#this has been a foggy nelson appreciation post

[murducks]

beautiful boy. light of my whole life.

(Daredevil vol 3 #18, vol 5 #608, vol 5 #603, vol 2 #77, vol 1 #225)

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

delicate - m. murdock

        

a/n: hi everyone :) it's been a while since i posted here but i am back with a fic on my latest hyperfixation! hopefully you all enjoy it and i appreciate any feedback you have on this little passion piece :) warnings: slight nsfw (no real smut but making out, teasing, etc) below the cutt, slight power dynamic because matt is readers boss, afab reader with no specific characterstics, shy!reader, matt being a tease, suggestive fluff ! lmk if i missed any! word count: 1228           now playing: delicate by taylor swift “is it cool that I said all that? / is it chill that you’re in my head?’

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   Every time you look up, it’s like he’s already looking at you—Every time.

            It’s honestly beginning to creep you out, and you’ve been meaning to bring it up with him privately, really, you swear every time you find yourself alone with him, you want to discuss it. Except every time you want to, he’s kissing you before you can find the words.

            Matt Murdock cannot get enough of your lips, and he’s starting to worry he might have to check himself into rehab, pray, something, anything, to stop his growing addiction to you.

            Like right now— Foggy was on lunch with Marci, eating peacefully in his office. Karen had run out to investigate a possible lead on a case the firm had just picked up. When Matt had called you into his office, you, half distracted with the papers that were in your hands, didn’t think of the possibility of ulterior motives on the man’s part.

            He closed the door behind you as you kept reading the papers, muttering something about how you knew that a break in the case was quickly approaching, before turning to him.             And he’s just looking at you.

            “Everything okay there?” You ask, the papers landing on his desk, as he hums, a playful smirk on his lips.

            “Just thinking about how beautiful you are, sweetheart.” He charms, and you just scoff, your throat drying, heart racing, face flushing.

            “You don’t even know what I look like.” You defend, leaning against his desk. He hums, slowly approaching you, maybe even stalking you, wanting to make sure you won’t run off if he gets too close. He gets close enough to you where you almost want to run away, just as he fears you will. It’s not that you don’t adore the proximity, it’s just that Matt has a way of making you nervous, even shy. Which was not like you at all—Sure, you were never particularly popular in school, but everyone knew you and you were liked. When you got the job at Nelson, Murdock & Page, Karen and Foggy became friends of yours instantly, your wit drawing them in like a moth to a flame.

            But the man with the red glasses had made you nervous.

            It was as if he knew it too, despite his lack of vision, because he was cocky about it. And holy shit, if that didn’t make you want him more. So, when he finally kissed you last month, in the back of Josie’s dingy dive bar, it was almost impossible to come up for air. And he only chuckled when he heard your shaky breath, telling you to relax as he began to press kisses along your jaw, cheek and neck.

            You haven’t come up for air since.

            He finally stopped moving when he was just in front of you, before wrapping his arms around your waist, hoisting you into his desk. Then, his hands traveled down to your thighs, humming at the soft feeling of your skin, radiating this nervous heat about you. He stepped between your legs, hands never leaving your thighs, and brought his forehead to yours.

            You quietly, a little in awe of him, reached up, removing his glasses from his face, to admire his pretty brown eyes.

            The papers on his desk have been long since forgotten.

            “You’re right, sweetheart, I don’t. But maybe you could tell me.” He said, taking your hands in his.

            You let out a nervous giggle, and it made him grin.

            “This is funny to you? I’m trying to romance my girl, and you’re laughing?” That has you laughing again, and he lets out a chuckle to accompany it.

            My girl, he had said.

            “I’m sorry,” You started, “You just make me so damn nervous. I’m not used to this.” You explain, and he lets out a sympathetic hum.  

            “Mm, I know, baby. But you’ve still got to tell me what you look like.” He says softly.

            You exhale, taking his hands and bringing them up to your face. First, you bring his left hand to your hair, letting him play with the ends of it. You tell him the color and let him feel the texture and length of it for himself. Then both hands come back to your face and cup your cheeks.

            “Your cheeks are very warm... Am I making you shy?” He asks, that teasing tone lingering in the question.

            You scoff softly at him, before you bring his right pointer finger to your nose, running it along the shape of it, so he can imagine it well. “This is my nose.” Then you close your eyes, and bring his fingertips up to your eyes, describing the color of them for him before adding, “I use these for looking at my very hot boss, who has every idea of the effect he has on me.” You grin.

            “Sounds like a dick.” He quips, his fingers landing on your cheeks again.

            “Mm, sometimes.” You joke back. Then, you guide his fingertips towards your lips, “And these are my lips... You know all too well what they can do.” At your teasing, it’s his turn to exhale shakily.

            “Do you know how badly I want you when you say things like that, sweetheart?” He asks, and you make a noise of faux confusion. It makes him chuckle—not in the same lighthearted way as before, though, there’s something darker about it now.

            Not that you have much time to process that, because suddenly he’s kissing you, his hands back on your thighs, and you react quickly, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing him close. When he breaks the kiss for air, just for a moment, it’s torture, enough to have you grab his tie and pull him in for another, and another.

            It’s been a while since you’ve come up for air, remember?

            After a few more minutes of kissing, you with all his passion he might save for other facets of his life, Matt’s hands travel up your thighs, pushing your skirt up, and he pulls away, a whine coming from your lips.

            “Sh, sh, sh... Easy, sweetheart. Gotta breath remember?” He says soft, and you hum in acknowledgement. “Good. Good girl for me... Isn’t that right?” And you just hum again, but he tuts in disapproval. “Gotta hear you say it for me, sweet girl.”

            “Yeah...” You finally say, “Always wanna be your best girl.” You manage out. It makes him smile, and he steps away, taking your hand and leading you off the desk. He pulls your skirt back down, and you fix your hair, before grabbing his hand. He looks at you quizzically, before you start to fix his tie.

            He grins when he realizes and presses a kiss to your forehead, before telling you gently, in the quiet solitude of his office, where no one can hear you and no one is any wiser to what you were just doing, “Be a good girl for me for the rest of the day, and I’ll take such good care of you when we get home. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

            It’s almost too much for you, but you manage out a small, “Of course, honey.”

            He’s still smiling when he says, “That’s my girl.” Before kissing your head again, and opening the door, beginning your countdown to when you finally get back to his apartment.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Why you gotta tempt my trouble?

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 1

Series Masterlist           Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

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

warnings: swearing, sickly sweet fluff, get ready for some pining y'all.

a/n: Here's the first chapter of the college fic! The next one won't be posted until I've written a few more (which might be a while because I'm trying to make them longer and I'm only one chapter ahead at the moment.) Please let me know if you like it and want to see more or be added to the taglist!

w/c: 5.3k

Digging the heels of your hands into your eyes, you resisted the urge to bang your head on the counter you sat at in an attempt to reboot the organ. This passage made no damn sense and you had mere days to understand it and conform to its ideals in order to do well in the class that it was assigned to. Biting your lip, you flipped back a few pages to start the chapter over for the third time when the sound of someone clearing their throat nearly startled you out of your seat. 

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, I didn’t see you!” Saving your place in the worn book, you looked up to find a young man standing before you. He was handsome, with fluffy, inky locks and a charming smile on his lips. 

“That’s alright, I, uh, can’t quite fault you there.” He smiled sideways at you, gesturing to the opaque rectangular frames on his nose. Your mouth formed an “O” shape before you tripped over your response. 

“I want to laugh but that feels wrong. Is it more rude to laugh or not laugh? Oh god, forget I said that, I—“ 

The boy in front of you chuckled. “It’s quite alright, and it was meant to be a joke.” 

“Right, well, sorry again. How can I help you?” You clasped your hands, tilting your head as you waited for his response. 

“I was wondering if you had braille copies of any of these textbooks?” As he posed the question, the handsome boy passed you a list of the textbooks he was looking for. 

Looking over the document, you pursed your lips. “That is a fantastic question that we will have to answer together. I wish I knew off the top of my head, but today's only my third day on the job.” You cringed, wishing your manager was here. 

“I imagine it’s not a common question, so I won’t hold it against you.” There was that charming smile again. Your insides felt like they were slowly melting under his grin. 

“That’s, um, very kind of you.” You stammered out, feeling heat flood your cheeks. 

“Matt.” He broke in. “Matt Murdock. And you are..?”

Offering your name, you dutifully turned back to the index, scanning the pages for any clue as to where braille copies would be stocked. 

“That’s a pretty name, it suits you.” Your fingers halted in their dance across the page, your eyes flitting back to the gorgeous customer. 

“As much as I appreciate that, turning up the charm won’t change the fact that it might take a minute for me to find these.” Your eyes narrowed as you became skeptical of his intentions. 

“Take your time. It’ll give me more time to get to know you.” The flirty grin never faltered on Matt’s face. 

“Oh you’re trouble.” You shook your head, thumbing through the pages of the file before you. “I’m starting to think I should search on my own.” 

Matt just laughed, leaning forward on his white cane and grinning at you. “Where should we start?”

“I have a couple ideas.” 

You and Matt searched far and wide for accessible copies of the textbooks he needed. While they—thankfully—did exist, they were scattered throughout the store haphazardly, not in either location the index had suggested. The lack of care and attention the volumes had gotten was making you progressively more irritated. There was absolutely no reason these books should’ve been treated with such disrespect, even if they weren’t commonly asked for. 

After finding all but one book on his list, it was barely past store closing. Locking the door with a huff, you clocked out before joining Matt where he was seated on the ground by the first shelf. 

“I hate to say this, but I think we might need to order you a new copy.” You remarked with a frown, scuffing your shoe along the faded carpet on the bookstore’s floor. 

Matt, whose pleasant personality hadn’t dimmed despite the lackluster findings, simply chuckled, knocking his shoulder into yours. 

“Well, we gave it the old college try, so to speak.” He waggled his eyebrows at you above his dark glasses. 

You groaned, but couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped your throat. Despite your intense introversion and social awkwardness, Matt put you at ease. 

“Sorry, my roommate is rubbing off on me.” He gave an exaggerated grimace. 

“Is he a law student too?” 

“Yep. Foggy Nelson. The three of us might actually have some classes together.” Matt’s face lit up with the idea. You’d confessed during your hunt that you had already purchased your own copies of many of the books on his list. Given that you were both first year law students, it made sense that you’d be in classes with one another, but you felt a weight lift off your chest nonetheless.

“Honestly, that makes me feel so much better. I’m incredibly nervous.” You confessed, focusing on a fraying patch of carpet underneath your sneaker. 

“I’m sure you’ll do great.” Matt leaned against you, focusing on you in a way that made your chest flutter. 

“See you say that not knowing how long it’s taking me to get through the first reading assignment for Legal Methods.” You dropped your head into your hands, remembering the cursed passage from earlier. 

“Foggy mentioned something about that book. It’s…outdated?” 

“That’s an understatement. The first chapter is about a famous eugenics case, Buck v Bell, and I might be reading it wrong but it seems like the author is suggesting that we don’t have ableism that resembles that of the case in current day? I was getting so frustrated reading it that I honestly couldn’t tell if it was confusing or just a stupid argument.” You explained. 

“It’s in the McKinnon book, right? If you want, we could read it together and try to figure it out? Unless you have somewhere else to get to…” Matt Murdock, the charming, unswayable man you’d met a few hours ago blushed at the question, making you grin. 

“I would love to hear your opinion on the text, Mr. Murdock. We can start an unofficial study group.” 

“I like the sound of that. Let’s crack open this shit show.” Matt let you pull him off the ground and over to your work station where he opened his own copy of the text and began to read. 

A few hours and more than a few boxes of takeout later, you and Matt were still working your way through the chapter, though you’d both decided with certainty that the text was more angering than confusing. 

“If the professor is as ableist as this author, I’ll never be able to pass this class.” You grumbled, shoving the hellish book away from you. “There’s no way I can pretend that eugenic ideals have disappeared, even for a better grade.”

“Seriously. I’m hoping it’s supposed to make us mad so we can argue about it? Though I seriously doubt everyone will be on our side, unfortunately.” Matt scowled. 

“Well, at least we have each other, right?” The man in front of you perked up with that comment, but you hurriedly corrected yourself. “And your roommate, of course.” 

Deflating slightly, Matt scratched the back of his neck. “Speaking of, I should probably get back so he doesn’t send out a search party. I’ll see you in class?” 

“See you then, trouble maker.” You murmured, smiling softly at him. 

“Have a good night, sweetheart. Get home safe.” 

“You too.” 

A few days later, your evening with the sweet law student had fallen to the back of your mind as nerves about your first semester of classes set in. Fidgeting with your outfit in the mirror, you inhaled a shaky breath. 

“Stop worrying, you’ll be fine!” The voice of your roommate, Jen, rang out across your shared loft making your brow furrow. 

“Easy for you to say! You’ve done this before.” You groused, still examining your reflection. Jen was an old friend of yours who had lived down the street from you growing up. The two of you had been practically inseparable since elementary school, despite the fact that she was two years older than you. 

“Jen’s right, you know.” Oscar, Jen’s long-term boyfriend and your unofficial second roommate, squeezed your shoulder on his way to the kitchen. “Everyone is going to be nervous, so they won’t have time to judge you.” 

“Yah, yah. I appreciate the votes of confidence but, unfortunately, my anxiety and I have to hit the road. I would rather not be late.” 

“Have fun!” Oscar called as you grabbed your bag.

“You’re gonna kill it!” Shouted Jen as you exited the apartment. 

You shook your head, hoping they were right, and set off for your first ever Columbia Law class. 

The trek across campus was pretty and the walk helped you calm your racing thoughts. The walkways were littered with other first year students who looked more clueless than you—including a blond boy with a kind face who was staring quizzically at a kiosk in front of him that was plastered with event flyers. 

He muttered to himself for a moment before reaching to the side of the kiosk obscured from your view and tugging on the arm of someone beside him. “Ok dude, according to this map we should be heading…” He paused, squinting at the paper he was reading before dramatically pointing left. “West!” 

“That’s East.” You chuckled, walking over to inspect the map for yourself. As you neared the misguided fellow, your eyes widened as you recognized his friend. “Matt?” 

Laughing brightly and greeting you, Matt tugged free of the other man’s grip and strode over to you. “Are you following me?” He narrowed his eyes at you but his tone remained playful. 

Shoving him, you scoffed. “You wish, Murdock. I was going to warn your friend here that the upperclassmen usually put up fake maps as a prank on the first day of classes.” 

“Thank god we have someone to warn us of their cruelty, or we’d be dead meat!” The blond spun around and bowed in front of you. “Franklin Nelson, at your service m’lady. You can call me Foggy” 

You giggled, introducing yourself. “It’s such a shitty prank. Thankfully, I have roommates who are in their third year and they showed me around weeks ago. Where are you headed?” 

“Greene Hall.” Matt informed you. 

“Oh, that’s where I’m headed too! Civil Procedure? With Professor McGuiness?”

“The very same! We’re damn lucky to have run into you.” Foggy sighed, shaking his head. 

“It’s this way, and we aren’t too far. We’ll probably get there early.” 

“That’s good because this one,” Foggy stuck a thumb at Matt, “Has this idea that we need to sit in the front if we don’t want to fail. I’d be perfectly fine sitting in the last row and never being called on once!” 

“Studies show that sitting in one of the first few rows increases retention!” Matt elbowed his roommate who just snorted. 

“Retention schmention. I say we sit by the cutest people in the class and have them tutor us when we inevitably fail.” Foggy winked at you and you laughed. 

Matt squeezed your arm, leaning closer to you. “I think that can be arranged regardless.” 

Heat rose in your cheeks as his flirtatious grin made a reappearance. “Oh shut up, trouble maker, or I’ll sit in the very last row just to spite you.” 

“We wouldn’t want that.” Matt held out an arm, “Mind walking me to class, sweetheart?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to Foggy. “How do you put up with him? You’re a Saint, truly.” But you took Matt’s arm anyway, ensuring that you were keeping a steady pace and avoiding anything he might trip over. 

The walk to your first law class was, eventful, to say the least. Matt and Foggy were clearly soulmates of a sort, with their nonstop bantering and the way they balanced each other out. Foggy was a ray of sunshine, while Matt was more comfortable in the shadows, so to speak. The blond was all loud declarations and bright smiles, while Matt was more low toned flirting and quiet observations. They were both incredibly intelligent, overly sarcastic, and had a flair for the dramatic. You were ecstatic to have stumbled into their lives. 

Matt had successfully cajoled the both of you into sitting with him in the second row, a compromise which Foggy considered a huge win. As students filed in, you subconsciously fiddled with your shirt, suddenly feeling incredibly insecure about your presence in this classroom. A gentle hand grabbed your wrist, making you jump. 

“Relax,” Matt whispered. “You look fine, trust me.” 

“How do you know?” You murmured nervously. 

“Those boys a few rows behind us are staring.” Matt’s smile remained, but his voice held a tension you couldn’t quite place. “And the TA is trying very hard not to.” 

“How on earth can you tell that?” You raised an eyebrow at him, incredulous. 

“Matt is seriously like some sort of super powered being. He has the greatest intuition of anyone I’ve ever met. Best to trust him about these things.” Foggy nodded solemnly, clearly trying not to burst out laughing. 

You simply rolled your eyes, pulling your notebook from your bag. Opening it to the correct page, you stifled a giggle as Foggy leaned over Matt’s lap to whisper-yell at you. 

“Why do you already have notes written? Matt, why does she already have notes written?” 

“I like to come prepared. I took notes on the first few chapters of the book.”

“But we didn’t even have an assignment for this class!”

“Yah, but I was bored at work and I thought I’d get a head start.” You just shrugged but Foggy glared at you, shaking a finger in your face. 

“You’re gonna make the rest of us look like slackers! You, missy, have some apologizing to do.” 

“For doing my due diligence?” You laughed. 

“Yes! For being too proactive. I think you owe us a tutoring session or two.” Foggy crossed his arms with a huff. 

“You have no idea if I even know what I’m doing, these notes could be gibberish!” You chuckled, shaking your head. 

“Nope, it’s good material. I can tell. You owe us. Doesn’t she, Matt?” Foggy elbowed his roommate who smirked. 

“I think he might be right, sweetheart. What would you say to being the leader of our study group.” Matt tilted his head, focusing on you. 

“Do I have a choice?” You sighed. 

“No!” Foggy exclaimed at the same time Matt responded, “Not really.”

“Then I accept, but I want my objection noted.” 

“It’s all in the record, don’t worry.” Foggy waved a hand, turning his attention back to the front of the room as the Professor walked to the front. 

The rest of the week went similarly, as you had three of four classes at the same time as Matt and Foggy. They made great company, so you could hardly complain, but it was the first meeting of your “unofficial official study group” (as Foggy had dubbed it) and you were quite nervous. 

You were fairly confident that you knew what you were talking about, but the idea of being the backbone for two other grades besides your own was quite stressful. Not to mention the jittery feeling you got every time your brain reminded you that you’d been in Matt’s room with him for an extended period of time. You chided yourself, Matt—though he was incredibly flirty—was one of the best friends you’d ever had, and you’d be damned before you jeopardized that because you were touch-starved and more than a little thirsty. 

Taking a deep breath to keep your antsy libido in check, which was getting increasingly difficult given the fact that you were sitting atop Matt’s bed practically cuddled against him, you turned your focus to the space in front of you for a moment of redirection. 

The room was small, a standard dorm room with two long skinny bed frames that held stiff foam mattresses, two identical desks with chipped paint and lumpy rolling chairs, and a bolted-shut window. Although the room was dim and cramped, the view was gorgeous, overlooking a rectangular patch of grass framed with lush green trees and the distant Manhattan skyline, bright with yellow lights against the black of the atmosphere.  

Shifting your focus to the inside of the room, you smiled at the dichotomy on full display. While it was clear both boys had cleaned in preparation for your visit, Foggy’s side of the room was haphazardly straightened, with loose socks peeking out from underneath the bed and a handful of stray candy wrappers still visible atop his desk. Matt’s half of the space was meticulously organized, complete with braille labels. It was clear that everything had its place. 

A shoulder nudged yours and you choked on a breath in your haste to turn towards the presence beside you. Matt smirked, but a small crease was present between his brows. “You ok? You stopped reading…”

“Yup!” You squeaked, clearing your throat and trying again. “Yes, sorry. Got distracted by your view.” Which was mostly true... 

“Is it nice? Foggy’s never told me.” Matt grins sideways at you, furrow on his smooth skin fading. 

“It’s…stunning. There’s a lot of green up front, with the lawn and plants and whatnot, but the red brick buildings contrast beautifully. And behind campus you can see the rest of the city, like we’re in an urban valley almost. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen.” 

“It sounds pretty. You should describe more sights for me, sweetheart. You’re good at it.” 

Heat ran up your face at the compliment, pulsing in your cheeks and the tips of your ears. Turning from the window, you found your chest settling calmly as you studied Matt’s face. You’d never been this close to him and it was startling how easily his innocuous expression stirred up emotions in you. 

He had the slightest shadow of stubble gracing his sharp jawline. As you ran your eyes along his face, you found yourself lingering on the beautiful hazel eyes, nearly blocked by his dark glasses. The blank, honey-bronze orbs held more emotion than you’d ever seen in someone’s expression. In the small time you’d known Matt, you found yourself constantly moved by his passion—for his city, for justice, for Foggy, even for you. 

“So can we get back to the precedent of Buck v. Bell or are you just gonna stare lovingly at Matt all night?” Foggy smiled sweetly at you but the glint in his eyes made it clear he was annoyed. 

“I wasn’t—I mean I—“ You sputtered, scootching farther away from Matt in an effort to conceal your obvious crush. 

“Whatever. It’s late and I’d like to finish soon. Precedent?” Foggy prompted, pointing to his textbook. 

“Well, the main point is that disabled and institutionalized individuals were no longer considered to have the same rights as other people.” Matt huffed, thumbing through his textured pages. 

“Right. And the opinion implies that losing rights through due process opens you up to losing rights in the future without another trial.” You added, squinting at a particular paragraph for clarity. 

“Which sucks, but checks out for 1927.” Foggy frowned. 

“If I’m interpreting the important parts correctly, this case is meant to highlight an important consequence of precedent, which is that one decision can impact the judicial system for decades, even over important things like due process.” You explained, turning to Matt. “Is that what you got from this?”

“That’s about what I interpreted, yah.” Matt nodded, giving Foggy a sly grin. “That enough of an explanation for ya, Nelson? Or do we need to break it down point by point.” 

“Shut up, Murdock.” Foggy grumbled. “I’d be better with this if I wasn’t dog-tired.” 

“You’re doing great, Foggy. Don’t listen to him. All we have left to do this week is read for Torts and then we are home free.” You smiled sympathetically. 

“Ugh!” Foggy flopped down onto his pillows, covering his face with his hands. 

“Not to be a pain, but I don’t have this text…” Matt shifted uncomfortably, biting his lip. 

“That’s alright, I can read mine aloud. If that’s ok with you, Foggy?” You looked to the half-asleep law student for confirmation who nodded tiredly. 

“If it allows me to close my eyes, I’d be more than happy to listen.” 

Matt chuckled, before tilting his head towards you. “Can I come closer? To make sure I don’t miss anything?” You could’ve sworn you saw Foggy roll his eyes, but you blinked and he remained still as a corpse against his pillows. 

“Of course, Matt. Here.” Shuffling closer to him, you lay the textbook across both of your laps, trying incredibly hard to not focus on how warm he was. “This ok?” 

Matt nodded, mouth parted slightly and your eyes followed his tongue as it darted out to wet his lips. For a moment, all you heard was static and the soft puffs of Matt’s breath. Coming back into your body, you shook your head to clear out the lovestruck cobwebs. 

“Ok, um, Introduction to American Civil Law: Chapter 1, Liability and Negligence…”

To tell the honest truth, Matt hadn’t taken in a word you’d spoken since you passed the introductory paragraph. Legal jargon washed over him like the water of a warm bath, spoken by a soothing dulcet voice and punctuated by the steady thump of your kind heart. Your thigh was resting against his and he could feel the tension in your neck as you desperately kept it mere inches from its desired landing place on his shoulder. Your soft t-shirt brushed over his arm with each expanse of your chest as you inhaled, rubbing more of your sweet lavender and vanilla scent over his skin. 

As you continued to be blissfully unaware of his lack of attention, or rather his abundance of attention, his body was fighting an internal battle to not sweep you into his arms and bury his face in your neck. 

Leaving St. Agnes had been a culture shock for the ages, but Matt was beginning to love it. The orphanage had been an overwhelmingly lonely place, which Matt attributed to his tendency to pick fights and his disability causing him to stand out. Meeting his new roommate had been nerve wracking, but Foggy was as easy to like as the first ray of sunshine in the spring, despite his grumpiness when he was exhausted. Sure he was messy and his snoring had kept Matt awake for hours, but he had a massive heart. Though he and Foggy had very different lifestyles, the other man fit perfectly into his life, as did you. Matt was more than aware of his tendency to form quick attachments, but his feelings toward you were an entirely different beast. 

The night he’d met you in the bookstore, an invitation to go on a date with him had been teetering on the edge of his tongue for hours. Flirting came naturally to him, one of the many reasons he didn’t get along with the other boys of Clinton Church, but given his less than standard childhood, he’d never had the opportunity to start a relationship. Every minute he spent with you made it more obvious that you deserved to be loved, not aimlessly thrown into a date or two, and Matt wasn’t sure he would be able to provide that. At least not now.

An ear-splitting snore sounded from the other side of the room, abruptly ending his daydream. Your arm left its place at his side as you stifled a laugh. “Guess I was more boring than I thought.” 

“Trust me, it’s not because of you. That man could fall asleep to the sound of a fire alarm if he tried hard enough.” Matt smirked, humor not quite reaching his eyes as his brain mourned the loss of your touch. Feeling you shift tensely next to him, he pondered for a moment. “If you’re worried about waking him, we could go somewhere else?”

“Where would we go at 2 in the morning on a Thursday?” You groaned, desperately aching to be done with school work for the week but simultaneously more than willing to spend all night with Matt. 

“I know a place. But we will probably want this blanket.” Matt grinned at you as your confusion peaked, but you threw the blanket over your shoulder and took his hand nonetheless. 

How your friend had discovered that the roof of Butler Library remained accessible after hours via a secluded maintenance stairwell, you’d never know—but you couldn’t help but thank the heavens for granting you this slice of paradise. 

The cement that compromised the roof was cold, a symptom of being deprived of the sun for hours now, but you and Matt lay huddled together on his bedspread, lounging in a pocket of warmth your closeness had created. You were practically snuggling, which was not helping soothe the part of your brain that was rabidly attracted to him, sharing your highs and lows from the week. 

As the two of you giggled about an incident with a pigeon that had decided to attend Civil Procedure, you found your eyes tracing over the moonlit form of the beautiful man before you, who seemed to notice your staring as his lips quirked up. “So, tell me, sweetheart, how’s a girl like you end up in a place like this?” 

With an exaggerated groan, you shoved him playfully. “You and your damn lines, Murdock.” 

With a chuckle, Matt’s expression turned from something entirely playful into one of genuine interest.  “Seriously, what brought you to Columbia?” Feeling your heart pound under his blank gaze, you blew out a breath. 

“That is a long, sad story that I’m sure you don’t really—“

“If you don’t want to tell me, I totally get it. But I’d like to know more about you.” Matt’s answer was honest and lacking his perpetually flirty edge that kept you at a safe distance, which sent a burst of heat to your stomach that you weren’t expecting. 

“Oh, well...” Sighing deeply, you considered your options. You’d had a hard time making friends in the past, and had a tendency to over share (or so you’d been told), but Matt had asked for the real answer. That meant he really wanted it, right?

Steeling yourself for the impending rejection, you confessed. “I’m originally from Connecticut. Small little town called Bridgewater, about an hour from New Haven. It’s just me and my mom, really. My dad lives in godknowswhere, Virginia with my two siblings and his girlfriend. He’s…kinda the worst, so we don’t talk much. My mom though, she’s amazing. I owe everything to her.” 

Matt smiled at you, nodding encouragingly when you hesitated. 

“Um, yah, so long story short, she was diagnosed with cancer when I was a kid. My dad has sort of always been a jackass but her prognosis…I don’t know, it was the last straw for him. I don’t remember much but they started arguing about money and then, he took everything. I didn’t realize it at the time, my mom is the nicest person on the planet and she would never blame my dad for her misfortune, but we lost our house, she lost her job, her assets, two of her kids—though they didn’t fight to stay like I did. The longer I lived, the more curious I became about everything and when I did some digging in high school, I found out my dad had claimed everything in the divorce. He and his attorney had argued that my mom was abusive and financially exploiting him and the judge gave him anything he asked for. I decided I wanted to be a lawyer so I could stop others from going through what my mom and I have.” 

The story poured out of you, relieving a pressure you’d been carrying for as long as you remembered. Matt simply listened intently, emotions passing over his face in small flashes as you described your past. Realizing all of the bullshit you’d just dumped on him, you cringed. 

“I’m sorry, that was a lot, I just…” Matt’s brow furrowed and his hand shot out to cup your elbow. 

“No! No, I’m just so sorry that happened. Your dad sounds like a piece of work.” He gave a disgusted grimace and you giggled. 

“He is. My mom still loves him though, bless her heart. We spend Christmas with him every year like he didn’t ruin her life.” The laugh that you have held no humor. “Anyway, that’s my backstory. What about you, trouble maker?” You leaned into the loose hold Matt kept on your arm, eager to learn more about him. 

“Well, I’m from New York. Hell’s Kitchen, born and raised just like Foggy. I, uh, I never knew my mom. Was close with my dad, though. He was a boxer, taught me a lot about fighting, persistence.” Matt’s face fell slightly as he paused. Intertwining your fingers with his, your smile softened. 

“He sounds like a good man.” 

Matt nodded. “Yah, he uh, he was. He died when I was 9.”

Eyes widening, a hasty apology spilled out of you. “Oh Matt, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize—“ A squeeze of your hand stopped you in your tracks. 

“It’s ok. I do miss him, though. After he died, I was taken in by an orphanage, raised by nuns. This is, really the first time I’ve lived without feeling like I’m being watched.” Matt chuckled awkwardly, removing his fingers from yours to push up his glasses. “Law interested me for a reason similar to yours, I suppose. My dad, uh, he was murdered. Organized crime hit. I tried to get someone, anyone really, to bring the group to justice and I…failed. Made me realize the justice system needs more devoted participants, I guess.” Taking his hand back into yours, you ran a thumb over his knuckles, allowing him to collect his thoughts before continuing the conversation. 

“So you’re interested in criminal law then?” Your heart flipped happily as Matt’s starlit face lit up again. 

“Honestly, I’m interested in most of it. But the more I learn about the world, the more I realize how important criminal defense is. My dad’s murder inspired this journey, but what I do with the degree, it’ll be in his memory. I’m starting to think that defense would be the best way to honor him.” 

How on Earth did you manage to find the sweetest boy on campus? “That’s…beautiful Matt. Really. He must be so proud of you already.” 

Matt’s lips twitched but he seemed unsure. “Maybe he should wait to see if I actually get this degree. Torts is already shaking up to be a nightmare.” 

“Ugh, that’s for damn sure.” You laughed breathily, shivering as a breeze pierced your thin shirt. 

Face twisting with concern, Matt ran his hand over your arm. “Are you cold? Sorry, I didn’t think it would get this chilly out.” 

“Oh, it’s ok! I’m not that cold.” You assured him, relishing in the soft brushes of his calloused fingertips over your arm. 

Raising a brow at you, Matt pulled off the crew neck he was wearing, handing it to you. “Humor me.” 

Rolling your eyes at his demanding tone, you slipped the garment over your head. The worn gray sweatshirt was soft and comfortably warm with Matt’s body heat. It was such a pleasant relief from the frigid cement that you had to bite back a groan. Breathing in the earthy, clean scent that always followed Matt, you sighed in relief. 

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” Matt grinned. 

The night didn’t go on for too much longer after you spilled your guts to your new friend. At his insistence, you called Oscar and Jen to come pick you up rather than walking home. 

You fell asleep easily that night and, while it would be easy to blame the late hour, the fabric of Matt’s sweatshirt wrapped around you may have had something to do with it. 

[foggy-nelson-archive]

hey!

i just wanted to check in on you. as someone who follows you and has the notifs on for your posts, i hope that's not creepy, i saw some of the asks and posts awhile back about leaving the blog. Obviously, do what's best for you. Always. Regardless of your decision, I just want to emphasize how appreciated you are to us Foggy fans, all five of us.

Really, the work you must do to compile the posts, the dedication to posting so often, and the fact you are running a blog for a "small" character in the Marvel universe at all, should be acknowledged.

The hateful messages you receive are extremely uncalled for. You have the right to exist and enjoy the character you love in peace. I applaud how you handled those messages with grace and more patience than I would have. I wanted to rush to your defense at the time. I even ranted to my poor unsuspecting irl friend about the situation, but I didn't actually come on here at the time (due to irl issues), so I still apologize. I've been annoyed at those anonymous messages and concerned for you ever since.

All this to say, I hope you're doing well, protecting yourself, and enjoying Foggy Nelson in whatever capacity you can.

-Arden x

I kept reading your ask with a smile on my face and teary eyes. You know when Karen brought that old equipment from the auction to their old office, and Foggy was staring at it lost in memory because he always wanted an office with a fax machine...

That's how I read your ask.

Well, I'm just like Foggy; I cry easily, I get emotional easily, I care too much and I'm generally left behind.

That's why I relate to him so much. (And also with Elden, but that's a topic for another day, who knows)

Your ask made me very emotional, my dear. Because it's so true. We Foggy fans are small, but we are amazing!

And you're right. I still want to delete this blog. There's no point staying and trying when things are getting messy. I know when it's my time to go and I know I'm going to feel sicker when Born Again comes out.

I want to delete it and just disappear and maybe stop drawing (I only started drawing again because of Daredevil). I want to delete this blog, but there are so many little memories here; it's a little piece of me, so I don't know what to do...

Being a Foggy enthusiast is an amazing job and a way of life. But it's so lonely most of the time. There is no one to share absolutely anything with. There is no one to cry with. There is no comfort. There are not thousands of those lovely edits. Hell, people tirelessly share even edits with Jon and Wilson (even the stars of the series seem to appreciate them most), but no one shares anything about Elden and his Foggy at all. I feel sad that he is left aside as if his work was worthless. I'm terribly upset because Foggy is such a rich and interesting character, but he doesn't have "that Marvel's appeal". I hope I'm wrong and that he has a chance in the future, but I'm not confident.

The fandom has become a terrible place, especially for Live!Foggy fans.

Messages like:

"Karen is better than him. Matt doesn't need him. Foggy should die, and Karen deserves to live. Foggy is useless. Karen is the co-protagonist. Born again will be better without him"... etc...

And not to mention the messages I receive about how Elden and his family deserved to die. Body shaming him, etc.

Some fans are just as greedy as their idols, and when I think about it, I'm glad Elden isn't like them. I'm also happy because even though I feel alone here, my heart is not heavy with hate.

Rare are the people who value Foggy, not only because he is Matt's best friend, but mainly because he has his own story and importance.

Unfortunately, Marvel seems to have forgotten about this, and recent issues and Born Again are, little by little, erasing him.

I hope one day they reconsider this. And maybe one day I'll watch this series (this will be the first time I refuse to watch something Elden is in) and maybe one day I'll see fan posts again and feel proud and happy again. But for now, I just feel sad.

Thank you very much for your concern for me. My intention with this blog was to bring a little joy, and I also believe Foggy and Elden deserve more recognition.

And I had so many interesting things to share, but there's no use. Most Daredevil fans don't deserve them.

Well, I'm exhausted, jaded. November sucks for me and it's been a really tough year, so thank you for your kind words.

You are one of the few (five) who are worth it

And please, please take care of yourself. 💚

~michely

(I may have messed up my words, and I kept talking too much... gosh...I hope you understand me, English is not my first language)

[annabelle1901]

Lost Frank Castle x Karen Page fic

Hi! So I don't really interact with anyone on Tumblr but I don't really know what else to do, so here we go. I'm back on my Kastle bullshit <3 and I've been trying to find this old fan fiction on AO3 that I started reading years ago. Stopped reading after a certain point but had the tab open on my phone and I thought I'd continue reading eventually.. And then my phone got stolen, and I forgot the title & author name. Not great. I've dedicated the past few days to looking for it and so far I got nothing.

So what I'm gonna do is write down everything I remember like a mad woman in the hope that this jogs someones memory. Please help me this fic haunts me. ANY sort of reference or whatever could potentially help (Tumblr posts, links, screenshots, Google history, etc)

Fandom: Daredevil/ the Punisher obv

Pairing: Frank Castle/ Karen Page

Rating: probably explicit (canon typical violence and eventual smut)

Published: 2016-2017 (started post s2 Daredevil but pre The Punisher s1 because I don't remember any of the plot or characters from that show showing up) might have been deleted in 2020ish

Length: has to be +10 chapters (long chapters as well, don't know if it was finished)

Characters: Matt Murdock/ Daredevil, Foggy Nelson, Claire Temple, Elektra Natchios (I vividly remember them making some sort of appearance)

now let's get really unhinged...

Plot:

Pretty sure the story starts on Karen's birthday but her mood is meh.. She's on her way home or something, gets in her car and Shining Star starts playing which let's her know that Frank was recently there. Something else must have alarmed her because she goes looking for him and finds him in like an alley around her building. He's in really bad shape, bloody practically dying. She carries him to her apartment and either helps him herself or calls Claire Temple.*

*Don't think it was in this part of the story but she helps Frank and makes a joke about him not being healthy enough to be sleeping with Karen anytime soon which makes them blush. Don't think they were intimate yet but tensions were rising.

For the next couple of chapters I remember it was mainly beautifully written angst between them in this contained space while he's healing. Karen doesn't want Frank to get killed while being the Punisher, he resists her care and tries to hurt her by saying "You aren't Maria and could never be" or something.

I also vividly remember a scene where he's grieving and keeps like tugging on this necklace Karen has on while he cries in her arms. She leaves her necklace at his family's graves and the groundskeeper or something tells her not to do that because it'll get stolen but she knows that but does it anyway as a sign of respect.

They sort admit their feelings eventually but don't sleep together yet because they know they can't go back after that. For some reason Frank needs to leave the city for a little while to re-home a dog I believe he found while on a "mission" and the idea is that the time apart will help them decide whether or not they want to be together. They reunite on a sunny, lovely day in the city and go back to her apartment and lots of smut ensues. Daredevil shows up at midnight/ morning to get Frank. Something's going down he needs his help. It doesn't end well somehow Karen gets involved and they both go to the same hospital. Frank is in a coma and Karen visits him when she's allowed and urges him to live sort of mirroring when he first got shot in the head at the carousel. He wakes up but needs to go back to prison. Everything is really bad. The press somehow knows about their relationship as well. Last scene I remember is Karen and Foggy talking about all this and a newspaper printing a picture of Karen's legs with the caption Keys to the Castle? or something. Gross everything sucks and that's where I stopped reading.

So that's about all I can remember, feels like a fever dream. If anyone could help me out I'd really appreciate it. Thx!!

[chvoswxtch]

come have a drink at mine 🥂

join me for a 2k followers friends celebration!

I am so overwhelmed with love and gratitude right now. I can’t believe that I started this blog last july for funsies, and now I have 2,000 followers friends. thank you so much to anyone that has ever taken the time to read my work, like it, reblog it, provide kind feedback, submitted a request, sent me a message telling me how much you enjoy my writing, or overall just been so sweet and supportive. 

I always wanted to be a writer when I was a kid, and thanks to all of y’all, I feel like a real one everyday. y’all have seriously made my dreams come true, and I truly love and appreciate every single one of you. ❤️

this celebration will be going from april 24th to the 28th! please include your drink of choice in your submissions. 

here’s who you can find at the bar:

matt murdock | karen page | foggy nelson | frank castle | billy russo | elektra natchios | jessica jones | bucky barnes | natasha romanoff | dean winchester | javier peña | joel miller | din djarin

you don't need to be 21 to join, but you do need to be 18+ to order on the rocks! here's what's at the bar:

☾ margarita: give me a song lyric, book quote, or a movie/tv quote for a short drabble/blurb with a character of your choice ☾ margarita on the rocks: ^spicy version of above ☾ old fashioned: headcannon/thots with a character of your choice ☾ martini: song that reminds me of you, or a character (pls give me a few details about yourself if it's for you!) ☾ glass of wine: ask me something you wanna know about me ☾ tequila shot: tell me something about yourself & i'll ship you with a character ☾ glass of champagne: ask me about something i’ve written previously or something i’m currently working on ☾ long island iced tea: games! (would you rather, fuck marry kill, cast your mutuals, etc.)

these will all be posted to a separate masterlist to come. hope to see y'all at the bar!

[sesamestreep]

Karen Page, "cactus"

“I should be able to have something for you by Monday. Maybe Tuesday, at the latest,” Karen says, as she packs up her stuff. “I’m on a deadline for an article, otherwise I’d be able to give you a quicker turnaround.”

“No problem,” Foggy says. “I appreciate the help.”

“Not as much as I appreciate the work,” Karen says. “You got a paper clip?”

“Check your old desk,” he replies, already absorbed in squinting at his computer screen.

Karen goes to the desk, only to stop short at how organized it is. It looks…decorated, even. There’s a fresh stack of blue and purple post-it notes, a collection of highlighters and pens in a Columbia Law mug that she doesn’t recognize, and a little cactus in a terracotta pot. She finds a paper clip in a small tray of office supplies in the top drawer, and loops back to Foggy’s office.

“Did you hire someone?” she asks, carefully. Foggy had handled it with grace when she told him she wanted to keep being a journalist and dropped down to part-time at the firm. Now, she does well enough freelancing—staff positions like the one she had at the Bulletin are few and far between—that she just takes on the odd research job for Nelson & Murdock here and there. Anything that requires an actual P.I. goes to Jessica, of course, but if they just need building permits pulled or someone to strain their eyes looking at microfiches at the library all day, they’ll send the job her way. It helps pay the bills and eases her guilt at not fulfilling his dreams of Nelson, Murdock & Page. He’d mentioned, weeks ago now, that they’d been looking to hire someone to help out but she hadn’t heard anymore than that.

“Oh,” Foggy says, looking up at her. “Yeah. She starts Monday.”

“She hasn’t started yet? Then, whose stuff is that on the desk?”

Foggy rubs the back of his neck nervously. “It’s…I put it there. I just didn’t want it to be all empty or whatever. I wanted her to feel welcome.”

Karen puts her hand to her chest. “Foggy…”

“Yes, I know. I’m adorable. Did you find your damn paper clip?”

“I did. It was right next to that sweet little cactus.”

“Shut up,” he says, cracking a smile. “I heard girls like cactuses and succulents and that stuff. You know, the plants you can’t kill? I figure that was low pressure enough. And not a totally weird thing for your boss to give you, right?”

Karen struggles to maintain her smile in a way that feels convincing. “Oh, it’s like that, is it?” she asks.

“What? No! Like what?!”

“You’re trying to impress her! Come on, Foggy. Wasn’t I lesson enough for you?”

He waves his hands, like he’s trying to land a plane on a tarmac. “Okay, woah! It is not like that. Jesus, Karen! She’s like 22! I’m basically old enough to be her father.”

“No, you are not,” Karen laughs, feeling much lighter. “But that is the correct answer. Congratulations.”

“God, I’m sweating now.”

“Sorry.”

Foggy pauses, like he’s actually going to answer the email she can see he has open. Then, he says, still not quite looking at her, “She’s got some stuff going on. With her family. I don’t know the whole story but I think she needs a lucky break right now.”

“Nelson & Murdock’s specialty,” Karen says, with a small smile. “Only the most troubled secretaries need apply.”

“You don’t—I know you’re trying to be funny, but you know that’s not how we see you, right?”

Karen feels a lump in her throat. “I do know that,” she says, weakly. “I think it’s nice you bought her a cactus.”

He shrugs. “It’s the least I could do.”

“It’s absolutely not,” Karen says. “We don’t deserve you.”

“Who’s we?”

“The world.”

“Oh, well, too bad,” he says. “You’ve got me anyway.”

“Right,” she replies, feeling a little too vulnerable for this conversation.

“I mean it, you know,” Foggy says, looking at her seriously. It’s like he knows she’s trying not to cry. “You’re stuck with me, Page. No matter what.”

“Thank fucking god,” Karen says, with a suspiciously damp laugh.

“And if you’re free on Monday, you should stop by and meet Kate. Matt will be back from California and we’re going to get bagels for her first day to try and convince her this is a normal place to work.”

“How would having me there help with that?”

“It would put a face to a name, since you contract with us,” Foggy explains. “And you could give her some pointers on how to work with me and Matt without wanting to murder us.”

“Unfortunately, I thought about murdering both of you on the regular, but only because you both suck at sticking to the file naming conventions I painstakingly set up.”

“See? This would be very helpful for Kate to know! We are unholy terrors and she should know that going in!”

“I suspect it’s more that you want to make sure I’m eating consistently and getting regular human interaction,” Karen says, crossing her arms.

“Me? Worry? About you? Karen Page?” Foggy says with a wide, charming smile and a totally feigned expression of disbelief. “Never!”

Karen shakes her head, mostly because it makes it easier to ignore the feeling of warmth in her chest, the one she gets any time she’s reminded that Foggy still wants her around, that she’s still a part of the team, that they think about her and worry over her even though she’s not there every day anymore.

“You’re lucky I love bagels,” she grumbles, handling the affection as ungraciously as possible.

“Yeah, I love bagels too,” Foggy replies, giving her an unimpressed look, and she knows, if nothing else, he understood what she was really saying.

[bingoboingobongo]

knocked down

Pairing: Matt Murdock (Daredevil) x Reader

Type: Angst

Summary: Matt’s been knocked down before and he’s always gotten back up, but now? He’s not so sure if that’s possible, especially when it comes to her.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: feminine pronouns (she/her), not really canon, mentions of alcohol/drinking

A/N: hiii, yeesh it’s been a while since i posted huh? i probably should’ve betaread/edited this a little harder but whatever. we die like men. also the beginning of this is a little gay, i swear it was unintentional but anyways. also we hit 300 followers so i’m having a sleepover (check my blog). as always, likes/reblogs and constructive criticism are always appreciated :)

Masterlist

The Murdocks had a saying. You get knocked down, you get back up. You get knocked down, you get back up. Over and over and over Matt’s father told it to him, holding Matt’s small hands in his own rough, calloused ones and repeating it again and again, like a mantra. You didn’t do it because it was easy, he would tell him, you didn’t do it because you wanted to, you didn’t do it because you needed to, you do it because you’re a Murdock, and when Murdocks get knocked down, they get back up. 

And over and over again Matt had been knocked down, and over and over again Matt got back up. Not because it was easy, not because he wanted to, not because he needed to, he did it because he was a Murdock boy. And Murdocks always get back up.

But now Matt had been knocked down, and he couldn’t get back up. Even though it was easy, even though he wanted to, even though he needed to, even though he was a Murdock, Matt couldn’t get back up. 

Matt had been knocked down further and harder than he had ever been knocked down before, and it was completely his own doing. While trying to save Hell’s Kitchen from what seemed to be its own inevitable downfall, he had only been shortening the clock on his own demise; pushing the clock hand farther and farther and farther until it struck twelve and his time was up.

Nelson and Murdock was gone. Foggy had made that clear enough when he dropped their sign in the trash can, and even more so when he cut ties with Matthew. He could still remember the day it happened, the memory burned into his brain as if with a hot iron. He had shown up to work late again for the nth time, and despite his lack of sight he knew the look Foggy had on his face. It was the face he always wore when Matt showed up like this — battered and bruised, with split lips and cuts poorly concealed by medical tape — it was the face that leaked out into his words, flowing into his own kind of venom which degraded and eroded at its victim over time, subjecting them to a sad, long, slow death which they knew was coming but could do nothing to stop.

“This has to end,” Foggy had said, and Matt had sighed. He always did, whenever Foggy brought this up. They had had this conversation a million times, and it never got them anywhere. “I’m serious,” Foggy had said, and Matt knew he was. Foggy was always serious when they had these conversations; Matt could tell by the lack of usual humor in his voice and the fact that his heartbeat would pound at a faster, albeit constant, rhythm. Not to mention, Foggy breathed a different way when he was serious — they were longer, deeper, less frequent as he tried to figure out exactly how he would proceed.

“You know I’m not going to do that Foggy,” Matt had said, repeating what he had said thousands of times before, as if they weren’t colleagues standing in an office together, but actors, costars featuring in a Broadway tragedy and standing in the midst of an elaborate set made of plywood and paint and doomed to collect dust in a storage room for years to come. The show they were putting on was a tale as old as time. A workaholic. A friend. One destined for a life drowning in his job, and the other destined for a life drowning in his care for his friend. Neither of them destined for a happy ending.

Matt supposed he should’ve seen it coming. He had gifts normal men dreamt of, the ability to see without sight, to know before things happened, to sense the slightest imperceptions and manipulate them to his own advantage, and yet this terrible fate was looming towards him, clearer than a summer sky, and Matt couldn’t stop it. “Why not Matt?” Foggy had cried suddenly, his voice loud enough to border on yelling. He was going off script, improvising, and yet he was headed towards the end they knew they were meant to go to. “I can’t just sit here and- and- and let you go running around the city, beating whoever you want and then crawling back home half-dead. I- That’s lunacy Matt! That’s something a lunatic would do. We’re lawyers, Matt. We’re supposed to work within the law. We took an oath to uphold the Constitution, Matt. I’ve tried to defend you, I have, but I just- I can’t do this anymore,” he cried, his heart beating rapidly and his chest heaving with heavy breaths. 

Matt was silent for a minute, maybe longer, before he spoke again. “Then don’t.” Two words. Eight letters. And yet they said so much more than that, so much more than Matt wanted to say. Leave, they said. Find a new colleague, a new best friend, they said. Find someone else, because you’re no longer my priority, they said. Two traitorous words. Eight treacherous letters.

Foggy went silent then, and Matt could tell that he was staring at him hard. He could imagine the look on Foggy’s face: wet, tearful eyes glued to his own, searching for any swipe of emotion beyond his dark red sunglasses. But despite the fact that Matt could feel everything cracking inside of him, chipping away and crumbling in his own clenched fist, Matt knew Foggy would see nothing. Nothing except unfocused eyes behind a crimson shield. The silence was uncomfortable. It was deafening and claustrophobic and humid and scratchy against his skin, and yet it stretched on seemingly forever. 

“Do you really mean that?” Foggy had asked, his voice wavering in and out of audibleness. 

Matt nodded even though he didn’t want to, even though he didn’t mean to, even though he would’ve begged to take it back; but his body moved on its own accord, not caring for what he wanted or meant. 

“Fine,” Foggy had said. And then it was final; the tragedy had ended, fate had arrived, the happy ending was disappearing beyond the hills. And then, in a defeating encore, Matt heard Foggy pick up their sign off the door, glance at it in his hands and then mutter, “Nelson and Murdock, what a joke,” as he let it fall into the trash can below.

After Foggy left, Matt stayed behind in the lonely office. He let time wash over him, noises flood his ears, odors drown his nose. It was torture. And he deserved it. The worst part — Matt thought as he stood in the center of the office, resting on his walking stick — was hearing Foggy drop the sign in the trash. He didn’t toss it, he didn’t throw it, he didn’t try to snap it into pieces and throw it into Matt’s face. He just let it fall, like he was resigned to it, like he was too tired to put any more effort. 

It pained Matt to know he had caused Foggy — a once indefatigable, inexhaustible, untiring grad school student turned intern turned partner — into this. A worn out, exhausted, exasperated shell of himself, all because Matt couldn’t tear himself away from Daredevil.

A few minutes later Matt had heard the door creak open ever-so-slightly. It would be Karen. After all the time they had spent working together — even sleeping together — she never did get over that new-born animal-like wobbliness that made itself apparent in her voice, in her movements, in her heartbeat.

“Matt?” she asked, her voice quiet and tentative, “what’s going on? I just passed Foggy. He was crying Matt.”

Matt stayed facing the window, letting the ironically warm sun cast its rays over his face. He could hear Karen begin to slowly step into the room and make her way towards him. “We had a disagreement,” he said calmly, steadily, freezing her in her place just a few feet away from him. He was glad for that; he wasn’t sure he wanted her to be that close to him.

“That was not a disagreement,” Karen said, some of her usual spunk returning to her voice, “disagreements are arguments about whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza. They should end in laughter and fake-hating the other person, Matt. Not someone running out of the room in tears.”

“Foggy didn’t run out, Karen,” he said. Matt’s voice was eerily calm, he knew. It had been that way with Foggy, and now Karen; he assumed it was the result of a lifetime’s worth of life-threatening experiences. He knew his comment was trivial — only a small detail in an ocean’s worth of information — but it was all he could say at the moment. All he could think to say.

“That’s what you’re focusing on Matt? Is this about Daredevil? You know Foggy doesn’t like you doing that. The least you could do is be more careful,” she chided.

“This isn’t about Daredevil, Karen.” Lie.

“Then what is it about?” she asked, and Matt could hear the desperation for answers in her voice.

Matt took a breath, “We just… disagreed about something.” At least this time it was half-true.

Matt could feel Karen staring at his back, her heart pounding loud and fast. “Well- What does this mean for Nelson and Murdock?” she asked, “should I even bother coming back here tomorrow? Will there even be a ‘here’ to come back to?”

Matt paused, thinking about his conversation with Foggy. “This means there is no Nelson and Murdock,” he said finally. He could hear Karen swallow back a comment, and could practically feel the anger emanating from her. 

“Foggy’s right, you know,” she said after a moment, “you spend so much time as Daredevil, you’re not even yourself anymore.”

Matt swallowed, but kept facing the wall. He heard Karen huff, the harsh shut of the door, and the click of her heels against hardwood get quieter and quieter as she left.

Matt knew she was right, that Foggy was right. These past few weeks, he had spent more time as Daredevil than he had as Matt Murdock, but what choice did he have? Hell’s Kitchen had a new player in the streets and it was more dangerous than ever, he had a duty to keep the civilians safe, regardless of whether or not his personal life was kept intact.

Matt stayed in the office a few minutes longer, concentrating his hearing across the street where he could hear Foggy and Karen talking together. He figured they were talking about him, but at that point he had been broken so far he felt numb, and their words flowed through his mind but left no mark. Eventually, he couldn’t hear their formless mumbles, the taps of their shoes against the concrete, the rapid thrumming of their hearts against their chests, and so slowly he picked up his bag and left the office, leaving behind all of the memories, the moments, and the highlights behind.

That entire ordeal had ended around ten that morning, and at the time he foolishly thought that was the end of it. He figured his heart had been officially broken, his mind officially cracked, and so he resigned himself to an afternoon moping on his couch, fussing over all the recent events in his life to find out where he went wrong.

And then his phone began to ring, and just as he was about to grab it and turn it on silent, the tinny, mechanical voice began to blare out her name. 

Her. Matt could still remember the day he had met her. She had shown up at their offices — her heart pounding a thousand miles a minute and her breath artificially steady — and asked to speak with Mr. Nelson and Mr. Murdock. He could still remember hearing his name spill out of her lips (which smelled of coffee and cherry chapstick), and her voice — her voice — felt like the hymns of a thousand angels. It was bright and cheery, but artificially so, like she was intentionally pitching it higher to seem more friendly and welcoming, and Matt could feel the curiosity tumbling out of him as he yearned to hear what she sounded like when she wasn’t projecting a faux falsetto, when she was limitless and soaring and had no inhibitions.

He had expected her to be a client. He could hear the jingle of coins in her purse, the coarse rustle of large bills which were always newer and less-worn than their cheaper counterparts. He could smell a whiff of the perfume she was wearing and he could tell it was expensive; the fragrance was barraged by the scents of the city — smoke, garbage, gasoline — but the sweet incense still shone through. If he tried harder he probably could’ve identified what perfume it was, and — although he knew it was a gross violation — probably would’ve stopped by whatever store sold it to smell it again, but he had been too distracted by the rest of her to have that kind of foresight.

He waited until Foggy came to his office, which felt suffocatingly long, before they went to the conference room. She had introduced herself — her voice still artificially high — and handed each of them a piece of paper, Matt’s already translated into braille. It was a resume; she was applying to be an intern. The decision was easy; she wasn’t asking for a huge salary and her qualifications were more than ideal, Matt and Foggy couldn’t have said yes quicker.

And then that was it. Nelson and Murdock had one new employee; another body at Josie’s, another voice to complain about the crappy wi-fi and terrible chairs, another prospect for Matt to mull over.

The tinny voice announced her name again, and Matt snapped back to the present, the phone still clutched in his hand, somehow — despite the fact that she was his latest obsession — within the midst of all the chaos of the day he had forgotten she would still be coming into work. Why wouldn’t she? She didn’t know what was happening. She didn’t know he was Daredevil. He had made that decision to keep it from her when Foggy pointed out that Matt had endangered him just by association.

Matt wasn’t sure how long he had sat there in a frozen panic, but it couldn’t have been long because soon the voice cried out that she had left a voice message. Matt scrambled to play it, but right before his hand clicked play he began to have second thoughts. What if Foggy had told her what happened? What if he opened this call and was only met with more yelling? Worse, what if he opened this call and the person he had spent so long pursuing was telling him to get lost? Matt wasn’t sure he wanted to listen to the recording, but he figured that he had endured more than enough yelling for one day, so what more damage could this call do? And with shaking fingers, he let the message play.

Hey! The message started, her voice crackled and fuzzy, but still cheery enough to break through. So, I came into work and nobody was there. I know you guys stayed at Josie’s for a while after I left so I just assumed you guys were hungover but I was there for like thirty minutes and nobody showed. Anyways, I decided to just leave early. I hope you don’t mind but also, you never even showed up so it’s not like you can be talking Murdock. I tried calling Foggy and Karen but neither of them picked up. Oh yeah! I noticed that the Nelson and Murdock sign was in the trash when I left, I guess the janitor or something must have knocked it down. I didn’t even know we had a janitor. Anyways, I wiped it off and hung it back up. Alright, sorry for the long message, call me when you get this. Bye!

The message ended. Matt sat on the couch, hunched over his phone and breathing harder than he should’ve been. He could feel tears inking at the edges of his eyes, and he wasn’t sure why. Logically, there was no reason for this simple message to bring him to tears; if anything, the cheery tone and nonchalant behavior should’ve brightened his mood. But Matt’s feelings were never logical, and the longer he sat there the faster tears began to fall.

Matt woke up the next morning. He wasn’t sure how, as he didn’t have much memory of falling asleep, although as he laid silently on the couch, waiting for the hazy fog of sleep to exit his brain, the events of the day before started to make their way back to him.

In his bedroom, he could hear the faint wail of his alarm clock, screaming behind the screen door that it was currently 8:42 a.m. Matt groaned. On a regular day, he would’ve been dressed and ready to leave by now, he would probably be able to hear Foggy clunking up the steps, the comforting aroma of Arabica coffee swirling up to greet him. But this wasn’t a regular day, and Matt was made uncomfortably aware of that by the heavy ache that had burrowed into his stomach and the stark lack of fresh coffee.

He trudged over to his bedroom, lamely silencing his alarm clock, and then slumped onto his bed. He wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do now. The logical part of his brain told him that he should call Foggy and beg for forgiveness, promise to give up Daredevil, anything to get his friend back and the life that came with it, but the prideful side of him refused, kicking and screaming and thrashing at the mere idea of compromising his own integrity. Besides, Hell’s Kitchen needed him.

Matt wasn’t angry at Foggy. That slew of emotions had happened the day before, and it had come out rageful and violent and completely ineffectual. Now, he didn’t have the capacity to be angry at Foggy. His emotions were spent; he was no longer himself, just a hollow, emotionless husk of Matt Murdock.

Mechanically, his mind carded through all his possible routes of action. He could get up, change into a suit and talk to Father Lantom. But suits and ties only reminded Matt of the life he had lost, and he didn’t feel like getting advice he wasn’t going to listen to anyways.

He could make himself a cup of coffee, sit down and try to call her, explain what was going on. If he really wanted to, he could twist the story so that he was the victim, and then spend the rest of the day being held in her arms. But that would mean telling her about Daredevil and lying to her, and he had already done that to Foggy and knew it would only lead to heartbreak.

Somehow he ended up at Fogwell’s, the musky smell of sweat and stale air comforting him. There was something about the old gym that always had that effect on him; it was easy to let the welcome hands of nostalgia carry him, keep him afloat in a swirling sea of emotions and turmoil. He had spent a lifetime here, poring over books and magazines — in print and in braille — listening to the dull thuds of boxing gloves against muscle. 

After the accident, he could hear more and more. The grinding shriek of bone rubbing against bone, the quiet exhale of wind as gloves and bodies twisted through it, the beat of his dad’s heart — steady and constant at all times.

As a kid, if he focused hard enough, he could conjure that sound in his mind and play it over and over again. But as he grew older, he met more and more people, heard more and more heartbeats, and by now the rhythm was distant and faded, and even when he tried to remember it 

But when he was at Fogwell’s it was easier. The gym had been his father’s as much as it was Matt’s, and over the years, the comforting embrace of the stale air had become a replacement for his father’s.

He could almost hear his father’s voice behind him whenever he stood in front of the punching bag. Matt knew it was just a figment of his own imagination — a projection made by the scared, lonely child inside of him that never learned how to grow up — but he entertained the thought anyway. It said all sorts of things, usually something boxing-related: punch harder, kick faster, fix your stance. The comments were usually bland and mundane, but they were there, and that was all that mattered.

But today, the gym was pitifully silent. It seemed as if even his imagination had left him, just like everyone else. He knew that was a lie, a pathetic attempt at trying to make him feel better, an attempt to spin everyone else into the enemy. Really, he had left everyone else, Foggy, Karen, her — god, just thinking about her hurt Matt — for Daredevil.

Matt tried to cut through the silence, pounding and beating against the weight of the punching bag. With each hit he tried to punch the silence out of existence, pummeling it until there was nothing left to haunt him. The gym was filled with the harsh slaps of calloused skin against rubbery cloth, but it wasn't enough.

He wasn’t sure how much time he had spent bashing against the bag, but he knew it had to have been long. The sunlight streaming through the windows no longer felt fresh and gentle, but instead carried the harsh and brazen nature of midday. He let his punches falter to a stop, panting heavily and greedily.

He sat down on a bench, unwrapping his hands, and turned on his phone, letting it cry out its little messages: a text from an unknown number, a missed call from the bank, another voicemail from her.

Hey! She started, and hearing her voice for just a second sent doubts into Matt’s mind. So, uh, none of you guys were at work again today, which was really weird. Wanna tell me what’s going on? Also it was super annoying ‘cause I got us all coffee. Some advice, don’t drink four lattes right after each other. You would think it’d give you superhuman energy, like I seriously thought I was gonna be able to flip around the city like Daredevil. I was not. Matt chuckled hollowly. I think the caffeine somehow canceled each other out or something ‘cause I feel exhausted. Oh yeah, I tried calling Foggy again but he still isn’t picking up. I know I should be worried, but also he’s been talking about that one couple’s resort for so long, what was it called? Cattails? Catsails? I don’t know, anyways, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s over there getting a massage or something with Marci. I called Karen too and this time she did pick up, thank god, but she kept being super vague about why none of you guys were at work. I suggested meeting up at Josie’s, like all of us, to Karen and then she said some melodramatic stuff about how she ‘doesn’t think that’s the best idea’ and ‘it’d probably just make things worse’ and then of course when I ask her what the ‘things’ are she just says that she ‘can’t say.’ I mean don’t get me wrong, you know I love Karen but I am not loving all of this weird cryptic stuff that’s going on. Anyways, sorry for the long message again, I guess that’s what you get for being last in my contacts. I’ll be at Josie’s tonight if you wanna come, but just so you know I’ll be leaving around midnight if you’re not there. That place is great but also drinking alone is really boring and I’d rather watch bad television than do that. Alright, bye Matt, call me back.

Matt sighed, leaning back against the wall and rubbing his hand over his face. He should go to Josie’s. He wanted to go to Josie’s. He owed it to her to go to Josie’s. Realistically, it wouldn’t even be hard to do. Josie’s was only a few blocks away from his apartment, he wouldn’t even need to hail a cab. Besides, it was around midday which would give him hours to think of a way to explain everything that had happened. It would be easy, he decided. He was going to go to Josie’s. 

He didn’t go to Josie’s. 

He tried to; he really did. He went home, took a shower, and got dressed. He spent the whole time thinking of different ways to explain everything — some more truthful than others. He put one shoe on and then the other, picked up his cane, locked his door behind him and took the elevator down, stepped onto the street, and then promptly turned back around. 

He wasn’t even really sure what he was doing. He didn’t want to turn back around, he wanted to go to Josie’s, to try and explain to her, and yet his body disagreed. Instead, he found himself, taking the elevator back up, unlocking his door, putting down his cane, taking one shoe off and then the other, and then sitting on his couch, defeated.

It was like someone else had taken control of his body, he told himself, like someone else was choosing to hurt her, not him. It was a lie, he knew. But it was easier to believe that it wasn’t his fault, that he didn’t hurt her, that it was someone else. Granted, someone that shared his name, his body, but a different entity, a different person. It was a pathetic lie, and not even a believable one, but Matt couldn’t think of anything better.

He heard her that night, while he was out patrolling. He told himself he wouldn’t listen for her, wouldn’t even try to single out her voice against the roaring sea of New York sound, but he did. It wasn’t hard, given that he had decided to perch on the rooftop right across Josie’s. He heard her ask Josie for a refill, heard Josie ask where everyone else was, to which she replied ‘I wish I knew.’ He heard the long sigh she let out when she got up, the slight creak of her neck as she swiveled it around, checking for passing cars as she crossed the street. He heard her begin walking back to her house, her heels clicking against the sidewalk and her keys jingling in her purse. For a moment, he considered following her home, just to make sure she was safe, he told himself. He didn’t end up doing it. Somehow, there was still some rationality left in his brain.

That night, Matt didn’t sleep. The clamor of Hell’s Kitchen felt uncomfortably louder, and for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to drown it out; there was still a part of him that was trying to listen for her, he supposed. When he closed his eyes, his mind was wrought with possibilities, none of them good. It felt like being in a living nightmare, except the lines between dream and reality were blurred beyond recognition and he couldn’t exactly pinpoint what was so terrifying. The whole thing was annoyingly messy, his brain felt scattered and disorganized; it was near impossible to identify one thing and dismiss it, much less make sense of it.

Matt gave up on sleeping around nine the next morning. His throat burned and his chest ached with unshed tears waiting to burst, and yet Matt could not bring himself to cry. Instead, he pushed his blanket off of him — its once comforting touch now felt oppressive and claustrophobic — and walked over to his living room, his steps slow and uncertain. 

He stood in front of the window, letting what he assumed to be neon lights wash coat him in a fluorescent hue. For a moment, he was comforted by the buzz of the lights and the creaking of wind against rusty metal, but his reprieve was brief and inconsequential when he thought back to when she had stood in that same spot, her eyes wide and mouth agape as she stared at the screen.

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, to beat it down and suppress it, and when that didn’t work he turned to the kitchen, leaving behind the lights and the memories of her. He felt around his kitchen counters, groping for a coffee pot he knew he neglected to put away the day before. The coffee was sour and smelled flat, but Matt made himself drink it anyway. 

If things were normal, he could’ve been sipping on sweet Arabica right now, running his fingers over a document and listening to the quiet sigh she would make once she took her first sip. She would always wait for them before she drank her coffee. It wasn’t fair, she said, for them to see her excited and energized while they were still exhausted and irritable. 

He had just begun to pour himself another drink of the bitter brew, when he heard a knocking at the door. He didn’t need to hear the voice announce itself to know who it was. He could tell by its cheery rhythm and the familiar heartbeat that it was her on the other end.

“Matt?” she called out, “it’s me. I brought you a coffee, if you want it. I mean, technically I brought four coffees, but one of them is mine and the other two are for Foggy and Karen. Except Karen said she didn’t need coffee and I’m pretty sure Foggy’s at Marci’s or something because he still isn’t picking up his phone or answering his door, so I guess you can have theirs if you want.”

Matt didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t, it would’ve been easy to; he technically didn’t even need to open the door. This was his chance to get back up, to overcome all the ways he had been beat down the days before and start putting his life together. This was his chance to explain himself, or to just be near her again, but he couldn’t. 

It was like he was glued to his spot, petrified of even getting near the door. His legs felt like cinder blocks, his mouth felt like sandpaper, and for some god-awful reason his hands were trembling beyond relief. He felt like a child, like an idiot, too scared to go for what he wanted, even when it was only a few steps away.

“Ok well,” she said, “I guess I’ll leave you a coffee. I’ll put it next to your door so you don’t knock it over. I assume this means work isn’t going to be happening today, so I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, hopefully.”

Matt waited until the click of her shoes grew distant and the hammering of his own heart ceased before he made his way to the door. Tentatively, as if he couldn’t trust himself, he inched open the door, listening for any traitorous sounds. But there was nothing except for the whir of air conditioning and his neighbor’s chattering television.

The coffee was good, which didn’t surprise him. What did surprise him was the scent of rich perfume and freshly pressed cloth that surrounded the coffee, dancing together with the familiar coffee scent. She must have gone to a fancy coffee shop for this, one whose patrons bought designer heels like they were children’s toys and wore a new, freshly ironed suit to work everyday. It was fancier than what she normally would get for them, and it would have cost more too. There was a flurry of quiet undertones in his coffee, glimpses into the lives of hundreds of different people as money passed through their hands, finding its way into the cashier’s, who apparently didn’t wash their hands very well when they were making his drink. In a way he wished he could be one of those people. Rich and flamboyant, and too preoccupied with finances or luxury goods to be spending their time lurking in alleyways at midnight.

He crossed the room to sit on his couch, sipping on his coffee and mulling over his thoughts. His brooding was interrupted, however, by another tiny cry from his phone, shouting out her name. For some reason, he picked up the phone, letting it wail for another second before he answered. “Matt?” he heard, and her voice sounded incredulous, like she couldn’t believe he had actually picked up. It made his chest pang with guilt. 

“Uh, yeah,” he said, clearing his throat, trying to rid any residual emotion from his voice.

“I- How are you?”

“Uh, fine. I’m fine.”

She paused, unconvinced. “I left you some coffee, it’s right outside your door, like to the left of it. Wait, my left, your right.”

“Oh yeah, yeah I got it. It’s good. Tastes expensive.”

“Oh,” she paused, and Matt worried if he said the wrong thing, “so why didn’t you just come out and grab it while I was still there?”

Matt cursed silently to himself. He had said the wrong thing, it would’ve been better to feign ignorance, or at least pretend to go get it after she had called him. He faltered, “I was, um, in the bathroom.”

“Huh,” she said, and they both knew he was lying. “So, are you gonna tell me what’s going on with Nelson and Murdock or will I be getting radio silence from you too?”

Matt sighed, “I- I’m sorry, it’s just, it’s complicated.”

She sighed, and he could hear her chewing on her cheek on the other end. “Wow Matthew, you’re really making me regret spending all that money on that fancy coffee for you, I figured the steam would’ve opened you up or something.” She said it as if she was joking, but her tone was just slightly off. As if she meant it, at least a little, but wanted to hide behind the shelter of humor. As if she didn’t want to cross that line.

Matt was silent. He wanted to say something, but his throat was beginning to clog up with guilt and he knew whatever he said would be interrupted by tears. He sniffled quietly, quickly. “Yeah uh, sorry about that. You didn’t have to do that for me, you know.”

“Yeah well, it’s not like you can change the past.” Matt screwed his eyes shut. She was right. She always was. “Well can you at least tell me if I’ll actually have a job in the next few months? I got some stuff in savings, but I’d rather not have to spend it on rent.”

Matt didn’t want to answer. How could he? Answering meant making things final. Accepting that what’s done was done and there was nothing more that he could do. That he had screwed himself over too far this time. That he had been knocked down and he couldn’t get up anymore. But the silence started to stretch; it grew uncomfortably long and Matt could hear her breathing on the other side, waiting for an answer. “No,” he said silently, almost too silent to hear. “No, you should probably,” he swallowed, “you should probably find somewhere else to work.”

She was silent, and Matt couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. “So,” she finally said, “it’s that bad, huh?” Matt couldn’t say anything, and that was answer enough. “Well,” she said, clearing her throat, “I’ll be at Josie’s again tonight, if you want to talk about it. I invited Foggy and Karen too but they’re still in the wind, so that’s that I guess. I’ll see you around Murdock, whenever that is.”

The call ended before Matt could say goodbye, and he groaned, fighting the urge to chuck his phone away from him. He felt guilty that he had let it get to this point, that he had left her feeling alone, kept in the dark. He sat sprawled on his couch, nursing the coffee she had given him, letting its smooth taste wash over him.

At some point he must have fallen asleep, because when he awoke it was late afternoon. He could hear the 5 p.m. hustle of Hell’s Kitchen as civilians rushed to their cars or bus stops or clambered down the steps of the subway platform. He could hear his neighbors coming up the elevator. Their conversation was interrupted by the harsh creaks and groans of old wires, but he could hear bits and pieces. There was a new bank opening up across the street, one of them said, to which the other complained about how nobody needed another bank and that it should be replaced by a gas station. Besides, they said, there was still that bank just a few streets away from them. 

Matt sighed, peeling himself off the couch and over to his bathroom. He splashed some water onto his face, trying to wash away the fatigue that enveloped him. He wasn’t quite sure what to do then. He didn’t have any work to do, and it was too bright for him to start patrolling. If it wasn’t her then boredom, he realized, would be the death of him.

It was frustrating to not have anything to do. It reminded him too much of when he did have things to do, when things were normal between him and Foggy, and they would spend their nights getting drunker than drunk at Josie’s. He should probably call Foggy, he realized, but he wouldn’t know what to say. 

After a while, the days began to blur together. Mornings stretched into afternoons stretched into evenings stretched into mornings again. Now the only things hinting at a new day were the quiet hissing of coffee machines and the barking of dogs on morning walks. Matt felt hopelessly disconnected, his only tether to the real world being the overwhelming loneliness he felt.

It was a terrible feeling, he decided, to be lonely. To wake up feeling empty, like he was a husk of himself. He didn’t even have anything to look forward to, or anyone. He knew it was wrong to do what he was doing, to give in. And yet there was a feeling of resignation inside him that he couldn’t shake. It felt wrong to let it take over and yet it was too difficult to push off.

It was heavy, on his eyelids, on his chest. Even basic emotions felt like a chore under the brunt of loneliness. Sadness no longer brought tears to his eyes, and happiness already felt foreign to him. He was overwhelmingly numb, and too tired to seek feeling. It seemed only fitting, that after breaking Foggy like he had he should be broken the same way by her. He deserved it, for what he had done to Foggy, to Karen, to her, and yet it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Sometimes, when he was patrolling the streets and the night was particularly quiet, he would go to the rooftop across Josie’s. She had begun staying at the bar regularly, and Matt liked to torture himself with the faint smell of her perfume as she would exit the bar. He tried to listen to her conversations, but most of the time she was silent. He wondered if she felt as numb as he did.

He knew his dad would be disappointed in him if he saw him. He was disappointed in himself too. He knew that trying to fix things with Foggy was probably out of the picture. And Karen had spent so much time caring about him, time which he had misappreciated, that he knew that even if he got on his knees and begged he wouldn’t be able to win her approval. But her, it would’ve been so easy to fix things with her. To just walk into Josie’s, take a seat next to her, buy her a drink, and then explain himself. He could practically see himself doing it in his mind, hell he had dreamed about doing the exact same thing countless times.

But when it got down to it he could never bring himself to do it.

He had been knocked down, thoroughly knocked down, and he wasn’t sure how to pick himself up. He wasn’t sure if it was even possible to pick himself up. Even though it was easy, even though he wanted to, even though he needed to, even though he was a Murdock. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t get back up.

[daresplaining]

[ID: Excerpt from Bendis’s Daredevil run. Matt Murdock and Milla Donovan are alone in Matt’s office at Nelson & Murdock, talking.]

Milla: “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. But I-- I just couldn’t think of any way to approach you other than this.”

Matt: “It’s just that you are mistaken about my being Daredevil. That story just isn’t--”

Milla: “I can’t stop thinking about what happened the other day. When you saved me from that truck-- it really... I mean, I know you are in situations like that... every day... but I am not. Nothing like that has ever-- This is hard to say out loud... The whole situation-- It-- it had an effect on me that I can’t describe. I can’t describe to you why I came down here. I have never done anything like this before and I certainly have never spoken to someone-- Someone I don’t know-- Like this before... In fact, even with you pretending that it wasn’t you as Daredevil who saved my life... this is as intimate a conversation I have had with a man since college. ...I just need to speak with you again. To-- Thank you for saving me. Hmm... This-- this is very embarrassing. I’m going to go.”

Matt: “What do you do, Milla?”

Milla: “What do I do?”

Matt: “For a living.”

Milla: “I work at the Hell’s Kitchen Housing Commission.”

Matt: “You find poor people a place to live...”

Milla: “And we do a lot of environmental testing. Lead and soil. You wouldn’t believe how some people have to live.”

Matt: “Milla... Do you see a logic in that even if, let’s say, I had been the one that [...] tossed you into that clothing store-- Do you see how I wouldn’t be able to tell you that? Do you see how admitting something like that would be very... dangerous for me and for you.”

Milla: “Do you eat food? [...] Would you like to... have dinner with me tonight?”

Matt: “Milla, I can’t take responsibility for you."

Milla: “I’m sorry?”

Matt: “This tabloid mess I’m in. With everyone thinking I’m Daredevil. It’s created a situation around me where no one is really, truly safe. Everyone who works in this office. Everyone in my life-- as long as there’s this feeling that I might be Daredevil... There are people-- vulgar people who could-- I just can’t take responsibility for you.” 

Milla: “Hmm, well... Are we still talking hypothetically?”

Matt: “Oh, yes.”

Milla: “Well, hypothetically, can you imagine a situation where a girl, like myself, might have known all about this before sucking up the courage to walk in here and approach someone, like you, like this? The way I see it-- a girl doing all that is clearly taking responsibility for herself. I don’t live in fear. It is funny how you immediately took my responsibility on yourself... But I guess that’s a topic we could talk about over dinner.”

Matt: “Can I think about it?”

Milla: “Sure. But just for the record... I never mentioned anything about a clothing store.”

Daredevil vol. 2 #43 by Brian Michael Bendis, Alex Maleev, and Matt Hollingsworth

    I hesitated about posting this whole scene because it’s long, particularly when transcribed (Bendis really loves dialogue), but I decided that cutting it up or condensing it would be doing it too much of a disservice. It’s a great scene, and there’s a lot going on, and I wanted to include all of it. 

    Part of what I like so much about Milla is how ordinary she is. This is true of many other Daredevil side characters as well, but always only to a certain degree. Karen Page is a successful and glamorous actress for a while. Heather Glenn is a wealthy heiress. Glori O’Breen is a revolutionary. Dakota North is a supermodel-turned-private eye. Rosalind Sharpe is... Rosalind Sharpe. Kirsten McDuffie comes close, but there is still something polished about her-- her effortless snark, her ability to kick butt when needed. There’s nothing wrong with this-- I love it, in fact (see my thoughts on Glori’s character development in particular), but it is the nature of many non-superhero characters in superhero media to still feel slightly larger than life, and so it’s nice to find one who is more down-to-earth.  

    Another major factor in this is the use of perspective. Matt is the protagonist, and thus we see (“see”) most of his co-stars from his point-of-view. We are in his head, experiencing their behavior. This is particularly true of his romantic interests-- yes, we see scenes of them doing things on their own, but for the most part, the lens of Matt’s perspective and knowledge is always present. But Milla is engaging because-- while we do spend a good amount of time in Matt’s head when she is around-- there are some very hefty scenes in which we are made clearly aware of Milla’s perspective too. Her introductory scene takes place before she has even met Matt (thus, we know her better than he does), and their first meeting is much more from her point-of-view that it is from his. We watch her experience that encounter, and we see the effect it has on her even though Matt does not. This is followed up by a very candid scene of Milla awkwardly discussing her interest in Daredevil with a friend, who laughingly teases her about it. Again, we are getting to know Milla on her own, separate from Matt. Bendis excels at crafting characters who feel real-- partly through, yes, his dialogue, which breaks many of the dialogue-writing conventions but does so in a way that, when it works, makes his characters sound extra genuine. We see Milla’s infatuation, her discomfort, and that makes it very easy to feel for her and identify with her, because even if we haven’t all had a crush, or tried to ask a superhero out on a date, we have all had embarrassing interactions with people, and this leads us to root for her. 

    All of this carries over into the pivotal above scene, in which Milla insinuates herself into Matt’s office and asks him if he eats food out on a date. I love this scene for a whole list of reasons. 

1. It’s super awkward. I mean, it gets better, but a person walking up to someone they’ve never officially met and thanking them for saving their life while the other person repeatedly insists that they did no such thing is going to be awkward no matter what, and Bendis makes the excellent decision of leaning into that reality rather than trying to soften it. It says a lot about Milla’s personality that in spite of this awkwardness, she still goes through with this and says what she came to say, and I then love her extra-humanizing “Hmm... this is very embarrassing. I’m going to go” when Matt just wordlessly stands there. (I also love “What do you do?” “What do I do?” Bendis is a master of this style of conversational humor.) They are both super uncomfortable, which causes us to sympathize with them, places them on equal footing, and makes the rest of the scene-- when they manage to work through the awkwardness-- all the more satisfying. 

2. It undercuts Matt’s secret identity angst. We all (I assume) love Kirsten McDuffie’s playful handwaving of Matt’s insistence that he isn’t Daredevil, and this scene is the spiritual predecessor to all of that. Milla is convinced that Matt is Daredevil-- so convinced that she has put herself in this uncomfortable position to talk to him about it-- and so she has no interest in even acknowledging his denials. She just ignores them. And it’s really funny. It has been said before (on this blog, and elsewhere) that Milla exists in this arc as the anti-Daily Globe. She figures out his secret identity and the results are positive. Matt has spent issues denying, arguing, scrambling to defend himself against prying journalists eager to lay his secrets bare, and then in strolls Milla with “I know you’re Daredevil, and I’m taking you out to dinner.” And then she gets that smooth calling of his bluff on her way out the door, which is just... fantastic. 

3. “I don’t live in fear”. And of course, we get one of Milla’s biggest character-defining pieces of dialogue. In some ways, it’s fairly standard-- Milla has a backbone, she isn’t frightened by the idea of hanging out with a superhero, and “I don’t live in fear” is an obvious reference to Matt’s own “Man Without Fear” epithet. But it’s a great, empowering speech, and it feels important. It gives Milla control in this conversation, and more than that, it gives her control in the relationship. She has chosen to seek Matt out, she has chosen to ask him out, and she has done it with the knowledge that it might not be safe. As the story goes on, we get the sense that whatever understanding she might have thought she had wasn’t quite accurate-- that she has definitely gotten in over her head. But in this moment, in this scene, it’s a powerful statement of intent and a comment on her character-- as a civilian, as a blind woman, and as a Daredevil love interest who is stepping into a legacy that’s drenched in blood. And I appreciate the facial expressions that Maleev gives Matt. You can tell that he is completely smitten with her, and that this speech has floored him. It’s fun to see him in this position, and it builds a strong grounding for the rest of their relationship. 

    I could go on. The artistic choice of placing a flowy, sensual painting behind Milla versus a closed window behind Matt was clearly intentional. I love the implication in the last panel that Foggy and Jessica were listening through the door. “Do you eat food?” always makes me laugh. This is one of my favorite Milla scenes, and with this creative team there’s always more to dissect. 

[anika-ann]

Think Again (When You Stop Freaking Out) - Pt.7

In My Own Skin (final part)

Pairing: None                   Word count: 3179

Warnings: language, attempt at humour, sensory overload... irony and sass? ;)

Summary: Things should get back to normal now... right? Friends will be friends and dynamic duo Nelson-Murdock will always keep its promises.

Story Masterlist

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Steve Rogers’ eyes snapped open, greeted by grey. A grey of the ceiling, softened by warm yellow light of a nearby lamp.

Steve Rogers woke up and he saw.

He blinked several times, his eyelids slightly heavier than usual, probably the effect of the tranquilizers, his lips feeling like made of lead. Yet, they managed to form three words.

“Oh, thank god,” he whispered, running his hand down his face and pushing himself up to a sitting position.

“Nope, just foggy,” a voice on his right informed his swiftly. A horrified inhale followed. “Shit, sorry, knee-jerk reaction.”

Steve quickly looked at the man. He was a bit chubby, beige suit, blond rather long hair, inviting smile. Steve thought he was familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Yeah, things did feel a bit foggy, but that could not have been what the stranger was imply- right. “Right. Foggy… Hi.”

“Am I talking to-“

“Steve,” he assured him, making the lawyer grin victoriously.

“Right. Welcome back, Cap,” Foggy saluted with two fingers, making the soldier smile.

“That’s what the president said,” Tony joined them in the couch area and Steve’s smile widened despite the fact he should probably be annoyed. Who would think that seeing Stark’s face would be an actual pleasure. “At least the Smithsonian claims it. And if you bring up the fact I was there ever again, I’ll deny it. I was only there to draw you a moustache.”

“Hey, Tony.”

“Hey, Cap. How many fingers?” the billionaire asked cheekily, holding three fingers in front of Steve’s face, switching to four just as Steve opened his mouth to humour him. So he closed it again. “What, cat got your tongue? Are you mute this time around?”

Steve sighed and made a disapproving face at Tony, feeling Foggy’s sharp glare even without looking at the lawyer. “Tune it down, Tony. You’re being insensitive.”

Tony raised both of his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Sorry. You know I don’t mean it. My heart’s in the right place.”

“You deal with this all the time?” Foggy asked while Steve just shook his head at Tony, who knocked on the device in his chest gently.

“Yes.”

“Respect, Sir,” Foggy mumbled and returned his gaze to the figure lying on the other couch.

Steve smiled unwittingly at the care Foggy was expressing by guarding his friend and protecting his honour in the process; and from Steve’s experience, also by telling him with no restraint when he was being an idiot when needed. Steve knew that kind of friendships – he had had a friend like that to, always by his side, no matter how much trouble he had got himself into.  

To silence the pang of guilt and longing, he looked back at Tony; despite him being an arrogant human being at times, he was a friend too.

“I’m fine. But since you mentioned it… I can’t believe I’m saying this, but now when I can’t hear your heartbeats, I feel almost deaf.”

“You were able to hear a heartbeat?!” Bruce’s shocked voice sounded from behind him, almost making Steve jump out of his skin, while Tony raised a curious eyebrow, commenting on his own: “You can bond with Barton over that.”

Steve couldn’t help himself; he just rolled his eyes.

“Anyway. How about some calories? You must be-“ the grumble of Steve’s stomach cut Bruce off and  as if on command, one of the specially designed post-mission drinks landed in the table in front of him.

“Thank you, Bruce.”

“One of us has to be a good host.”

“Aaand that’s my cue to leave,” Tony uttered, making a U-turn and disappearing from the room.

“He’s something.”

Steve snorted, relaxing onto the backrest and sipped the green semi-solid drink, grateful he couldn’t taste every ingredient and god knew what, which he would have been able to if still being a resident in Matt’s body.

“He’s a friend… no one is easy to handle. I’m sorry about his manners.”

It was Foggy’s turn to snort in amusement. “Matt would probably encourage him. He makes way too much blind jokes. Dork.”

No one could possibly miss the fond smile Foggy sent Matt’s direction. Steve’s heart ached a little at that, missing his own friend again. This time, he didn’t resist.

“You’re a good friend, Foggy.”

“That’s gonna mean something, coming from Captain America himself,” the lawyer hummed, hiding a hint of red on his ears by letting his hair fall into his face.

“I’m sure he appreciates it. Take it from a guy who needed someone to pull his stupid arse from trouble more times that I can count.”

Foggy looked up shyly, clearly as pleased as uncomfortable. “Well, someone has to.”

“I absolutely agree. Steve, how do you really feel?” Bruce entered the conversation, picking up on Foggy’s uneasiness as well.

“I feel… like me.”  

---

Matt Murdock woke up to a terrible noise of three heartbeats, breaths, low voices and buzzing of the city deep below, smell of something that could not be food and yet he could taste it on his tongue, the scent mixed with a bit of sweat, deodorants and shampoos, leather and coffee. The said leather felt hot under his back, slick and yet harsh against his skin, the cotton shirt and slacks feeling like an assault on his mechanoreceptors.

All those sensations melted together, already helping to build a headache. Lovely.

He didn’t even have to open his eyes to know he was back to his own body. Yet, he commanded the heavy eyelids to check.

Nothing. Darkness. A wildly dancing image that had nothing to do with vision. The world was on fire as it should be.

He could tell the number of people in the room, he could identify one of them as Foggy even, yet, the picture in his head was so messy, scrambled by the fucking pain-meds, that he couldn’t locate his friend. Which was why it startled him so much when he spoke up.

“Hey, buddy. How bad is it?”

Matt winced, probably giving an answer on its own. He couldn’t supress a groan as the world was getting even louder and less bearable with each second he was involuntarily walking towards full consciousness – without being able to control the input.

“That good, huh?”

“Yeah, I’d be better if you knocked me out again,” Matt rasped.

A bottle of water was immediately pressed into his hand in response. He pushed up so he could take a sip. The whole world swam, loud tide waves washing over him, slowly drowning him. Oh jeez. What had he done do to deserve that? He was so gonna punch Stark for the tranquilizers…

He forced himself to open the bottle, trying his best to ignore the plastic he could taste from it. But god, it flooded his taste buds with so many chemicals he could cry – or spit out the water. He didn’t, he was stronger than that.

“Thanks. I’ll be… fine, just… gimme a minute.”

“You want me to stay?” Foggy asked, lowering his voice. The remaining two people walked away, the vibration of the floor rattling Matt’s bones.

He was glad they left, even with the little earthquake it brought on. To be honest, Matt needed Foggy out as well. Focusing on him usually helped, but now, all he needed was as much silence he could get.

“No. Please. I… meditation might help a little.”

If Foggy picked up on the hesitation and shame in Matt’s voice, he didn’t mention it. He reached out to Matt to pat his shoulder, but stopped two inches away; Matt could still feel the heat radiating from his friend’s palm, but was grateful he didn’t go for it. Perhaps he should give Foggy more credit when it came to understanding his senses than he did.

“Sure thing, buddy. I’ll be right-- with the others. Do you want a room for yourself?”

Despite feeling like his head was in a hive, squeezed in a vice and being placed on a ship in the middle of the raging sea, Matt charmed a smile – or he tried to do so. He was whispering, when he spoke.

“That would be really nice.”

“You got it. I’ll be guarding the door with my life,” Foggy promised, the thunder of his heartbeat not faltering. The buzz in Matt’s brain tuned down for a split second, filled with affection instead of the sensory overload.

“Please don’t. They are aliens, supersoldiers and other whatever. Can’t lose you to that squad.”

Matt felt blood rush into his cheeks right after the sentence left his mouth, but he couldn’t find himself to regret it. He was in the whole room at once, his consciousness all over the place, incredibly messy, but one thing was clear as day. He appreciated Foggy’s care. Maybe, he should let him know more often.

---

Steve was biting the inside of his cheek as he watched Foggy’s expression of perfectly faked understanding. Tony had taken him for a tour through the Tower, specifically labs, and then moved onto Avengers’ gear, explaining all the ‘cool stuff’. Judging by Foggy’s excitement, he was fascinated by all the toys, even though he understood even less than Steve; but hell, he was too proud to admit it until the tour ended.

When Friday announced through the speakers that Mr. Murdock requested she informed them he was quite settled and ready to welcome people back in the room, they didn’t hesitate. Foggy was the first to come in, followed by Steve and only then the two geniuses.

They found Matt standing by the couch, turned their direction – just the fact he was standing must have meant a lot if the state he had been in when Steve and Bruce had emerged from the room was anything to go by. This looked like a big improvement – key word: looked.

“Feel better?” Steve asked lowly, examining the blind man, who had somehow managed to find his glasses and slip them on.

“Good enough for not wanting to be knocked out, bad enough for not trying to punch Stark just yet,” Matt said wittily, making exactly three people in the room smirk.

“Should I just leave or— oh wait, this is my building, so if you mind me being here…” Tony hummed, earning a stereo groan from Steve and Bruce.

“Stark, Steve, Doctor Banner… where is Thor then?”

“Oh, Thor flew away. It was supercool. The other part of the artefact appeared – probably when you switched back – and he just took it in this super-secret-government container and… yeah, flew away. Sorry you missed that,” Foggy spilled out in hurry, his enthusiasm not unlike Steve was used to see on children’s faces when meeting him. Matt must have picked up on it, because his smile widened.

“I think I’ll live. I guess you’ll just have to remind me of that often enough.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Bruce noted with a kind smile and handed Matt a cup of the ‘green special’ Steve had received after waking up. “Try this unless it offends your taste too much. High protein, high carb, lots of ions and generally the good stuff. It might even help with burning out the drugs you’ve been dosed with.”

“Hey, we didn’t agree on getting him one. What if he’s feeling good enough to punch me after? Way to be a friend, Bruce!”

Matt scrunched his nose when smelling the drink up-close, but obediently took a sip, accepting the wordless dare. Despite the slightly disgusted face he made, he continued. Steve came to understanding of where he got his street name.

Foggy cleared his throat, looking around. “So… what happens now?”

Steve wavered. Honestly, he had a million questions for Matt – starting with the ones about his senses, which might be more than inappropriate and none of his business, ending with moral ones, which included asking about what had led to his decision to start the part-time job as a vigilante, which belonged to the category of things Matt probably wasn’t up to answering right now.

So Steve said the only thing he could think off. He took a leap of faith, deciding to believe that Matt would stay in touch somehow (read: via them visiting his apartment or office if it came to that) and to let him leave with no feeling of owing anything to them. But there was something he needed to do first.

“I believe someone asked for an autograph…?”

Steve didn’t need to hear heartbeats to know Foggy’s just skipped a beat in joy – his expression spoke volumes, no matter how much he tried to stay contained.

“That would be awesome, Captain.”

It didn’t end with an autograph. They took a photo too. They took one with reluctant Matt as well – the vigilante ruined all Foggy’s fun when he forbade framing it and hanging it in the office.

“But, Matt! Clients!”

“But, Foggy! Too many questions!” Matt mimicked, but had enough decency to look guilty about making his friend’s face fall.

“Alright. But the selfie is my new lockscreen. You can’t take that away!”

Steve wasn’t sure what lockscreen was, only knew it had something to do with phones; he hoped it wasn’t anything that would embarrass him too much. Matt’s lips twitched, which actually worried Steve a little.

“Not sure Marci will like that.”

“She’ll understand,” Foggy muttered and took selfie with Tony as well as with Bruce, who seemed quite uncomfortable, but didn’t have the heart to disappoint the excited lawyer – how typical of him. He excused himself right after.

Foggy and Matt looked genuinely surprised and grateful when Steve announced his intention to let them leave whenever they wanted, no questions asked. Tony, on the other hand, appeared to be ready to punch the supersoldier to his face, but didn’t protest, clearly already planning a surprise visit to the office; Steve immediately felt sorry, especially for Karen.

“We’ll be in touch – I’ll make sure of it,” Foggy assured them, shaking Steve’s hand for probably longer than was socially acceptable. Steve didn’t mind, if only because it irritated Tony. To be fair, he received the same treatment afterwards.

“See you around, Steve. Soon, Mr. Stark,” Matt threw over his shoulder when he was entering the elevator on Foggy’s arm, grinning as the door was closing.

“You’re terrible,” Steve heard Foggy huff and that was the end of it.

Steve felt strange lightness in his soul, blaming the enthusiastic blonde for it. The world needed more people like him. Matt needed him for sure. Despite the warmth, Steve couldn’t help but worry about the vigilante though.

“We should keep an eye on him. I have a feeling he has no self-preservation.”

“Consider it done, Cap. And you know that behaviour sounds familiar, right?”

Steve smiled for himself, ignoring Tony’s nudge. “Well, at least he has good friends to take care of him.”

“Cheesy, Steven,” Tony hummed when he realized the analogy, but Steve had a feeling it pleased him anyway.

He didn’t call him out on it though. After all, some things were better left unsaid; yet, it didn’t mean they weren’t true.

Feeling’s usually mutual. Yeah, Tony. I care about you too.

“Whatever you say, Stark. I’ll be in the gym. I feel like I need to burn some of the tranquilizers you shot me with before…”

“You’re welcome!” Tony shouted after him as Steve just waved at him blindly, making his way to his room to change.

Yeah. I know.

---

Exiting the Tower with relieved sigh, Matt leaned onto Foggy a bit more.

“Thanks for putting up with this,” Matt whispered into the cold of the night and heard Foggy’s heartbeat falter. It made him frown. “Foggy? What’s wrong? I’ll be fine, I mostly already am. We’ll be fine. Hell, Tony Stark even promised to get us better heating to the office. How many people can say that?”

Foggy gulped, his cheeks burning up. Oh god, what?

“You wanna know what’s wrong, Matt?”

“Yes, of course. Talk to me, Fog.”

Foggy took a deep breath, more blood rushing to his cheeks. “Please don’t laugh, but… I really made an idiot of myself.”

“When? You were great the whole time. You were a good friend to me. You apparently even helped me get dressed! Kinda me…” Matt corrected himself, not bothering to clarify, knowing Foggy understood what he meant. But he was only rewarded with silence; he was getting worried, to be honest. “Foggy?”

“Matt… I called Captain America a duffus.”

Matt was silent for a split second and then he burst out laughing, stopping in his tracks in order to throw his head back.

“I asked you not to laugh!” Foggy hissed, squirming in embarrassment and it only made Matt laugh harder. Foggy slapped his arm. “You jerk!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-“

“No you’re not…”

“No, I’m not. He didn’t seem to hate you for it. And to be fair, my hand punched his face, so I think that from the two of us…”

That seemed to calm Foggy down and he let Matt take his elbow for guidance again. “Okay. Thanks. I think you actually were worse. We’re menaces, Murdock.”

“Yeah, Fog. We sure are. Earth’s mightiest menances.”

Matt could hear a grin in Foggy’s voice when he spoke again. “Best damn avocados.”

“Best damn avocados-- oh, that reminds me. So, I heard you agreed it was a fruit-“

“Shut up, Murdock…”

“Captain America told me that-“

“Blah, blah, blah-“

“You’re such a child-…”

Their laughter echoed in the streets of Manhattan and despite the insanity of that day… Matt thought that life was good.

---

A week later, Tony Stark received an envelope he would never expect to receive.

It wasn’t particularly unusual for the billionaire to get sued – hell, he often was on the receiving end of everyone’s fury when it came to the damage the Avengers had made (please note, the golden boy Captain America was never blamed, how outraging) -, but being sued for drugging someone wasn’t exactly daily occurrence. Neither was the complaint about the ADA incompliance of the Avengers Tower.

The first set of documents was signed Nelson. Naturally, the latter held the name Murdock, or Tony guessed so, because it was hard to decode the scribbled letters.

He couldn’t believe they had actually done it. He had honestly thought that all of their threats had been only a joke. Clearly, they had been deadly serious.

So if he took off – quite literally – the moment Friday announced that Matt Murdock entered the building, supposedly to have a training session with the American Golden Boy, no one could blame him.

Yet, it didn’t mean Matt didn’t laugh his ass off when the AI informed him of Sir’s departure. It seemed that the genius would have to wait and the only person punched by Matt Murdock’s fist today would be Steve Rogers.

But that was okay. Matt would love to wait for his moment and it would get only sweeter.

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Just FYI, some of you noticed/know EN is not my first language. Matt had a brilliant line to Foggy: “Yeah, I’d be better if you knocked me up again.” I re-read it at least three times before it hit me just how much the course of the entire fic would change if I missed the typo and left it that way.

Aaaanyway, thank you for reading! If you’re interested in more fics, indulge yourself AND me by checking out the masterlists :))

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Tags: @mermaidxatxheart​

@igobypoet​

[everlastingdreams]

Dex x Reader: Sugar Crush Chapter 5

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Notes: This is one of the chapters where the trigger warning is for !!!! And btw did I mention I like to leave small clues in my stories for future chapters, have fun figuring those out. :) Also foreshadowing.

Summary:  Reader moves into the same building as one Agent Poindexter. A bond starts to grow between them. Can the reader move on after a traumatic past ‘relationship’ ?

Chapter: 5/?

Trigger Warning:  Mentions of physical and emotional abuse ! YES this one will come with trigger warnings. I tried not to post too much into detail stuff but this entire thing comes with a trigger warning !

Word count: 2196

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After Dex had left, you decided to spend the day making waffles. And to do that you would need to go out and buy the ingredients. You didn't just want some random brand of butter or a random brand of sugar, no. The ingredients you needed had to be of a specific brand. The old brands your mother always used. You had found the recipe of the waffles in her old cookbook after she had passed, you even had the old waffle maker she always used and you took great care of it. Even though time had aged it visibly, it still worked amazingly well and fast.

You went to a few shops before you finally found one that had the things you were looking for. As you were reaching for the milk your hand bumped into someone else's. You quickly pulled your hand back.

“Sorry.” you blurted out at the same time as the other person.

The blonde woman next to you chuckled at the situation.

You took a jug of milk and handed it to her “Here you go.”

She looked at you in light suprise as she took the jug you were holding out to her “Thank you.” she was tapping her fingers against the jug and you knew she had noticed the marks around your eye. You had seen her eyes scan over it for only a second. “I'm Karen. Karen Page.”

Her introduction now took you by suprise considering you two were total strangers who just bumped into each other in a store. You reminded yourself that you could use more friends in this new city “I'm (y/n) (l/n).”

She held out her hand and you shook it.

Her voice was low in volume as she spoke to you again “I know it's none of my business but-”

“But your going to get involved anyway ? Doesn't suprise me to be honest, I bet most reporters would.” a small smile on your lips as you looked at her.

She let out a breath “I...how did you know ?”

“I read your articles in the newspaper on this uhm.. Daredevil guy.” you casually stated.

“Oh. That does explain things.” she let out a chuckle “I just..” She pointed at her own eye discreetly “I just wanted to say that I know a good lawyer if you'd consider pressing charges. He's a good guy, he helped me as well when I was in trouble.”

Your eyes fell for a moment, you appreciated that someone you didn't even know would care about your well-being. If only you had met someone like her earlier, perhaps you would have pressed charges against your ex. Perhaps you wouldn't have had to hide from him. Perhaps that would have been a mistake, yes, it would have been a mistake.

“Thank you, Miss Page. But this..” you pointed at the remainder of your bruised skin “Isn't going to happen again. I left him.. I am starting a new life, away from him.”

A smile appeared on her face “I am very glad to hear that. You have made the right decision. If however you would still consider to press charges against him..” she rummaged through her bag for a moment “This guy will help you out, I am sure of it.”

She handed you a card “Foggy Nelson?”

“Yes. He works for Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz now. He used to work for Nelson and Murdock.” she clarrified.

You gave a quick nod “Thank you. I'll... I will think about it.”

“Great, and uhm.. good luck.” she told you before she left you to continue your grocery shopping.

Past.....

The sun was shinning down on you as you walked down the street.

A smile dancing on your lips as you turned the corner and smiled to a person you had often seen around in the stores, always ending up chatting a bit together.

Life wasn't always perfect, but right now it did feel that way. You shared a cozy house with a nice garden with your boyfriend. You had met him about four months ago when you were sitting on a bench reading a text message on your phone when you became aware that someone had taken place next to you. It pulled your attention away from your phone and when you looked up into a pair of dark green eyes you felt your heart flutter. He was gorgeous, no, he was more then that. His raven black hair combed back neatly, dressed in a suit that looked like it was made especially for him. He was the epitome of confidence. The moment his eyes locked on yours, the moment he said “Hello” with a voice as smooth as silk, you knew you were lost.

He was the perfect boyfriend, and not long after you two met, you were living together.

He often worked late in his office, but when he came home he never spoke about work. Avoided it even, it should have been a red flag but you couldn't see that. You felt so lucky to have a guy like him. All you knew is that he worked for a security company that protected people who were wealthy enough to afford it.

You had decided to suprise him at his office, you had never been there before but it was easy enough to find the building. The fact that the door to the building was unlocked didn't strike you as strange, it was probably open for potential clients. You walked inside, making sure to close the door again quietly. You didn't want to ruin the suprise. A quick look around showed you that there was no one on the first floor. You had expected a receptionist or perhaps even a secratery, but there was no one. You made your way up the stairs, ignore the feeling in your gut that something was off. Second floor, no one. Third floor, no one. This place didn't just look abandoned, it was abondened. The rooms were empty, no one was working there.

The feeling inside you grew, this was wrong. Something is wrong. You heard voices coming from the floor above you, you listened and heard your boyfriend's voice but it was unclear what he was saying.

You brushed the strange feeling away, surely there was a normal explanation. Perhaps they used this building to ensure the safety of their clients, perhaps that's why there was no one else here.

You walked up the stairs to the fourth floor and the voice of your boyfriend got clearer as you neared the room he was in. As you got closer you could hear other voices, three other voices, all of them male.

Something inside you warned you, warned you to stay quiet, to listen. Your plan was to walk in his office and shout suprise and hand him the cupcakes you had baked that morning. But now you stayed around the corner as you listened to what they were saying. You peeked around the corner and saw your boyfriend leaning against his desk, relaxed as he looked at another guy who was sitting on the chair in front of him. Two others were standing at the side, as if they were guarding something or someone.

“Mister Davis, you must understand that my client is very upset about these unfortunate circumstances. He placed a lot of faith in you when he asked you to keep his shipments safe.” your boyfriend's silky voice cut through the silence of the room.

The man in the chair scoffed “I tried alright! Everything went smooth until Daredevil showed up. How the hell was I supposed to handle that situation ?! Not even Fisk could beat that son of a bitch! He's in prison thanks to him !” the man shouted in anger.

Your boyfriend sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose “I'm afraid that trying is not enough. You failed Mister Fisk, the shipments are lost because of your incompetence-”

“My incompetence?! Shaw, you son of a bitch, I've worked for Fisk for years. How dare you speak to me like that!”

“Let's keep this professional, Mister Davis.” a slight hint of annoyance was audible in your boyfriend's voice.

The other man slammed his fists on the chair he was sitting in “Damn you ! You think you're above me ?! Above the others !”

Your boyfriend only sighed again as he stood now, a hand smoothing out his suit jacket as he turned his back to the man “Mister Fisk has asked me to give you another chance. Do you think you will be succesful this time ?” his voice showed no interest in the man.

“You don't think I will ?!” the man stood up from the chair fuming now.

“Indeed, I do not.” he turned to the man, his expression was blank.

“Who the hell do you think you're talking to !” the man's voice was loud now.

Your boyfriend didn't speak, he looked at the man with little interest before he closed his eyes and sighed once more.

Then it happened quickly, your boyfriend pulled a gun from his jacket and shot the man only once. Sending a bullet straight into his head. The man fell backwards.

The sound of the gunshot made you jump, a short scream escaped your throat at the unexpected  situation. And you knew they had heard you. You didn't wait, you ran, back to the door that would lead to the stairs. And right when you put your hand on the door handle you felt someone yank your hair back, before they grabbed your arm and held it behind your back to push you against the door.

One of the men who had been in the room was now holding you against the door.

“Got them!” he shouted and you heard the others nearing.

The other man was the second to show up, and when he got closer to you he grabbed a gun from behind his back. The one holding you turned you around, slamming the back of your head against the door as he did. And soon you were face-to-face with Shaw “Easy, gentlemen. This one belongs to me." he walked over to you and the guy holding you let go.

“Sweetheart, you must forgive this man for handling you like this. But you did give us a reason to distrust you. Why are you here ?” he was calm as he spoke, as if nothing had happened. And that is when a feeling of dread washed over you, this wasn't the first time he killed someone. You were shaking with fear, a tear escaped your eye and you couldn't speak.

He nodded to the other man to take a step back and the man did as commanded “(y/n), Why are you here?” he asked again but this time there was a sharp edge to his words.

You couldn't look him in the eyes, not anymore “I wanted to suprise you.” your voice almost a whisper.

His mouth curved into a smile, but you knew it wasn't a genuine one “Well, color me surprised.”

He let out a breath as he dragged his hand over his chin “I really wish you would have called, sweetheart. Now we are facing a problem. You saw what just happened didn't you ?”

You focused on his tie instead of on his face as you nodded.

He nodded as well "Alright, here's what's going to happen. You didn't see anything. And if anyone asks, you will tell them exactly that. Understand ?" You nodded lightly, not able to form words as your throat tightened. His hand struck your cheek and you looked at him in shock, finally meeting his eyes "I asked you if you understand, you would be smart to answer that clearly."

“I understand.” your voice broke.

He held on to your chin with his fingers “Good girl.” he said and placed a quick kiss on your lips. You wanted to throw up at this point but you knew you had to pretend everything was fine. His eyes fell on the bag you were holding “Did you bring me some of your famous cupcakes, little dove?”

You swallowed before you answered “Yes.”

“See this, gentlemen, this is why I like this girl. She's beautiful, she's smart and she knows how to cook.” he took the bag from your hand “And she knows when to keep quiet.” it sounded like a threat and you were sure that it was exactly that.

He took a step back from you “I'll be home a little later tonight, love. I have some things to take care of. But this guy here is going to make sure you get home safely.”

This was his way of telling you, to not try to run.

Shaw walked past you and one of the other guys grabbed hold of your arm and guided you out the building and to the house you shared with Shaw.

The only way to survive was to obey Shaw, knowing that if he wanted, he could end your life.

All you had to do was be a “Good girl.”

Tag list for this series (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list :) ) :

@marvelmayo @givemeabite @aquietfortitudeandstrength @missminx1993@fuchsiagrasshopper @legion-18 @love-mia-marisol @star-spangled-man @bilson-bethel

[undercover-stories]

I’d Rather Be With You

Matt and Foggy get trapped under a collapsed building after an earthquake and there's nothing they can do but keep each other company as they wait for the Emergency Crew to arrive. But Foggy might not have much time left to wait.

AO3

The building was falling apart. Dust and debris were raining the air in a thick hazardous cloud and Foggy has to duck his head to inhale a clean rush of air into his lungs. The earth beneath them continued to violently shake the structure above them apart. The wood and steel panels of the warehouse creak and groan and seconds later he can hear the glass windows shatter at the pressure of the walls start to give in.

He could her other people screaming and crying in horror from other parts of the building and even people from the higher floors. He felt his stomach drop at having to accept that he was in no condition to help any of them except for his partner who was currently passed out in front of him after pushing Foggy away from a large chunk of falling wood that would've thrown him to the floor and had instead hit Matt on the head hard enough to knock him out.

"Matt. Matt come on wake up. Come on Matt I can't do this alone. You gotta give me some help here bud", Foggy shakes his best friend as vigorously as he can while leaning his broken arm as close to his chest as possible. "Come on Matty. Come on wake up please. I can't save you alone. I need you. Come on Matt I need you"

But his partner doesn't stir. There was a small puddle of blood slowly trickling down his temple from his head wound, his hair matted in wet clumps with it.

A large chunk of the roof caves in and Foggy screams. He jumps to his feet, terror for both his and Matt's life helping him ignore how his broken arm swayed painfully at his side and grabs Matt collar by the other.

"Come on. Come on Nelson"

It's slow and tedious but slowly Foggy manages to inch Matt away from the falling chunks of steel and wood to the underground basement a few feet away.

Foggy's panting and whimpering in pain by the time to they reach the open hatch door but the sound chunks of metal and wood keep falling around them and the roaring sound they make as they whistle pass and slam against the ground - like creatures waiting to devour them both - keep him moving despite how much the pain wanted to make him cry out.

Tugging Matt down the wooden stairs was a lot easier but still slow because Foggy was trying to make sure neither of them would slipped and fall. The sound of the building falling around them was muffled underneath the roof of the basement.

Foggy is racing back up the stairs to close the hatch door when a loud thunderous moan of straining wood rattles above him. Foggy doesn't make it upstairs far enough to reach the latch and pull the hatch close. A large metal beam falls merely inches away from him and breaks the hatch door right of its hinges while another large chunk of the roofing falls through the entryway onto the basement stairs and collapses it right beneath him.

Foggy screams as he falls and the last thing he sees before his head hits the cement floor is the sight of the entire roof caving in above him before everything goes black.

Foggy wakes up slowly to the pain of something rough and heavy shifting on his stomach. Feeling thankful for once for the flab covering his abdominal muscles that help push back the weight slightly as to not cave in his abdomen entirely.

"Come on. Move. Move! Argh. Fuck. "

He blinks a few times before his eyes and ears manage to decipher the voice and form of his best friend beside him who was trying to push away the heaviness that was weighing Foggy down.

He moans when the rough edges of the debris dig deeper into his skin.

"Ok this hurts a lot more than that time when I got punched by Brett for destroying his bike."

Matt stops and reaches out to touch his face. "Foggy? Hey try to stay still ok buddy. I'll get this stuff off of you."

The small slabs of rock and metal continue to move as Matt tries his hardest to gingerly haul the heaviest of them off of him.

Foggy tries to regain his faculties enough to take note of his surroundings.

The wreckage and remains of the warehouse were scattered around them in a hazardous mess but the roof of their small place of refuge was still intact and from what Foggy can tell, Matt seemed to be uninjured enough to move with little pain. Though the unfocused look in his eyes told him that Matt was probably hiding some injuries and holding back a severe headache from a major concussion. Blood was still running down his face in narrow rivulets that continuously dripped off his chin. Foggy couldn't help but remember that head wounds tended to bleed a lot and he wondered worriedly how much blood Matt had lost during the time that lapses between his unconscious state and his current one.

And judging from how 'six pack, I can beat 10 people at once' Murdock was finding it difficult to muster enough strength to move the rubble above him, it was definitely affecting him more than he would probably like to admit.

The one time his suit and helmet would've been useful in protecting his best friend and they get trapped in a situation while they were both just civilians. Of all the random things in the world it was an earthquake that caught them both off guard.

He raises his uninjured arm - thank god it wasn't buried as well - to tug at Matt's sleeve.

"Matt. Matt, I think you need to take a breather. You're losing a lot of blood. If you keep at it, you're gonna pass out"

Matt was panting heavily but he didn't stop his efforts of digging Foggy out. "I can keep going. I just need to move a little more of this and get you free first"

Knowing that his best friend was going to continue to ignore anything he had to say on the matter, he let his hand drop but glued his eyes to his friends face to make sure he wasn't going to overexert and pull himself back to unconsciousness.

A pretty large bit of debris moves on top of him and suddenly the cement held up by what little was left of the wire rods above them both shift with a groan that sent large chunks of rubble raining down on them, threatening to crush them both.

Foggy immediately held his hand up to cover his face but Matt instead curled himself protectively around Foggy and took the brunt of the damage.

The sound of falling cement tapered off after a while and Matt shook off the dust and rocks that had fallen onto his back.

The both shared a look of horrified understanding that was only broken when Foggy gave what he hoped was a nonchalant shrug.

"Looks like I'm gonna be stuck here for a while"

Hours passed - Matt keeping track of the time using his watch that had miraculously survived with nothing but some scratches - and they both got worried that no one was coming for them at all until Matt's head jerked up at something that only he can hear.

"The emergency crew is getting closer. I can hear them digging through the wreckage nearer than before. But it's sounding like it's getting harder to dig out the bigger slabs of debris. They're trying to be careful to make sure they don't shift anything that might fall on any survivors and hurt or kill them. There's some talk about bringing in some heavy machinery soon."

Foggy wiggle's a bit where's he's lying on the hard floor, trying to get comfortable. Well as comfortable as you can be when you're buried under a literal building.

He leans his back on the palm of his working arm that's he's managed to move up to cushion the back of his head. "Sounds fantastic. Took them long enough"

Matt's head turns towards him in the way it does when he's about to talk to him. Knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them. "You doing ok?"

Foggy tries not to think about how his lower limbs are starting to feel numb, though Matt can probably tell that his breathing was starting to get more laboured. "Peachy. A little hungry though"

Matt can't help but smile. "I could go for some Thai later on the way home. I haven't had anything all day except half of that bagel you stole from me"

"In my defence it was a really good bagel. It's not fair. You always know where to find the best food. Oh my god! Matt, you're a foodie! You're one of those hipster 'influencers' that go around looking for picture perfect foods even if it's on the other side of town cause you have no sense of just making your life easier. Do you have an Instagram Matty? Is it full of pictures of your workout routine and disgustingly healthy green smoothies?"

"Nah, just some pictures of my abs, the occasional bragging and showing off my model hot dates. Not that I actually know what they look like of course."

"I can't believe I'm best friends with a handsome little duckling hipster. You've probably got all your followers swooning every time you post a selfie."

"You literally dressed like a hobo in college Foggy. Forgive me if I don't take your perspective on self-grooming seriously. But sure, I get a few dozen swooning followers every now and then"

"Must be such a pain to have to turn them all down"

"Excruciating" Matt says with an upturn of his lips.

Foggy's about to tease him about it a little more when suddenly Matt stiffens. Fingers curling into a loose fist that rub against each other in an agitated manner and his shoulders hunch up like he's trying hard not to cup his palm over his ears.

"Hey," Foggy calls out soothingly, "are they getting louder?"

Matt shakes his head. A part of him wants to keep himself from talking about it entirely. Half because he just wants to ignore it and half because he wants to spare Foggy the gruesome details.

But he knows that ignoring what he's hearing is a futile endeavour and it would actually be more helpful to just talk about it rather than hide it. Not to mention Foggy's always urging him to be more honest in opening up to him. Appreciating how Matt's is learning to curl back the habit of hiding himself behind his walls.

"It's getting quieter" he says.

"How many of them are left?"

Matt cocks his head to the side, focusing on his surroundings. "30 I think. The heartbeat of 5 of them from before have sort of become muted. I don't know if they've passed out or the aid crew managed to dig them out.", Matt's not sure if he wants to know which is it.

"Can you still tell which of them are still sticking around?"

Matt goes silent again for a moment, "The lady on the fifth floor stopped crying a while ago, I think the kids on our right are sleeping but their dad is still awake, the two teenagers in our left are talking about sports - I think they're trying to distract themselves- and the rest that are close by are talking in hushed tones and I can't really tell what they're saying. About 8 of them are too far for me to hear what they're doing but I can still hear their heart beats"

Foggy nods appreciatively, "That's good. They're all trying to keep each other company. That's probably gonna help them stay strong for the next few hours till the paramedics can get to them"

Foggy shimmy's a little bit more, trying to ease the weight that's crushing down on his pelvic bone. But winces when the movement jostles his broken arm.

Matt instantly inches himself closer, hand flitting forward to grip Foggy's shoulder, "Hey, how you're doing?"

"Not great but still kicking. You?"

"I'm fine." Matt assures him but Foggy gives him a sceptical look.

Matt is swaying a bit from the dizziness, blood still running down the side of his face though it's slowed to a trickle. They'd pressed Matt's jacket over it at first but when their surroundings got darker and the air around them got colder Matt had put it back on and scuttled even closer to Foggy. Not that it really helped either of them stay warm since it's hard to share body heat when the other person has half his body buried away. Matt's wincing with every breath he takes from his bruised ribs and he was leaning most of body on his right side to leave his left broken ankle from being weighted down. Foggy can tell that he would prefer stretching it out completely if there was actually any room for it.

"You know I have eyes, right?" Foggy retorts.

Matt raises an eyebrow, "I think that's ableism. Reminding a blind man of what he doesn't have", he makes a tutting sound of faux disapproval, "I expected more from a cum laud graduate of Columbia"

"It's not ableism if said disabled is a masochistic asshole who parkours over rooftops for fun"

"Touché"

"How many are them are left?"

"23"

"The kids?"

".... I can't hear them"

Foggy's peripheral vision is starting to darken. He finds it hard to hear much unless he's concentrating and his attempts at banter with his best friend is getting slower.

"Hey Foggy, stay awake ok. They're getting really close and it's not gonna take much longer now"

Foggy wheezes out a breath, "It's ok, I'm just daydreaming about the pizza I'm gonna order when we're back home. Large all meat pizza with extra onions and cheese"

"Tell me more about it"

"About the pizza?"

"Sure. I'm going to order that fresh basil mozzarella and pepperoni from El-Salvador's"

"There you go again with that hipster food. That pizza cost almost twice the price of the take away near my place."

"They use 100% percent fresh ingredients and it's completely worth the price. Besides, when we get out of here it's totally an occasion worthy of fancy pizza. I'll treat you"

"Deal. You get the pizza and I'll pay for the Thai"

"We're still getting the Thai?"

"We are still definitely getting the Thai"

"Sometimes I don't know whether to be amazed by your appetite or horrified"

"You complain enough about the Cheetos I buy to snack on at the office"

"Those things are drenched in chemicals and preservatives and I will continue throwing them away when I find your stash"

"The game isn't fair when you can smell it with your super powers"

It's too dark to tell but Foggy thinks he can make out Matt's silhouette tapping the bridge of his nose, "The nose knows"

That's startles a chuckle out of Foggy but the rumble of his chest aggravates the rubble above them and send dust into the air. Triggering a coughing fit that racks horribly in his chest.

Matt's grip on his shoulder tightens.

"Just a bit more Fog. We're going to get out of here soon"

Foggy nods because really that's the only thing he can do.

"Hey Matty?"

"Yeah Foggy?"

"I could sure use a toilet right now"

Matt chuckles, " me too"

"Matt?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm getting... really sleepy"

"Come on buddy, you gotta keep me company."

"Ok"

"Hey Matt?

"Hmmm..."

"I'm just gonna.... gonna close my eyes for a bit ok"

Foggy can hear Matt scramble forward and wincing when it pushes his injured ankle against the ground. "Hey stay with me Fog. Keep your eyes open ok", he sounds lethargic. Foggy feels bad for thinking about letting himself rest when Matt is busy worrying about him.

But he's so tired and it's getting really hard to breath.

"Just for a little while Matty. Just a short nap"

He can hear Matt calling his name but his eyes are already closed and the sound of his voice slowly tapers off before going completely silent as Foggy lets himself go to sleep.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

All This World Could Give Me

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 4

Series Masterlist           Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

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

warnings: swearing, possessive/slightly pervy Matt (he’s 18 y’all, cut him some slack), implied sexual activity, non-graphic descriptions of masturbation, religious conversations and catholic imagery

I’m ignoring canon a bit here and pretending Matt and Lantom were already close. Sue me.

a/n: I know it's been too long since I posted for this WIP and this is the last chapter I have finished writing so I'm posting it an hour early. But I'm going to try really hard to update this one more consistently because I know it's a fan favorite. As always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated! They give me fuel to write.

w/c: 3.7k (Next chapter is much longer, I promise)

Matt had known you for 11 weeks. Less than 80 days in his life and his heart had practically carved you an altar, ready to worship a new God. His devotion to you was ardent—and it terrified him. 

You deserved more than he could provide, that much was still true, but he couldn’t help the searing pain in his chest when you talked about your new boyfriend. Everett. Just mentioning his name sparked twin blooms of heat in your cheeks and waves of arousal to cloud around you. It was enough to make Matt nauseous. 

A few weeks ago, your new beau had been no more than an unknown peer to the three of you, but it had taken him all of three days to coil around you like a serpent–prying you from Matt’s undying grasp. The two of you had met at Oscar’s homecoming house party and had apparently “totally hit it off”. Two days after that, you’d excitedly reconnected at a Civil Procedure study session that he’d spearheaded with your own TA. After an hour of flirty glances and pointed compliments bouncing between the pair of you, he’d offered to take you out for a late dinner. Stupidly, Matt had assumed you’d invite him and Foggy along, like you had when your last suitor had asked you out, but you’d bid a hasty goodbye to your friends before letting Everett escort you to his favorite diner. 

In the 2 weeks since then, your friends had barely seen you. Dates with Everett had become so frequent that you’d been skipping or rescheduling your semi-weekly study sessions and miscellaneous hangouts were shorter than ever. Characteristically, Foggy had been much more understanding of the shift in your behavior. 

“Cut her some slack, Murdock. This is her first adult relationship. She’s excited!” The blond reasoned, nudging Matt’s slumped shoulder with a knowing smirk. 

“I don’t know, Fog. Something’s…off about him.” 

Snorting, Foggy rolled his eyes. “The only thing ‘off’ about it is that our little jitterbug is dating him instead of you.” His accusation was only a murmur, but the sentiment still hit Matt like a truck. 

Your involvement with someone should’ve been a blessing. An opportunity for him to get over his unrequited feelings and move on with his life without jeopardizing one of the two friendships he’d ever had. Still, he couldn’t shake the unease he felt around the guy. They’d only interacted once, when you’d introduced them during the study session, but one short conversation was all Matt’s conscience needed to condemn the man. 

Though he was well aware that you preferred to show your love through kind words and soft touches, the sound of your pulse skipping when you'd entangled your hand with Everett’s continued to haunt him. Your intentions were as sweet as ever, but he couldn’t help but worry about your counterpart. His senses were bombarded with pheromones whenever he was around you, and the majority of them were not yours. It was like the guy knew exactly how to get under Matt’s skin and had taken to coating you in his cologne before allowing you out of his sight.

If it was possible, his mind was more occupied with thoughts of you than ever. Being in the same room with you was torturous, every molecule in his body buzzing with indignation at the thought that someone else had claimed you. Every mention of your relationship had him biting his tongue until it bled. 

Amazingly, he’d been able to restrain his frustration at the beginning of your relationship, preventing himself from snapping at you. However, given that he was only human, his willpower could only withstand so much. The last straw was the fresh bruising on your neck that had appeared the morning after a “study date” with Everett. It couldn’t have taken much effort to disguise, but Matt could still feel the heat pooling in three mouth-shaped marks along your satiny skin. 

As you sat beside him at the bookstore counter, you absentmindedly ran a finger over the neckline of your shirt, your heart fluttering as a nail scraped over the highest of the imprints. If Matt hadn’t been so in tune with you and your body, he wouldn’t have thought twice about the tiny sigh that escaped your lips–but he knew you like the back of his own hand, and the sound nearly broke him. 

Noticing the way he stiffened, your brow furrowed. “You ok?” You asked kindly, shifting nearer to him. 

Normally, he savored the warmth of your proximity, but today the combination of your closeness and the metallic taste of blood emanating from your various hickeys ignited a fury within him.  

“Fine.” He muttered, turning the page of his book.

“Ok, let me rephrase. Did you want to talk about whatever is obviously bothering you?” You reached out to run a hand along his arm, wafting a cloud of spicy cologne towards him. 

Jerking away from your touch, and nearly careening out of his seat in the process, Matt shook his head. “No. I’m good, thanks.”

Your breathing stuttered, but you shook it off quickly. “Alright, let me know if you change your mind.” Matt desperately tried to ignore the twist in his gut at the hurt that flooded your tone, to no avail.

The two of you stewed in the silence, pretending to study until the bell chimed—signaling a new presence. Matt had been so tangled up in his own guilt and regret that he hadn't noticed the familiar man approaching the store. Surely, God was laughing at his misfortune about now—his bad luck had to be cosmic.

“Evs!” You squealed, rushing out from behind the counter to hug him. After exchanging a nauseatingly lengthy kiss, you wrapped an arm around his waist and gestured to the other boy, still sitting by the register. “You remember Matt, right?” 

“Uh yah. How's it goin', man?” Everett gave a rigid nod in Matt's direction, not diverting an ounce of his attention from where it rested on you. 

Plastering on his phoniest smile, Matt lifted his hand in a wave. “Not too bad. You?“

”Oh you know, same old.“ The older student brushed off Matt's polite question in favor of pulling you more tightly against him. With a giggle, you let him kiss you again, standing on your tiptoes to reach him. 

”What are you doing here?“ You chuckled, tilting your head to the side as his lips traveled over the bruises he'd left the night before. Matt's stomach rolled at the resulting haze of arousal around you.

”Came to see you. Missed you so much, baby.“ Everett murmured between pecks. 

“I missed you too. But I'm working for another two hours.” You pushed his chest, breaking the seal of his lips along your skin. 

“That's ok, I'm a very patient man.” Your paramour purred, stepping away to let you take your seat again. 

Giggling, you leaned forward on the counter. Everett, as classy as ever, didn't hide the way his eyes drifted straight to your cleavage. Didn't he know that you were more than an object for his use and pleasure?

“Want to sit with us? We're reading for Torts. I can get you a chair...“ You trailed off, craning your neck to find a spare stool for him. 

Clearing his throat, Matt stood. ”He can have mine. I forgot, I have plans tonight.“ 

You pursed your lips, studying your friend as he packed up his things. Unperturbed, Everett quickly slid in beside you. ”Thanks, bro.”

“No problem, bro.” Matt mimicked, shouldering his bag and tipping his head towards you. “See you tomorrow.”

“Um, ok. Have a good night, Matty.” You offered, relaxing slightly when he smiled back at you.

“You too, bug.” As he escaped the harrowing atmosphere, he heard Everett's seemingly innocent question.

“Bug?” The pure envy dripping from the word was enough to break Matt's face into a proud smirk. 

Seemingly unaware of the budding rivalry, you laughed. 'It's a long story.“ 

Swiping his cane along the ground forcefully, Matt gulped in the chilly autumn air in an attempt to soothe his pounding heart. The scent of your and Everett’s combined arousal lingered on his coat, in his nose, across his tongue. Every inhale fueled his rage, and he needed to let it out. 

Thankfully, there was a place that could offer him solace despite the late hour. 

Plastic tapping along asphalt, he masterfully wove through the crowds and down the streets until reaching the musty building he'd been searching for. The door was ajar, propped open with a mop bucket. Steel hinges creaked as he pried open the door, stepping around the cleaning supplies and into the familiar space. 

Taking careful steps across the damp concrete, he let his eyes fall closed as the sounds of swinging chains and the ever-present scent of sweat brought him back to his childhood. Blurry images of men with comically red gloves and worn vinyl punching bags flashed through his mind, interspersed with a fading picture of his late father. Swallowing roughly, he continued his march into the empty space, running a hand over the eroded ropes in the center of the room. 

”Sorry kid, we're closed,“ A gruff voice broke through the silence. 

Shuffling away from the boxing ring, Matt raised a hand in apology. “Sorry, uh, it's been a while since I—“

“You're Battlin' Jack's boy, ain't ya?” The older man cut him off, stepping towards Matt and giving him a once over. 

Matt's jaw trembled with emotion, but he nodded slowly. “Uh, yes sir, I am.” 

“Been a long time since I've seen ya 'round, kid. Life been good to ya?“ The janitor asked, swiping the mop head across the floor and diverting his gaze from Matt. 

”It's been alright. The gym doing ok?“ Shifting from foot to foot, Matt suddenly felt exposed. It had been foolish to assume this place would welcome him back in the middle of the night.

”Not too bad, had to cut our hours though. Ya know how it is.“ 

Matt nodded politely. ”I understand. I'm sorry to intrude,“ Grasping his cane, he started for the door but the older man stopped him.

”Wait, wait. I ain't gonna kick ya out, kid. You're practically family, come here whenever ya'd like.“ 

”Are you sure? I don't want to impose.“ 

”Course I'm sure. I've gotta head home—just lock up for me, will ya?” 

Heavy steps shuffled closer to Matt, an outstretched hand offering a worn key. Accepting the jagged brass object, a bloom of warmth filled Matt's chest. “Oh I...I mean—”

The man laughed heartily. ”It ain't gonna bite ya. Just don't leave the lights on too long and we're golden.“ 

”I'm sure that won't be a problem.“ Matt snorted.

Chuckling deeply, the other man clapped him on the shoulder. ”Fair enough. Use the key whenever you'd like, kid. Don't be a stranger.“ 

”Thank you, um...“

”Ron, Ron Clark. Nice to see ya again.“ 

”Thank you, Ron. Have a good night.“

”You too.“ Another squeeze of Matt's shoulder and the other man headed out. 

Standing still for a moment, Matt turned the key over in his palm, savoring the swell of pride and gratitude before slipping the chunk of metal into his pocket and stripping out of his coat. 

It hadn't been too long since he'd trained, but he was definitely rusty. His muscles practically shrieked beneath his skin as he ran through some exercises Stick used to drill him with, stationed at a spare punching bag. The punches he threw were wobbly and his stance was crooked, but the repetitive motion still began to drain the tension from his shoulders. 

Adjusting his position, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards as he fell back into a familiar rhythm. The solid weight of the sand against his knuckles chipped away at the darkness that had been swirling around him for days. Each hit was deliberate and, telling himself it was just to work on his accuracy, he started envisioning Everett's face being pummeled by his fists. Though he'd never seen it, Matt was more than happy bombarding the vague idea of your boyfriend with precise hits. 

Everett. Evs. The boy who swept you off your feet before Matt could even work up the nerve to tell you how he felt. A man who simultaneously paid Matt no mind and was far too invested in the blind man's connection to you. Were his feelings for you so obvious that your boyfriend felt the need to drive a wedge between the pair of you? 

You never seemed to mind Matt's flirting and general touchiness, though he wasn't sure if you were aware that you drew that side of him out more often than anyone else. Everett seemed to know, given the way he had so easily marked your delicate skin. 

Growling, Matt drove his hands into the swinging cylinder with more force. Was Everett the only guy allowed to hangout with you? To hug you? To rest your head against his shoulder? He could mark you up all he wanted, it wouldn't stop Matt from holding your hand or kissing your cheek or thinking about kissing every goddamn inch of you as your heart pounded. 

Anger churned in his gut at the thought of the cocky 3rd year claiming every inch of you, drawing sounds out of you that Matt could only imagine. 

His cock twitched as he fantasized. What would it be like to claim you as his, have you wrapped around him—underneath him. Would you sound like any of the other girls he'd been with? There was no doubt you'd sound sweeter. Mewling at his touches, screaming his name when he inevitably made you climax. 

Panting breathlessly as phantom cries of pleasure ricocheted off the perimeter of his skull, Matt's logic and consideration flew out the window as he ripped off his tight jeans—all thoughts centered on your gorgeous figure and how you already responded to him. 

Your past relationships had been so underwhelming that a few hickeys got you riled up? Matt could blow that out of the water. He doubted Everett was a very giving partner, he'd have to make that up to you. Would you want him to please you? To taste you? Matt was sure you tasted divine.

His back arched off of the cool concrete as he came, hand unwittingly wrapped around his cock. As his arousal faded, guilt came crashing in. He couldn't help if thoughts of you slipped in when he touched himself in the comforts of his room but coming in public at the idea of tasting you? He needed help. 

Blushing furiously, he ran to the locker rooms to clean himself up.

Shaking her head at the sound of mischievous giggling, Maggie pinched out the last of the candles and began walking toward the double doors. “You know, this is your last chance to leave the chapel before the ghosts arrive.” She spoke calmly, not turning her head toward the two boys crouched behind a pew to her left.

A small, hesitant voice piped up. ”Ghosts?“ The other boy shushed the first, resulting in a small scuffle. 

Stifling a smile, she nodded gravely, pausing by an empty pew within eyesight of the troublemakers. “That's right. Darn building is full of them. Nasty little spirits who like to haunt little boys.”

“They what!!?” One of the boys asked, horrified. 

“Yep. They like to chase them around, pull out their hair, and force them to eat vegetables.”

Shrieking, the young boys darted out from behind the bench and ran quickly out the door towards the dormitory. 

Preening at her accomplishment, she was about to lock up when a new voice startled her. 

“Still using the ghost method, huh?”

Whirling around, she brought a hand up to rest on her heart when she recognized the young man before her. Huffing out an irritated breath, she greeted him. “Matthew.”

Nervously, he returned the curt nod she gave him. “Sister.”

“It's nice to see you, though I will be the first to tell you we do not have space to board grown men.”

Chuckling, Matt adjusted his grip on his cane. “Your faith in me is endless, Sister. I still have a place to live, I just came for confession.”

Crossing her arms, Maggie raised a brow. “It's a bit late for confession, Matthew. Come back tomorrow.”

”I know it's late, I just—“

“Matthew,” Father Lantom appeared in the entrance to the chapel, expression and tone much more appreciative of Matt's presence than Maggie seemed. “It's nice to see you, son. How is it out there?”

Smiling proudly, Matt leaned into the hand Lantom placed on his shoulder. “It's wonderful, Father. I'm sorry to have disturbed you, I'll come back tomorrow like Sister Maggie suggested.” The Father's grasp on his arm tightened marginally. 

”Nonsense. You are always welcome here. Did you want to sit in the Confessional, or can I offer you a cup of tea first?“ 

Jaw tightening as his ears rang with Maggie's incredulous scoff, he shook his head. “No, I shouldn't have come, I—“

“Maggie, would you mind lighting a few candles? Matthew, have a seat. I'll be back with something for you to drink. Is chamomile ok?”

Nodding apprehensively, Matt shuffled over to a bench and sat down, turning the foam handle of his cane in his palms as Lantom headed off. 

His pulse pounded in the tense silence as Maggie lit three of the lanterns closest to him. 

“I'm sorry, Sister, I wasn't thinking—” 

“You weren't. Though it seems the Father is still happy to indulge your whims, even if you aren't our responsibility any more.”

Ducking his head in embarrassment, Matt chewed the inside of his cheek, the Sister's scolding stoking his towering flames of guilt. “I can still leave.”

“I think the time for that has passed, Matthew.” Sitting at the opposite end of the pew, she sighed. “Is school everything you hoped for?”

The question was an obvious olive branch, and Matt accepted it gratefully. “It's a very different environment. Full of sin, you'd hate it.”

Maggie chuckled, weaving her fingers together and studying the boy. He looked well enough, apprehensive and ashamed, sure, but fed and rested. He'd clearly been taking decent care of himself, which is more than she could've asked for. 

Firm steps echoed in the cavernous building as Lantom returned, holding a carefully balanced tray of three ceramic cups. “Maggie, I assume you'll be joining us?” He gave her a pointed look and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 

“I'd love to.” She smiled, accepting one of the steaming cups. 

Matt smirked at her exaggerated apathy, accepting his own drink. “Thank you both. I'm sorry for my timing.” 

“Our doors are always open for you, Matthew. What did you feel the need to confess?”

Blushing at the reminder of his unholy actions, he sighed. “I've been...preoccupied as of late, with...impure thoughts. And I'm not quite sure how to reconcile that.” 

Listening to Maggie's heart stutter, it seemed she was equally uncomfortable with her presence in this conversation, yet she made no attempt to leave.

Father Lantom, on the other hand, nodded thoughtfully. “Sinful thoughts are different from sinful actions Matthew. Our minds cannot be controlled to the same degree.”

“I know that, it's just...” Scrubbing a hand over his face, Matt grit his teeth in frustration. “These thoughts, they're mostly about one girl. And they've become more frequent since she began dating someone else.” 

“You're close with this girl?” Lantom asked, tilting his head in brief understanding. 

Matt nodded mournfully, raking fingers through his hair. “Very. She's one of two friends I have and one of the best people I've ever known. But, lately, I can't even be in the same room as her without getting angry because...because she's not mine.” 

Maggie blew out an exasperated breath. “Women are not possessions, Matthew.” 

“I know that! I just mean,I—” Spluttering, Matt failed to find the words to justify his admission. God, he was just as bad as Everett.

“Take a breath, my child.” Father Lantom instructed. “Have you told this girl how you feel?” 

Shaking his head, eyes wide, Matt's words were more forceful than intended. “No, God no!”

“Language.” Maggie scolded. 

“Forgive me, Sister. I'm just...terrified that I'll lose her. And I feel like I can no longer control myself, which means I might lose her anyways.” Blinking rapidly to dry the tears forming in his eyes, Matt snapped his jaw shut before his emotions began to crack the steadiness of his voice. 

“Quite the predicament you've landed yourself in, poor boy.” Lantom squeezed Matt's forearm reassuringly, gazing upwards in thought. “As uncertain as it can seem, His plan for us is often for our own good, Matthew. Perhaps, your friend's involvement with another is a path for you to settle for the friendship you have, at least for the time being.”

“If that was his plan, then why does it feel like she's slipping away?” His words were quiet, dense with fear and shame. 

“Love makes people do stupid things, Matthew,” Maggie remarked. “Does she know that you think she's been distant?”

“No,” Matt admitted. 

“Tell her then, you ridiculous boy.” Maggie encouraged, voice softening as she added, “If she chooses to change her behavior, well, it's up to you how to proceed.”

Lantom nodded, “As for your own thoughts, that's a bit tricky. Speaking with her and focusing on a platonic relationship might help, it might not. Remember that God searches the heart and tests the mind, this might simply be a test of your connection to this woman or of your own patience.”

“He is definitely testing my patience.” Matt muttered, drawing laughs out of both Maggie and Lantom. “Thank you both for listening, and for your assistance. I'll get out of your hair now.” 

“It was lovely to see you, Matthew. We can discuss the outcome of your conversation the next time you attend Mass.” The pastor stood, allowing Matt to exit the pew. 

“Take care, Matthew.” Maggie lifted a hand in goodbye as the two watched the younger boy retreat.

Thank you for reading my lovelies!

Taglist: @eugene-emt-roe@abbyhaslongshorts@mrs-bellingham@abucketofweird@yeonalie@jadeunstablexx@spider-murdock@0ctober-writes@danzer8705

[honeylikewords]

Ok, how about what are your favorite Marvel movie characters from the MCU? Is that narrowed down enough?

Yep, that should be more workable! So, I’m also going to count the Netflix shows and the Sony-Marvel movies as part of the MCU, just because otherwise none of my actual super-duper favorites would be on this list. 

So, without further ado, here we go!

1. Miguel O’Hara.

LOOK, CAMEOS COUNT, OKAY? Miguel is my favorite MCU character because I’m Predictable and In Love. And though his scene was short, I adore him. Fingers crossed for more of him in the MCU and more of that lovely, cute voice he’s got! And please, please let him take off his mask in the next movie. I’m dying to see what he looks like in the Spider-Verse style! In short, I adore Miguel. I really do. Even if he never shows up in the MCU again, he’ll always have me wrapped around his little finger, devoted.

2. Peter Parker.

All versions of Peter Parker, pretty universally, are the sweetest, kindest, humblest, funniest, and most down-to-earth guys ever. I have so much love for Peter Parker in all his incarnations, and he holds a very special place in my heart. There’s a reason why he’s one of the most famous, popular, and long-lasting Marvel characters ever, and why there were movies about him long before the superhero movie genre became even a thing. We love you, Peter, to the moon and back! 

3. Miles Morales.

So, yeah, my top three are Spider-People, but can you blame me? Their storytelling is so special and unique, and always so grounded in reality and about being heroes even when we come from nothing. Miles Morales’ MCU debut in Into The Spider-Verse is, without a doubt, the greatest ever in Marvel history. I have so, so much love for Miles, and everything he does makes me smile, makes me proud, and makes me believe in the goodness of myself and the people around me. He’s the best!

4. Sam Wilson. 

.Humorous, strong-hearted, and handsome, Sam Wilson has it all. The infinitely superior Captain America, I love Sam Wilson and have since that first scene between him and Steve. He’s so genuine and kind, while also being strong and commanding. He knows how to lead and how to take orders, how to stand up to authority and how to trust that he’s being led by wise people, so he has this wonderful, balanced head on his shoulders, and a fantastic sense of humor to boot. I’m so excited for Falcon and Winter Soldier (despite not actually liking Bucky Barnes), and I’m really happy to see Sam take on the iconic status of Captain America. You deserve it, darling.

5. Foggy Nelson.

This guy has been put through the wringer, but remains such a gentle, charitable, kind spirit. I love Foggy Nelson for doing his damnest every single day to try and help his fellow human beings, and for remaining hopeful, hilarious, and heartfelt in all he does. He’s so giving and so strong, so sensitive and so willing to share. He’s open and talkative, clever, intelligent, and emotionally mature. I love him to death, and I wish there were lots more characters like Foggy Nelson, and a lot more love for him in the world.

6. Thor, Post-Ragnarok.

Okay, full transparency: I fucking HATED Thor. I really hated his guts. Everything about him bothered me, from his faux-Shakespearian speech to his hair (and bleached brows?) to his weird relationship with women to his fixation on Loki and being ‘the best’. It was all gross chauvinistic bullshit, in my opinion, so I eschewed him entirely. I can’t honestly remember watching any of the Thor movies (and I think I entirely missed Dark World), but then came Ragnarok. And I knew I had a new favorite.

What can I say? I love a good, dumb, well-intentioned golden retriever of a man. I still have some issues with how he’s written sometimes, but, largely speaking, I think he’s great now that Ragnarok has come along and Marvel has allowed Thor to have some fun and a better sense of humor and playfulness. He’s a smart dumb jock, and is relentlessly kind, something I always appreciate. Cheers!

Also Taika Said Gay Rights And Thor Is At The VERY LEAST Bi According To The Taika-Verse And I Only Listen To Taika So. Gay Rights, Babey!

 7. Oh And Also, Grandmaster.

He counts. He counts. I love Grandmaster. No irony, no bullshit, nothing except pure love. He’s fantastic and funny and I love him. I’m sure we’ll see no more of him in the MCU, but [Casablanca voice] we’ll always have Ragnarok... 

8. Scott Lang.

The MCU wallows too much in seriousness and muscle-men and ‘who’s the strongest’ contests. Scott Lang eschews all of that and just has fun. He’s a gentle, dedicated father, an intelligent, creative con-artist, and a hell of a close-up magician. All the Ant-Man movies are such genuine, real fun that it’s hard to have a bad time watching them. I’m so happy they got Paul Rudd for the part, because I just know I wouldn’t love Scott as much if it wasn’t for Paul and that famous schnoz of his. World’s Greatest Grandma indeed.

Honorable Mention to Spider-Ham for being the absolute funniest thing the MCU has ever created. Oh my god.

And that’s sort of about it! I like a lot of them, but for me to really love a character, they have to stand out to me as someone of genuine goodness, kindness, and, honestly, levity from all the dark, brooding anger of the MCU, which has me largely burned out (see: why I didn’t watch Endgame). A recurring trope with a lot of these characters is that they’re the relief characters, the sillier ones, the gentler ones. I love them for that.

So, if I’ve forgotten anyone, it doesn’t necessarily mean I don’t love them or they’re not a favorite, I just might’ve blipped over them while trying to remember, well, the whole host of the MCU!

Thanks for asking!

[piratekenway]

Oooh, can I have hamdevil AU? I don't care what just anything for it. (Though I would love to see Matt and Hamilton fighting some issue out, with words)

haha OKAY. this is more “Hamilton gets rescued by Daredevil a few times and there’s ship tease” in general, whoops.

title: careful how you proceed

–

“I swear to fucking God, Mur–Daredevil,” says Alexander, “if you don’t put me down right now I am going to kick your ass all the way back to the office, just you watch me.”

Matt, underneath the mask, has the nerve to smile. Well, of course he can, it’s not like Alexander can follow up on that threat when Matt’s got him in his arms, and under normal circumstances, Alexander would be somewhat appreciative of Matt’s arms. But these aren’t normal circumstances.

“Your back might give out,” Matt says.

“Unlike you, I don’t do that parkour ninja bullshit,” says Alexander. “Also, fuck you, my back is fine.”

“I can hear it creaking, actually,” Matt mildly says.

“Your ass,” says Alexander, “the office.”

Somewhere behind them, a–well, Alexander’s not actually sure, and he peers over Matt’s shoulder to check–a guy in, hand to God, frog-themed armor is hopping after them on the ground. There are springs on his feet. His–webbed feet.

Sometimes Alexander loves the 21st century, and all the advances made since 1804 that have enabled more freedom than Alexander could’ve ever dreamed of.

Then sometimes it pulls shit like this.

“Why the hell do you get the lamest supervillains?” he asks.

“You should ask Parker about the White Rabbit sometime,” says Matt, casually, as he runs over a very thin catwalk and oh god Alexander’s just not going to look down. If he looks down, he’s pretty sure he’s going to have a heart attack and die again on the spot, and he’d much rather go out in either a blaze of glory or in bed.

The blaze of glory’s preferred.

“The what now?” he asks, keeping his eyes on Matt’s face.

“She threw rabid bunnies at him once,” says Matt.

Alexander gapes at him. Then: “So she saw too much Monty Python?”

“I knew letting Foggy show you Monty Python and the Holy Grail was a terrible idea,” Matt gripes.

–

A. Hamilton @adothamit’s official, this election is wilder than the 1800 elections #thatssayingsomething http://wapo.st/1QtUQmM

A. Hamilton @adotham@foreversherlocked SINCE YOU ASKED FOR EXAMPLES: TJeffs did not discuss dick size in a presscon (1/?)

A. Hamilton @adothamthe GOP’s newest embarrassment can’t even #talkless #burrisrollinginhisgrave (2/?)

–

A. Hamilton @adothamand half my feed and two of my coworkers have started referring to @tedcruz as a serial killer #explain (21/?)

–

A. Hamilton @adothamso IN CONCLUSION the monkeys have taken over the zoo aka the GOP, best election ever (48/48)

Casey W @foreversherlockedis it just me or is @adotham the guy who’s been writing to the Post under a Latin pen name #theanswerisyes

–

MATT:that explains the increase in rocks through your windowplease find better aliases alex

A. HAM:whats wrong with favonius

MATT:it sounds latindidnt you write under latin pen names all the timefind something less obvious

A. HAM:says the actual DAREDEVILalso i am hurt that you think i just pick names because they “sound latin”wikipedia is right there

MATT:blame the bulletin for that name i didnt choose itand also48 tweets?really??

A. HAM:i was aiming for 51 but then i got put in twitter jailalso you dont have a twitter how do you know that

MATT:you forget foggy and karen follow youthey were telling me the whole thingstop flooding karens feed she says she will actually murder you

A. HAM:nah she wouldntshe loves me

MATT:she says “try me”

–

The second time Alexander finds himself in Matt’s rather well-toned arms, it’s after someone decides to kidnap somebody connected to Nelson & Murdock to Send A Message. He’s sort of glad it’s not Karen they kidnapped, but then again, Karen once maced a guy because he put his hand on her thigh.

At the same time, though, it’s a blow to his pride that they picked him and not, y’know, the other two lawyers hanging around.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you liked playing damsel in distress,” Matt teases.

Alexander glares blearily up at him. He’s not sure what drug they got him with that everything’s still kind of hazy and blurry. He’s going to kick his kidnappers’ ass. Just as soon as he can stand. “Fuck you too, Daredevil,” he tells Matt. “Get me out of here so we can sue their faces off.”

Behind them, someone yells something in–well, Alexander’s not sure, but it’s definitely not a language he knows. Matt ducks just behind a crate, and Alexander hears a crack of a gunshot, sees something splinter beside them.

“You know,” Alexander says, “back in my day, lawyers didn’t get kidnapped and shot at. That, you saved for the actual war.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to the 21st century,” says Matt, laying Alexander down next to a crate and pulling his sticks out. “We’re big on equality here.” He cocks his head to the side, as if listening to something, then says, “You gonna be okay?”

“I survived the revolution and getting shot in the shoulder,” says Alexander, sitting up straight and wincing, because fuck damn but everything’s still spinning, kind of. “I can damn well survive your idea of a rescue. Which sucks, by the way.”

“It’s getting you out, isn’t it?” says Matt, with a cocky grin, and then he’s off.

Alexander leans his head against the crate, breathes in and out, and murmurs, “You better come out of this fight alive, Murdock, or Foggy’ll kill me.”

–

They come out of it alive.

Karen hugs Alexander so tightly he eventually has to break away in order to just breathe. Foggy hugs Matt–well, not that tightly, the guy needs his ribs, after all.

“Thanks, by the way,” says Alexander, once his scrapes and bruises have been attended to.

“I thought you didn’t like my idea of a rescue,” says Matt, holding an ice pack to his head. “You said it sucked.”

“I stand by what I said,” says Alexander, sitting down next to him and hissing softly at the jolt of pain through his side, now the drug’s worn off. “Every bit of it. But you got us out, and I’m grateful for that.”

Matt’s gaze doesn’t quite lock on him–instead, they’re focused on a spot somewhere to the right of Alexander. Months of working in close quarters with Matthew Murdock, but this is the first time, Alexander realizes, that he’s really had the opportunity to look closely at his eyes.

In this light, they look kind of hazel. They’re–pretty, Alexander thinks, and he can see why Foggy accuses Matt of somehow drawing all the girls to him.

The silence stretches on just a beat too long, before Matt grins, cocks his head to the side, says, “That mean I get a kiss?”

“I take it back,” Alexander says, shoving lightly at his shoulder. “Next time I get kidnapped, I want Spider-man to rescue me, ‘cause you’re a dick.”

–

After the case is won, the first thing that happens is that Foggy drags all of them out to Josie’s for an overdue thank fucking God you’re not dead party. They’ve been having that regularly, lately, and Alexander keeps finding himself as the designated Responsible One, but not tonight.

“I’m just–” he starts, then stops. “I’m just, look, I’m just sayin’–the world-buildin’ doesn’t make sense, at least in the prequels I knew why the Republic was a goddamn mess–”

“Tone it down,” Matt tells him. For once in his life, he’s the Responsible One, because Alexander’s hell-bent on getting blind (heh!) stinking drunk, because he deserves it after being kidnapped by mafia nutjobs looking to send a message.

For, like, the third time in as many months.

“The prequels were terrible,” says Foggy, three sheets to the wind. “I love you Alex but you are so wrong.”

“Hell no I’m not,” Alexander says. “Look, the script was shitty and the romance was shoehorned in, but goddammit you could see where the Republic was going wrong and how and why the Empire rose, okay–”

“Because there was a Sith Lord in charge and he engineered a war, which would’ve been convincing if he wasn’t so obviously evil–why would anyone trust him–”

“I’m not talkin’ ‘bout how convincing Palpatine was, I’m talkin’ ‘bout how he engineered the fall of the Republic and the Jedi by exploiting the flaws in both, flaws that could’ve easily been fixed–”

“Okay, okay,” says Karen, manicured fingers plucking the bottle of whiskey from Alexander’s grip, “I think I’ve heard enough. And I think you guys have had enough, if you’re arguing about Star Wars.”

“You’re a Trekkie, Karen, you don’t get it,” Foggy tells her. “And one day we shall tempt you to the Dark Side, with our–with our cookies! And our lightsabers. Lightsabers, Karen.”

“Or I’ll tempt you to the Federation,” Karen shoots back, grinning.

“Never!”

“Dorks,” Alexander stage-whispers to Matt, who gives a small huff of laughter, ducking his head, mouth stretching upwards in an actual smile. “Hey, look who’s smiling!”

“I smile plenty,” Matt argues. “Anyway, Karen’s right. You’re both very, very drunk, and we should be getting you home.”

“Aww, Matt,” Foggy groans.

“Matt’s right, we’re going to get you home before either of you puke on someone,” says Karen, hauling Foggy to his feet despite his protests of it was one time. “I’ll take Foggy, you take Alex?”

“That’ll be hilarious,” says Matt, with a laugh. “The blind guy leading the drunk guy down the street.”

“May I remind you of the parkour ninja bullshit you pull off on a regular basis, Matthew goddamn Murdock?” Alexander says.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Matt innocently says, and Alexander shoves at his shoulder. Or, well, tries to–he manages to shove at Matt’s face instead. Well, now he remembers why he doesn’t usually drink this much–his hand-eye coordination is shot to shit. He won’t be doing any writing tonight. “All right, come on, up.”

“I’m up, I’m up,” Alexander says, as Matt hauls him up. If he leans a little on Matt, that’s only because everything’s spinning and he needs some support, nothing more.

–

alcxhamms:guys guys GUYS

i think i just saw a dot ham and the murdock half of n&m stumbling drunkenly down the street and i am not sure how i managed not to squeal like a pig but like

they were

really

really

close

like ham had his arm around murdock and you know that #lams moment during the grammys that SET ME ON FIRE

it was exactly like that

#i was p far away so i couldn’t really tell what they were talking about but like #at one point ham was LOOKING INTO HIS EYES (and the sky’s the limit) #or like looking into his shades  #my point is #they were VERY CLOSE and i was very close to dying right then and there #i’m going straight to hell

–

“Hey, hey, watch out–pothole–”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Alexander, sidestepping and pulling Matt along with him. They look, frankly, ridiculous, swaying back and forth like a newborn giraffe, but Alexander doesn’t care. “Hey, Matt. Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“You gotta do this more often,” he says. “Taking a break.”

Matt huffs out a laugh, says, “That’s rich coming from you. You write like you’re running out of time.”

“Half the time with you assholes, I am running out of time,” Alexander says. “But also, I don’t show up to work bruised all to hell and back, like I went fifteen rounds with a seriously pissed off Hessian.”

“Ten,” says Matt. “And there were two of them.”

“See, when you say shit like that, I get worried,” Alexander says, grabbing hold of Matt’s shoulders to face him. “You’re an asshole, and your idea of a rescue sucks, but you’re my friend. You go down somehow–get arrested or get killed, whichever–and what do you think will happen?”

“You, Foggy, and Karen continue the good work Nelson & Murdock’s been doing,” says Matt.

“No, you’d break our hearts–and also possibly fuck us all over because of all the laws we’re breaking–but that aside,” says Alexander, stepping in closer before Matt can say something else, “that aside, asshole, it’s your name following Foggy’s on the sign. You’re important to us. And you’re important to me.”

“Huh,” says Matt, “you really are drunk, if you’re coming right out with that.”

“I am being heartfelt here,” Alexander tells him. “You were one of my very first friends when I got here. You’re a goddamn liar and you’re shit at doing it, somehow, but you’re my friend. You know how hard it is for me to keep those, and I want to keep you.”

“Foggy and Karen?”

“I wanna keep them too,” says Alexander, “but they’re sensible, they don’t go out every night to punch people in the face. You do.” He lets out a breath and says, softly, “Go out with us. Not all the time, but–sometimes. Let the city keep for a night, let the police do what they’re supposed to do for a night. Take a break.”

“Said the pot to the kettle,” says Matt.

“The pot’s not punching criminals in the face every night,” says Alexander.

“The kettle’s not mouthing off to gangsters and crime lords in the courtroom,” says Matt. “Not often, anyway.”

“I told Foggy not to tell you about that time!” Alexander says, with a huff. “Also you are distracting me. You always distract me.”

“Not always,” Matt argues, a corner of his mouth quirking upwards in a smile. Alexander wonders, suddenly, if Matt can hear his heartbeat speeding up, as if he’s a maiden on her wedding night. “I imagine it takes a lot to distract you.”

“You’re right,” says Alexander, relieved for the out. Then he ruins it by adding: “But you make it look easy. See, you’re doin’ it now, giving me that look, being all sly and coy–Matt.”

Matt covers his mouth up and coughs unconvincingly. “What look?” he says.

“That look! With your eyes! And your smile!” Alexander plants a hand on Matt’s face for emphasis, nearly sends the both of them toppling into an alley. “Now I’ve lost track of what I was talking about, you dick,” he complains, as Matt rights them both. “Where was I–oh, yeah, take a goddamn break, Murdock.”

“And when was the last time you did?” says Matt.

“Fuck you,” Alexander says, “do not make this about me.”

“I was not!” says Matt, holding one hand up, as if he’s swearing on the Bible before a court of law. “Hand to God, on my honor as a Catholic lawyer.”

“You beat people up at night,” says Alexander.

“On my honor as a Catholic lawyer vigilante,” Matt amends, which is hardly any better in Alexander’s opinion. “Seriously, Alex, your work ethic is intense enough that it scares me, sometimes. How do you find the time to do everything you’re doing?”

“I have a day planner,” says Alexander.

“Liar, I heard your heartbeat,” says Matt.

“Heartbeat detectors can be unreliable,” says Alexander, and Matt huffs out a breath and shoves lightly at him. “Ow! Dammit, Murdock, I’m almost fifty–”

“You are fifty,” says Matt.

“Almost,” Alexander stresses. “Anyway, I took a break this very night, so, ha.”

“Before tonight,” says Matt.

“Last Friday,” says Alexander. He pauses, searches through his memory for a second, then says, “Wait, was last Friday the 13th, or–”

“You’re thinking last month,” says Matt, holding him up. He turns his head just as they pass underneath a streetlight, and for a moment it’s as if Matt has been crowned with a halo of fire and thorns, burning brightly against the dark, an avenging angel come to render judgment. Or a vengeful demon, come to do some bloody work.

“Oh,” says Alexander.

Then Matt cocks his head to the side, says, “So I think this is your stop, I can smell your neighbors from here,” and he’s just plain old Matt again.

Oh, thinks Alexander, heart breaking again, because he has been down this road before, seen how men like avenging angels seeking freedom and justice come to violent ends, loved them so much it hurt to fall, fuck.

–

MATT:hey you up

A. HAM:i am in pain and someone needs to turn the fucking sun offits too bright im gonna die

MATT:i did tell you not to try for the eel yesterday nightremember anything about last night

A. HAM:god i dont knoweverythings blurry after foggy dared me to drink that last shotuuuuugh

MATT:if it helps he cant remember anything eitheryoull be pleased to know i managed to get you home without punching anyone in the face

A. HAM:holy shit its a miraclesomeone call the vatican

MATT:youre hilarious

–

The next time Alexander finds himself at Mepkin Abbey, sitting at Laurens’ grave, he lays a bouquet of white lilies at the headstone, then sets a half-drained bottle of wine upright next to it.

“My dear Laurens,” says Alexander, “I think–no, I know I fucked up.” He lets out a long breath, runs a hand through his hair, and says, “Have I told you about Matthew Murdock?”

–

end.

[haleyvalentineart]

Must add from my favorite DD Run from Chip Zdarsky and Marco Checchetto

beautiful boy. light of my whole life.

(Daredevil vol 3 #18, vol 5 #608, vol 5 #603, vol 2 #77, vol 1 #225)