering ache in your chest. When you’d finished, you pulled the bottle from your lips and shot Foggy a strained smile, one he didn’t quite seem to catch the pain in.

“Let’s go get some tacos, Fog.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x fem reader #matt murdock series #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock

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skyfallslayer · 11 months ago

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The Darkness In Me || Story 3: Kingpin & Daredevil

-Kingpin!Matt Murdock x Vigilante!Reader-

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

🖤 Series Summary: You were shocked to find out your childhood friend turned out to be the Kingpin of the underworld, but you had to put those thoughts aside to bring him down. You were Hell’s Kitchen vigilante, its protector. There's no valid reason not to stop him. However, when your hidden feelings for him start to surface once more, how will you be able to even think about bringing him down?

🖤 Story Summary: Your night trying to save a kid takes a dangerous turn. Now fighting to stay alive after a possible life threatening injury, you soon find yourself face-to-face with the man that runs this city’s underworld: The Kingpin. Aka… your childhood friend.

🖤 Date: 12/06/23

🖤 Rating: Mature

🖤 Word Count: 12, 842 (Damn o-0)

🖤 Warning: Blood; Gore; Talks of Child Abuse; Child Death(s); Child Manipulation; Mental Break; Murdering and Allusion to Murder; Non Consensual Touching(?) Looks like it but its not); Seductive Talk; Implied Seductive Manipulation; Slight Karedevil; Implied Frank/Karen: Past Killing of a Love One; Talks of Betrayal; Death of a Love One; Dark!Matt; Yeah, Matt gets a fucking warning in this one (I mean, he ain't the Kingpin for nothing); Russian & Japanese Via Google Translate (not super accurate, I apologize). READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

-Let me know if I missed anything-

🖤 A/N: Oh boy, this was tough but fun to write! Hopefully nothing is too overwhelming for y'all. Alrighty then… we're finally getting to Matt's POV of things, which I honestly think I enjoyed writing more than reader's (*le gasp*). But yeah, here's a bit of the flirty and charming Matt Murdock we all know and love with a dash of darkness. Enjoy!

There’s no fucking way this was real. Was the first thing you thought. Maybe it was the next one. Or the next one, or– Oh, geez. You really didn’t know what to think.

Here you are thinking the whole time that he’s the same as you; That despite your rough childhoods, you both managed to put the nightmares aside and build the life you guys wanted. You both had your hopes and dreams, you both got the jobs you desired, you both made a friend that had your back. But now…

You don’t know when or where or how this even happened. You don’t know why he’s on this route. You don’t know why you just watched him kill a man for screwing up his ‘responsibility’. You don’t even know what to think of this situation, what to think of…

Him.

Matthew Murdock, Your childhood friend; The person you were starting to feel more for. The person that was none other than–

The King of Darkness himself.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| Four Days Ago ||

The doors slammed simultaneously, the both of you sighing as you laid back in the chair as your partner, Frank, rests his forehead against the steering wheel before lightly tapping it a few times. Your mornings had started off with a call of distress from an elderly man claiming that he had been robbed. Turns out, the poor man just had dementia. So after a talk with his son who stepped out to run an errand, they ended up back her with slight annoyance.

Frank sighs again, finally bringing his head up. “I know he has health problems, but still… you think your stuff’s gone and you call 911?”

“Yeah…” You rub your eyes, dark circles dusting them. “This is going to be a long day.”

“Of course it will be.” He starts the car, sitting up straighter. “Breakfast?”

“Please.” Like you could turn that down after not eating anything for a few hours straight.

He pulls away from the curb, driving in the direction of a local diner that he’s mentioned a few times. “So, Y/N… how are you adjusting to the move?” He said at his attempt at small talk (he didn’t speak much if he didn’t need to, you noticed, so I guess you could say this was a good sign).

“Me? I’m actually doing pretty good. I know how Hell’s Kitchen ticks so–” You shrugged. “Except for when some of the places I’ve been to have disappeared, I didn’t really need to adjust to anything.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been to Hell’s Kitchen before?”

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Oh, shit. I guess I didn’t tell you. I was born here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I lived here till I was eight.”

“Damn. So it’s been awhile.”

“Yep.”

“What made you move away in the first place?” Frank asked, making you pale. But he didn’t seem to notice since his eyes were on the road. “Y/N?”

“Uh, well…” You frown thinking about that day. You sigh, trying not to play with your hands like you were a kid. “My parents passed. Car accident, uh– Truck ran a red light and hit up straight on.”

“Oh, my god.” He begins, and you hold your hand up.

“Before you apologize for asking, don’t. You didn’t know.”

“Yeah, but still.” He frowns worriedly. “You were… eight? That’s rough.”

“It was, but I had to accept it pretty quickly when I moved to California with my Aunt and Uncle.” You explain, feeling your heart clench at one of the names.

“Quickly?”

“My Aunt wasn’t the nicest woman.”

Frank scoffed, but not at you, but at everything else. “I got to hand it to you, Y/N, you turned out pretty well. To me, your story sounds like the makings of a villain’s origin.”

You chuckled. “So I’m not the only one to have that thought.” You reply, half joking as the car pulled into an open spot.

“I mean it though.” Frank says, turning the engine off. “You’re strong. Stronger than you think. I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost my family like that.” He opens his door. “Alright. Enough depressing shit. Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

You snort. “What? Did you not eat before your shift last night?”

“You think I know how to cook?” He smirks. “I leave the cooking to someone else.”

“I could see that.” You teased, following him inside.

“Well it’ll be dinner when our shifts are over. We should get burgers.”

“I wish I could. Unfortunately I got dinner plans with friends.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Oh, Y/N!” Foggy shouts as soon as he spots you, standing up and waving you over. “So glad you could make it.”

“Well thanks for the invite.” You said, with a smile, hoping the makeup you put on hid how tired you were (Seriously, why did you talk yourself into being a vigilante and a cop at the same time?).

“Y/N, this is Marci.” He said, gesturing to his lovely wife, who shakes your hand.

“Hello, Marci. It’s finally nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Marci said as you guys took a seat. “I swear, he talks about you more than Matthew does.”

“Hey, she gives me all the juicy details my dear friend leaves out. That’s all.” Foggy defends, making her roll her eyes playfully.

You chuckle. “So, speaking of the devil. Where is he?”

He frowns, almost feeling like it was somehow his fault. “Unfortunately, poor Matty can’t make it tonight.”

“No?” You copy his expression. “How come?”

“Says he’s got something important to do.” He sighs dramatically. “I swear he’s got some weird night time hobby. He’s always disappearing.”

“Sounds like something he would do.” You smirk as the joke rolls off your tongue. “You think he’s a secret mob boss or something?”

“Honestly, I was thinking more like Batman, but wouldn’t be surprised with that either.” Foggy said with a shrug, before picking up his menu. “Now, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

“Never heard that one before.” Marci said, hiding her laugh.

“Hey.”

This was nice. You finally made some acquaintances that you could now call your friends. Although this dinner would be a bit bittersweet without Matt, you couldn’t complain, you were just glad you were here, living the moment.

However…

Deep down…

You still wonder what he’s doing.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Punch. Punch.

“Is something going on with you? You know you can always talk to me.” Foggy said, clasping his friendly hand onto his shoulder with a warm smile.

Punch. Punch.

“I thought you were supposed to help me.” Wilson Fisk said as he stared in disbelief from across the table; his hands were aching to strangle his lawyer as they stayed handcuffed to the metal flat top.

“But I am helping you.” Matt replies, his calm complexion suddenly morphed into something wicked that even made the ex-mob boss shiver in his seat. “The Defense is just doing a better job than me.”

Punch. Crack. Punch.

“You’ve done a wonderful job, Matthew.” The older woman, who happened to be the leader of assaination group that took him in, Alexandra Reid, smile so proudly at him as she grasps his shoulders. “You… are the most perfect soldier I’ve seen in a long time.” She chuckles. “Go spread chaos, my love.”

Punch. Crack. Pain. Whine. Punch.

“You fight well, kid.” His old and blind mentor said, making his heart skip with pride until… “But not well enough. You disappointment.”

Punch. Pain. Pain. Whine. Pain. Punch.

“Is Mama really gone?” Matt croaked as held his father’s hand, laying in bed as his head started to go numb from the medicine. But he didn’t need sight to know what expression his dad was making.

“Yeah, Matty. She is.”

Punch. Punch. Punch. Punch. Crack. Punch. Punch.

“You really are leaving?” He asked, watching his best friend’s face morph into hurt and sadness.

“Yeah. I am.” You could feel yourself starting to cry. “But I don’t want to.”

He grabs your hand, holding it tight. “Then don’t. I don’t want to lose you. Don’t go.”

“Matty, I don’t have a choice. I have to go.”

Matt lets out a low growl as keeps pounding his fists over and over into his ‘sparring’ partner. In the boxing ring he had the man backed into one of the corners, flat on his bottom as blood sprayed everywhere; small bone fragments starting to stick out of his bruised flesh too, But he didn’t care. This was just someone he could easily replace, so he picked up the speed, turning the dial full. Striking over, and over, and over, and over again. And again. And again. And again. And–

“If you don’t stop you’ll cripple him. Or worse.” The blond Karen Page, his advisor, said as she entered the room, making him pause for a second.

“Should I care?” Matt snipped, voice sounding like acid that could melt anything it touches.

Karen’s jaw clenched, but she kept her composure. “You should care, seeing that our number of men is declining. Fast.”

Matt groans and punches the man again, surely KO-ing him this time. “I turn my head away for one second, and my men just disappear in a blink of an fucking eye. They’re all ending up on police departments’ doors so fast, It’s not even safe enough to let them go without some suspicion. Fuck!” He kicks him in the shin, getting a crack. “It’s all because of that fucking asshole in a mask! Do you have any idea where he came from?”

“No, sir. I asked around. Nobody knows. And the reports I… ‘borrowed’ shows that there’s no reports of a mutant, or superpowered individual other than Ghost-Spider in the last ten years or so.”

Matt pauses, thinking. “You think they come from out of state?”

“It’s a possibility.” Karen quickly notices his silence. “Someone comes to mind, sir?”

“No. I was over stepping.” He sighs, holding out his hand as he’s thrown a towel. “Did the delivery arrive smoothly like I asked?”

“It’s on its way. Should be there soon.”

“Good.” He throws the towel around his neck. “I need a shower, and send someone to bandage him.”

“Shall I tell the driver the penthouse or regular?”

Matt pauses again for another second. “Regular. I need to go to work tomorrow.”

“Very well then. I’ll call him now.” Karen bows his head. “Goodnight, Sir.”

“Likewise.” He says, while exiting the ring and into the locker room, still burning with rage that keeps on growing.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Stretching out in your new pajamas, you casually let yourself float around your apartment, excitement (or I guess pride) ran through your veins as you read the next article about your alter ego ‘Daredevil’. The local news lately has been flooded with nothing but articles about you. The next one made you grin, some twenty year old blogger was geeking out how fast you were in some reports and sightings.

You chuckle, lips curling in a smirk. “Damn right, I’m fast.” You didn’t have enhanced speed for nothing. Besides that, you were also cursed gifted with levitation, superhuman reflexes and stamina, and lastly, psionics; Something that you can manipulate in many different ways. It wasn’t as glorious as when your mother would do it, but you were trying.

I wonder how Uncle Pietro would have felt if he knew I had his speed. You frown, shaking your head when a gruesome memory crosses your mind.

Gosh. Why am I living so much in the past all of sudden? Why is everything flooding in quickly? You’ve been pretty good about not reliving your past over the years, but now… you can’t seem to get away from it.

I wonder why? You perk up when a knock comes from your door. You rotated slowly and gently landed on your bare feet, trekking across the room.

“Coming!” You call out, fixing your top before opening the door. You were met with a familiar sight, just like when you had moved in you saw the white vase at your feet filled with the same color and number of Roses. Looking around with caution again, you saw no one before picking it up, plucking the note off one of the stems. This time it just had a single word which was–

‘Sorry.’

You furrow your brows. “What the fuck?” Did whoever sent them know that you were down to your last rose? Did this person know that getting these was intriguing to you? Did they know that this was secretly creeping you out as well?

You scoffed out loud.

Hell…

Why the fuck were you hanging onto the roses if they were driving you crazy anyway?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Matt does his best the next day to hide the cuts on his hands, and bruises lingering on his body. Although he’s grown used to the smell of blood staining his flesh, he knows everyone else around him is not (And being a blind man certainly didn’t help his cause). He got dressed like usual, skipping the red suit for his normal, freshly pressed, black one. He slips on his shades, grabbing his cane and briefcase by the door before stepping outside; One of his men standing there just like always. Dressed in what looked like a ‘caretaker’ outfit, he puts on the bubbly personality he was instructed to do.

“Morning, Mr. Murdock.”

“Morning, Anthony.”

“Taxi’s here like you requested.”

“Perfect.” Matt starts walking with his men a quarter step behind. Now since they’re out in public, it’s time to start speaking in code. “Still having dinner with the family later?”

“That’s the plan, but you know Brently and his boys are. They’re probably out adventuring around here, waiting to give me a scare.” His response made Matt mentally smile.

His bodyguards were in their posts like they should be. “Well, we wouldn’t want that for you.” He plays along, feeling for the door handle before pushing it open to the outside world.

“Oh, and don’t forget, you have a doctor’s appointment tonight. A follow up.”

A meeting. He almost forgot about the meeting he set up weeks prior. “Ah, almost slipped my mind.” Matt admits, opening the taxi door to get in but—

The smell is what threw him off. This scent was completely different than what he was used to.

“Where ya heading to, sir?” The driver spoke, which was another unfamiliar thing.

He frowns, hiding his worriedness. “Mr. Richards?”

“Mr. Richards’ sick. I’m taking his place today.”

And that makes Matt grow quiet, letting his other senses kick in. Other than the scent, he could hear the steady heartbeat slowly start to spike, the knuckles tightening their hold on the steering wheel, and the smell of ink lingering on the man’s neck. Now he’s realized what’s going on.

Sliding back outside, sensing his bodyguard looking at him with concern. “It’s a shame, Mr. Richards is sick.” Matt said, acting like he was scratching his neck but in reality was a signal. His bodyguard trails his eyes subtly inside, confirming what Matt thought the tattoo was.

A logo for a rebel gang in the area. A real pain in his side, always gutting for him. I guess he should have seen this coming sooner.

“It is. I hope he feels better.” His bodyguard said, still with a smile. “Will you be taking a stroll instead?”

“I will.” Matt pushes away from the vehicle, heading in the direction he needed to go. “Just make sure you take out the trash for me.”

“Of course. I’ll see you later Mr. Murdock.”

Matt listened as his bodyguard shut the back door before getting in the passenger, and took out his side arm, politely telling him to drive. He wishes he could go back and laugh in his ‘kidnapper’s’ face. He’s been in this business long enough to know who he trusts and who he can gut. Even though it can be tiring…

The monster inside him sometimes enjoys the thrill of it all.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

He sighs when the knob doesn’t turn, and starts fishing around for his keys; His pocket was like a void sometimes. He brushes off your scent and footsteps as being part of his tired mind, so it still surprised him when you suddenly appeared next to him.

“Wow, look who’s late.” You say, with a cheeky look.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” He asked, pausing his actions (guess he should stop brushing the thought of you off).

“Thought I stopped by on my patrol of the neighbourhood. I brought bagels.” You hold the piping hot food up. “And if you’re wondering why the door’s still locked, Foggy had… lots to drink last night.”

He raises an eyebrow. “How hungover is he?”

“Well, not sure on that, but he did call me three times in the middle of the night to talk about the Yankees and how Darth Vader would be great at the sport.”

He chuckles. “Oh. So he’s that drunk.” He finally unlocks and opens the door. “I’ll make coffee.”

You smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

He started the machine and you walked around again, being nosy as usual. The office still had its characteristics about it, enough to know what side was Matt’s and what side was Foggy.

God, I’ve spent too much time around them. You spotted a stack of papers nearby, printed on it is what looks like an ad and you let your curiosity get the best of you on this one.

“You going to start standing on street corners and pass these out?” You asked, before realizing you didn’t phrase it right. “Sorry. The fliers, I mean?”

He smiles. “I thought that’s what you meant. No, Foggy thought it’d be a good idea to get the word out more.”

“Is business not good or something?” You asked, worriedly. For being in a building like this you thought they had to be doing good.

“Don’t worry, we are. But we want to branch out more. Marci’s job allows her to travel around New York City, so we’re going to have her put some up whenever she gets the chance.”

“Well that’s good.” You look back at it, admiring the work until something catches your eye. You noticed that each of the men had signed their names on the bottom right above the printed version of it, a nice warm idea to show how ‘cozy’ this place was. But that’s not what was stopping you; There was something… oddly familiar about Matt’s penmanship.

Where have I–

“Coffee’s ready.” Matt announces, coming out from the kitchenette with two cups.

You smile, subconsciously folding the paper and tucking it away. “Thanks.” You take a sip, the cheap coffee actually tasting pretty good this time around. Then, you noticed something else about him, something more troubling as you jump into action. “You’re bleeding.”

That catches him off guard. “What?”

“You’re bleeding.” You set your cup down before he could speak and roll up his sleeve. You noticed the deep gash on his forearm, not too big, just deep. You furrow your brows concernedly. “How’d you get this cut?”

Matt keeps his cool, the lie he tells rolls off his tongue with ease. “Curse of a blind man. Can’t see where I’m going.”

“Let me fix you up. Where’s the first aid kit?”

“Y/N, you don’t have to.”

“I want to. Where is it?”

“Y/N–”

“Don’t be a brat, Matty.” You slap him in the shoulder, holding back a laugh. “Where is it?”

Now he seems like he was trying to do the same thing. “Really? You’re bringing that name back?” He asked as you hum and nod. “Well… peaches, it’s under the sink.”

“Pfft.” You slap him again as you pass and mumble, “Can’t believe that name is still haunting me.” You grab the kit and examine his arm again, taking a better look. “Looks deep. I could stitch it up?”

“Nah, don’t bother. It’ll heal.” Matt says, trying to calm the nerves he could hear in your voice.

“But it’s deep. I really should.”

“Y/N, it’ll heal. Trust me. Just bandage it.”

You comply against your better judgment, and start cleaning it up first. “You got some superpower I don’t know about?” You asked, ironically.

“Hmm, maybe, I don’t know.” He grins. “Wouldn’t little peaches like to know that.”

“Oh, my god. Stop.” You blush a bit. “You’re never going to let that go.”

“What? Like I said the last time, I think it’s adorable.”

“No, it’s not.” You shake your head, all embarrassed as you start applying the bandages. “What would you think if I started calling you ‘Bratty-Matty’ again?”

He chuckles, making your heart flutter. “You already did a few times.”

“In public.”

“Oh, well—”

“See? You’ll hate it.”

“No, not necessarily.”

You pause. “Huh?”

“Well, you know, in today’s environment it’s kind of–” His free hand tugs on your badge around your neck, getting closer. “Kinky.”

“Kinky?” You said, with a flush face and slightly intrigued (completely unaware that he could hear your heart racing with excitement). “I didn’t think little… Catholic Matthew Murdock would be into those things.”

His pulse skipped a beat, feeling your hand gently brush the injured one. “Well, we were just children so… we wouldn’t talk about adult stuff now, would we?”

“Oh, certainly not.” You feel his chest press against yours as he closes the gap. “You… like to talk about that stuff?”

“Only with the people I really admire.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” His hand creeps up to the back of your neck, gently bracing you.

You couldn’t help but moan a little from it, drawing a seductive smile from him. “Matty…”

“I kind of want to share that with you.” He whispers, trying to lock his lips to yours and–

Your walkie suddenly crackles, an order coming through.

You blush. “Sorry.” You reply, trying to unclip from your belt as he steps away to give you space.

“It’s okay.” He says, listening to you ask the operator to repeat and you to take it.

You sigh. “Geez, I’m sorry, Matt. I’ve got to go.”

“No, no. It’s okay. You’re still on duty.”

“Okay. Thanks.” You start to leave, until you feel him get close to you again (and looking flustered once more).

Matt rubs the back of his neck like a nervous tick. “Hey, uh… would you like to… catch up some more? Just the two of us? Like… over dinner?”

Now it was your turn to be caught off guard. “Dinner?” You asked, making sure you heard that correctly. “Like uh… like a date?”

“I was thinking more of a play-date, maybe?” He replies with a half shrug.

“A play-date, huh?” You raise your eyebrow, grinning. “And where would this play-date partake?”

“Oh, I was thinking maybe that Sicilian place in that hotel off 5th?”

“That’s quite the restaurant. You sure?”

“My treat.”

“Alrighty then, hot shot. I’ll see you seven. I’ll wear something nice.”

“You could wear pajamas and I wouldn’t care.” He listens to you laugh a wave goodbye, standing in the doorframe of his office until he hears you no more. His expression fades away into something more serious now. “Brently.”

The office across the way, which was ‘up for lease’, opened up to one of his bodyguards who was awaiting a task. “You called, Boss?”

“Call Karen and tell her to move the meeting I have tonight to tomorrow.”

Brently’s face stays the same, but his tone shifts to concern. “Sir, would that be wise? I mean, they’ve been waiting weeks to have a word from you. You sure they won’t lash out?”

“They should know enough to not even try that. If not, handle it. Understood?”

“Understood.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Did Castle disappear again?” You asked an officer as you entered the office, noticing that he was not lounging around where his desk was.

“Probably. I haven’t seen him all morning.”

“Figures.”

Seriously, where does he run off too? You should probably ask him, I mean he trusts you enough to tell you, right? You head into the women’s locker room, heading to the row in the back. You quickly examine to see if your lock has been tampered with before putting your bag inside. It’s kind of sad you had to watch you back here, a place you should feel the safest but you don’t. You lock it back up as you hear the door being opened, sounding like two officers coming inside, chatting.

“-surprised she’s not dead yet.”

“I know, right? I’m still amazed.”

You roll your eyes at the gossip and how they sounded like they were teenagers in high school. “Oh, boy…” You whisper, and start to leave, but–

“I wonder what Lieutenant Y/N did to the Boss for him to spare her so far.”

You froze, breath caught in your throat.

Wait, what?

“I mean, how long has she been here with us? A month? Two?”

“That sounds about right.”

“I mean, she’s survived a lot longer than we expected. Remember Captain Trevor? He refused to follow the program and guess what? A day and a half later he was dead. Bullet embedded in his skull and they ruled it a suicide, but we all know what it is.”

“Yeah.” A sigh, and the next words were like a knife to your heart. “I feel bad for Castle. A hardened soldier like him still felt guilty about doing it. You could see it in his eyes.”

“Yeah. Poor Trevor too. He was young. Castle probably saw his own son in him.”

“Man, this sucks. How has the Lieutenant been living this long?”

“That’s what I’m saying. There’s got to be something to it.”

“I believe it.”

You continue to listen as they talk about something else before grabbing something out of their lockers and leaving. The whole time you had your hand cupped over your mouth, your face went pale. Frank had told you briefly about his ‘program’ kill but…

You didn’t think it would hit so deep. Now all you could think about now was–

Why were you still alive?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

You wore a cap sleeve red dress for your date, accompanied with black heels and a purse. You kept your makeup kind of light, and decided to style your hair long today with an exception of a clip for looks. Just as you finished putting some perfume on, you were surprised when you found Matt already at your door.

“Matty?” You said, taken back.

“The one and only.” Was his response, hold out his arm for you to take. “Ready to go?”

You knock yourself out of your trance (that of shock and how good he looked tonight) and lock the door. “Yeah, of course.” You take his arm and you both guide each other around down the apartment stairs.

“You smell good, by the way.”

You blush. “Thanks.” Then you mentally slap yourself. “I just realize you can’t see what I’m wearing.”

“I can feel.” He fingers brush the fabric. “Silk?”

“I got it years ago when my precinct was doing this charity-gala event, and haven’t worn it since. It’s red by the way.”

“Ah. I always liked that color on you. Cherry?”

“Apple.” You answered as you get to the last step when the thought from earlier comes back. “Hey, how did you know where I lived?”

“You told me one time.” Matt replies, masking his panic pretty well (God, how did he forget that?).

“I did?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” Maybe it was all those third shifts you’ve been doing lately. “You must have a better memory than I do, ‘cause I don’t.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The restaurant was… way more fancy than you thought it was going to be. I know Matt said he’d treat you but Jesus H. Christ this place was way above your pay grade. The materials they used and decorations you could see knew they were attached to triple digits, and when a menu doesn’t bother showing you the price for something, you knew you were out of your league.

Now I feel kind of guilty mooching off of him. You thought, knowing he was a lawyer but still. Could he really afford this?

“Here’s some glasses for the wine.” Your server said, gently placing them on the table. You quickly now noticed the the brace on his forearm and out curiosity, you asked,

“Your hand okay?”

“Oh, this? Yeah I’m fine. Lucky actually. I was getting mugged the other day.” He says, and you suddenly realize why he looked so familiar.

“That’s awful. Sorry to hear that.” Matt replies, as the waiter shrugs.

“Like I said, I was lucky. Thank god that vigilante was nearby. Saved my ass. Just wished I could have thanked him.” You couldn’t help but smile a little while Matt mumbled something incoherent as he continued tracing his fingers over the braille menu.

What’s up with him? You wondered, before tuning back into what your waiter was saying.

“-So, have we decided what we’re eating tonight?” He asked, and the two of you placed your orders before handing the menus back. “I’ll have that out for you shortly.”

“Still not sold on Daredevil?” You asked, pouring a glass of wine for the both of you.

He thanks you before answering, “Like I said, I just want the right guy to pay.”

“And you think he’s not doing a good job?”

“Well the media thinks he is. I’m not so sure myself sometimes. But I’ll admit, I admire how persistent he is.”

You pause before tilting your head, confused. “Persistent? What do you mean by that?” You took note how he looked like a deer in a headlight just as your waiter came out with the appetizers. By then the subject was changed, something less ‘intense’ and more lighthearted. And by the time your main courses came the two of you were laughing and enjoying yourself, feeling like you two were kids again.

“Oh, man. I can’t believe you guys actually did that.” You said, mixing around your carbonara with your fork. “How did you and Foggy not get expelled?”

“Good…” He chuckles. “Good question. We really should have, to be honest.”

You hum, staring at him for a minute before feeling a twinge of guilt. You wanted to ask him something that’s been bugging you for a while, and you were not sure if it was the appropriate time or not. You set your utensil down, nervously. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“It’s… kind of a debbie-downer.”

“You know I’ll answer it, Y/N.” He says, reassuring. “Shoot.”

Backing out crosses your mind, but you managed to encourage yourself to finally ask, “Why did you stop writing letters to me?” And then you saw his expression again, one that you didn’t know how to place. Why was he so surprised you were asking him certain things tonight?

You watch him set his own fork down, eternally debating with himself as he takes a deep breath.

“Listen… Y/N, I–”

The sound of something shattering caught both of your attentions, followed by hush voices before it got really loud.

“I know he’s in here! I recognized his cars outside! His people!” A man shouted, his thick accent lingering. A worker shouted at him to get back as he entered the dining hall, catching everyone’s eye now.

“What’s going on?” You said, missing the way the brunette clenches his fists (‘Cause unlike you, he knew exactly who this was).

“I know you’re in here! Тащи сюда свою задницу, ублюдок!” (*Get your ass over here, Bastard!)

“What the hell is babbling about?” You asked, recognizing it was Russian, but didn’t understand it. You watched him get pulled away by a few people, still shouting and kicking like a child throwing a fit. “What do you think that was all about?”

Matt’s hands twitched and ached in his lap, unbeknownst to you. “Um… I don’t–” But then his phone rings, this time you could see the bit of annoyance on his features as he pulls it out.

[‘Brently. Brently. Brently.’]

The automatic voice chimed over and over until he picked it up.

“Sorry. Let me take this.” He says, before you have any say. “Hello?” You watch him talk, the annoyance on his face seemed to progress that was starting to rub off on you. “Alright, then.” He hangs up with a sigh.

“Who’s Brently?” You asked, slightly irritated (and you would be more if he knew he was going to lie next).

“Uh, client. Um, he’s in some legal trouble, I, uh… gotta go bail him out.” Matt replies, scooting his chair back.

You blink in surprise. “What?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I gotta take responsibility for this.”

“To bail your client out?” He shakes his head, causing you more confusion. “Doesn’t he have a family? Why did you call you to bail him out?”

“Well, I’m… his lawyer, and he calls me so it falls on me.”

Now that just sounded like a load of bull to you. You frown. “So? Make him wait, or call Foggy then. We’re–”

“Foggy’s out with Marci. Don’t want to bother him.” Matt says, cutting you off.

“And we’re not… out? Together? Like him and his wife?”

“Y/N, I’m really sorry, I’ll make it up to you, but this is important.”

Now that got your blood boiling. “And this is not?” You asked, standing up yourself and walking away with him calling out your name like a broken record.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Matt was really surprised that you let him even open the taxi door for you, but he knew you weren’t looking his way with your arms cross and head down with rage (he honestly couldn’t fucking blame you for acting like this). He then walked around and told the driver your address, and told him to drive safe which he complied.

“You Mr. Richards son?” He asked in a low tone that you couldn’t hear.

“Yes, I am.”

“Is he doing better?”

“A little banged up, but he’s alright. Should be back in a few days, Sir.”

“Good.” Then he made a face that makes anyone’s skin crawl. “You make sure nothing happens to her, or I’ll gut inside out and mail it to your dad as a ‘get well’ gift. Understood?”

The driver pales and nods before driving away. Matt then gets in a black tinted SUV, fuming in his seat as his bodyguard rolls the privacy screen down to talk.

“Page has Mr. Anatoly, Boss.”

“Where are they heading?” He asked, hands aching again as he bounces his leg to confine his anger inside.

“Usual spot. Shall I drive you over there?”

“Yes.” A grin. “Please.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Here’s a twenty.” You said, as the taxi pulled up to your apartment. “Just keep the change.”

“Uh, no need, uh… Your date paid for it.” The driver explained, waving it off.

You roll your eyes. “Of course he did.” You mumbled, getting out of the vehicle quickly as he bid you goodnight. Well…

That had to be one of the worst dates you’ve ever been on (and you’ve been on a lot). You threw your purse on the kitchen counter, kicking off your heels somewhere in the dark hall before sliding down to a sitting position against the wall. You get that he had an important client, but did he really have to take priority over him rather than spending a nice evening with you? Or better question… Why did he look like you caught off guard so many times tonight?

What are you hiding, Matt? And that was a question that was burning like candle light.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Karen was sitting in the back of another SUV listening to how Anatoly, the Russian mob member, went on and on about something (to be frank, she was only half listening).

“You were right to reach out to us, although, since we’re being truthful, a call would have been more appropriate.” Karen explains, feeling slightly sorry about what was going to happen to this man.

“Look, I… I wanted to speak with him in person. Try to put the past behind us.” The Russian said, getting a hum which was right on cue for the vehicle to stop. “Why are we stopping?”

“They say the past is etched in stone, but it isn’t. It’s… smoke trapped in a closed room, swirling, changing. Buffeted by the passing of years and wishful thinking.” Karen starts poetically saying. “But even though our perception of it changes, one thing remains constant. The past can… never be completely erased. It lingers. Like the scent of burning wood. And it’s my job as his advisor to make sure everything just… lingers.”

Anatoly gives her a strange look, which Karen ignored to answer a call.

“Sir?” She said, listening closely. “Yes, passenger side.”

“Was that him?” The Russian asked, hopeful.

“Yes. He’d like to have a word with you.”

Anatoly nods and mumbles something in his native tongue seconds before the door flies wide open. To his shock, an angry Matt Murdock reaches inside and yanks him out, throwing him viciously on the ground.

“You embarrassed me.” Matt snarls, even with his shades on you knew there was bloodlust in those blind pupils. “You fucking embarassed me infront of her!” And throws a punch.

They both exchange some hits, equally spilling some blood, however, at one point, Anatoly pulls out a knife, swinging it defensively. What thought could do some damage, he ends up seeing the Kingpin’s suit was barely touched by the blade.

Surprising him again, Matt had him pinned against the vehicle, breaking his wrist the weapon was in. “Мне бы хотелось, чтобы ты просто позвонил. Я бы дал тебе пропуск. Но нет…” He hisses, cradling the sides of the Russian’s head (*I wish you had just fucking called. I would have given you a pass. But no…). “Ты только что выкопал себе чертову могилу.” (*You just had dug your own fucking grave.)

He then starts banging his head on the side of the car a few times before tossing him back at the ground. Anatoly desperately tries to crawl to the car, begging Karen to help in Russian, but Matt’s advisor made no movements that she would at all. Instead, Matt drags Anatoly by his hair, laying him between the floor and the door…

Then slams it hard.

And over.

And over again.

As blood bathed the concrete with its glorious red color, Matt never stopped until his enemy’s head was completely taken off.

Inhaling heavily, body still tense as Karen walks over carefully, offering her Boss her handkerchief.

“Tell Mr. Potter, I’ll need a new suit.” Matt said after a moment, and wiped his face clean.

Karen nods with a hum. “What about this?” She asked, gesturing to the body behind them.

“Keep it. Freeze it. Let his brother worry for a few days, and will pull the cards if we have to.”

“Which cards, if I may ask?”

“Send it to Vladimir to show who really runs this city, or…”

“We blame it on Daredevil.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Alright, listen up. Last night, a father was driving home with his son until they were surrounded by unidentified men.” Your police chief said as you all were gathered around the office. You knew by how tense he was this was going to be some tough news to swallow. “Those men beat the poor dad and kidnapped the kid. Griffin Banks. Eight years old, he has curly brown hair and brown eyes; about 5 feet tall, 86 pounds, and was last seen wearing his little league uniform. Your jobs are to find him quickly and bring him home safe. Understood? – Great. Off you all go!”

And then all of you scattered like ants, hopefully to get some kind of lead, some kind of evidence of where he was but…

“This shit’s going nowhere.” Frank complained, after a few hours of tiredly searching. You couldn’t blame him for complaining about this, because you too were feeling the same way.

If only I had heard about this last night when I was on the street. I could have been looking already. You went out as Daredevil last night to clear your head after that disastrous date and didn’t come across any crime or hear anything to spark your interest. You thought that was a good thing, you thought maybe the criminals finally understood that you weren’t leaving, but now you realize that the reason was entirely different.

Did everyone in the underworld know about this kid? Was this an act of war or treason? You still weren’t a hundred percent sure how everything ran, but you did know that not everyone in the shadows worked or agreed with the Kingpin, so maybe this was a way to get back at him.

But why an innocent kid of all things?

“Let’s try around the park again.” You said, heading back for the car.

“Again? Y/N we just came from there.” Frank said, as you shake your head.

“Maybe we missed something. I want to check.”

“Y/N. Hey, wait. Y/N–” He grabs you by the shoulder to stop you from entering his car. “Wait. Look, I know you want to catch this guy, I get it, but we can’t keep going back to the same place over and over again, it’s not doing us any good.”

“Yeah, but what if we’re missing something?” You asked, forming a look of desperation in your eyes that means so much more. So much more that he actually understands it.

His face softens. “Y/N, I know that look, you’ve been through this before haven’t you?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, breaking eye contact. “I just want him to be alright. I couldn’t save the last one.” You explain, voice quivering at the end.

“Hey, I get it. We all have a similar case every once and while, and it gets to us. I understand how you feel. However, if you keep running in circles, and getting inside your head, you’re not going to be able to do much. You’re going to make the same mistakes.”

“I know, but–”

“Go take a break. Go clear your head, then come back to the precinct.”

“Frank–”

“There are a hundred or so other officers looking for this kid. You can take a rest.”

“Frank–”

“Please.”

And how could you say ‘no’ when Frank reminded you of your old partner Max here? He was making the same thoughtful, worried expression that made you want to break and asked for a hug.

You wanted to say ‘no’, to show them both that you could handle it, to show that you’ve grown but… You can’t.

You haven’t grown one bit since then.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Fancy seeing you here.”

You take your face out of your hands, looking up from your spot in the waiting area. You decided on getting a quick bite before you head back. “Foggy?”

“Thought I get some grub myself.” He said, sitting down next to you, waiting as well. “Rough morning?”

I guess he could tell how messed up you felt. “You could say that.”

“Is it because of that missing kid?”

“Yeah.” You said, as you laid your head against the wall. “Guess word got around quickly.”

“You guys will find him.” He gives you a reassuring look. “I have faith.”

You scoffed. “You have more faith than I do.”

He looks proud of himself while replying, “Hey, It’s what I do best.”

“What about you?” You cast him a glance. “Did you and Matt sort out that client issue?”

Foggy tilts his head, eyebrows scrunched together. “Issue? What issue?”

“The client issue.” You realize he didn’t know what you were talking about and continue trying to specify. “Matt and I went out last night but he cut it short; Told me he had to leave because of work. An issue with a client.”

“Issue with a client? I don’t recall a current issue with anybody.” Foggy says, honestly, as he scratches his head to think. “Are you sure that’s what he told you?”

“I’m dead serious.” You sit up straighter. “You seriously have no idea what I’m talking about?”

“No, I’m sorry, Y/N. I would know if we had an issue, I mean, we’re partners; Fifty-Fifty, you know? But if he comes into the office later I’ll ask him about it.”

You let his words sink as he excused himself to grab his food. You were… baffled. Completely fucking baffled. Did Matt really lie to you last night? And for what? He didn’t want to be there with you anymore? Did he think you were being nosy? Did he not like you in the way you thought he did? Whatever the reason was, it didn’t matter…

You were going to be pissed off anyway.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Take the bag off.” Matt snarls as he enters the freezer. His bodyguard complied, showing their enemy off for him to ‘see’. “If you’re smart you’ll make this quick. Where’s the kid you took?”

The Russian grinned, his teeth stained red with lips full of blisters. “Like hell I’ll tell you. Not until you agree to meet with Vladimir like you promised!”

“Where’s the kid?” He tried again, patience thinning out already.

“Fuck. Off. 3асранец.” (*Asshole)

Matt hums. “So not smart? Not a shocker.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who backed out at the last minute. I don’t know what was so important last night that you just had to miss it.”

“Well, all of us have lives, you know.”

He laughs. “A leech like you? Have a life? I find that hard to believe.” Another chuckle. “We know you so well that Vladimir had us on standby to take a kid.” And another. “We know you have a little soft spot for them.”

But Matt stays calm, eerily calm that could make anyone’s skin crawl. “Just Vladimir? So did his brother not have any say in that?”

“What?”

“You know, Anatoly paid me a visit last night. He actually interrupted my important event. If your bosses had such a… grand plan, how come one of them came looking for me?”

He scoffed under his breath, mumbling, “Цифры. Анатолий всегда был нетерпеливым.” (*Figures. Anatoly was always the impatient one.)

This makes Matt grinned. “Ah, so you guys have no idea? Do you?”

“Know what?”

“Что я тоже нетерпелив.” Matt says while snapping his fingers (*That I am also impatient). The meat hooks were shifted around until it was a headless body that appeared, but that didn’t shake the Russian too much until someone pulled out the body’s severed head from a box of ice.

The man paled. “O Боже…” (*Oh God…)

“Понимаете?” Matt asked, the same expression staying (*You see?). “Мне плевать, какой у тебя статус. Ты меня злишь, я убью тебя.” (*I don’t care what status you are. You make me angry, I’ll kill you)

“You really are a monster.” He says, trying to keep it together.

“Yeah, I know. And with no regrets too. Now…” Matt’s face falls. “Where’s the kid?”

“Like I’d ever tell you after what you just did! 3асранец!” He snaps before spatting in his face. (*Asshole!)

Matt stays quiet, and calmly wipes the red spite from his face. “Otomo.” He calls out to the deepest part of the freezer, a person dressed in an all black ninja outfit. “Kare o korose.” (*Kill him). The assassin nods, unsheathing his blade which was enough to get the Russian to wiggle in his restraints and start begging.

“W-Wait! Wait! Wait! What about– No. No–”

“Dispose the body anyway you can.” Matt orders as he turns to leave the cold, until…

“Ты хочешь остановить Сорвиголову, верно?!” (*You want to stop Daredevil right?!)

As soon as those words were spoken, the Kingpin stopped in his tracks. It was only until he turned back around, the Russian started laughing with hysteria and joy.

“I know you do. We all do.” He pants and swallows. “Этот парень... он поможет любому. И я гарантирую, что он захочет спасти ребенка. Пусть все это ускользнет…” (*This guy... he’ll help anyone. And I guarantee he’ll want to save the child. Let this all slide…) He chuckles with a painful smile. “Я-я упущу это, и вместе мы сможем поймать Сорвиголову. Разве это не было бы красиво?” (*I-I let this slide, and together, we could trap Daredevil. Wouldn’t that be beautiful?)

The man prayed that this would work, and his spirits seemed to be lifted when the King of Darkness smiled.

“No one else saw you take him?” Matt asked one of the guards who shook his head. “Huh. You know…” He shifted the weight on his cane. “I like that idea. It is beautiful. Slightly risky, but beautiful.” Then he flickered his blind gaze back to his assassin. “Kare o korose.” (*Kill him)

Then he spun on his heels again and left, the door shutting behind the screams that his sensitive ears could still hear. He maneuvered around the place, listening to his adivisor’s heels click around behind him at the pace he told her to as he finds a sink to clean his soured face.

“So you’re going forward with his suggestion?” Karen asked, hands behind her back, waiting.

“It’s a little far-fetched, but if Daredevil catches wind of the kid, we actually can kill two birds with one stone.” He said, running the very idea over and over in his head. “Any updates?”

“Your phone’s been blowing up. The personal one.”

“Calls?”

“Texts mostly.”

“Who’s it from?” He asked her, as she pulled it out of her pocket and reread it over.

“Foggy.” She replies, watching him stop drying his face.

“Is it important?”

“Might be.”

“Might be?”

“He wants to know what client issue you had last night, and says you should contact Y/N.” She frowns. “Apparently she’s pissed at you for leaving last night.” He mutters something under his breath that she didn’t hear before she decided to take a step forward. “Forgive me if I’m stepping over a line, and I know she’s a long time friend, but she’s also a cop; A cop that hasn’t been linked with your program yet, and has been begging for you to tell her yourself, which I know you won’t.”

“Your point is, Karen? Matt asked, throwing the towel aside.

“What if this works out like you hope, and you reveal to her that you’re the Kingpin, then what? You expect her to be okay with it? Expect her to accept it without a little blackmail on the line?”

A brief pause. “No.”

“Exactly. She’ll try to take your ass to court, better yet she’ll try to shoot you dead. I just don’t want a repeat of last time.”

And the haunting memory flashed before him. He didn’t think it could still hurt so much. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ll figure that out later. But what about you? How’s your task going?”

“Still growing strong like you asked.” Karen said as he cups her jaw with a smile. “He trusts me a lot.”

“Good. Good. I’m glad to hear that.” He says, while slowly tracing her red lips with his thumb. “Even if, and that’s a big if, Castle ever thinks that he’s out of my control, he’s not, not if you’re on him like a thorn in his side. Right?”

“Right.”

He hums, and lightly ghosts her arm with his fingertips drawing a small sound from her. “Bet you’re imagining me as him. Hmm?” He pulls her head down closer, his lips right next to her ear. “Keep seducing Castle for me, okay? I don’t care if you catch any feelings either, as long as you know he’ll still be between my fingertips, then I’ll let that slide. Understood?”

She makes a sound again, eyes half lid. “Understood.”

“Good.” Then he gently bites the side of her lower lip, kitty licking the bruise before pulling away. “Tell the driver to bring the car around while I make a call.”

With a shaky breath she says, “Yes, sir.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The voicemail still buzzed in the back of your head as you came bursting through your window, barely having the mental strength to lock as you started shedding your DD suit as you walked towards your bathroom.

*Beep*

[ ‘Hey, Y/N. Look, I know you’re upset, and you have every right to be, but please just… Can you just call me back and just listen to what I have to say? Please? I just… I know I messed up. I’m sorry. Please call me back when you get the chance.’ ]

*Beep*

You kicked off the last pair of clothing as you crawled into the shower turning the hot water on, letting it run on your hunched over back with your forehead against the tiles.

These few days have sucked. First your date leaves you high and dry, then you find out he lied, and now you can’t even find a missing kid whether your Daredevil or Detective L/N. It…

It really hurts.

This task… hits… close to home.

You hold back the tears you felt, and hold back the urge to sob as you let your fingers trace the scar on the base of your neck, remembering how it got there.

It was stupid mistake.

You should have waited for your partner instead of running off on your own.

You’re an idiot. You’re an idiot. You should have waited. You should have waited. You–

You honestly thought the universe would grant you this. To grant you a chance to catch the man you’ve been hunting for weeks; To catch the man that’s been stealing those kids and doing heinous things with them. You needed to catch him, you begged to catch him but…

No.

No you can’t.

As soon as you spotted him you ran like hell after him, ignoring as your partner Max yelled your name. You had blinders on, you’ll admit, but you don’t want that man to take another kid, to steal yet another kid’s future. No.

Not on your fucking watch. However–

He catches you by surprise, and suddenly your whole world is on its side as you free fall, hitting something sharp and painful on the way down. Now you’re laying on the ground, your spine feeling funny as you feel the pool of blood grow around your head, your ears ringing like they’re dying out.

Damn it. You thought. You really thought you had this one in the bag as you started to fade to black just as your partner’s voice broke out into a scream. A scream that you know was–

“Fuck!” You yelled, and swiped off all the bottles off the shelf and let it rattled to the tub floor (you know you probably just woke up your downstairs neighbour but you couldn’t care less). You sigh heavily, holding the sides of your head.

Tonight was going to be a long night for you.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Frank’s fingers glided over his phone for the millionth time this morning. You haven’t arrived at all this morning which was so not like you (Especially since you were so desperate to solve this case). He waited a few minutes before texting again:

[ Forget what precinct you work at or something? Where are you? ]

He just wants something from you, even if you respond with an emoji that he’ll have to decipher.

Come on, Y/N. At least tell me you’re staying home. One of his fears right now was you doing something drastic. After his conversation with you yesterday he decided to look up what was scaring you, and that was the case you took just a few years out of the academy, the same year you became a detective. A criminal that had been taunting you and your partner for months, and when you finally had him, the night ended with you getting a near death injury… and another kid getting killed.

Poor girl. I just wish you didn’t have to get demoted here. You’re too good for this place. His thoughts were interrupted when his phone finally dinged with a message from you.

[ Detective Stubborn: Ate something bad last night. Stomach’s killing me. ]

He sighs with relief, whether that was true or not, he’s just glad to know you’re away from here.

[ Feel better. ]

He just really, really hopes you stay home and clear your mind.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

But of course… why would you?

After planning all day and looking over very little evidence you had you decided to go out as soon as the sun started to set. You had to rough up a couple of street thugs to get some more solid evidence, but eventually it was enough for you to figure out where they took the boy.

The warehouse district.

You floated through one of the skyline landing without a sound, and the rest of your mission honestly became a bit of a blur. Why? Well… as you rushed around through each warehouse undetected until you actually found the kid, your enemies, when they finally noticed you, didn’t seem very fond of you poking your nose in their business. Now you’re running like hell, a kid in your arms as you tried shielding him from every bullet that came your way. You tried levitating a few times when you found yourself up high and trying to cross a beam or a walkway, but you’ve never actually flown with someone in your arms so you’re out of practice.

Come on, Y/N. Remember bootcamp, Remember your first rescue mission, you know how to carry someone to safety. Which was true, but all those other times weren’t with you being pelted with bullets from an angry mob.

You felt the kid grip your outfit tighter making you say, “It’s okay. It’s okay. Everything will be okay.” You just kept repeating that comfortingly as you made three small crates float and fly to knock the men out of your path. You kicked one of the guys in the head when he tried to get up, sprinting again. If you can just get to the edge of the building, you’ll be home free.

Trekking across a catwalk, you used your abilities to conjure up a quick shield to block before surging the power outwards, knocking the gunmen off his feet and over the railing, plummeting into the overly packed room of wooden crates from overseas (you’re not sure if you really wanted to know what the Russian mafia was importing). You fought a few more guys that dared to intervene, dared you to stop and surrender and be killed.

You could see the finish line, you could feel the boy relaxing your arms as he sees it too; You were finally going to complete the mission that’s been haunting you for so–

You heard something rattle and roll behind you.

You just had enough time to look at what it was before putting a shield up, the tiny thing exploding your whole world.

When you came back around, an excruciating pain ran through your body, a pain that was so unbearable that you didn’t want to move. The explosive you managed to shield took out the catwalk you were on and everything close by. You fell all the way down with debris dusting your face, still holding onto the kid before blacking out. Now… you laid on the floor, your head shaking as you urged yourself to look down, finding what was causing the pain.

A metal bar was sticking out from your abdomen.

You somehow didn’t scream, maybe because you felt like you were going into shock, or maybe you were shouting and haven’t noticed yet.

Oh, god, I’ve– wait… the boy… Trying not to black out when you turn your head to look, and about a foot away was the boy who had bounced off your body during the fall. Your heart would have caught in your throat if he didn’t see his chest moving, but it was.

He’s alive. You sighed with relief, but here comes the tricky part. How are you going to move and save him with this pole in your stomach? You groaned loudly as you tried to move, arm reaching out in the attempt to at least shake him awake, trying to tell him to run if you’re truly stuck.

“Uh, Gr-Griffin… g-get up. W-Wake… up. Please…” You croaked, yet it doesn’t seem like the sleeping boy can hear you… but someone else could.

But as you shifted again, pain shooting out as the metal shifted with you, that’s when you noticed someone coming over in the corner of your eye. One of the Russians had come over, checking if you were still alive which was plain as day now. You watch his eyes go between you and the child for a few seconds before grinning like a maniac.

Your eyes widened when you saw the gun in his hands. “No.” You whimpered with your fingertips glowing red, right as he shot a bullet into the kid’s head. “No!!!” You couldn’t believe what you had just witnessed. Would this have happened if it didn’t–

Then he pointed the weapon at you, out instinct or adrenaline your abilities shifted the gun towards him, firing his own bullet into his own skull.

His body dropped like it was made of bricks, the gun sliding inches away from him, causing you to nearly throw up in your mouth. I mean, you were a cop after all, so of course you’ve had to shoot a person or two but this was…

Messing with your fucking head.

You could hear shouting in the distance, which was enough for you to kick it high gear again and try to move. First things first was trying to get this damn bar out of your stomach.

How the fuck– wait– let’s see– You concertrated the best you could as you redirected all the energy you had into yanking it out (doing it quickly probably was the best idea but you didn’t have much time). The bar rattled next to you, a pool of red oozing out as you rolled to your side feeling the blood rise to your throat. You quickly moved to all four, pulling your mask down to cough up the rest of the red. Sweating and heaving, you felt like you had no energy left to move, but you needed to. You could hear them coming.

As you got up to your feet, your knees nearly buckled but yourself forward where you noticed some stairs going up. Ripping and pushing your hood against your wound as you started to climb, hoping you weren’t leaving too much of a blood trail.

Just as you got to the top you heard the voice grow near, and you managed to slide yourself into a place that no one could see from below. You just needed to stay hidden long enough for them to leave to make your escape (whenever that was). However, you never thought after searching for a few months that you would actually get to see the man they call ‘Kingpin’.

You peaked out watching two very different groups of people arrive. The Russians looked slightly surprised when the Underworld’s Ruler showed up, dressed in the red suit that you’ve heard about on the street. He walked like he owned the place, his black cane with gold trim was like the piece that tied his whole look together. He stopped with his back towards you, with many of his men standing around as, what you tell was, the Russian mob’s leader came face-to-face with Kingpin.

“3асранец. Now you show your face.” The leader, Vladimir snaps (*Asshole).

“Well, seeing how this is my turf now, I have to show my face.” Kingpin said, making you perk up with confusion.

Why does his voice sound–? But your thought trails off as you watch Vladimir scoffing in disbelief.

“Your turf? You think we just… ‘mess up’ and you take over?”

“Well, I certainly don’t need to see that–” Matt points to the mess the explosion made. “You pretty much destroyed most of your cargo.”

Vladimir frowns, shifting his weight. “I’ll admit, I wish my men didn’t blow up half the warehouse. But I will give him a pass because he was trying to stop our rat.”

He raises an eyebrow. “A rat?”

“Yeah, a rat.” Vladimir smiles a little. “I had a feeling Daredevil would come for the kid. Why wouldn’t you if it makes you feel good?”

Matt clenches the top of his cane, keeping his composure from the neck up. “Daredevil was here?”

“Still here, I think.” The Russian points to the bloody puddle on the floor. “There’s a pipe laying next to a large amount of blood. In my experience, getting impaled you don’t get very far.”

His frown deepens, grip tightening. “And the kid? I smell two bodies with no heartbeats.” Then his whole aura changed into something darker, suffocating. “Tell me, are those your men?”

Vladimir paled, and tried to keep the discomfort off his face. He didn’t want to answer, even he knew staying silent wouldn’t be a good idea. “One of them.”

“One of them?”

“Why do you care? It could have been Daredevil! She could have pulled the trigger!”

Matt didn’t say anything as he cast his blind gaze at the corpses before saying, “No. His scent is the only one on the gun and its bullets. So the kid’s death is in your hands.” But then he pauses, realizing something. “Wait. She?”

“Yes. My men said they saw Daredevil upclose, says the stature’s too small and not burly enough to be a man.” Vladimir replies, making Matt hum in response. “I guess something good did come out of this after all. We finally have more evidence of what we’re up against.”

And those words were his signature for his own death.

The room got really cold, and energy felt suffocating. Everyone present began praying that they’ll be spared.

Matt grits his teeth, shaded eyes growing hungrier. “First you embarrassed me, now you insult me? I’m not even sure what to say anymore.” He says, snapping his fingers as his bodyguards shoved Vladimir to his knees, the end of a barrel being pressed in his face. The other Russians tried to make an advance, but they were outnumbered, making them slowly raise their hands over their heads.

“Давай, мужик.” Vladimir said, as Matt made a tsking news (*Come on, Man).

“Don’t ‘come on, man’ me. You brought this upon yourself. I mean–” Matt chuckled dryly, lowly, scary. “All you and your brother had to do was just wait the next day for our meeting. But no, you had to go out and throw a tantrum, you had to go out and kidnap a kid that has no meaning to any of us.”

Vladimir scoffs. “No meaning? It always has some meaning to you. Don’t act like you haven’t kidnapped someone’s kid before.”

“And I’m not. I know what I’ve done. But unlike you, when I kidnap someone there’s meaning to it, a purpose. Like when I… ‘picked up’ our DA’s lovely daughter after soccer practice, and said we were good friends. And like any child, she believed it.” Matt smiled just a little before it faded in an instant. “However… she never ended up like that.” He gestures to the body on the floor. “You get what I mean?”

The Russian growls. “3асранец.” (*Asshole)

“You can keep calling me an asshole all you want, but you know I’m right.” Matt sighs. “I just wish your brother was like you.”

Vladimir’s breath caught in his throat. “What did you do?”

“Nothing that your brother didn’t deserve. He did interrupt a very important date I really care about. I’m honestly surprised he found the restaurant I was in.”

Brother? Interrupted? Restaurant? You thought, wondering why this sounds so familiar.

“What. Did. You. Do?!” Vladimir shouted, baring his teeth as the King of Darkness lips curled into a mischievous grin.

“Like I said, nothing he didn’t deserve.” Matt snaps his fingers again, this time summoning someone over who was holding up a duffle bag. He reaches inside and pulls the brother’s head out by his hair (You had to hold back from gasping loudly at the sight).

Vladimir nearly broke down on the spot. “Anatoly…”

“I really wished he had just called, I wouldn’t have resorted to such manners.” Another sigh. “I even had to lie to my date that I had to go bail him out.”

And that’s when your whole world collapsed.

No. You thought, shaking your head as everything started to click in place.

No. No. This has to be fake. I have to be sleeping. This can’t– But you can’t deny what was plain as day. You didn’t have to see his face to know it was him. I mean, he had a cane you thought was just for fashion, he had shades on that you thought was just part of his look, but you can’t deny that his voice is the same, you can’t deny that the missing pieces had formed a whole.

But then his name rolled off your lips as you stared with disbelief.

“Matt…” You whispered, and as soon as you did, his head snapped your way.

Tensing up and pushing yourself further into the shadows, you slapped your hand over your mouth as your heart pounded in your ears.

There’s no way he heard me… right? However, that couldn’t be a coincidence. There’s no way you just mutter his name and then look your way. It’s too much of a coincidence for it not to be true. But does that mean–

Can Matt… hear anything? Does he have abilities like me? You didn’t know what to think as he went back to his conversation with the Russian mob leader.

His perplexed expression changed back to the grin as he continued to taunt the man before him. “Now do you understand why people don’t cross me?”

“You’re a monster.” Vladimir replies, voice filled with venom. “You’re a fucking monster.”

“I know.”

“You won’t get away with this. When people hear about what you’ve done, there’s no way the others are going to let this go.” The Russian clenched his fists. “My people, even if I’m gone, they’re not going to put up with this. Same with the Doctors, S.I.L.K., the Chinese, the Japanese–”

“The Japanese?” Matt said with a laugh. “Oh, they work for me.” And he almost laughed again when he saw his prey’s face pale again in shock. “Yeah. You see, they raised me. The Hand taught me everything I know, and helped me rise to this position.”

What does he mean he was raised by the Japanese? You managed to think after slowly coming over your shock. You knew his mother died in the accident that blinded him, and he mentioned his dad pasted as well, and–

Wait…

Matt never told me when his father died. Does that mean he was young enough to be taken in by someone? Someone like… You couldn’t even finish the sentence. You’ve heard bits and pieces about The Hand on the street. You knew they were hardcore, highly skilled and basically an assassination group; People you didn’t want to mess with.

So does that make Matt… an assassin?

“You really have power in everything.” Vladimir said, head hanging low.

“Pretty much.” Matt said, proudly.

“Then I guess… I’ve got nothing else to do than follow you.”

“Follow me?” The blind man scoffed. “Oh, Vladimir, you lost your chance at that. You’ve already proven to me that you have no loyalty, that you only think about yourself.”

“Mr. Murdock–”

Matt cut him off by holding his hand up, and staying quiet for just a moment. “I really wanted to like you Vladimir, that hard head of yours I could have used for so many things but…” He sighs and stays silent again.

And then you watch him plunge his sword into the side of Vladimir’s head.

Your pupils shrunk and you felt all the air get sucked out of you. You–

Matt slowly pulls his weapon out, letting his bodyguards drop the body to the floor. He just stares again, almost like he was basking in what he just did.

Oh, my god… he just… Then you watched him sheath the blade back into his cane and says,

“Kill the rest.”

And that’s when you knew you had to move. Using all the strength you had left to bolt away as Matt’s men started firing at whoever was left of the Russian mob.

You’re not sure how you’re even going to get home, but fuck…

There’s no way in hell you’re going to stick around here.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

You practically crawled to the bathroom when you got back to the apartment, black spots started dancing as you ripped open the first aid kit. You shake off your top, turning the shower on for a few seconds to remove the excess blood.

“Matty… would you still be friends with me if I was a freak?” You asked him as the two of you sat on the fire escape of his apartment. The question has been gnawing at you for quite some time, and you weren’t sure how to express it so.

“A freak?” Matt said, confused. “Why would you ask me that?”

The pole didn’t go all the way through, which was good, but damn… that was going to leave a nasty scar when it did heal. You had to bite on a rolled up magazine as you started sewing up the wound, the pain keeping you awake.

“Well…” You nervously shifted your weight, looking in his direction. “What if I told you… that my parents are special?”

“Special? In what way?

You placed the gauze over the wound, then bandaging it up. You then cursed as you pushed yourself to a stand, running your blood soaked hands under the water, watching it swirl down the drain.

“Like… what if they had abilities? Like superheroes?”

“Like superheroes?” Matt perked up a little. “Do they?”

“It’s just a question.” You shrug and look away. “Would you be okay if I was a freak too?”

Your eyes shifted from the bathroom to your kitchen, remembering something. You flicked off the faucet, wobbly walking towards the very thing that’s been peaking your curiosity for the longest time.

The vase of roses.

With a shaky hand you grabbed the note, opening up to reread the one sentence on the paper.

“I wouldn’t mind.” Matt said, with a smile. “I’d think it’d be cool.”

You blink in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah. You would be like an actual superhero. Like the ones you see in the comic books. I’ll admit though, I’d be kind of jealous if you did.”

“How come?”

Now you were back in your room, rummaging around for the outfit you wore to work the other day. You know you still have it, you have to. You needed the chance to compare the two.

“Because–” Now it was his turn to shift in his seat. “My best friend has powers and I don’t. Everyone would be in awe with you but with me? Nothing.”

You frown at his words. “Don’t say that. I think it would be nice to have someone different than me.” Then smiles. “Keeps me from not going completely crazy.”

He chuckles. “Well it would be my job to keep you from going nuts. I wouldn’t want you to be the villain of the story.”

You smirk a little at that, scooting closer. “Is that a promise?”

Your (Y/E/C) eyes widened with disbelief for the millionth time tonight. In one hand you had the note from the vase, the other? It was the ad from Nelson and Murdock, the ones they were going to pass out, spread the word.

The one that had their penmanship on the very bottom.

A perfect–

Perfect–

Match.

You held out your pinky. “Promise me. Promise me that as long as we’re together, we won’t become villains in this world. Will always be each other’s light.”

He stays quiet for a second, like he’s thinking. Then he raises an eyebrow, saying, “Superpowered or not?”

“Superpowered or not.”

“Okay. Deal.” He interlocks his pinky with yours. “I promise I won’t do anything crazy while you’re here.”

“Thank you, Matty. I’ll hold you to it.”

You snagged everything that was off the counter, marching over to the window, ripping it open. Without even looking you just tossed it out, letting it drop and shattered on the dumpster lid below.

You just couldn’t believe it as you sank to your knees.

You just couldn’t believe it.

You just…

Couldn’t believe your whole life was in a lie.

(TBC)

-Taglist Is Open-

@utterlynuts @etanordoesbullsh1t @mattmurdocksstarlight @l3xiluve @lunaticgurly @margoo0 @swift-enchanted @athenniene

@up-in-space-reading @itwasthereaminuteago @lazyxsquirrel @yeonalie @scoliobean @kayden666

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 2 months ago

Text

weren't we the stars in heaven? | m. murdock

a/n: hi guys. so sorry i haven't posted a full length fic about matt in a while so as a sorry here's a BEAST of a fic. i have nothing much to say about this, but i will say that i am not thrilled with the ending but oh well. enjoy! i'm gonna go take a nap but i am really proud of this so if you guys like it, let me know! warnings: oh boy. so many things. cursing, use of weed, drinking, matt is married but it's an open marriage, lots of religious imagery, sex, rough fucking, unprotected sex, no use of y/n, lowkey some mean matt smut, his kid is autistic but its not mentioned a ton, reader is hard of hearing but its only mentioned once, female reader with female anatomy, age gap, nicknames, ANGST, dirty talk, hella flirting and pining, just. it's a lot. word count: 9.2k (holy moly) summary: you develop a crush on a friend of your dad's from work. the only problem is that he's married, twice your age, and you babysit his son. pairing: dbf!matt murdock x fem!reader now playing: anything - adrianne lenker "lay on your lap when i'm crying/weren't we the stars in heaven?/weren't we the salt in the sea?/dragon in the new warm mountain/didn't you believe me?"

Spring

A week at home is too long. You think about how torturous a whole summer here will be. It’s almost enough to make you sign up to be a summer orientation leader or even a tour leader. Almost. The pay isn’t that good to stay in the dorms without AC all summer.

Of course, your mother asks you to go to church on Easter Sunday and because she did your laundry and cooked you your first home-cooked meal in months, you oblige her.

And as you’re sitting there, on your knees with your hands folded, your eyes peek open, beginning to wander around the church. It’s way too hot in this church, and you are bored out of your mind.

You realize you are the only one who is bored out of your mind. Well.. Almost.

Your gaze catches onto a man who looks just as bored as you do, only, you can’t really tell if he’s looking at you. You lean your head back and roll your eyes, trying to signal how god damn bored you are to him. He just smirks, and your heart flutters.

It almost looks like his smirk widens at that.

Your face flushes and you just put your head back down, closing your eyes as if you’ve been caught doing something you’re not supposed to.

Eventually when the service is over, you’re still thinking about the strange man on the other side of the church as you sip church lemonade that is way too sweet—But you’ve been up for hours and this is the first thing you’ve had since you woke up.

Your parents are making pleasant conversations with various friends they know, and you smile awkwardly at friends from high school. You almost choke on your lemonade when you see the man make his way out of the church, his arm hooked to a woman’s as he taps a cane against the pavement, a young boy next to them as well.

And before you know it, the family of three is approaching your family and your ears are burning red.

Your dad happily shakes his hand and pulls him in for one of those weird man hugs that you don’t really understand, as your mother does one of those weird moves where she presses her cheek against his wives.

Your father gestures over to you and says, “This is our daughter,” And he gives them your name, “She’s home for spring break from school.”

You wave to the kid, before shaking the wife’s hand, and then his— His hand is warm. Your heart is racing and you just shake his hand, trying to ignore the soft squeeze that accompanies the shake.

“Matthew,” He introduces himself like your insides aren’t discombobulated, “Matthew Murdock.” You just look at him, blinking for a second, and your mind begins to wander. How did he know you were rolling your eyes in the church if he’s blind? And how is he so hot?

You think you might die—Your face is flushed, and you think for sure that you’ve been caught, and that his wife will see right through this little charade and knows that you have a huge crush on her husband, whom you just met. He must know what he’s doing because he just smirks at you and opens his mouth to say something, but your mom just looks at you with a look of concern.

“Honey, are you alright?” she asks, “You look warm,” You shake your head with a soft smile.

“No, I’m uh.. Well, I think I’m gonna take a quick walk, find some shade—Excuse me.” You say politely, but before you can leave the conversation, Matt smiles,

“I’ll come with you. I could use the fresh air.” He offers, and you almost say no, but your mom smiles like she’s trying to fucking kill you—

“What a wonderful idea, You can tell Mr. Murdock all about your studies.” She offers, and something in your stomach twists with embarrassment—the way she phrases it makes you sound so.. young. So, you just offer Matt your arm, and he hooks his hand onto it like it’s casual.

And so, the pair of you walk through the courtyard of the church, eventually finding a bench where the sun barely creeps through the leaves of the willow tree that hangs over it, and the pair of you sit down, silence overwhelming you.

“So, what’s your major?”

“Oh, uh—English. I’m an English major.” You say, almost ashamed at how boring you sound, “And.. what do you do?”

“I’m a Lawyer,” he smiles. Your dad is a security guard at the court you have in town, so there’s no question of how they know each other.

“Your wife seems nice,” you blurt out, wanting to say something nicer to convince him—maybe yourself, that you really truly are not jealous of a woman you just met.

“She is,” he answers politely, as if that’s.. the kindest thing he can say about her.

“What’s your son’s name?” You ask curiously.

“Lucas.” He smiles fondly now, and your heart melts at the thought that this man truly feels nothing but pure, burning affection for his son. “When do you go back to school?” He asks curiously.

“Oh, tomorrow.” You smile, “Thank god.”

Then, he catches you off guard.

“That’s the most genuine thing you’ve said since we sat down.” He smirks, “Not a fan of your hometown?”

You don’t know how to explain it, not really—When you were applying to college, your mom asked you if you wanted to apply to any local colleges. And while you’re persistent that there’s nothing wrong with community college, you were sure that you needed to get out of here, or else you think you would’ve died.

But, you owe Matt an explanation.. Well, maybe you don’t, but you think you do.

“It’s not that,” You promise, “There’s just something about being here that brings out the worst in people.” You sigh.

His hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, and while it’s subtle, you notice the way that his thumb rubs against your skin, and you might melt right into him.

“Don’t let anyone ever shame you for leaving.” He offers gently, and you think you just about fall in love with him. Then, his head picks up as the screechy tone of his wife calling for him interrupts your conversation. He just sighs, and makes a bold move—his hand goes to your thigh and gently, just barely, rubs his fingers against the fabric of your sundress, the tips of his fingers teasing your skin. “Well, I’ll.. see you in the summer then?” he ponders.

“Uh-huh..” You say, your eyes soft with want. Then, he walks right out of your life.

Summer

As spring melted into summer, and as you finished the rest of your finals, your dad picks you up from your dorm, packing everything you hold near and dear into his truck, and then starting the drive home.

For the past month and a half, you have heard nothing about Matt or his family. Sometimes, you ask your parents, ‘How’s your job, how’s the church’, begging for any crumbs of information about Matt. And you aren’t even sure why, because in your mind, he is very happily married.

It takes about a week. You sit, day after day, summer job hunting, waiting to be doomed to minimum wage and exhausting hours. Then, your mom comes home with groceries and a smile that you know can only mean bad news.

“I found you a job!” She declares happily, as you put the milk in the fridge.

“In the dairy aisle of the grocery store?” You question, and she laughs.

“No, no, I found you a babysitting job for the summer.” She smiles. “For the Murdocks!”

You squeeze the orange in your hand so hard that your thumbnails pierce it as orange juice drips down your hands, blinking before throwing out the orange, your hand reeking of the tangerine, fingers sticky with sugar.

“I’m sorry?” You manage to squeak out.

“You’re going to be babysitting their son, Lucas. They both work from nine to five, sometimes later. You’d get paid to just hangout with the kid,” She shrugged with a soft smile.

Oh, great. You’re gonna be trapped in the man’s house, looking after his kid. Fucking amazing.

But, you really don’t even see Matt, especially not the first day. Well, really, you barely see him over the course of the first week, but you get whispers of him, and it’s almost worse. You see his graduation photos, his wedding photos, a photo of him holding Lucas in the hospital.

You see his office door cracked open, you see a mug with his name on it, you see his wedding ring on the table—

You see his wedding ring on the table?

He’s elusive. But, from the fragmented sentences you get from Lucas, he tells you how his parents aren’t quite like other couples. Your mind is caught on the fact that Matt and his wife might not be 100 percent happy together, and then you feel guilty that you want to take it as an opportunity to comfort him, in the least Godly way possible.

Matt and Lucas’ mother will be working late tonight, she tells you in the morning, there’s money for dinner on the counter, and you can just relax until they get home.

Lucas drags you all over town that day. The park, the comic bookstore, and then you spend two hours in target, trying to find anything related to Bluey or Cars 2, the only two things he wants to talk about. Your body is sore from looking after him. He’s a very nice kid, but you recognize that he’s.. different.

Nobody in your town has a diagnosis, but you can tell that Lucas is on the spectrum, and you have every intention of telling Matt to get him a diagnosis, so he has the resources he needs to succeed in school.

But, tonight, you’re tired. Very very tired.

So, after putting Lucas to bed and enjoying a slice of semi cold pizza, along with flat diet soda, you find yourself in the backyard. Lucas’ window is open, and you can see the downstairs steps from where you’re sitting, so you’ll be able to see Lucas if he needs anything.

You’re sitting in a patio swing, letting your feet rock you back and forth. Maybe it’s unprofessional of you.. but you scrounge through your bag, finding your pen and turning it on, taking a long hit. You walk to and from work, so it’s not like you won’t be able to drive yourself home.

Then, you see Matt come in, and you freeze. Fuck.

You watch as he sets his bag down, slipping his suit jacket off after. Then, he tucks his cane somewhere safe, before his fingers begin to work at folding his sleeves up to his elbows. His fingers rub his temple for a minute, obviously exhausted from a long time. Then, he takes off his glasses and your heart skips a beat.

He pauses as soon as your heartbeats and he smirks when he turns towards the backyard door. Oh fuck.

He slides the patio door open and approaches you,

“Why are you outside?” he asks, sitting next to you.

“Uh.. Just, enjoying the weather.” And he laughs like you’re the funniest person he knows as he sits down next to you, groaning as he does, and your heart can barely take it.

“You’re a horrible lair, sweetheart.” He tells you. Does he know how desperately you want him? “What are you really—” Then he pauses, his nose twitching. “Are you smoking weed?” He questions.

“No.” You say, but as you breath out, smoke blows out of your mouth as you cough a bit.

“Oh my god—”

“Wait, wait, wait, don’t fire me—”

“Hand it over.” He says, hand outstretched, waiting for the pen. And not even for a second does your brain imagine denying him. It doesn’t cross your mind that maybe he doesn’t have that authority over you and you’re a grown adult.

In fact, you’re foolish if you ever thought he has no authority over you.

You hand over the pen sheepishly, but.. you’re caught way off guard when is fingers study the pen, finding the button and taking a hit for himself. You just watch him, mesmerized as he exhales through his nose.

“Sorry,” he starts, taking another hit before passing it back to you, “I’ll make it up to you.” he promises.

“It’s okay,” You giggle, a little bit from how comical it was, but a little bit from how fucking hot that was. Then, you take another hit, as he just rocks the porch swing back and forth, like he’s rocking you to sleep. The night is cool enough that the smoke barely rattles your lungs, and the intensity of summer has gone to sleep. Silence fills the air, as you just pass your pen back and forth, love in your eyes.

“Why is your wedding ring on the table?” You finally ask. You expect Matt to tense up, to scoff and tell you to mind your fucking business, but he just blows out more smoke before responding,

“My wife and I don’t have the most.. conventional of relationships.” He responds, “We’re in an open relationship.” He adds.

“Oh.” You breath out.

“Yeah. Oh. It’s more like.. She goes out and dates and fucks and I flirt occasionally, but that’s sort of a long title.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He takes a hit, “Oh.”

You don’t have anything to offer to that.

“Are you from here?” you ask, and he just smiles.

“No.” He says, and now there is true yearning in his voice. “Hell’s Kitchen, New York.” He responds.

“Do you at least like it here?” You ponder, as if his far away voice didn’t give him away.

“At first it’s fine. You try to fit in, just, make your way through, settle down. Then, you begin to hate it. You feel like if it sunk into the ground right at this very second, you’d die happy. Then, you become.. indifferent. You don’t mind the numbness of it all, you just stay perfectly complacent. Then, you wake up and are desperate to escape, like your own personal Truman show. The Matthew Show. Wouldn’t that be something to see?” He muses.

And again, you have nothing to offer but another piece of your soul, just throwing it out there,

“Would you date anyone?”

“Excuse me?”

“Like, if you had someone you were really into, would you date her—Them, whoever?” You ask. “Whomever?” You ask, quieter now, mostly to yourself.

He smiles.

“If someone came along, someone say, who smoked weed, got along very well with my son, and was a horrible liar? Bonus points if she—they,” You suspect he’s making fun of you, “were an English Major?”

You tilt your head with a doe eyed smile.

“You remember I’m an English major?” He coos at you like you’re stupid,

“I remember everything about you, sweetheart.” What is wrong with him? What is wrong with you? Why aren’t you saying anything more to him?

“You know, sometimes, I remember the feeling of your fingers on my thigh when I touch myself,” And he grins like he knows he’s won.

“I bet you do,” He whispers, leaning forward so that his breath was hot against your skin, “Bad, Bad girl..” he ticks, and you can’t help but blush.

“Sorry,” You giggle out as your hand comes up to his face, just to move the pads of your fingers over his scruff.

“It’s okay, sweet girl,” he purrs, his hand finding your thigh again, the twitch of your legs not lost on him. “I don’t mind,” he hums. The weed you smoked is starting to kick in, and with it, your inhibitions start to slip away, your hand reaching so that you can barely touch his hair with the tips of your fingers. He takes another quick hit of your pen before taking your face in his hands, squeezing just a bit so he can lean in and blow smoke into your mouth, and as if it’s communion wine, you inhale, wanting every part of him you can have. Maybe it’s greedy, but you’ll atone for your sins later.

When he pulls away, you think you might just die and go up to heaven.

“I think..” You think so many things. You think that maybe he’s fucking with you. You think that this is a nice little dream that you’ll think back on when you’re old and wrinkly. The deepest, darkest, most insignificant piece of you that you pretend isn’t there, says—

What if he leaves his wife for you?

And you completely understand that you’ve barely kissed the man, but you never claimed that the deep dark part of you was smart, chill or even a little bit in touch with reality, only that it exists.

Besides, the deepest, darkest, most insignificant piece of you that you pretend isn’t there isn’t something you can ignore. Ignoring it is like trying to hold a beachball underwater—Eventually it’ll pop back up and hit you in the face.

“I think that maybe I should head home.” You finally answer, and maybe it’s the weed, but you see a flash of.. disappointment cross over his features. But that couldn’t be it, you’re much more pathetic than he is, he wouldn’t be so upset over you having to leave..

Would he?

But as quickly as the disappointment was there.. It was gone. Poof. As if it had never even existed.

“That’s okay,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and handing your pen back to you so you can tuck it into your bag, until the next time you need another hit. His head picks up as you glance over to door, where his wife walks in, putting her things down. He glances over to you, “Let me walk you home.” He offers.

You smile gently, standing up with him. You don’t say much as you make your way to gather your things from the front door, making pleasant conversations with his wife as he waited for you to get your shoes on. Soon enough, you’re making the quiet walk back to your house, and you’re accepting the swirling mess that is your emotions—Sure, he’s married, technically your boss, way older than you, and most definitely able to read you like a book, but there’s something about him that makes you forget all of that.

Maybe it’s just the general look of him—the salt and pepper hair, the stubble that’s just a bit too long, the sleeves rolled up to his elbow, the way his hands have just a few wrinkles and are covered in scars (from what, you do not know), the feeling of his hand on your thigh or the way his pink lips blew smoke into yours, the way his pants hug the curve of his ass, or maybe, you pathetic college student, maybe it’s the shine of his shoes, professional but just begging you to ride them.

Jesus, you’re too high for this.

But you’re almost certain that what did you in, the roots of your delusion, is the way he squeezed your hand the first time you met. You think, with the upmost affection, that your handshake was the most intimate two strangers could get on a Sunday in the blazing sun, the hypnotic daze of the light shining through the stained-glass windows of the church finally wearing off.

You want to tell him as much, to tell him that you haven’t gone a day without thinking about him since that day, that no amount of college students who ask you out for coffee have been able to drown out the sound of his voice in the back of your head, that the deepest, darkest, most insignificant part of you thinks that he might leave his wife for you.

But the walk home is silent.

You say nothing, but you listen to his breathing, calm, steady. You’re envious. Sure, he’s blind, but there is quite literally no part of you that doesn’t betray you, that doesn’t give you away.

He stops at the end of your driveway, and you hold your breath, waiting for him to speak. You can tell he has something to say, by the way he inhales, lips just barely parted. Sure, you’ve been an English major for years, but you’ve quickly picked up a minor in Matt Murdock studies.

“If I made you uncomfortable tonight, I’m sorry.” He starts, and your brows furrow in confusion.

“I’m—You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” you promise. If anything, even though you were the one who said it was time to go, there’s a twinge of disappointment in your throat.

“Still—I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you or anything..” He starts, “Just.. Have a goodnight.” He smiles gently, his hand slowly, all too slowly, sliding off your arm as he steps away, but in a moment of, possibly THC induced, boldness, you grab his hand as he stands, arm outstretched to you. His sightless eyes hold onto you.

“You aren’t even gonna kiss me goodnight?” You ask, your voice vulnerably hopeful.

His lips twitch up in a smirk, pausing for a second, his head tilted in the most curious way. Like he’s waiting for the perfect moment. Then, he pulls your hand towards him so now you’re the one with the extended arm, like the two of you are dancing, pulling each other back and forth with an intensity birthed from desperation.

He brings your hand up to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the back of it, something straight out of a fairytale. But just as quickly, he gently drops your hand, his eyes blazing with affection.

“We’re okay?”

“We’re okay.” You confirm with a soft smile, not wanting to dwell on any uncertainty that’s between the two of you. To accept that there is any uncertainty at all would be to accept the chance that this is as far as you two will get—lingering crushes and the ghost of a pair of lips on your hand.

He waits until you get back into your house, then walks down the sidewalk back towards his house, putting the idea of you in the trunk that sits in his armoire, only in the back of his mind, next to his old suit, his old friends, and his old life.

On Monday, you get to the Murdock’s house after Matt and his wife have gone to work, but before Lucas has woken up.

On the counter, a tiny envelope sits, your name typed onto the envelope. You tear it open, finding a freshly bought cartridge for your pen. A note falls out of the envelope, and it’s.. in braille.

You sneak into Matt’s office, pulling out a braille dictionary, and you quickly figure out that the note says, ‘We’re okay?’

In the middle of his work day, Matt gets a text.

‘We’re okay.’

When you tell your mom you got invited to go out with some friends from high school, she nearly jumps with excitement. You weren’t exactly popular in High School—that’s not really something you hide, since you’re now going into your senior year of college and you can admit that you were something of a loser in high school..

And in college. But, at your college, that’s more normal and even encouraged, so you run with it.

But your stomach churns at the idea of hanging out with the girls that you hung out with in high school—Wasn’t one of them married?

You knew from your mom, mostly, that the three girls from high school stayed very much in touch throughout their time in college. They were always closer to each other than you were with them, but you know that wasn’t really their fault. They were dumb teenagers just like you.

Maybe not inviting you to hangout outside of school was a side effect of being a seventeen-year-old, as so many things were.

You tell her that you have no interest in going out with them, but she tells you that you should have some friends at home! You want to tell her that having no friends was one reason why you went away to school, but instead, you text them back, asking what they had in mind.

So that’s how you end up in a bar two towns over, liquor burning the back of your throat, your head pounding and your ears aching. Your face twists into despair as you swallow the shot, not feeling as good as your ‘friends’. You’ve never been a fan of drinking, even feeling guilty when you took your first shot of communion wine when you were 8.

Your friends start giggling and laughing as you try to keep up with the conversation, a little lost, a sinking feeling in your stomach as you poke at the ice in your empty glass with a straw.

Then, the bartender comes over to you, placing your drink of choice in front of you, your friends pausing their conversation as she does.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t order that,” You say politely, smiling awkwardly to her. You wish you were underage, you wish you were anywhere but here, you wish—

“Actually, the gentleman at the bar got it for you,” she smiles, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, glancing at the bar and—

Warmth explodes in your chest, your heart beginning to thump loudly in your ears.

Your friends laugh a bit, shoving your shoulders gently, teasing you.

“You have to go talk to him,” One starts, and another picks up,

“He’s hot!” You smile shyly down to the drink in front of you and nod,

“Fine.” You hum, picking up the drink and walking over to where Matt sits at the bar, sipping a whiskey on ice. You sit next to him, and for a moment, neither of you say anything, and then his head turns to you.

“Why are you here with people you don’t like?” he asks, and you just blink in surprise.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your friends. You don’t like them.” He says, and you just blush, embarrassed.

“How do you know that?” You ask, and he shrugs, taking a sip of his drink.

“You’re just.. quieter than usual.” He says honestly, sending you a sympathetic smile. You feel seen in the worst way possible. It’s like you’ve spent your entire life hiding, and Matt can see you for exactly what you are. Your face burns with embarrassment, taking another sip of your drink.

“Can we just flirt and almost fuck like we usually do?” You wonder.

“That makes it sound so much more.. casual than it is.” He pouts, and you just laugh, already feeling more relaxed than you had been before. And it isn’t even because of the alcohol, or so you suspect.

“What are you doing in a bar two towns over?” You ask, unsure how to respond to his comment about the casualness of your.. relationship, although that’s a rather strong word for what you two have.

“I was meeting with a client in town,” he responds, “Thought I’d stop for a drink before going home.” He says, and all you can find to respond is,

“Won’t your wife be mad at you for getting a drink when you could be home?” And he laughs, like you said something funny or cute.

“No, when she says she’s working late, she’s probably getting a drink and hooking up with someone. I thought I’d try it.” He smirks, and your face flushes. This is not a man who has any pure or holy intentions, and that absolutely turns you on. You have so little inhibition at this point that you simply lean forward, grab his tie, and pull him in for a long kiss.

Your nose twitches at the smell of vanilla, mixed with a bit of the whiskey, but quickly followed by just a hint of lemon. His hand quickly finds your waist, causing your posture to straighten as he kisses you deeper, his other hand trailing up your thigh, just like that first day outside the church.

The bar is dingy, so no one cares when he pulls away to finish his drink, then, straightens out his tie (which might kill you), and then he stands up, taking your hand in his.

“Let’s go,” he says quickly, pulling you along to the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. On the way there, your friends whistle and hoot, and while your face flushes, Matt does not seem to even notice. He opens the bathroom door without hesitation, like he knows it will be empty.

And the bathroom is.. disgusting. It’s dingy, dirty, but the sink looks.. clean enough. As soon as the door is closed behind you, Matt has you against it, his hands exploring your body as he kisses you, your hands instinctively going to his hair, as if you’ve done this a million times before.

His kisses are gentle, but invasive, like he wants to taste every single inch of your mouth with his tongue, and you happily let him. His fingers slip beneath your skirt, creeping up, finally finding the waistband of your panties, and he hums against your lips as if to shush you when you whine at the contact, his fingers slipping right under them to touch your throbbing cunt—It’s the type of warmth he’ll chase during cold, snowy days come winter.

His lips begin to attack your skin, kissing your jaw and your neck as he rubs circles into your clit, sucking up the breathy moans that escape your lips as he touches you. You’re soaking wet, and he wonders if you’ve ever been with anyone who knows where your clit is.

His fingers don’t even slip inside you, they just rub your clit with the attention it deserves, Matt taking your moans and how your hands grip his shirt as payment. But the movement of his fingers are too much for you, and before you know it, you’re squeezing your eyes tight, hands tangled in his clothes and hair, as you reach your first orgasm of many brought to you by the man.

He continues to rub your clit as you come down from that high, your breath getting more even, despite the way your skin burns and cum drips down your thighs. Then, he kisses you, jarringly soft—

“All that over some attention from my fingers?” He teases, that shit eating grin on his face. Part of you wants to tell him to fuck off, defend yourself, but you recognize, as does he, that he holds all the power in this dynamic.

“If I say yes, will you fuck me properly?” Because ‘make love’, despite what your mother and aunts always said, doesn’t seem proper. You two aren’t in love.. you’re in lust for this man—Or at least, you’re telling yourself that because of how desperately you want his cock inside you.

“I guess you’ll have to try it and find out.” He says, as if he’s not hard, his cock twitching in his pants at every little whiff he gets of you.

“Yes.” You hum, “All that over your fingers,” And he just smirks before asking,

“Anything else?”

“…Please?” And it seems to be the magic word, because he leans forward and kisses your cheek before adding,

“Good girl.” And at how excited that makes you, Matt finds himself practically fumbling for the condom he had put in his wallet the day he met you, but as soon as you realize it, you’re grabbing at his hands, trying to take it out of his hands, and his free hand finds your chin, gripping it just tightly enough to make your brain feel fuzzy, “What? What is it, baby?” he asks, and you have to take a moment before you respond,

“I’m on the pill, we don’t need a condom,” And a part of Matt’s brain that never quite grew out of the Catholic upbringing in which he was raised wants to remind you of all of the complications that could come with that, but another, stronger and more tempting part of his brain, the devil part of his brain thinks about the feeling of being buried deep inside of you, in the middle of this dingy fucking bathroom, with your ‘friends’ waiting outside, and he literally tosses the condom on the floor.

No words are spoken as he kisses you again, his hand that was holding the condom now working on unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, his free hand simply holding yours—perhaps the most romantic thing a man has ever done for you.

Eventually, your panties are rolled down to your ankles, and he pulls you just to the edge of the sink so you’re hanging onto him for dear life, and he just kisses you, and in between kisses he says, “Shh, shh, I’ve got you, just like that,”, and you trust him.

He pulls away from kissing you, to take your chin in his hand one more time and demand your attention.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he starts, “And it might hurt at first, but we’re gonna go slow, okay?”

“Okay,” and he kisses your forehead, strikingly loving compared to the situation that you have found yourself in. You wait, anticipation dripping down your thighs, before Matt slowly pushes himself inside of you, and as he fills you up, you moan into his skin.

There’s a part of Matt that starts shaking at the feeling of how tight you are around him. He lets out a low groan, his breath hot against your neck, as he bottoms out inside of you, his finger twitching a bit, aching to fuck you so intensely you’ll forget your own name..

But he resists, waiting for your grip on him to loosen softly,

“We’re okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“We’re okay,” You breath out, ready for him to move.

“Yeah, I know, baby, we’re okay,” he purrs, before slowly, agonizingly slowly, beginning to thrust in and out of you, only encouraged by your moans as they begin to pick up, thrusting into you faster, unable to resist the way you clench around him.

Your fingers barely scrape over his skin as he thrusts into you, his lips kissing your skin. He wants to tease you, he wants to tell you that you’re so dirty, letting a grown man fuck you in a dingy bathroom, but he finds himself lost in your warmth, unable to provide you with the dirty talk that he has dreamt of giving you for months.

But.. this is better. This is a well put together man, who falls apart at the feeling of your cunt, who shudders at the feeling of your hands on his, who tears apart at the seams of his being when your lips touch his. It’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to being an artist, mending and molding him with your hands.

It’s mesmerizing, and if you could, you’d stay here forever, letting him fuck into you like it’s his god damn job, slowly becoming faster, harder, more intense, never letting up, so you decide to push him—

“Need you to come inside me,” You pant out, and Matt won’t ever admit it to you, but he almost comes right then and there, not even bothering to give you a warning. Almost.

“I will, baby,” He hums, kissing your neck as sweat glistens his forehead, trying to push himself, trying to fuck you like you deserve, like he knows you deserve, his thrusts unrelenting.

Your thighs begin to shake as you claw at him, your breath catching in your throat.

“Matt- Please, oh my god—” You whine, “I’m gon—”

“Yeah, I know, baby, You’re squeezing around me so well,” He purrs, “C’mon, you can cum, you just gotta let go for me,” He advises, “C’mon, show me how good I’m making you feel,” And as you creep closer to the edge, your heart thumps loudly in his ears- You can’t help yourself. You’re sort of taken by the fact that when he’s breathless like this, you can hear his New York accent twinge out of him..

And that might just be what pushes you over the edge.

You cum with a moan, shuddered into his ear, panting as he keeps thrusting into you. The only time your mind wanders is rather briefly, as the way the stained glass windows looked in your church on the day you met him.

He lets out a soft whimper as he bathes in the feeling of you coming around his cock, the feeling of your hands in his hair, the feeling of your breath against his neck—he’s actually falling apart, and his thrusts only stutter as he comes inside you, deep deep within you.

Neither of you say anything as your hips pathetically roll, and he leads you down from your high as he slows his thrusts. For a moment, you both need to sit in the silence of your breathing..

And then, you start to laugh.

He laughs with you.

“What’s so funny?” He asks through laughs, tracing the side of your face with his hand, and you just laugh harder.

“You’re just..” You find the words, “You just exceeded my expectations is all,” and it’s so funny to him, that that’s where your mind goes after he fucked you so well. You’re adorable, he thinks, and he needs to keep you like this forever, stuck in time with his cum dripping down your legs.

When you both come down to earth, finally, he kisses you and says gently, “Let’s get you cleaned up,” And you happily oblige him.

He helps you off the sink, steadying you with his arms as your legs shake, holding onto him like a newborn deer, unsure of your movements.

But soon enough, you’re stable enough to stand on your own and the dawning realization hits you— you just ran away from your friends to go fuck a married man. And.. there’s so little regret—really, there’s nothing much at all that you feel besides an aching in your core for more.

He squeezes your arm gently, before asking,

“Feeling okay, honey?” he asks gently. And you just grin at him.

“Never better.”

So, funny enough..

You get grounded after your night out.

“Grounded?” Matt laughs as you tell him that, not at all caring that he has you sitting on his office desk, hands wandering your thighs, “You’re twenty one, how’d they ground you?” He ponders, and you huff.

“Well, my fuckin’ friends were telling their parents about this hookup I had in the bar, and their parents told mine, and they got mad at me—So now I’m only allowed to go to work, and then go home.” You huff.

Matt smirks against your skin, kissing your neck. He pulls back and grips your chin, tilting your head up to look to him, his thumb slipping into your mouth, pressing your tongue down.

“What’re you gonna do all summer, stuck in your big bad bosses house?” he asks, and you just roll your eyes as your face reddens. “Don’t worry, pretty thing,” he says gently, planting a long kiss to your jaw, “Your old man is gonna take good care of you.”

And you know he means it, too.

One weekend, your parents go away. They trust you won’t have any boys over, not even considering the idea that you’d have Mr. Murdock over.

He has his arm wrapped around you as you lay in bed, mumbling something soft in your ear. You roll over, admiring him for a minute, the way his eyes look.. he’s so pretty. You reach out and gently touch the skin around his eyes, noticing the scarring around his eyes.

“Hm?” You question, tilting your head. You didn’t quite hear him. He looks at you for a long time before responding,

“I think you’re hard of hearing,” And you can tell by the tone of his voice that he means it. “I’ve noticed it a lot, you always miss things when you aren’t looking right at people, and you’re always asking people to repeat themselves. There’s nothing wrong with that, I just.. You should be able to get the resources you need to help with that.” He shrugs, like it isn’t the most observant anyone’s ever been of you.

You lean in and kiss him, for a long time, your hand on his cheek. When you pull away, you take a second to breath before kissing him again.

“What was that for?” He eventually asks, a smile on his face.

“I just..” You shrug, “No one’s ever really noticed anything like that about me.” You feel seen, in a way that pulls at your heart. He smiles gently to you, kissing your forehead before responding,

“All I’ll ever want is for you to feel seen.”

The end of the summer comes a lot faster than you would’ve liked. You had a great summer, you tell yourself, you spent a lot of time at work with Lucas, smoking weed, sitting under the stars, and being with Matt.

But, as your move in date for your senior year approaches, and you begin to start packing, an anxiety starts to creep into you.

How will you say goodbye to him?

Neither of you have discussed what will happen when that day comes, but it looms over you like doomsday. Each day that passes, you get hit harder and harder with the realization that summer will end, and nothing will be the same.

And eventually, though you will and pray it does not, the day comes.

It’s hot. Blaring hot, hotter than you would’ve liked. Even as the sun begins to set, there’s a brutality to the air that does not provide any relief.

You’ve already said goodbye to Lucas and Matt’s wife, so now, you just sit on your front porch, staring at the house down the street. When the door to the house opens, you advert your eyes like you’ve been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to.

Soon after, you pick your head up to see Matt approaching you. He smiles to you, and you try to smile back, but your heart aches with the knowledge that this will be the last time you see him until.. well, you aren’t sure when. You stand up to meet him at the end of your driveway.

“All packed?” he asks. You scoff softly.

“Something like that.” You shrug, and he smiles.

“What’re you still missing?” You answer before you can stop yourself.

“You.” You say, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. Immediately, his arms are around you, overheating you in the late August weather, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. He holds you gently, as if you’ll break when he lets go, crying into your shoulder. His hand rubs your back as he gently shushes you.

“It’s okay,” he says gently, “I’ll be here when you get back.” He promises, and you know he’s right. But for the first time, leaving your home will be hard, and you do not know what to do about it, other than buy a candle that might smell like him.

You stay like that for a long time, longer than you care to admit, before he slowly pulls away. You look to him for a few minutes, before he kisses your forehead. He hands you an old Columbia tee shirt of his, one that smells just like him, and you clutch it like your life depends on it.

“We’re okay?” He asks gently, and even if it’s a lie, you nod, and respond,

“We’re okay.”

Fall

Adjusting to dorm life comes back to you quicker than you would’ve thought, despite your heartbreak that came with living. You and your friends fill your time with studying, smoking, and doing anything you can to distract yourself from the aching in your chest.

But, you can’t deny, that on nights where it’s too hot to sleep, you scroll through Facebook—yes, Facebook of all things, looking at photos of Matt, getting just small glances into his life from two hundred miles away.

And as the time melts away, you become more and more.. numb to the pain that stung so intensely.. But you also spend a lot of time looking for the cologne that he wore, and you won’t deny that when your roommate leaves for the weekend, you spend hours in the memories of the summer, with your hand between your legs, aching for just a bit of the pleasure he gave you.

You almost have a heart attack when your mom asks you to come to church with her while you’re home for fall break. Of course you’ll go, of course it’ll be your pleasure, mainly because you’re hoping—maybe even praying for him to be there.

When that Sunday comes, you spend an hour getting ready. You know that Matt is blind and won’t care, but maybe a part of you believes you need to dress all pretty for him. You even wear the sundress you wore for Easter Sunday.

Your thighs are already slick with heat when you get there, and your eyes scan the crowd for Matt.. and when you eventually find him, your breath hitches in your throat, just like the first night you felt him inside you.

You grin as you see him, all by himself, at the back of the church. You excuse yourself from your parents, making your way back to him like it’s your god damn birthday you’re so excited.

But as soon as you approach him, someone calls his name behind you—an old friend or maybe a coworker, and Matt walks toward you, and you open your mouth to say something your eyes following him, and then—

He walks right past you, avoiding you completely. Your face falls with disappointment, your heart sinking. Maybe.. he just didn’t realize it was you. Maybe. You don’t know, but it messes with your head throughout all of the service.

You and your family are sitting more towards the back, while Matt and his family sits in front of you—You watch him like it’s your damn job, waiting, waiting, Until—

He gets up, quietly making his way towards a door to the side, one that will lead downstairs and to a restroom. You begin to count to sixty, waiting so very patiently, before quietly excusing yourself, and following him down the stairs.

As soon as you open the basement door, Matt is pulling you further into the basement, to a deep dark corner, and immediately, you’re pressed against the wall, his mouth on your neck. You moan softly as your hands find his hair, tugging on it, as his hands begin to explore your thighs like a starving man.

“Matt—” You go to say, but his hand clamps over your mouth as his free hand tugs off your panties, his hand cupping your cunt as you roll your hips, desperate for more contact than that.

“You gonna behave for me, pretty thing?” He grumbles, and you nod against his hand, so he bites down on your shoulder, “There we go,” He mumbles, his hand coming off your mouth to pull your panties down, before working on his belt and his zipper.

Your hands work at his hair, trying to cope with the fact that he is not being gentle, in fact, he seems to be purposefully mean, like he’s trying to see if you can even take it. This is nothing like when he first fucked you—this is a fucking that is making you see stars, and will leave you in tears.

Two of his fingers spread you open, making sure that you’re ready for him to fuck you. When he decides he is, still kissing your neck, he thrusts into you quickly—unapologetically. He doesn’t care about much else besides chasing that feeling of you clenched around him. He bottoms out inside you and moans against your neck.

Then, his thrusts start. He doesn’t even pretend to start slow, immediately he is thrusting into you, harder than he had in months, relishing in the feeling and the sound of his skin slapping against yours.

“Missed your tight cunt,” He mumbles into your ear, “Missed how well you take me,” he hummed, his pace relentless. He’s trying to satisfy his cravings for you, but his attempt is messy and he’s losing his mind over the idea of not being able to fuck you for another few months.

“I’m—” You whine, your hair falling into your face, your brain fuzzy, “I’m gonna—” He coos softly as he grips your chin with his free hand.

“C’mon, pretty thing, cum for me—” And just like that, you do. You absolutely do. You don’t hold back, and as soon as he feels you clenching around him, he’s coming too. You don’t know what else to do other than let him ride his high. When he pulls out, his hand comes back to your thighs, beginning to gently massage the mess the two of you had made into your thighs, pulling your panties back up so that for the rest of the service, you kind of just.. have to sit with that.

Your hands stay in his hair as he cleans the pair of you up, and you lean in to kiss him, and he lets you, but.. he doesn’t really kiss you back. And it breaks your heart. Your eyebrows furrow, as you reach for him like a child, and he just grabs your hands, “Just.. relax, okay?” He sighs.

“Why are you being like this?” You ask, “You’re..” You struggle to find the words as he buckles his pants, ignoring your gaze. There’s something inside him that’s stopping him from being affectionate towards you, that reminds him that you’ll be heading back off to school in a day or two and his heart will break all over again.

“Go back upstairs, Honey,” he says, but you shake your head.

“No, stop ignoring me—”

“Now.” He says firmly, ignoring the nauseating feeling as the saltiness of your tears fill his senses.

“Fuck. You.” you spit out, and he’s not angry with you for your reaction. It’s valid, of course. He knows why you’re angry, he just fucked you lovelessly, in the basement of the church where you first met.

He doesn’t say anything.

But he listens to the angry sniffles and foot stomps as you make your way back upstairs.

Matt’s neglect made you turn a new corner, and as soon as you get back to school, you find yourself constantly working and studying. You can’t possibly think about the intensity of his thrusts, the sternness of his voice.

You can’t talk about it, you can’t talk to any of your friends about the way you fell in love with a married man, you can’t talk to your parents about how you developed such intense feelings for the man who lives down the street..

So, you study.

On Halloween, you get a little too fucked up.

You drink an intense amount, needing to wash away the anger you have for Matt. At some point, you’re sitting in your bathroom floor, leaning against your wall.

Matt does not answer your call.

But you listen to his voicemail like it’s a sermon.

Winter

After Halloween, you begin to drink water every day, you eat more balanced meals, and you cut back on your substances. Truly, you know you need to make a change. And you do—school work becomes less of a coping mechanism and more of your job again. You mostly focus on enjoying your senior year.

But as the winter creeps in, you shop around for a gift for Lucas, fondly remembering your time with the young boy, despite your interaction with his father back in October. You store the gift away and focus on your finals. By the time you make it home, you’re exhausted.

You sleep most of the day on the 22nd, and then on the 23rd, you spend your day unpacking and helping your mom get ready for Christmas. Before you go to bed, you wrap Lucas’ present, and store it away, not caring much to deliver it any time soon.

You tell yourself you’ll drop it off tomorrow, and you aren’t sure if you’d rather come face to face with Matt, or his wife. The walk takes seemingly forever, and you feel anxious the whole way there.

You knock on the door, and wait with baited breath.. When Matt opens the door, your breath catches. He looks really good—A grey button up and dark jeans. You just smile at him.

“Hey,” You breath, “Uhm, I was just.. I wanted to give this to Lucas.. Is he here?” You question, not knowing where else he’d be on Christmas Eve.

“Oh, he’s actually staying at his moms today,” And your head darts up.

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” Matt says somewhat sheepishly, “We’re.. Separated. In the process of getting divorced.” He confesses.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” He chuckles, “I guess It was inevitable.”

“Well.. Then I guess you’re not doing anything tonight, huh?” You wonder, and he nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll probably just have a drink and listen to Christmas music.” He chuckles. You ache for him to invite you over. But you don’t get to tell him that before he says, “I’m so sorry about.. October.” He sighs gently, rubbing his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” You say gently,

“No. It’s not. I was a dick, and you didn’t deserve that. I really am sorry.”

“I got over it,” You shrug.

“So.. We’re okay?” He offers.

You smile.

“Yeah. We’re okay.”

“Good. Because I’d really like to take you out sometime. Like, a real date.” He offers, and your face flushes.

“Yeah, that would be really nice..” You grin.

“No more sneaking around?”

“Well.. Maybe from my parents.. And it is kind of sexy,” You grin, taking a step up further onto his porch.

“Yeah?” He laughs, his hand coming down to rest on his waist. “Maybe that could be arranged.” He hums.

“Good,” You hum, and then you open your mouth to add, but he cuts you off.

“Do you want to stay for dinner? Tell your parents you’re keeping your old man company?” He hums, and your face flushes.

“I’d really like that.”

“That’s my baby,” He hums, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

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