#wilson fisk's daughter

[alenna-fisk-rp]

Just ordered this little number

I hope papa won't mind, it was only $3,300 :)

[skyfallslayer]

The Daughter of The (Dare)Devil || Hiatus Recap

Please read my apology here if you haven't. It explain why I've been gone so long. And since it has been several months, I've decided to write a little recap. Feel free to read it before you move on to the new story, or not.

|| SEASON 1 ||

Set pre-canon by a several months, is story 1: 'Welcome Home The Blood and Bruises'. This story shows how Matt ends up screwing his "foolproof" plan of never-ever telling his daughter that he's a vigilante. The beginning scene shows Matt a little banged up while his daughter, Kaila (age 14), takes care of him. This causes a flashback to a year earlier where his plan falls apart. Matt arrives home in a bad state, causing him to faint and for his daughter to find her, thus revealing his secret. Eventually, realizing that's there's no way to stop this man, Kaila just accepts it and agrees to help patch him up.

Story 2: 'I'd Burn The World For You'. For some reason this is still one of my favorites that I've written despite the angst that I throw here and there. In this one, the story's set after DD Episode one, where Matt and his best friend, Foggy had just hired an assistant that so happen to be their first client, Karen. Now, remember, Kai's a bit skeptic in the beginning and Foggy's just hungry (lol). Meanwhile, being the curious person she was, Karen starts asking Matt about his past, like 'We're you married?' or 'Did you have a girlfriend?'. Which Matt encourages, and replies with the story of how his daughter came into his custody. Flashback to fourteen years ago, the best friends have graduated college and have passed their Bar exam. Matt's in his new apartment and telling Foggy about how his fling, Aka: Kai's Mother, who's name is Mary (Remember that people), is trying to contact him via phone call but he's ignoring. Foggy eventually slips out to get them lunch, and before you know it, Mary drops baby Kai off in front of the door. Matt manages to call and get Foggy to come back, dumbfounding his best friend which soon insist 'It's just a prank, bro'. Nerves are shooting through the roof as they get to the hospital to get a DNA test to find out of Matt's really this baby's father. Well... surprise, surprise, he is. Foggy, being the best damn friend is his, is discussing some options with the nurses since Matt's in his own head, and is soon pulled out of it when one of the nurses hands over baby Kai to him. Matt immediately becomes a girl dad, falling in love and swearing to the beyond that he'll love and protect this child for as long as he lives. Foggy's secretly happy when he hears Matt wants to keep her, and the flashback ends when him giving her the name: Kaila Jackie Murdock (Got to give his old man some love, am I right?). The story finishes with Karen almost in tears, but Matt reassures her that everything's okay. Especially now that he has the family he secretly always wanted.

Story 3: 'Crossing The Line'. Another personal fav of mine. So this is set in episode seven "Stick". A man named Wilson Fisk has entered the ring, and Matt has earned the nickname 'The Devil of Hell's Kitchen' - Foggy insist that this vigilante is up to no good, while Karen is the opposite - The story splits between Matt and his Mentor, Karen getting herself into trouble, and some Uncle/Niece bonding time.

1. Foggy owes Kaila another showing for the Hunger Games as they both ditch their plans to go find Karen. - They end of finding her, and she takes them to the person she was meeting up with. - Karen reveals that she's been working with Ben Urich to uncover the Union Allied Scandal. 2. Matt soon finds himself meeting Stick again, his asshole mentor who up and left him 20+ years ago. - They end up back in his apartment, where Stick is slowly figuring out that Matt's got someone living with him before asking for his help. The Blind lawyer agrees, which he regrets later on. - A Time skip later, Stick figures out about Kai and insults Matt which causes a massive fight. Matt ends up winning and threatens Stick to never come near his daughter, which ends in laughter and Matt being frustrated that his tainted past is starting to touch his kid.

Story 4: 'I've Got The Devil Inside Me'. Let's add more angst to the plate. The next morning Matt discovers that his partners are investigating Union Allied, much to his dismay, but he agree to help as long as they're "cautious" (Yeah, some big talk from a blind man who fights crime at night). This eventually leads to Matt and his daughter talking after she arrives to the apartment being destroyed, and encourages him to talk to her if something's up. The next day at school, Kaila witnesses Fisk's big speech on TV on how he's declared war on 'The Masked Man'. - This leads to Ben, and the gang trying to figure out what they can dig up to bring Fisk down (And it's certainly not a pretty road) - This also leads to the reveal that Fisk is doing business with a slumlord that's raising a client of theirs rent (Aka: Ms. Cardenas). Out of options, Matt decides to try to get inside the head of the woman Fisk loves the most, Vanessa. Kaila tags along as they try feeling her out at the art gallery she works out. However, Luck's not on their side when the Man of the hour himself arrives, planting himself inside the Murdocks' heads. When Kaila arrives home the next day from school, she finds her father staring at his suit, then engulfs her into a much needed hug. She encourages him to open up again, and he reveals that Ms. Cardenas was killed, and he was filling up with rage to the point he wants to kill the Kingpin. Eventually, she pulls him from those thoughts, and they parted ways as he heads out for the night. This story ends with Matt coming home in the worst state she's possibly seen him in, and just before she can figure out what to do, her Uncle arrives and discovers the family's dirty secret.

Story 5: 'The One Where The Uncle Finds Out'. One of my favorite, but most painful episode to watch. It opens up with Foggy's POV as he stumbles in all buzzed, and demanding they make Fisk pay for what he's done to their client. He gets more than what he bargain for, and it's a race through time for him and his Niece to get Matt stable. They eventually contact Claire who cleans him up. As soon as Matt's up, Foggy can't hold back and demands for answers. The argument starts, and in between that, Foggy makes a decision to lie to Karen that Matt's sick and he can handle it alone. Foggy also learns during their heated moment that his best friend can hear heartbeats, which shatters all the trust he has, and even questions if their friendship was even real. Eventually, while Kai tries to do her homework in the living room, they exploded at each other again. Foggy finally has the guts to ask Matt why he started all this, and his hesitant to spill while his daughter's in the room. Foggy pushes back, saying she has more rights than him to know what's going on, so... she stays as he spills the truth (Which it's more detailed than he initially told Kai). Foggy stares in disbelief when Matt reveals he doesn't want to stop crime fighting, no matter how hard it gets. Foggy tries to pull the "friendship card", which has no affect since this city "needs" the mask vigilante. This results in Foggy telling him to do whatever he wants, and if he gets killed in the process, he'll take Kaila under his wing -- but to remember that he's not her father, and that he'll feel guilty pretending to be. Foggy storms out of the apartment while saying "He would have told Matt he had a crime fighting life". The next few days were interesting - Karen came to visit him after his "car accident" - Claire ended any romance between them - Father Lantom told him that Devil inside him was an angel once, and applies towards him - It was all enough for him to realize he needs to stay alive for the ones he love. He wasn't expecting when he got home for his daughter to still be pissed at him, and leave to spend the night at Karen's for some space. The story ends with the young girl getting taken by Wesley.

Story 6: 'No Good Deed...' Goes unpunished they say. This story shows how much Kaila is like her Dad in a lot of ways. It opens up with Matt calling Karen, wondering if she made to her place since she hadn't texted him. Wesley is revealed to the one to kidnap her, and that she wasn't the originally target, but he was going to make do. He reveals that he's bitter that Karen is like a dog with a bone, and won't let what happen at Union Allied stop her from uncovering the truth. Amused, Kaila taunts, which is cut off quickly when he lays his gun onto the table. He rants on about Karen finding Fisk's mother, which is evidence she can use to bring him down on trial. Kaila then asks why he just doesn't kill her already, which he reveals would be troublesome if he did since she's a daughter of a well respect lawyer, and has ties to a police officer not under Fisk's thumb (Brett). He instead tells her she's offering her a job, a job where she'll convince everyone she knows that Fisk is not the "bad guy". Kaila bites back saying she would never, which Wesley threatens her that he'll kill her family before finishing her. But... something snaps inside her, and as Wesley went to answer his phone, she grabs a hold of the gun, aiming it at him. His poker face is incredible, and tries to play it off that it's unloaded, but she threatens him to stay away and let her leave. She doesn't get far before he tackles her, and proceeds to strangle her. They wrestle around, and fight for the gun which eventually goes off. To her horror she realizes she shot him point blank in the heart. His phone starts ringing again, and Kaila's on the verge of a nervous breakdown as she grabs her belongings and runs away. Kaila shocks Karen when she arrives at her apartment, and spews out what Wesley knew and wanted before revealing that she had killed him by accident. Karen, who seems way too calm for this, tells her she'll take care of it - she disposes the gun in the Hudson and calls Matt that everything's "okay". Karen patches the young girl up, and reveals her trouble past to the girl. They promise each other to keep this a secret from anyone, and Karen promises Kai that she'll be by her side whenever she needs it. The story ends with a guilt filled Kaila meeting a strange boy at a coffee shop, and Foggy rushing in that they found a way to stop Fisk once and for all.

Short Story 1: 'The New Suit'. Season One wraps up with Ben's Funeral, and the troublesome trio allowing Kaila to dip her toes into the dangerous waters that'll bring down Fisk. Eventually, the masked man gets a confession from Detective Hoffman that manages to get the Kingpin behind bars... or so they thought. Their celebration was cut short when Fisk escapes custody, and Matt rushes out to stop him. The story finishes with the lawyer coming home with a victory under his belt... and a new suit (One that Kaila approves). Matt promises he'll be a better father, and Kaila promises she'll open up more. *Foreshadowing Indeed On Both Counts*

|| SEASON 2 ||

I swear with each season there's always more and more angst.

Story 7: 'The Point of No Return (Murdock v Murdock)', Part one of the mini series. - Opens up with months passing after the Lawyers' victory of putting Fisk away. Kai has a job now, a new friend name Jayden, but is unfortunately showing signs of PTSD from the whole killing Wesley situation. Meanwhile, Nelson & Murdock is booming! But the euphoria they all feel ends soon when they're stuck with a strange client, Grotto, who soon gets attacked by the soon be dubbed 'Punisher'. Flash the next morning, Foggy's on his way to the hospital to meet Karen and Grotto, only to run into his niece who's looking for her dad. They soon put two-and-two together, and race across the rooftops to find Matt. They eventually find him disoriented from the gun shot he took to the head. - Later, he wakes up to Foggy scolding him and warning him not to orphan his kid before heading off. Short time after that, Matt goes temporarily deaf, scaring Kai but not really fazing him since he's still in "shape" to be DD tonight. Karen comes by telling them about Grotto and him being "bait" to lure out a big mob boss for the DA. Kaila and her eventually talk, the teenager's guilt about Wesley coming through while her father slips out to fix his suit. - Faking an emergency, Kai gets Matt to come home and this leads to an argument. Heated words are exchanged, and Matt ends up telling her that he wouldn't have to worry about his injures 'if she wasn't here'. Instant regret happens, but nothing more can be said except Kai's FU that ends the story.

Story 8: 'The Darkest Time With Our Thoughts (Murdock v The World)'; Part two of the mini series. Starts off with the house divided, Kai's angry and Matt's depressed (As they both should be). Nelson & Murdock (& Page) are about to head off with DA to watch their client be bait to a mob boss, but due to Matt's mind being elsewhere, Foggy urges him to go home and try to make it up with his kid (Spoiler: He puts the damn costume on instead). - Meanwhile. Kai wants to be left alone, yet life throws her a curveball when a clearly unwell man shows up at her door, asking for her father and Foggy. She soon finds herself fighting for her life, almost getting the upper hand before being taken away (Foggy ends up getting that dreadful call from Brett). Matt suddenly wakes up chained to the rooftop, face-to-face with the Punisher. Matt tries playing detective while Frank basically tells him to STFU. There's a brief heated exchange between them, then Frank gets ready to finish his mission, and was even nice enough to let Matt listen to the voicemails he has before he decides to finish him off. Matt tries to drown them out by moving the chains around to hid his secret ID, but that all changes when the last frantic message from Foggy reveals that someone took his daughter and he needs to get to the police station. The Murdock begs Frank to let him go, and he does. - The story ends with Matt falling apart.

Story 9: 'I'm Trembling, But I'll Protect You (Love v Death)'; Last part of the mini series. The story opens with Kaila having a very interesting dream (I highly suggest you guys at least read that part again, there's a lot of foreshadowing for future stories). She wakes up and is met with her capturer who tells her that he's the brother of Nelson & Murdock's first client, who they apparently failed (Remember this later, also). Meanwhile, the trio is racing through all the paperwork they have to find out who this client is. They three of them have a nice heartfelt talk that ends up striking an idea in Matt. Matt ends up figuring out their first 'official' client was 'John Healy', the man hired by Fisk to kill. Before anything could be done, Matt gets a call from Frank telling him to meet up; He does, surprised to find out that Frank knows where Kai is. This also leads to an early ID reveal with Karen. Matt has a standoff with the kidnapper, negotiating back and forth to by Frank some time to take the shot. Kai is rescued, and the Murdocks shared heartfelt speeches and hugs while Frank disappears into the mist. - Kai's taken to the hospital by Brett (Who unknowingly knows DD's ID) and treated for her leg injury. The story ends with Kai accepting why her father does this job and is happy to be home.

Story 10: 'A Glimmer Amongst The Sinners'. The story opens up with a flashback to 15 years ago, where a young Matt is trying to figure out how to be a father to a baby he can't see (while also trying to find her mother, Mary, for answers). He feels like he's falling off the deep end, but lucky Foggy is there by his side, helping him along the way, which he's forever grateful for. Flash forward to Matt listening to his daughter sleep, happy that she's home. Now, at lot of things happen - Kaila eggs her dad to ask Karen out; Karen digs around about Frank's Past; Frank gets abducted and Matt must find him; Foggy, Kai & Karen head to the Castle house for clues; Then Frank & Matt escape and have a heartfelt moment, leading up to Frank being arrested by Brett who gets a promotion by bringing him in. Oh... the story should end right here, right? Nope! More plot lines! We finally get a Karedevil kiss, which makes Matt get on cloud 9 until his old flame shows up in his apartment. Elektra tries to get Matt to be her lawyer to get her father's money back, which he strongly declines. She then tries pushing back before accidently meeting Kaila. Elektra acts all hurt and broken up when Matt throws her out. The next day goes smoothly in the office, Matt & Karen go on a date, while Foggy tries helping his niece with her friend Jayden who seems to be avoiding her since the kidnapping. Matt has a brief interaction with Elektra again on the phone during his date, he tells her to F off, and him and Karen head back to her place for some romance. The story finishes with Kai coming home to find Jayden ready to talk.

And that wraps this up! I'm finishing the next story as we speak. I'm aiming to release it either by the end of next week or the following. So sorry again this took so long, and thanks for sticking around! ❤️

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[echosdevil]

What I did with you, and what I did with your father was business. Just business, but here's the kicker. In my own way, I grew to care for you, Maya. As much as it is in my nature to be able to do so. I loved you like a daughter.

[thatwhobumblesabout]

echo/maya lopez stuff in the tags because i wanna binge this show with a friend and i don't wanna spoil anything

[agentxthirteen]

On this day (December 11), Sharon appeared in:

Captain America V9 #17 (2019)

Captain America V9 #17 [Variant] (2019)

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.14

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Ch. Notes: Angst, action, gun violence, character death

Summary: Things quickly escalate as Fisk tries to end the struggle for power once abd for all.

An: ... So it's been a minute. Sorry about that and frankly idk when the next update will be, hopefully sooner. However, whatever you thinks going to happen here, I don't think you'll see this coming.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Wilson Fisk didn’t often smile. He was a sad and angry man that did his best to keep a neutral scowl on his face. What was there to smile about when he had lost everything. His wife, his daughter, his freedom, all irreplaceable. Being in prison while his wife and daughter were being buried is an ache that will never truly get over.

The void inside of him can only be filled by power and control. He will have the city and he will claim it for all that he has lost. He knew that to be a irrefutable fact.

Now, his smile was something straight out of a nightmare. It sat lopsided on his round face. It was there and it was horrifying. His smile only widens as he heard hushed voice over his phone.

When the line goes dead, he claps his hands together. He leans back in his desk chair. The smile doesn’t leave his features.

“Sleeping beauty has opened his eyes.”

Plans change at a wits notice, and things pivot, but goals could still be accomplished. Fisk wants Dragos gone and like a shark surrounding an injured surfer he smells blood in the water. It is time for him to strike.

Bowling was the activity that you came up with. Something in a place full of people, something that you enjoyed much in your youth, something that Pietro was unequivocally skilled at.

“Another strike ladies are you even trying?” Pietro gloats after looking at the scoreboard.

You might’ve been putting in a decent amount of effort, Wanda as well, but the two of you could tell Natasha was handing the man the win.

“Natasha, maybe take him down a peg,” you whisper in her ear.

“I thought we were supposed to be cheering him up, lisichka,” she taunts you with a smile.

“He can be happy without his ego being stroked,” Wanda puffs out in annoyance.

Natasha laughs at their bitterness, but nonetheless when it was her turn she quickly bowled a strike.

“Let’s go Natty,” you clap for her and Wanda let’s out a whistle.

“Is this where I realize you've been letting me win all night,” Pietro pouts.

Nat plops her hand on his shoulder, “I’m afraid so."

You all share a laugh and for moment everything feels normal. You could almost forget your ties and affiliations and feel like normal people. The moments were becoming more present in your life to the domestic nature of your relationship with Wanda and Natasha.

By now you should’ve known that sitting in any of those feelings did you no good.

When your phone rings you answer it immediately.

“Hello?”

“Y/n you will get through this. Do not let this be the end of what we’ve worked for, you don’t- you don’t need me malysh.”

“Papa? You’re awake, what are you you-”

“Y/N! Listen please, just take care of our family. I called you because, I trust you.”

As he speaks on the phone you gather Wanda, Pietro, and Natasha urgently. You have to go, it’s urgent. They can tell you’re shaken and when you put the phone on speaker they understand.

“Papa I don’t understand,” your voice trembles as you speak.

“Tell Flora, that my love with her doesn’t end with my last breath. Tell my Pietro that he’s the heart of all of this. Tell Wanda that all I want from her is for her to be happy.”

Natasha is the one that ushers you all into the car as you begin to shut down slightly.

“You can’t do this to us again papa,” your voice cracks in the end.

“It’s out of my hands,” you can hear fear in his voice and it terrifies you.

You hear a dark chuckle in the background of the call, “He’s right you know, it’s not in his hands.”

The smile in Fisk’s voice is present and it scares you, but you bluff the man.

“Haven’t you already made this play before, and it didn't work out for you did it?”

“Only because you interfered, and I got you back pretty significantly for that didn't I, sweetheart?”

Your jaw clenches, “Fisk , take a moment to think, really think what you're about to do. We are already enemies, in competition for control of the city, but that’s just business. Every move you’ve made recently has been personal. Going to war over turf it’s respectable, but if we go to war over family, there’s only one way this ends.”

“This is why I enjoy you so much kid, you have such an intelligent mind. Even under pressure you string together the right words. However, you’ve got it all wrong. There’s always only been one way this is going to end,” you hear the sound of the gun clicking.

“We will leave the city, just don't shoot him,” Pietro finds his voice.

You, Wanda, and Natasha look at him like he’s lost his mind.

“I didn't know we had guests on the phone with us, what a surprise. Keep talking little Maximoff, I like what you're offering.”

Pietro begins spewing nonsense, “We will disappear from New York and never come back. We will cut all ties with city and anything in it. It will be yours for the taking. Please, just don’t shoot him.”

“Anyone else want to beg for his life?”

Wanda’s mouth opens and closes a few times as her eyes water. You take the initiative instead.

“Wilson, you lost your family. Your wife and daughter were taken from you. Good people caught in the crossfire of your criminal actions. Who helped you get back on your feet after you got out of jail ? Who kept a corner of New York for you? Who gave you a jump start on your way back to this lifestyle? Who was there for you? The history between the two of you isn’t as convoluted as you’re making it out to be.”

Kingpin takes a pause, “That’s in the past.”

“It’s only history because you are making it that way. We have made a good relationship between our businesses until recently,” you keep him on the phone.

Natasha’s only about 5 minutes from the hospital, you just need to stall a bit longer.

“I’m not a beggar or a dog, Y/Ln. I don’t take scraps,” he says in a menacing tone.

You pause when he says your last name. It’s not something you hear regularly, you don’t ever use it. How’d he know about it?

“Quiet now Y/Ln, surprised I know that name? That’s not the only thing I know about you sweetheart. I know something that the Maximoff’s have been hiding from you, something that might sway your loyalty."

You look at Wanda and Pietro who were already on edge, but worse than that, they avoid your gaze.

“This is my family, my loyalty won’t ever change,” you speak strongly.

He chuckles, “Not even when I tell you they killed your mother.”

“What?”

“They killed your mother. Ever wonder, why she didn’t come after you, why she didn’t bombard or harass you after you left? She was dead within a week. Your father was debriefed, and relocated shortly after your graduation. These people sweetheart, before your family, they’re the mob.”

You’re in front of the hospital now, but you don’t move to exit the car. It feels like something has pierced through your heart.

You want to say something to combat him, to say it doesn’t matter, but you couldn’t say that earnestly.

You push your feelings aside for a second, “We’ve both lost a lot, Fisk. Things that we can’t get back. Things that fuel us to want more than what the world has offered us.”

“We’re alike in that way sweetheart, robbed of a happy ending. Forced to create our own,” he’s trying to flip you but you aren't buying it.

“Losing another parental figure in my life isn't a happy ending for me,” you grit your teeth.

Natasha pulls you out of the car and starts giving hand signal directions.

“I sympathize with you, Y/n. You’re not one of them, you never were. I’ll tell you what, the Maximoff’s leave, but you stay and work for me. That’s my offer.”

“We aren't leaving without Y/n,” Wanda finds her words for the first time in the conversation.

“It’s either that or I put a bullet in his head. You’ve got 15 minutes to think it over, when I call back you better have an answer,” he hangs up.

“Y/n,” Pietro starts, but you don't look at him.

“We’ve got 15 minutes to save Dragos, that's what I'm focused on,” you dismiss his attempt at an explanation.

Natasha begins laying out a plan, “ We don’t know who in this building reports to Fisk, so we have to be careful if we go in. Dragos is supposed to have security at his door, I don't think the guards there would be ours if Fisk is in the room.”

“We need a deliberate distraction,” you open the car door and reach into your bag.

You bring out your laptop and hook your phone to it. You knew what room Dragos was in with Fisk’s call you should be able to ping how many devices were around him.

“3 guards, outside the rooms. These are the phone numbers, names, home addresses, close family,” you memorize the information.

You see a group walking into the hospital and figure its your best chance to blend in, “We’ve got to go now.”

Wanda and Natasha hold frustration about the way you’re moving, but they follow you nonetheless.

“We don’t have a plan for this,” Wanda argues.

“Blend in get to the floor they’re on and then I’ll handle the guards. Once they’re dealt with Natasha will go in and disarm Fisk,” you say straying from the group you walked in with to another group heading for the elevator.

Once you're in the elevator you speak to Natasha, “Send people to these addresses make sure they get pictures, the quickest means please.”

When you step off the elevator you spot the guards. You send them individual text messages, with their names addresses and a threat to their loved ones by name.

You see 2 of 3 panic while the other one believes it’s a bluff. Natasha sends the pictures of their homes to you, and you forward them to the guards.

You see them pale instantly, the look at each other and bicker lightly. Wanda wants to go forward and strike, but you shake your head. You wait as one of the guards takes off running from the room. The other follows not even a second after. The third looks at his phone and then in the direction the others had ran before doing the same as they did.

“Natasha, we’ll be on the other side of the door one steady knock when he’s disarmed so we can get in,” you instruct her.

She doesn’t hesitate to nod at your orders. Before she goes Wanda squeezes her hand in a pleading manner, but Natasha reassures her with a soft look.

You wait with baited breath when Natasha enters the room. For a moment it’s silent, no struggle can be heard, but then there’s a gunshot.

Wanda’s the first one rushing to the room door, with Pietro and yourself directly behind her. Her hand is on the handle as she attempts to yank the door open. You move her out of the way, and open it first.

Instead of a cool metal, you feel a searing hot metal burning your chest.

“Why don’t you all file in, so we can talk,” Kingpin rests the gun on your chest and you shuffle into the room, eyes shooting across to where Natasha grips her bloody arm.

Wanda and Pietro shuffle in, the red head immediately going to her wife’s side.

“Isn’t this a lovely little family affair?”

“Wilson, take the gun off of her. Your problem is with me, my family, they’ve done nothing wrong,” Dragos tries to reason with the man.

He digs the butt of the recently fired gun further into your chest and you grit your teeth, but refuse to break eye contact with the bald man.

“She is your strongest solider Dragos, she can take it. Y/n’s not even your blood, she’s your orphan project and you’ve raised her better than your incompetent children. She’s quick witted, brilliant, useful. I want her on my side,” Fisk eyes you with a shark like grin on his face.

“You’re out numbered,” Pietro reminds the man as he stands tall in room.

Fisk scoffs, “ Bed ridden patient, shot Russian, and girl with her gun to her chest. You and your sister aren’t enough to stop me, you could barely even run the business when I took your father out. None of the Maximoff’s have been running anything as of late. It’s all been Y/n, even before Wanda came back. She’s been the brains of this whole operation for a while now.”

“If you feel that way, then why would you go after Dragos first and not me?”

Fisk chuckles, “This information isn't something I've always known. I only had this epiphany a small time before I had an example made out of you.”

“I’ll never work for you,” you stand your ground.

“Then I’ll drop you where you stand and then I'll kill everyone in this room and own this cit-”

The gun was in your hand before he finished the sentence. You place it under his chin before cocking it back.

“Do it, kill me then sweetheart. This wouldn’t be your first time killing someone who just wanted to help you right? Poor little Lucas, didn’t even get the chance to grow up.”

You pull the trigger and instantly your face is covered in the mans blood. No one in the room saw it coming. You were usually better at not acting irrationally, but this time you had met your limit.

The gun drops from your hand and you rush out of the hospital without a single clue to where you were going.

“Go, someone go after her,” Dragos yells at his children and soon Wanda is on her feet.

“I will take care of it go,” Natasha reassures her.

Wanda’s eyes linger on her wife’s injured arm, “Wanda now.”

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[cogentranting]

Actually, I think Fisk might be a case where he doesn't support women's rights but he certainly supports women's wrongs.

One thing about Wilson Fisk: he's always willing to help and provide opportunities for women looking to take their first step into organized crime.

[merc-with-the-m0uth]

Hi yeah its me, Deadpool, wade 𝙷𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝 Wilson, the merc with the mouth, definitely not truthful timmy the blowjob queen of Saskatoon.

Just say whatever the fuck you want in asks, its all for fun! Even the occasional dismemberment.

What do my friends say about me? Well

"You are a middle aged bald man with post-mpreg love handles you do not qualify as a twink but you 100% CAN top me if you feel like it sometime."

My sister is @katherine-fisk , be nice to her she's really sweet. And if you aren't nice you'll find out that I am not.

Ever struggling girldad to my two amazing daughters @jamie-todd-red-knight and @baby-jamie-todd they're the lights of my life, fuck with them and no one will ever find your body ^-^

My Wolvie @wolverine-howlett 🕊, look in his general direction and you get gutted <3

He is my husband and I love him so much 💍 20/12/24

I miss you, kitty

Warning this account posts nsfw shit along, however feel free to be as sfw as you like in asks, i don't mind either, i love all types of interaction, and don't be scared thinking I'll turn every interaction nsft

If im not here, go find me over at @themercwiththem0uth

Nsfw blog🔞❤️‍🔥: @merc-with-the-m0uth-and-the-h0le I'm kinda an omega, yes from the a/b/o fanfic trope, it wasn't by choice, blame the anon who did this yo me.

I really love my Logan and the Loki rp is an entirelyy different thing, separated from that.

My other boyfriend is @merc-with-a-mouth-69 he's adorable and I love him (editing my post sorry its gonna tag you again bbg)

By the way i also run @dogpool-puppins it was just meant to just be for funny but now you can go and roleplay with dogpool.

My main account is @drac0line1nn1t and has no connection here but just to clarify (mun is also 21)

The doodle in my intro is by the amazing @nuggetpool-hi because I love it and wanna eat it but I can't so ima keep it here instead hope it was okay to tag you

[wilsonfisk-thekingpin]

Her knock was familiar with its softness and pattern. Kaya always gave the same gentle rasp when she came to her father's door. Consistency was good.

@katherine-fisk

Wilson looked over to the door, managing a smile when he heard the familiar knocking of his daughter. "Come in." He permitted, "It's open."

[sylvies-chen]

something about clarisse & ares and shiv & logan roy and leia & anakin and maya & wilson fisk and that quote “my father is the worst person in the world, and I am his favourite daughter” daughters know this tale as old as time and god it kills me

[sincericida]

Tense...

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Five: You Don't Own Me

Summary: Things continue to grow tense for Angel and Peter as secrets come to light on both sides.

Warnings: 18+ Only, eventual smut, lots of drama, mentions of genre typical violence, angst

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: With all my recent traveling I almost forgot it was Wednesday... Anyway I am super excited to share yet another chapter of this story. Things continue to heat up for our couple, we introduce and get to know more characters and dynamics from Peter's team as well as work in and reference other things from canon Spiderman lore. Just as an extra, when I think of and write about Felicia I can't help but picture Anya Taylor Joy, let me know if you see it. Enjoy!

FIVE

“What? How do you know?” Asked Eddie as they all piled back into May’s apartment.

“Yeah, I thought this guy was supposed to be a ghost.” Harry chimed in.

Peter held his hand close to Angel’s back. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her the whole way home. He ushered her further forward into the flat, coaxing her towards the sofa, prompting her to take a seat so they could talk about this properly.

Peter sat himself on the coffee table directly in front of her, his hands reaching out to rest against her thighs, drawing her out of her thoughts in her head and back into the room with him.

“Angel, you gotta tell me baby, what’s going on? What’s happening?” Peter encouraged her soothingly, but his irritation was burning under his skin and Harry’s incessant babbling and theorising in the background wasn’t helping him. “HARRY, SHUT UP!” he snapped, turning his head towards his friend then back to his wife. He watched as she swallowed deeply, she had gone so pale, it was honestly scaring him. “Princess-”

“I met him.”

“What? When?”

“With my Dad. They had this sit down. My Dad wanted to sort things out; he was trying to minimise the casualties.” He watched uncomfortably as she winced, the memories flooding her.

But Peter felt confused. “He spoke like he hadn’t seen you in years. Like he was this old work colleague of your Dad’s. Almost like you would run around his back garden at company barbecues.”

“I told you Pete, he’s a fucking mastermind. He plans out every single detail for maximum impact.” She suddenly shrugged off her blazer and brought her uninjured arm up closer to his face, twisting her arm to show off a small burn scar on the back of her arm. Peter tenderly reached out his hand, his thumb brushing against the shiny healed skin. “I got that after they took me hostage.” she informed him. “He used me as a bargaining chip.” she continued to explain as Peter suddenly stood, his internal rage bubbling under the surface, ready to burst, making him restless. He began to pace the floor, nibbling at his thumb and lower lip as she continued. 

“That looks like the barrel of a gun.” Eddie said, inching forward to get a better look.

“One of his men fired a warning shot then placed the still smoking metal to the back of my arm.”

“When was this?” Peter asked between gritted teeth.

“Around 8 weeks ago.”

“Jesus Christ.” Peter snarled, his hands thrusting into his hair. “What were you thinking?” he snapped at her. “Why didn’t you come home!” He pressed her, his pupils blown in anger.

“I couldn’t-”

“Why didn’t he send you home!”

“Pete.” Harry tried to hold his hands out to Peter, encouraging him to give her some space and calm down.

“He was playing with her fucking life!” Peter continued to shout in his face. “All this time he was trying to keep her safe from me, KEPT MY OWN WIFE FROM ME, because he said it was safer and-!” Peter couldn’t even finish his sentence he was in such a rage.

Eddie quickly stood between the couple too, slowly stepping forward with Harry to try and back Peter away, to get him to calm down enough to see sense. 

Angel was struggling to look at him, his words slicing at her like a knife. As Harry and Eddie continued their attempt to quell Peter’s anger, she began to look around the room. She was surprised with all of his shouting that May hadn’t come out from wherever she was to see what all the commotion was about.

“Where’s May?” she asked to the room.

“We’ve got someone driving her out to the cabin to keep her safe while all this is going on.” Eddie turned to fill her in.

“Which is exactly the kind of thing HE should have done in the first place.” Peter spat, his anger starting to boil again.

“Jesus Peter!” she shouted at him as she finally found her nerve again and came to a stand to confront him. “Pull yourself together. Fuck! This is exactly why he didn’t want me near you.”

Peter froze, her words going off like a bomb, an awkward silence falling over the room. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he said as he stepped towards her. He suddenly had that controlled, scary calm demeanour to him.

“I think you know exactly what that means.” she said quietly, but determinedly to him.

“Okay. Okay, I think everyone just needs to chill out.” Eddie said as he stepped forward with his arms outstretched in an attempt to separate them before either one of them did or said anything else to cause even more damage to their marriage.

Angel sighed as she turned back towards the sofa, her hands pressing lightly against the sides of her face as she sat. Peter too turned away, pacing towards the bookcase she had been observing the night before.

There was a light knock on the door and Harry walked down the hall to answer it. 

“Hey man, what’s going on?” the youthful deep voice she recognised from the morning, greeted Harry as he opened it. Harry gave a non verbal answer making the voice respond, “ooh tough crowd.”

The two gentlemen made their way back down to the living room.

“Boss… Eddie… Maam.” a tall black youth said as he entered the room. Looking at him, Angel didn’t think he could be more than 19 or 20 years of age. A young recruit for Peter and definitely not in line with their old rules.

“Angel, this is Miles, Miles this is Angel, my wife.” Peter hissed the final word as he made introductions.

“Pleasure to meet you.” Miles said, stepping forward and reaching out a hand to her.

“And you, Miles.” she said quietly, still exacerbated by the recent spat.

“Umm, we’re going out, Miles is here to look after you while we’re gone.” Peter informed her.

“Really, Pete?” she said suddenly standing again, the tension in the room beginning to rise once more. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You got me a BabySitter!” She stressed the syllables of the word. “How old are you?” she quickly snapped to Miles.

“21.” he quietly interjected as she continued to rant.

“He’s a fucking child Peter. You are having me babysat by a literal child.”

“I’m not a child.” Miles tried to defend himself.

“Look I can’t have you come out with me, it’s not safe.” Peter began throwing back her way. “And especially not after this morning or what you’ve just fucking told me.”

“Oh My God!” She started to protest.

“And he’s not a child Angel. He is perfectly capable of watching out for you while I run out for a few hours.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“No, I’m not.” Peter said as he began to snatch up his things, eager to leave the apartment as quickly as possible before either one of them said anything that would really hurt the other. “Look, I’ll be back in a couple hours, you can scream at me then, but until then you’re gonna stay here and not cause Him any trouble.” he said pointing towards Miles, before he took one look back at her as she sat herself down on the sofa, a scowl on her face. “Fuck.” he grumbled more to himself. “Come on, let’s go.” He finished as he corralled Harry and Eddie out the door which he slammed shut.

Miles uncomfortably edged himself over to the empty armchair before taking a seat across from his new charge. “I promise I’m not that bad.” he said, hoping to diffuse the tension. She just rolled her eyes at him.

--

Miles sat patiently scrolling on his phone as Angel paced back and forth across the main living room floor, her hands constantly raking through her hair trying to destress.

“Would you just chill out or something, you’re making me nervous.” Miles threw out to the room which only resulted in her flashing him yet another glower. “Fine. Jeez.” he grumbled as his attention turned back to his phone.

She continued to pace back and forth for another few minutes before she suddenly stormed off to the kitchen. Miles listened as cupboards were opened and different items were slammed onto the kitchen counter. He reluctantly got up from his seat to investigate.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he came to a stand in the doorway, watching her as she began to spoon cups of flour into a glass bowl.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” 

“Ummm, cooking?”

“I’m making cupcakes.” She corrected. “You told me to chill out so that’s what I’m doing. When I’m stressed, I bake.” she said as she began grinding butter and sugar in a separate mixer she’d dragged out of one of the cupboards.

--

When Peter arrived back at the apartment 2 and a half hours later, Eddie, Harry and a mystery blonde in tow, she had made and frosted, one batch of vanilla cupcakes, one batch of chocolate cupcakes, one batch of traditional chocolate chip cookies and another of white chocolate and cherry. She was just taking the last tray of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven, placing them carefully onto a cooling rack when Eddie barrelled into the kitchen.

“Uhh I knew I smelt something good.” he exclaimed as his fingers reached for one of the cookies and took a bite. He’d reached for one of the fresh out of the oven cookies however and instantly regretted it as he burnt his tongue on a still molten chocolate chip. “Ahh shit.” he breathed loudly as he sucked air into his mouth to try and cool it down.

“Serves you right.” Angel chastised.

“Damn.” the platinum blonde, who Angel noticed wore a pair of small black cat ears on her head, said as she made her way into the kitchen. “I didn’t realise we were opening up a bakery.” she jests.

“She stress bakes.” Miles proudly spoke up, filling her in.

“I see.” The blonde said as her fingers reached for a vanilla cupcake. Angel watched enviously as the woman skulked away, pausing in the doorway when Peter stepped into it. “She stress bakes.” the woman lowly repeated with what Angel felt was a sense of superiority.

“Not now Felicia.” he said as he let her pass. “Umm, can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, his attention now falling on Angel.

“Umm, yeah, of course.” she quietly said as she put down the now empty baking tray and slipped her hands out of the oven mitts she had been wearing. “Don’t touch that, it’s hot.” she quickly said to Eddie in jest as she passed him.

“Ha, ha.” he deadpanned and she couldn’t help but chuckle.

As they passed through the living room, Peter leading her towards his old bedroom, her eyes couldn’t help but fall on the other woman, Felicia, who now sat in the old faded armchair in the living room, carefully picking at the cupcake she had taken. Noticing their presence Felicia couldn’t help but shoot a knowing look between them, a small smirk growing in the corner of her mouth.

“You slept with her, didn’t you?” Angel calmly asked him as he closed the door behind them.

“What?” His brow furrowed as he looked at her.

“The platinum blonde beauty in the living room currently picking at one of my cupcakes-”

“Felicia.” he interjected.

“You slept with her didn’t you?” 

“What? Really you wanna go into this now?” he asked her, his irritation rising despite her calm demeanour.

“It’s a simple yes or no Peter.” she stated as she moved across the room to sit on the end of the bed as he continued to stand by the door, flummoxed about how they’d even got into this conversation.

“Look, I don’t blame you.” she continued. “Pete I was gone for 3 years, you really think I expected you to be cellibate.” He looked to his feet as he shook his head in disbelief. “Yes or no?”

“YES.” he hastily threw out.

“Does it mean anything?” she calmly asked.

“No, of course not.” he said a lot more calmly. “Now can we not talk about it.”

“Sure, sure.”

There was a pause as he attempted to compose himself once more. “Look, I pulled you in here because I wanted to apologise.” he said but his eye’s couldn’t fully meet hers. She pursed her lips, holding her tongue whilst she waited for him to continue. “I’m sorry okay.” he said again, this time with more conviction as his gaze slowly met hers. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you like I did and… I shouldn’t have treated you like we were on lockdown and that you needed a babysitter okay. I’m just not used to…” his voice trailed off for a moment as he observed her. “This.” he finally said as his hands motioned towards her. “I mean, last night and then everything this morning and then…” he really didn’t know how to articulate. How to even summarise her changes, the distance between them. How he felt about it all. “It’s just- different okay.”

“Okay.” she agreed timidly and understandingly.

There was silence between them as they both tried to process what had been said and find the right words to say. Peter chose to focus on familiarity in the end,

“I see you still bake then.” he quietly said, his body taking a small step towards her.

“Yeah.” she acknowledged quietly.

“What’ you planning on doing with all that?” he asked.

“I’m sure given the chance Eddie would probably eat most of it.” Peter chuckled in agreement. He always had enjoyed her sense of humour. “I was actually thinking I might take it down to the shelter.”

“F.E.A.S.T?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“I think they’d like that.”

“You gonna let me take them down myself?” she asked as he quietly took a seat next to her.

“Take Miles with you.”

She nodded in agreement. “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?” she asked quietly, not daring to look at him now he was so close, despite the way his body was turned towards her.

“I’m gonna pop back to the house, see it for myself.” he announced softly.

“Okay.” she replied, finally allowing herself to look up at him. 

“Umm, I’ve got a couple of other errands to run after that but, umm,” he said nervously, “I’m gonna get Felicia to book us a table for dinner tonight so we can umm, talk. You know, try and figure this out.”

“Okay.” she agreed.

“Okay.” he repeated.

They sat on the bed in silence for a moment, the two of them just staring at one another. Peter couldn’t help it, when she moved her head and a few strands of hair fell forward across her face, his fingers automatically reached to push them back, tucking them behind her ear. His hand lingered at the edge of her jaw. For a moment that tension seemed to come back. Every time it felt heavier and heavier, both of them waiting to see who would break first, who would make the first move. But then the reminder of their fight took over, the unaccounted time that hung between them beginning to drive them apart.

“Umm, you should get going.” she said quietly. “And I should go and box all those baked goods up and take them down to the shelter.”

He didn’t want to speak. Didn’t want this moment to end. Didn’t want to take his hand away from her, the comfort of her skin against his fingertips.

When he continued not to move, she finally brought her fingers up to his, slowly lowering his hand away from her face, carefully placing it back down between them. She licked her lips regrettably, then got up and left.

------------------------------------

New chapters go live on Wednesdays and Fridays! If you want to be added to the tag list make sure you put it in writing for me. Also if you are enjoying the story don’t forget to tip me like you would your waiter by reblogging and leaving feedback and letting me know what you think!

@scmdsblog @angiexsv @thef1nalgirl @did-someone-change-my-name @sincericida @tarzinnia @liz-allyn @blacksoul09 @humxncrxvings @sunnycolors @suicide-sweetheart636 @ahryi @ms-wild-card-56

(Initial tags came from interest from the teaser and prologue. If you liked the prologue or teaser post but haven't been tagged, it's because for some reason I could't, maybe check your settings and be sure to hit the follow button so you don't miss out.)

[ieatangstforbreakfast]

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ SO SO SORRY for the late chapter! I was going through a lot these past weeks, and I was drained as hell, but I think I’m a little fine now.

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker @depresssedcowboy @adorefavv @l0starl @your-girl-mj @nyumeii @iheartamajiki @yoluv-tiannaaa--212 @bakauwu

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏: 𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

Summary ೃ⁀➷ You discover the gruesome extent of your powers. You open up to Miles once more— and Montrell makes a devious introduction. Inside your household, another catastrophe unfolds.

⚠️WARNING⚠️ This chapter consists of harassment and gruesome display [The reader is Venom], if you want to skip past it, scroll until you see a purple line. Reader discretion is advised.

FIC MASTERLIST

Previous Chapter || Next chapter

“.. Never call me again.”

Beep.

… No, the proposal wasn't approved.

Your father called it a weird choice of an investment, and after hearing that you seriously wanted to buy the store, he hung up on you without the need of another explanation. So you stood by the gasoline stand, outside of the local bodega, with a blank phone in between your fingers, not a single connection to be found.

"Shit, I am so fucked." You sighed, pulling a palm across your face. "I am never going to financially recover from this, ever."

"You're a conglomerate heiress, you’ve got all the money in the world.”

"Strictly in name," You corrected of the symbiote. "As much as I am inheriting a lot of the money, I am not going to control over anything since that is Montrell's right, and my grandfather and father's will."

With that, you press your head against the flat of the glass door, a long and tiresome sigh dragging out your throat. ".. If only I were a boy."

"You're living in modern society, your father can't possibly be that old fashioned."

"Well, he isn't." You mumbled. "The only difference is that Wilson Fisk had a son, not a daughter. If I were a boy, or rather, if Wilson Fisk had a daughter— it would've been Antonne's problem, both mine."

"Then.. Do you think running away can fix all this?" Emerging from the bones of your back, a black matter materialized beside you with its white, dead gaze and spiky grin gleaming from the light of the street lamps. Though it unsettled you, nothing topped the hard glares that came from your parents. "As cunning as you are, when the people get angry, they won't leave you alone."

That was a well-made point— you weren’t free from the sins of your family. You indulged yourself in the wealth they stole from poor, and you chose to blind yourself from the truth. It doesn’t matter how much you try to make up for all the lives lost and all the money stolen now, it’s all too late.

But there was something about trying.

"They can find me in Amsterdam, I guess." You looked at the glass windows, pulling out your lipgloss from the pockets of your jeans and swiping it across the plump of your brim. "Once I leave this place, I'm never coming back."

"Then what about Miles?“

As you placed the gloss down, the alien's question made you think.

What about Miles?

Fooling him, lying to him, with the highest risk knowing he'd one day learn all about your secrets, you still managed to question: What about Miles?

How far would you go for your own survival?

You exchanged glances with the sight of New York. Without Miles, and being there all alone, made you notice the ultraviolet themes puckering out from the crevices of the darkness, a sort of dystopian hue of green-blue and pink-purple lying beneath the wicked façades of tall buildings and withering carcasses of what could’ve possibly housed hundreds of people.

There is no more ‘New York, New York’. It didn’t make you think of tall, slim rockettes with their shiny legs and glittery uniforms of gold and red, nor did it make you think of bussing bentleys with rich bachelors inside them, waving the fifty-star flag of blue, red, and white outside of their windows.

New York was desolate.

But Miles only made it warmer. Tolerable, you think. Through Miles, you managed to slip on a pair of rose-tinted glasses in the midst of this decaying city, and through him, you earned a sense of hope— or patriotism for a country you’d only ever really seen the worst of. You wanted to think you were capable of being compassionate for other people’s lives aside from your own, but there was only so much you could do, so much you could consider.

New York has warm places, was your conclusion.

And without Miles, New York would be a black hole.

And in a sparing state of delusion, you pondered about running away with Miles to Amsterdam. Married and settled in a home by the waterfront, where the both of you could walk to work everyday while taking in the sights of the tulips every spring. You wanted, needed to feel his hands entangle with yours every morning. For him to embrace you from behind every after frustrated sigh during every artistic block.

You were tired of being little Miss Americana. Perhaps you’d find a more loving life away from New York and in the heart of Europe.

ＳＬＡＭ.

“Hey, pretty.” A dirtied, damp palm slams against the glass before you. “What’s a girl like you doin’ out here all alone?”

The symbiote crawls right back into your skin as you processed the sudden rude disruption. Before you stood a couple of men with their yellowing teeth, grinning and laughing at your reaction. Instinctively, you tossed your head to the side out of fear of getting caught. Still, they knocked in intervals of three, knuckles pressed against the fogging wall of glass.

“You come here often? Got a man?” The man asks. “Don’t be so shy, baby. We don’t bite.”

ｏｈ、　ｂｕｔ　 Ｉ　 ｄｏ.

“Leave me alone.” You grumbled in between seething grit, refusing to look at any place other than the ground. You couldn’t count how many men there were, but they were a group of rusty late-twenty aged drunks. Something pulsed inside you, aside from a heart, it twisted like this beast-like gluttony that made your mind simmer.

Ｈ　Ｕ　Ｎ　Ｇ　Ｒ　Ｙ.

“Wow, ain’t you sassy?” They cackled, reeking like cigars and axe cologne. You turn to leave, but they easily block your way with their brick-like bodies. “Hey, hey, where’s you going? Can’t just leave me like this, baby, smile for us a lil’ bit more.” He cooed as though he were talking to a toddler. That only irked you even more, hearing the men’s devious giggles as you struggled to stride past him.

“I’ve got a boyfriend.” Was your attempt of a defense, the man only grinned. “Why don’t you call him then?”

“I will.” You choke, knowing you wouldn’t. “If you continue keeping this up.”

He lifts his hands up like a captured criminal, still amused— annoyingly. “Alright, I’ll leave you alone mami.”

Mami. It only sounds nice when Miles says it.

You swiveled your way to leave, prancing past their prying eyes.

ｓｌａｐ.

You jolted at the hit of your posterior, their cackles following right after like a mockery of your shame. Without even processing the amount of your anger and embarrassment, your hand finds itself latching onto the man’s neck without another word uttered.

The coarse flesh of his skin pricked at your pretty fingers, a growing stubble you hadn’t noticed as you were too busy ignoring him earlier. What stared right back was terror in his quivering, dark, and wrinkled gaze. It’s as though he could see his life flashing before his eyes.

Your arm was enveloped, rather, your whole body was enveloped by the wrath of what boiled inside you— dark and slimy, it growled with white eyes and spiky teeth.

You could hardly remember the flash and swiftness of how everything went off. You heard muffled screaming, and thundering footsteps— growing fainter with each passing second. The man struggled like a bird within your grasps, begging you to let him go. The thing was, he wasn’t all too knowledgable of what ‘no’ meant, and at that moment, you didn’t feel like teaching him what it meant.

You could hear it so faintly, his begs and curses tossed forcibly at you like a hurricane before silencing itself after a crack and a rip.

Suddenly, you weren’t so hungry anymore.

And along with the cracks of shattered glass, your little apparition of European folly broke too.

“.. I wonder what’s taking her so long.”

Peering from the aisles, the group searches for you in all throughout their long walk. Mostly, it had been Miles’ worries thwarting every question. Monique hummed, similarly turning her head. “Ain’t no way she’s lost. She ain’t ever been here before?”

“Ion think she’s been here before seeing as how she went straight to the exit. You sure your date didn’t just ditch you, Miles?”

Miles couldn’t reply, he was too busy dialing the hell out of your number.

“I can go check on the second floor bathroom, if ya want.” Monique suggested, earning an earnest and somewhat thankful stare from Miles. “Yeah, can you go check? M’getting worried, dios mio.” His occupied hand shifts downward, the other arm hugging both of your costumes’ bags close. He figured to pay for the both of your costumes, being the gentleman that he is.

Monique excuses herself from the group, making it her personal journey to search for little lost you.

Amadi and Voshon were the only ones next to him by the queue.

“.. You know when you first told me ‘bout how pretty she was, I didn’t expect her to be.. Like that.” Amadi chuckled, arms crossed before her chest. “To think she can afford to maintain looking like that.”

Miles raised a brow.

“You don’t see girls like that everyday.”

“Yeah, you don’t.” Miles managed to pluck out a smile. “I’m so lucky to have her, man. I can’t wait for our date tomorrow.”

Amadi nodded, seemingly getting gist of his excitement, until.. “Miles, I’m going to be honest with you.” She maneuvers the plastic bag into her other arm just to lean a little bit closer. “Your girl’s lookin’ like she hasn’t touched a spec of dirt her whole life— with a silver spoon in her mouth since the day she was born. And I’m worried for you, considering your whole thing with your Unc Aaron.”

Amadi, who’s completely like a sister to Miles, knew about him being the Prowler. They’ve been there for one another since they were kids, since her first coming out, since his dad’s death, and through thick and thin. Amadi, when she’d first heard about you, didn’t mind much initially. It was great for Miles to have a first love— he drowned himself too much in expectations he had for himself, when he could only do so little for the world. But the more he talked about it, the more her suspicions arose.

“Why’d she suddenly change her mind?” Was her first question. “Kissing you and then suddenly running off and then coming back to say yes.. Does your girl not know a thing ‘bout social cues or what?”

“She’s going through a lot.” He snaps back immediately. “Her family’s putting a lot of pressure on her. Ionno much ‘bout what’s going on in her home, but I ain’t judging her for being confused ‘bout her own pace. But I respect her decisions, and I ain’t going to say anything ‘til she tells me herself.”

Amadi took a step back, acknowledging that it was her mistake for speaking beyond her grasps.

“I’m just worried, Miles. Ion have a problem with her in particular— she seems sweet, kind even, but Ion want you getting hurt. No todo lo que brilla es oro.”

He cringes a bit after hearing the same words his mother would always tell him.

“No quiero hablar más de esto.”

Amadi shrugged. “Bueno, then let’s talk ‘bout something else.” She rocked forward along the line. “Who’s Tiya Rio going to be voting for?”

“She’s a hard Christine Brown.” Miles quickly replies, relieved at the sudden change of topic. “Better off than that nepo-shit, Barlowe.”

Christine Brown was a candidate for the upcoming election— an economist, hailing from the Bronx, with a mind bright enough to light up a room. Despite her popularity amongst the youth, however, the older people were less than willing to place their bets on her.

“Good for you. Papa’s goin’ full Barlowe.”

Miles snaps his head in distaste. “Que? Por que?”

“Said he couldn’t trust the any other candidates. Brown’s proposals are too good to be true, so he gotta go with whoever everyone else is going for.”

“Only thing special ‘bout Barlowe was his father’s legacy, but even then, a lot of people died all throughout his father’s bullshit doings— and don’t ever forget, Barlowe helped the Chávez’s cover up the media when the collapse happened.”

“Well, for the lot of us, that’s still a theory.” She mumbled. “Not everyone has access to sensitive information like you, Miles. A lot of us have lost hope, because either way, no matter who we vote for, we’re all going to be stuck working for the rest of our miserable lives. Papa said that maybe, Barlowe might actually do something like his father.”

With a furrowed brow, Miles snaps back. “Barlowe is riding off of his father’s achievements— man’s got nothing to his name other than his dad’s legacy.”

“Well we don’t know yet. He might be a good president.”

“Amadi, we can’t say ‘might’ when we’re voting for a great president. We need someone who will become a great president. Politics ain’t trial and error. Barlowe’s as good as a puppet for the elite.”

Realizing his heightened tone, Miles looked around to check if anyone was listening into their little talk. Amadi attempts to search for a rebuttal, but she fails miserably, leaving her only clutching onto the plastic of her costume with a gap in between her lips.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Without another second wasted, Miles picks up the phone, hoping to hear your voice. Instead, what rang was this haggard breath and a worried shrill.

“Miles, we’re at the second floor bathroom— [Y/n]’s sick, she’s been vomiting a lot. Can you get her some— some, I don’t know, water?”

And Miles bolted off.

Oh, God, you ate someone.

ＷＥＬＬ, ＴＥＣＨＮＩＣＡＬＬＹ Ｉ ＤＩＤ.

Shut up.

“Hurk!—“ And there goes the last bit of dinner, straight into a bowl. Beside you, Monique gently tugs your hair farther away from your mess. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.” You incoherently babbled. “I just ate something really, really bad. I’m usually not like this, really, just— hurk!”

You are being dramatic. I was the one who ate the damn thing, not you.

Same fucking difference when you’re literally living inside of me!

“Don’t worry, babe, I called Miles. He’s going to arrive soon.” Monique cooed like a teacher informing her student that her parents were on the way.

That just makes everything so much worse!

“Thank you.”

You suddenly decided, you were feeling better. You picked your head out of the bowl, flushed everything away, and rinsed your tongue by the sink, only to realize that water tasted bad, and whatever was left inside your stomach threatened to resurge again, so instead, you stood there and stared at yourself in the mirror. Your hair was all over the place, a bit of your mascara was running down, and your lipgloss was gone.

But hey, your highlighter didn’t budge. That’s one great brand.

I actually agree with you on that one.

From afar, you hear Miles calling out your name. Hurried and rushed. Monique heads right out.

“Hey, is she aight?” He immediately asked of her.

“Well, she’s better now. Stopped vomiting and all that.”

There was a small silence. You pondered whether to fill it in, but you were lost with hoping to hear Miles’ answer. Similarly, you were in a battle with your own wit; In a battle with the damn being inside of you. It was enough to drive you into madness— everything and everyone. You were used to going along with the pace of everyone else’s plans, but right now was like ricocheting you to the moon without as much as a warning, a suit, or a mathematical equation.

You heard a gentle swish of a bottle.

And when your gaze travels sideward, Monique appears before you with a bottle of water between her pink acrylics. Sealed and cold. Misty and likely just bought.

With a hushed thanks, you received the drink and swished it inside of your inner cheeks— the bitter aftertaste of whatever exited your body leaving after each spit. You washed your hands and washed your makeup off too— a few clumps of mascara remaining beneath your bags.

Miles calls out your name.

You don’t answer in a fit of embarrassment.

“I’m gonna buy our costumes now, I’ll pay for it, aight?”

Oh, but that was even more embarrassing.

You rushed out to greet him, messy mascara and all. “I can pay for my costume, darling, thanks for holding it for me.” And you snag it out of his hands, kiss his cheek, and beeline right out.

Miles blinked, and he looked at Amadi who shrugged. He didn’t know whether to think about the kiss or the way you stomped right out without warning.

Oh, she really doesn’t know what social cues are, huh? They think.

But that wasn’t the case, truly. You of all people would know you’ve been infinitely and unbearably awkward, but you had a deal to make. You didn’t want their pockets to hurt, so you forged a plan. Measly, small, nothing too grand of a plan. Something along the lines of using a black card and all of those things— attempting to falsify a coupon while insisting to charge your account rather than their money. This wasn’t a restaurant, so you couldn’t demand for a paycheck and pay the bill for everyone in advance, so when Miles and the others got back, you got this.

“Nathan?” You faked-recognized the cashier. A similarly blond, tall and ragged boy with calm leisure on his shoulders.

“[Y/n]? What’s good mama, long time no see!”

And within three minutes, you managed to stage a whole script with Nathan, the part-timer.

A little bribe was nice enough to let him in the job.

“You two know each other?” Miles asks, evidently piqued and disturbed at the idea of him calling you mama. “Yeah, he’s one of my older brother’s friends. Nathan, long time no see, indeed.” You ushered the costumes forward, plucking out the one from Amadi’s grasps and placing it by the counter.

Nathan plants a smirk in his lips, a hand on his hip. “How’s he, by the way? Haven’t caught up with him for months.” He asks, obviously not knowing who your brother was.

“He’s doing great, actually. All of us have been, and you?”

“Great,” The blond smiled. “Took up this part-time job to get ahead of my student loans. Thanks to your nice tip months ago, I managed to re-arrange a few parts of my fucked up life.” Well, that tip was non-existent. He was likely talking about the three-hundred dollar bribe you offered him just minutes ago. “Really, you’re.. The sweetest.”

Miles didn’t like that. He didn’t like that at all.

“Well, Miles and I were just buying our halloween costumes for tomorrow. We’re going to be celebrating halloween together, you see.” Your hand creeped up against his arm, and Miles eases. “We have a date tomorrow.”

Nathan’s smile twitched. “Oh, really? Damn, good for you.”

Miles’ chest huffed up in pride. Fuck yeah, we’re dating, what’chu gon do ‘bout it?

“Your brother know all ‘bout it?”

“Oh, not yet. It’s our first date.”

Nathan starts scanning your stuff, keeping up the small talk while Miles listened in with a half-bored expression on his face. It was a façade, evidently. He wanted to know everything about this Nathan dude, and why he was smiling so weirdly with his crooked teeth.

“You know, I can get this for you.” Nathan suggested. “I owe you a lot. I’ll pay for your costumes.”

Good work for following the script.

“Really?” You airily asked. The blond shrugged. “Yeah. I can pay for your friends too, my treat.”

“Nah, keep yo money to yo self, big man.” Miles narrowed his gaze, slamming his wallet atop the counter. “I can pay for our costumes.”

“Miles!” You whispered at him.

“Oh, don’t worry ‘bout it, man. Your girlfriend’s done a lot to help my family. Hell, I met Alicia through her too.” Nathan improvised. At the mention of another girl, Miles gradually lightens up. “So, really. This is hardly even enough. Let me just thank her this one time.”

You turn to Amadi, gesturing her a thumbs up and a wink.

.. Were you even aware of how much of a mess you looked right now?

Either way, you were somehow.. Still presentable in a way that it was enviable.

After wrapping up the prices, paying for everything, and sneaking your black card away from the man, all of you managed to depart and bid your farewells to your new friends. If you could even call them that yet. The tension was unnerving, and you could almost sense that they likely found you weird.

And you were weird. You have been acting weird, even you could admit that.

There was a fucking alien inside of you who fed on humans. It wasn’t the potential of cannibalism that irked you the most, it was the fact that you devoured a vile man who likely ate cigarettes for morning and tequila for dinner— if he could even afford it. You’ve seen a million gruesome scenes, before, so the latter of ripping someone’s head off from their body was hardly the worst of your memories.

In fact, there may have been more blood on your hands than anyone else would think.

But it did shake you. It left you trembling and silent. You were already thinking about demolishing the camera and having Liv take care of all the evidence.

Liv, yes, Olivia Octavius. You wanted to trust her for a short while, given her eccentric desire to run tests on you. She can find the answers to get rid of this disgusting piece of murky tar inside of you—

ＹＯＵ’ＲＥ　ＮＥＶＥＲ　ＧＯＩＮＧ　ＴＯ　

ＧＥＴ　ＲＩＤ　ＯＦ　ＭＥ.

You could almost snicker.

Fuck you.

“Hey, you feeling better?” Upon hearing Miles’ voice, you’re plucked away from whatever sour memories ingrained your mind. With a hopeful smile, you nod. “Yeah,” The reply came out a little raspy. “I’m doing a little better. I’m a bit dizzy, but I’m better now.”

He pauses in the midst of the street, facing you entirely. You pause along with him, evidently confused.

Gently, Miles lifted a finger and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “How can you look so messy and still be so pretty, huh?”

Unlike the encounter you had earlier, this made you feel utterly warm and safe. It’s like you could melt into the base of his palm and mark it as your home. His finger grazes beneath your lashes, likely wiping out all of what’s left of your mascara.

“Only you can pull off something like this.” Miles decided. “You can start trends with that face of yours.”

“And here I thought you’d start teasing me.” You laughed.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’ve got the plague doctor costume just in case you start spreading your bubonic germs all o’er again, I can just bloodlet the hell outta you.”

You smacked his arm. “My blood’s precious as hell, thank you.”

“Said no hospital, ever.”

And there goes that heavy laugh of his, ringing in your mind. You adored it. The way he’d tilt his head and shift his eyes into crescents. You like how he crinkled his nose and stepped away from you as if to sink in your comedic and obviously pissed off side-eye.

You could stay there forever.

“I’m fucking leaving you here.” You attempted to stomp off. Miles hurriedly catches up with you in bated breath, interlacing his fingers with yours.

“Nah, you ain’t going nowhere, my girl, you’s stuck w’me til’ we both drop dead when we’re eighty.”

You giggled at his statement.

“What? You don’t plan on doing that w’me?” He pouted.

“No, no. It’s not that, just..” You looked away. “Ionno if I’ll even live that long.”

Miles took the hood of your jacket and placed it over your head. “Well if you keep yourself out in the cold too much, ya prolly won’t.”

It’s not that, Miles. You think. I can’t live a day without feeling like I’m falling apart.

“You know, I don’t get why I’m so weak ‘round ya.” You kicked at the pebbles you came across the pavement. “I’m a fighter, y’know. Got it from my daddy, actually. I’m pretty strong, but when I’m around you I sneeze a lot… Prolly has sum to do with how anxious you make me feel.”

You paused. He paused.

The both of you stared at each other. Seeing that stupid smug smirk creeping up his lips made you want to bolt away in shame.

“So I do make you nervous.”

“You make me physically ill.”

“Cause I make you nervous.”

“Shut up.”

Miles looked like the happiest boy on earth. You wanted to deep-fry yourself in oil.

“Speaking of which, you never told me much ‘bout your brothers.” He suddenly mentioned. “You told me ‘bout you being the only girl, and I’m an only child but that’s nothing alike. What’s it like?”

“Well— I’ve got three brothers, actually.” You thought about calling them by their other names. Miles gulped. “The one who drove me here was Mon. He’s.. Like a big, fluffy, teddy bear. I think, out of all of us, he’s the most approachable one. He’s my dad’s favorite. He’s like the golden child of our family. He never has to study just to get good grades, and he’s always so smiley and smart.. But at the same time, he can be such a pain in the ass.”

Hearing you talk about him made Miles sense a sort of jealousy lingering behind your teeth and atop your tongue.

“How ‘bout your other older brother?”

Without missing a beat. “He can go fuck himself.”

Alright. So you had a sibling you were jealous of, and a sibling you couldn’t stand.

“The third one?”

And you softened entirely.

“Oh, his name’s Malachi.” You said his name with such sweetness and warmth, it melted even Miles. “He’s my little brother. Six years younger than me. I know kids his age are usually brats, but I love him to bits. He was my mom’s favorite. She used to read him bed time stories and bake him snacks.. Now, I’m the one who does all that for him.”

Was. Used. Now.

Miles wondered why you never spoke about your mother. The topic seemed.. Fraught, initially, but now that you’ve mentioned her, it sparked his interest.

And, ever so cautiously, he piqued.

“I thought you were your mom’s favorite.”

Miles eyes the way you subtly flinch, your smile faltering so slightly. As the both of you pause before a stoplight, you fish your vape out from the corners of your pockets.

“What made you think that?”

He shrugged. “I thought moms usually favor their daughters ‘cause they see themselves in ‘em.”

You parted your lips and spoke before taking a hit. “If my mom ever saw herself in me, I’d be traumatized.” As you blew, the smoke lingered in the air a little longer than it usually did. Must be the cold. “.. To which, I already am, because everyone talks about how much I look like her.”

Before you could take another hit, Miles softly latches his fingers on your wrist, bringing the gadget away from your lips.

“If you don’t mind me askin’, what was your relationship with her like?”

He guided you down the crossing lane with his hand still holding down your vape. You feel a little embarrassed, and you take the opportunity to place it back inside your pockets.

“.. Ionno if there’s even a relationship I can describe to you.“ You sighed. “.. Ionno what goes beyond a mother-daughter relationship when our relationship mostly revolved around my mama hating me for being her daughter. If that’s what being a mother is, then Ion want none of it.” You sense Miles grimace. “If that’s a dealbreaker for you, then I’m so sorry—“

“No, no, it isn’t.” He mumbled. “I once told myself that I’ll only go with whatever decision my future partner wants. If you want a kid, we’ll have a kid. If you don’t want a kid, then I can live with that too.”

“.. Well, why can’t you decide whether you want kids or not?”

“Because Ion want to force my future wife to have kids she don’t want.” Miles’ grip on your hand loosened. “A few things people do that I really hate is that they usually get kids because of baby fever, or they want to fix a marriage, or they just have it because they want to but not because they can afford to. Ion want my future kids to live on while I can’t or my future wife can’t handle ourselves financially and emotionally. That’s gonna fuck up the kid, and they’ll grow up to fuck up their kids, and so on, and so forth.”

“You know a lot about these kinds of topics, huh?”

“It’s ‘cause my mama taught me all ‘bought it.” He smiled. “My mama’s been through a lot, and when she and my dad had me, she wanted to make sure she won’t pass the pain she got from my abuela to me.”

You couldn’t help but feel envious.

What is it about me that my mother can’t stand to love?

My whole life, I’ve been homesick for arms that don’t even want to hold me.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

You wanted to curse a hundred curses, but instead you took out your phone and answered. “What is it?” You answered, inching away from Miles.

“Where are you? I’m coming to pick you up.” Montrell seethed behind the phone. “It’s an emergency, we need you back immediately.”

“Me?” You couldn’t help but dumbly point at yourself. “What did I do? It’s my free time today, plus I’m not the one managing the— the house anymore.”

You hear your brother pause. You took a moment to glance up at Miles who was waiting patiently for you to finish the call.

“Well, to further inspire you, you’re right, Antonne is a fuck up.”

“Okay, and? Is that supposed to surprise me?” You sarcastically replied.

“No, [Y/n], he fucked up really badly, which is why we need an emergency meeting and I need you back immediately because everybody is looking for you.”

You took the moment to pull away from your phone and block the speaker. “Miles, what street is this?”

He answers something along the lines of being a couple blocks down. You take the answer back to Montrell who tells you to stay where you are. Well, being the smarter person, you ended the call and told Miles to go.

“Why?”

“My brother’s coming to pick me up.”

“Oh?” He straightened his back. “Oh, shit— he’s coming? Why?”

“There’s an emergency.” Not that it was alarming. Emergency, you say, but Miles could clearly see that you hardly gave any flying fucks. “I need to get back immediately before the house blows up.”

“.. There’s a bomb in your house?”

“Yeah, I call him dad.” You turn and peck his cheek one last time. “Before he finds out I’m missing, I’ve got to get back now or you won’t see me ever again. Stay safe on your way home, aight? Don’t get hit by a car, and don’t die.”

The boy stumbles. “But what if he gets lost? Do you know your way around Brooklyn?”

“I’ve got photographic memory.” You joked. “I’m kidding. Mon can do it, he’s smart, and probably has a GPS, so go! Go! Go!” You hurriedly ushered him away. Miles scratches the back of his neck, hesitant to leave you alone out of fear you’d get hurt. Unfortunately for the both of you, a slick, gray car pulls up by the curb with an abrupt halt. You freeze, watching its thick, black window roll down in a glacial, intimidating pace.

“… Mon.”

Montrell stared, unimpressed.

“.. Call him back.”

“… Call who back?” Was your stupid attempt to get out.

“You know who I’m talking about.”

“… You told me there’s an emergency.” You headed over to open the door, only to find that it’s locked. You faced Montrell, only to find that the both of you were mutually irked.

“There is, but it can wait. Call him back.”

“Mon, I will crawl through this fucking window.”

“Now.”

“Mon!”

“Don’t make me count to three.” He warned you like a mother. You grimaced at the way he used that insufferable tone. “I’m not a fucking toddler.”

“ONE.”

“Mon.”

“TWO.”

“MILES!”

From the corner of your eye, you see Miles toss his head over with a widened gaze. “Yeah?”

With your head still facing Mon, you told him to come over. Miles hesitantly made his way back slowly but surely. It didn’t help that his legs were so long that every step imitated a stride. Finally, after swallowing the lump in his throat, Miles greets your brother.

“Evening, Sir.”

By the driver’s seat sat a man. His gaze sat behind a pair of glasses, scrutinizing Miles’ entirety in a second or less. He was broad-shouldered and thick-waisted, further accentuated by the fineness of his white, collared shirt and black vest. His features were sharp, but his eyes welcoming— quite softer than yours, actually. He looked clean, polished, and infinitely sophisticated yet it didn’t harm his charm. In fact, it made him look so gentlemanly that it made Miles insecure.

It’s like your whole family was genetically blessed.

“Nice to meet you, you must be Miles, yeah?”

“Yes.” Miles answered like he wasn’t aware of his own name.

“I’m Mon, [Y/n]’s older brother.”

“Nice to meet you too, uh— Sir.. Mon?”

Montrell looked at this boy, and he looked at his braids, his freckled nose, and his unrefined stature. He was slouched, and one of his hands was seemingly glued inside the pocket of his old, winter jacket. It didn’t look anything special. In fact, it looked unluckily ragged. The boy looked skinny too, seen clearly in the slight hollowness of his cheeks and dark bags beneath his eyes. Still, he was accommodating, like a waiter donning on his best smile. There was something attractive about him— maybe it was the way he appeared so grimly enticing.

Reminded him of you.

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen, Sir. I’ll be turning sixteen this December.”

“Ah, is that so?”

You and Miles felt equally uneasy at the fact that Montrell didn’t bother to tell Miles to stop calling him Sir.

“How long have you known my sister?” He asks, a warning tone seeping past his smile. “Recently, she’s spoken about how much she likes you, so I’m curious how long you’ve known each other for.”

“Oh, we—“

“We met three months ago.” You cut him off, clutching Miles’ hand as though to signal him not to speak any further. “Can we go? I’m sure I still have plenty to attend to.”

Montrell ignores you. “Do you live nearby here?”

Miles looks at you, but you weren’t looking at him. “Yes Sir, I live around two blocks away from here.”

“That’s nice, you’ve got a part-time job?”

“Used to work as a cashier for a record shop. It was closed down months ago since the owner moved out of the city. Been working to get another since then but, it’s hard tryna find a job close to my school.”

Montrell raised his brows. “A hard worker! Just like my sister. Has she told you anything about her work?”

Silence.

Your nails scraped against the window.

“Well, from what I know, it’s a family business, right?” Miles looked at you for approval. For the first time in three minutes, you finally looked at him and nodded. “Catering business in an inn.”

Montrell held back a laugh. “Right. That’s exactly it. Say, Miles, do you have any plans next week?”

He shook his head. “Ion think so, Sir.”

“Well, you see— our family’s hosting an event. [Y/n] will be there, and she’ll be dancing tango. I think it’d be nice for you to go.”

“That’s not happening.” You flatly decided. “Our relatives will talk if I bring Miles to that party.”

“Not unless he’s my guest.”

“Mon, Miles.” You looked at them alternately. “He’s not going— you’re not going to that party, Miles, I forbid it.”

“But—“

“No one will talk about him if he’s with me.” Montrell sighed. “It’s Aunt Claire’s event anyway. No one will be focusing much on you or him. To be fair, they’ll all mostly focus on me.”

You gulped.

“Come on. Once you introduce him to dad, surely you’ll be able to meet him more freely rather than whatever the hell you’re doing right now.”

Miles lightened up upon hearing this, looking over to you with hope.

You wanted this conversation done with, now.

“Fine.” You struggled to speak. “He’ll go.”

Montrell finally unlocks the car. You lazily drag the door open and slam the door shut. With the window still down, you placed a hand over and intertwined it with Miles’. “I’ll text you tomorrow, alright? Just tell me what time.”

Montrell piqued. “You two meeting up tomorrow?.. How unfortunate.”

You exasperated. “… What do you mean by that?”

“Well..” Montrell started the car. “It’s a pretty huge emergency, and it might take you days to fix.”

“That’s fine.” Miles straightened his lips. “We can move our plans next week. I can always make time for her.”

“No, I won’t allow it. I’ll go on with my plans, I don’t care how big this emergency is—“

“Dad’s wrecking the place.”

And that shut you up.

You looked at Miles apologetically. “.. I’ll text you, alright? Stay safe.”

“Okay, you guys too.” Miles softened. “It was nice meeting you, Sir.”

“Nice meeting you too, Miles. I’ll see you next week.”

“It’s as though none of my children are competent anymore.”

Along with the click of your heel, your father swishes a bottle of brandy above his head, pouring it over his glass. You try to keep your head high, while noting the fact that the meeting was largely based off privacy. Antonne sat by the corner, his curls frayed away along with his collar. His head hung low, hand cradling his bruised cheek.

“What took you so long?” Your father asked, hardly even sparing a glance for you and Montrell.

“I was out.”

“Where off?”

“At a café, to make use of my idle time.” You cleanly lied. You watched his grey brow wiggle, eyeing the competence of your stature. You could’ve been everything he ever needed, until you weren’t. Your father stood tall— taller than the rest of you. You try to ignore the shattered glass beneath your feet. You wore heels for a reason, after all.

He trudges towards you and Montrell, taking note of every flicker of your wrist and fluttering of your lashes.

“Do you know the reason why I’m training all of you to handle the family business?”

It was a simple question, capable of being answered with a simply answer.

Why would one family keep most of its secrets together?

“Answer me, girl.” Your father pried.

You gulped. “Because whatever power the family has should remain in the family.”

It was an average answer— a textbook one in fact. Why were royal families the way they were? Why did they marry each other? Why did they remain so closely intact?

For power.

Or so you think, but it wasn’t the answer your father was searching for. It was more.

Your father places a hand against your cheek, caressing it so softly. “... For someone who has her mother’s stupid face, you’re quite smart. My young girl, I know the way you’ve been, because you’re just like your mother but bolder. I know that naïve and emotional front you put up, but mind you, [Y/n], I’ve done whatever façade you’ve put up and better.” He squeezed your cheeks so tightly, you could feel your teeth imprint on your bleeding flesh.

“I asked you for one thing, and it’s been three months. Why haven’t you brought it back yet?”

He spoke so condescendingly calm that it horrified you.

With a tiny whimper, you tried to lower your head to soften the grip of your father, to no avail.

“.. All three of you.” He seethed, calling out for Montrell and Antonne. “Do all of you want to end up like your mother?” He turns to you. “Do you want to end up like your mother, [Y/n]?”

“N-No.” You choked.

Your father shoved you right back, making you land down on the floor.

“… Then who did it? Who released the information about the warehouse to the black market?”

You winced at the glass shards that pricked your hands.

Ah, why do families keep their secrets together?

So that if one falls, all will fall along with him.

“Someone leaked the locations of the warehouses, and a few details about some of our deals with other families— if this gets out, we will lose credibility, and all the other families will drop us immediately like hot potatoes! All of us will get arrested, and everything we’ve worked hard for will diminish in a second. Now, WHICH ONE OF YOU STUPID BRATS DID IT!?”

His voice rang inside your ears. Helplessly, you try to help yourself off the floor when your father’s shadow darkens before you. With a step of his shoe, he stomps your hand back down on the shards. You resist the urge to yelp, tears pricking your eyes as you looked up.

“[Y/n]?”

“I’d have no reason to incriminate myself with something so stupid!” You cried out. “If I were to be in charge of the hotel and sell out information, I’d end up taking the most damage. Why would I do something so obvious?” Hesitantly, you dragged your bleeding hand away from the glass, only to find tiny bits of the symbiote plucking the shards away from your wounds.

It was one of your brothers. Montrell, maybe? Antonne, definitely.. Maybe even Malachi.

None of them uttered a single word.

Of course they couldn’t.

“Antonne?” Your father called out. Your brother didn’t speak, he simply stared on blankly. Montrell couldn’t bring it in himself to move or help. All of your father’s children were dead silent like mice.

ＣＲＡＳＨ.

Brandy and glass exploded onto the floor like fireworks.

“ＡＮＳＷＥＲ　 ＭＥ!”

“I don’t think it’s any of us.” Montrell finally answered. “There’s likely an outsider receiving information from an insider— it’s no wonder why we can’t track down the poster.” He looked at you, to be particular, he eyed you in a way that was so subtle but it sent a message you seamlessly caught.

And then it made sense.

Montrell was accusing Miles.



But you never told Miles anything. Hell, you’ve been hiding your identity for most of the time you’ve known him. If Miles knew, he wouldn’t have stood by you, he wouldn’t have allowed himself to fall for you— he would’ve crushed you into pieces.

But if he knew.

Ding.

Eddie Brock || Just now

hey

the warehouse is gone.

it’s all burned to the ground.

“Unc.” Miles jerked up from his seat, turning to his Uncle. “Eddie just texted. He told me the warehouses were burnt down.”

Eddie Brock, a journalist tipped by Miles and Aaron after the discovery of the Warehouse, was the only journalist who metaphorically had the balls to bring a camera and shamelessly enter the elite’s premises for the sake of unveiling the truth.

Most called him a hysterical theorist.

But he wasn’t a dead one.

“That’s fucking impossible.” Aaron couldn’t help but curse, uncontrollably snatching the phone off of Miles’ grasps. “They can’t just burn down one of their top investments— even if it was meant to cover up evidence, they couldn’t have had the time to burn everything so quickly.”

“Did we accidentally set it on fire because of the explosives?”

“A fire can’t go that large without gasoline.” Aaron tossed the phone back to him. “… It was likely an inside job.. And we were sent there to take the blame for the fire.”

Ding.

“Everyone else, except [Y/n], leave the room.”

Montrell flinched, eyes landing on you. Antonne finds the strength to pull himself together, limping his way to the front door. Montrell kneels down to lend you a helping hand, cautious of the broken glass, only for you to reject his notion and unsteadily stand up yourself. There, he marveled, how clean and uncut your legs were.

Huh.

Antonne cradled his cheek, his curls all over his nose. He tossed his head, spitting out a blotch of blood on the floor before wiping his busted lip with his arm. The both of you meet gazes, both similarly full of disdain and exhaustion.

The both of them left shortly after.

You could feel all of New York witnessing your misery like an audience— watching with prying and expectant eyes from behind your father’s large, glass window. Your old man had some stank in his eye. You wondered if that was the same look he had in his eye when your mother went.

“When will you get me that damn USB, [Y/n]?”

New York was glowing, but you wanted it to smolder.

“Give me two final weeks.” Your brow creased. “I’ll present you the USB on a fucking golden platter.”

Ding.

“Then what would they gain from burning down the building?” Miles fiddled with his phone, watching his Uncle pace around the room.

“If we think about the consequences, it’ll bring the Chávez’s the most harm. It’s a shared property funded by a lot of other people in the elite— that would mean a higher up sent us that information on purpose.. But who,”

+17479256640 || Yesterday

Do you recognize the girl beside him?

You closed the door behind you, eyes glued onto the floor.

There was this emptiness inside you. One that likely plagued your mother before everything that unfolded. You tucked your hair behind your ears.

You stared at your hands, watching as each shard fell off like leaves on an autumn day. Your wounds were healing so rapidly swift, that it was quite the show worthy of praise.

ＹＯＵ’ＲＥ　ＦＵＣＫＥＤ　ＵＰ．

That makes the two of us.

With a twist of your heel, you walked down the corridor to the drawing room nearby, finding your two older brothers with similarly calm exteriors. Antonne was sitting by the edge of one of the sofas, tending to his cheek with an ice pack. Montrell was the first to notice your presence. He was sitting by the make-shift bar, sitting down like a patron but hardly drinking anything at all. He gestured at the med kit atop the auburn coffee table, indirectly telling you to patch yourself up.

You pretended to need for it, unpacking some of its utensils and brashly pouring alcohol all over your limbs and wrapping it up with some bandages.

You watched Antonne glare at you.

“It’s fortunate that purple’s a good color on you.” You grinned at him. “Hopefully that bruise won’t make a guest appearance at the charity event next week.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Antonne spat.

You headed towards the remote to get the television noisy. It was enough to cause a migraine, but it was better off that way. None of your brothers commented on it, which was miraculous, in regards to Antonne.

“You guys care for a drink?” You tiresomely proposed.

Antonne took a second before looking at you. Montrell sat erect, his once crossed legs now uncrossed. Your sudden proposal likely surprised them, seeing how similarly perplexed and amused they were.

You gestured them to go to the balcony.

With each click of your heel, you made your way around the bar, grabbing the sweetest wine you could find and about three chalices. All three of you then hit the cold deck, the green bottle clamoring against the painted, metal table as you popped the cap open.

“It’s nice it ain’t a cork,” You rambled. “Might hit and break another damn window. Can’t be too sure.”

They only listened.

“Does it hurt?” You asked Antonne. “Where did his fist land this time?”

“Up my cheek.” He chewed, spitting out another at the trees. “Couple of mouth sores, might last me about a month.”

Montrell takes the bottle, holding up the title to his gaze. “Vietti Cascinetta.. Moscato d’asti.” He read in perfect Italian. “This was that wine we got from Veronica’s wedding. It’s still here?”

“Daddy hates sweet wine.” You poured him a glass. “Might take away all of what’s left of his masculinity, the sweets I mean.” After pouring yours, you held it up and gleamed. “Cheers.”

All three of you took consecutive sips off of your glasses.

This was an odd rarity. A moment where all three of you were siblings. You hadn’t had such a moment with them in about three years. Now, all of you were old enough to drink wine without coming off as classless bastards. Oh, how the times have changed.

Montrell took out a pack of cigars— new ones, considering how he had to peel off its shiny plastic cover. Antonne reached out for a stick and plucked, making you unconsciously go for one too.

“No.” Montrell warned, taking it away from your hands like a watchful sitter. You blinked at your vacant fingers. “You started smoking at sixteen, why can’t I do that too?”

Upon lighting up the cigar, Montrell casted one look at you, took a hit, blew, and handed you over the cigarette. “Alright, go try it once.”

And you did so, perseveringly, like how every little sister wants to impress her older siblings. You took a hit, and it burned your lungs stronger than vape could ever foster. Like lil ol’ Miles, it didn’t take three seconds before you started coughing up the smoke like an ill child.

“You’re as stubborn as ever.” They say. It was a nostalgic hearing. Stubborn little girl, a walking disaster.

“Perhaps that’s what’s so well-loved about my personality.”

You wondered where it all began— everyone thinking you were stubborn. Was it the insistent way you approached people whenever you had plans, or the way you’d do things out of spite?

“So stubborn about everything. The hotel, the upkeep, the warehouses.. Hell, even about that boy.” Antonne murmured, a gruffness in his sleepy tone.

You sipped.

“… That boy.. Is a hazard to our family name.”

None of them made a sound.

“Dad told me not to tell any of you ‘cause he feared someone else might know of what Miles possesses and they’ll take advantage of it.” You swished the glass. “And since I first discovered it, he placed me on the job.”

“What job in particular? What does that boy have?” Antonne impatiently snapped.

“.. When Mom betrayed us, she had a USB containing every transaction with the other elites, and each location of the warehouses and what they’re storaging. When we sent her off, we burnt everything in her room— including all her files and her electronics, but when I discovered she used one of my old phones to hide evidence, I discovered that.. Miles’ father, Jeff Davis, had a copy of those files.”

“Holy shit.” Montrell verbalized. “But why—“

“Why hasn’t that information been outed? Go place a bet. We even requested to have his corpse researched but he was cremated, which means if the USB was with him, it might’ve been in his uniform, but if it wasn’t— it’s in his house. And since all of us haven’t been arrested yet, father figured the USB is likely currently untouched.”

“… It’s not.” Montrell whispered. “It’s not untouched. The USB is with someone, and they’re releasing information about us bit by bit in the black market.”

“That’s right.” Antonne added. “And whoever it is, is likely watching us closely.”

“But why are you telling us this, [Y/n]? That’s a violation of the code of loyalty.”

You took a sip.

So I’d feel less guilty once you’re all dead.

[AN: Happy New Year everybody! ✨✨ I hope all of you are alright🫶 Take care of yourselves]

[Q&A open too if you guys have any questions in regards to the story]

[skyfallslayer]

The Daughter of The (Dare)Devil - Story 10

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: A Series of stories revolving around the MCU timeline of Matt Murdock and his Daughter, Kaila. Being the child of a vigilante can be hard and scary at times, but it doesn’t mean she ain’t going to enjoy the most of it.

(Can be read as Y/N if you’d like)

Story Summary: Relieved that his daughter is finally home safe, Matt makes two life changing moves. First is to stop and help Frank Castle in any way he can; The second one? Finally asked Karen out on a date. A date that might have to get cut short when someone from his past shows up unexpectedly (Set During 2x04 & 2x05, “Penny & Dime” & “Kinbaku”).

Date: 7/26/23

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 14,016 (Y'all deserve it)

Warning: Possible OOC (?); Karedevil; The Murdocks Are Stubborn People; Angst; Heavy Language; Allusions To Mental Illness; Bullet Wounds/Recovery; Child Abuse; Blood and Gore; Violence; Heavy Injuries; Talks of Death/Murder; The Murdocks Could Use All The Hugs In The World; A Brief Near Death Experience; Matt Being Overprotective (He Needs A Warning, I think?); Past Toxic Relationship(s); Elektra Could Use A Warning Herself; Suggestive 18+ Themes; READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

- Let me know if I missed anything, please.

A/N: First off, a small apology. Like I was replying to a DM a few days ago, I don't know what really happened. Despite the fact that my laptop took a dive, I ended up on a unexpected hiatus. Which... I think was a good thing for me. It gave me enough time to take a step back after slowly becoming burnt out from writing. But I'm back! I promise I won't go MIA without saying something next time. So, sorry again! But the story you all have been waiting for has returned!

Secondly, Don't let this story fool you, I don't necessarily hate Elektra. I just don't like the fact how toxic she was for Matt and how she tried to change him after finally getting in a good place in his life. So I'm going to change Canon a little bit (Which shouldn't be a surprise since I've been doing that already). Other than that, Enjoy, my loves!

- Fifteen Years Ago -

His only comfort was the pittering of the rain against his window. He sat on his bed, feet touching the ground, his phone in hand; His finger hovered over the voice command. His mind racing over and over and over with the question of– 

Should I? 

He wants answers. Sure they didn’t leave on a good note, but shouldn’t she give him some kind of explanation? It’s only been two weeks, surely she hasn’t left the area already…

Right? But even a part of him knew she probably was long gone just like the cops said, yet he still held on to some kind of hope that’ll he be able just to talk to her at least once. To just ask the “simple” question of… ‘Why?’.

He rubs his face with an open hand, fingers massaging the dark circles under his blind pupils. He didn't need sight to know they were getting worse and worse everyday. 

He sighs.

Loudly.

Heavily.

He let every ounce of emotion into that one. 

He didn’t care.

I’m really drowning right now. And indeed he was, however– 

His thoughts immediately fade away when he hears the familiar cries he’s gotten used to. Out of instinct, Matt lets his phone slip away as he slides down to the end of his bed, shifting his body down to carefully take his baby in his arms from the bassinet. He remembers how he was taught to hold his child properly, a consistent drill from the nurses and Mrs. Nelson badgered him with (mostly from Mrs. Nelson). 

He shushes quietly in the attempts to calm her. “Hey, hey. Shush. You’re okay, you’re okay.” He whispers, exhaustion in his undertone. 

God, he was so tired.

He whispers some more, his daughter starting to calm down into tiny whimpers. His face quirked into something bittersweet. 

“Did you have a nightmare?” He asked, wanting to stroke those little teardrops away, but he was too afraid to free one of his hands out of concern of dropping her. “I have those too sometimes.” He chuckles humorlessly. “I guess those can be hereditary.”

He still has those kinds of dreams. Memories from his childhood. All the dark shit he’s been through, he’ll see them every once a while. His father’s dying day, His time in the orphanage, His roller coaster of past relationships. It’ll take turns haunting him. Taunting him. Egging him to give back in, crawl back into that dark hole. Jump off the edge.

It eats him alive every single time.

Matt’s lip twitched. “Sorry. That was a bad joke.” He admits, trying to look on the positive side. “Although, your Uncle probably would have come up with something more corny than that. Right?”

He could feel her tiny gaze, something he was still trying to picture what it meant. Happiness? Sadness? Confusion? 

He sighs. “I wish I could see you. It’ll make this easier.” So much easier. “It’ll make your life easier. I’m not going to be the… typical parent of the group. So, I’m… sorry.”

How the hell was he going to do this? How was he supposed to help her through life? Through her first steps? Through school? Through any hardships she faces? How was he supposed to help when he feels like he’s drowning?

How am I supposed to be a father when I don’t know what I’m doing? How am I supposed to be a father when I can’t even see your face?

He heard the front door open and close. The person entering was setting their bag aside and kicking off their shoes and heavy jacket before strolling over where he’s been sitting for who knows how long now. Matt could smell the sweat on his friend’s brow and a light drum beat from his chest that told him his friend had been in a hurry to get here.

“Matt?” Foggy said, peeking inside the bedroom. A look of relief crosses his face upon seeing his college buddy. “Sorry I’m late.”

Matt couldn’t help but smile at his consideration. “Nah, you’re good, Foggy.” He said, half heartedly (he just hopes he doesn't have a look of desperation plastered on). He felt those hazel eyes scanning him head to toe, concerned.

“Have you been up since this morning?” Foggy asked, remembering he had called around eight this morning. There was a pause of hesitation from the blind man before he ended up nodding. He frowns worriedly. “Matt–”

“Please, don’t lecture me.” Matt said, sounding like a little kid cowering with fear. 

Foggy felt his heart hurt from it. “I wasn’t.” He promises, his frown deepening. “Have you eaten?”

Another small nod. “Yeah. I ate a little.”

“Showered?”

“No.”

“How come?”

“I…” Matt felt his chest get tight as he stumbled with his words. “Don’t want to leave the room for too long.” 

Foggy couldn’t help but laugh. “Matt, you can take her in the bathroom. Just put the bassinet by the door.”

His face scrunched up. “Isn’t that weird?”

Another laugh. “Okay, how old is she again? Two months old? Even if she sees you naked she’s not going to remember.”

Matt closes his eyes to sigh. “Yeah, yeah. I guess…”

Foggy shakes his head. “You need to sometimes turn that Catholic brain of yours off, Murdock.” He replies, coming to sit down. Upon sitting he felt something underneath him and pulled out his friend’s phone. It didn’t take long to figure out what he was doing. “Did you call Mary?”

“Tried…” Matt chews on his cheek. “I uh… I just want some answers. I mean she’s… the mother so, I would think she would be… more capable at this. I mean why would she give her kid to a blind man who has no idea how–”

“Okay, going to stop you there.” Foggy butts in, hand coming to rest on the troubled man’s shoulder. “Even if you thought Mary was more capable, you’re still the father, you know? Blind or not, parenting isn't easy. Trust me. My own parents made that very clear. I’m sure your dad told you something along those lines too.”

Matt grew quiet for a second, thinking. “Yeah. I guess you have a point.” He shifts his gaze in his direction. “But it’s just… it’s frustrating. I-I can’t see so I… I-I have no idea how she’s feeling half the time. I’m scared that if I get that wrong I’m going to hurt her.”

Foggy squeezes his shoulder comfortably. “I know, man. I know.”

“And she’s… s-so tiny, Foggy.” He whispers, fearfully. “So tiny and I’m… a big guy. I-I feel like I’m… like I’m drowning because I don’t know what to do.”

Now it was his turn to get quiet. Foggy was trying to figure out how to phrase the next few words without striking too deep. “Do you regret your decision to keep her?”

“No, no, no.” Matt shakes his head. “I just… I-I love her, she’s my daughter. But there’s… times I wonder if…” He swallows. “If she would be… better not in my care.”

Those words hurt to even say, but it was true. Maybe this would have all been better if he went through with the adoption.

As the processing time ended, Matt felt Foggy’s arms wrap around his shoulders, cautious of the baby, and placed his head against him. Matt couldn’t help but lean into the touch he felt like he suddenly craved, and tried not to cry.

“Matt–” Foggy begins, his voice full of warmth and love. “You’re going to do great. Sure it’s hard, and it’s always going to be hard, but under all that exhaustion I can see how much you love this kid. You’re going to be an amazing dad.”

Matt chuckles, somewhere between disbelief and relief. “You r-really think so?” He said, swallowing again as his throat tightens.

“I know so.” Foggy pulls back. “Trust me, Buddy. I’ve seen the emotions you pack. I can already picture you picking her up on her first day of school, or helping her get a summer job, or walking her down the aisle for her big day.”

Matt raises an eyebrow. “Who says she’s getting married?”

“See?” Foggy lightly slaps him in the arm, grinning. “You’re already accepting the universal dad laws. Never letting your daughter near a boy her age. You know when my niece was born, my brother was pretty much ready to lock her in a tower far, far away. Surrounded by a dragon that was fifty feet tall, which breathed hot fire.”

Matt laughed again. “Uh, not sure if Amazon sells dragons but… the tower I can find and work with.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m pretty sure New York has some of those.”

“How will I know they do?”

Foggy snorts and gives him a small shove while playfully saying his name. He finally felt a bit of success bloom when he noticed his friend’s happy face staying the same. “You’re doing great, man. But if you ever need help, Me and The Nelsons are here to help.”

Matt’s smile widens genuinely. “Thank you, Foggy.”

“Don’t even mention it.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

-Present Day-

Matt’s eyes open at the shift in the bed, he sets his blind gaze in that direction, quietly listening to see if she is awake. 

She wasn’t. Good.

She needed to sleep.

It’s been about a week since the incident, and they’ve just gotten out of the hospital yesterday, and to his surprise (Well, he really shouldn’t be), his daughter wanted to stay pretty close to him for a while; Not that he was complaining. He wanted this too.

He shifted his own weight too, rolling to his side for a better view. She had gently wrapped herself in his blankets, and had carefully propped her injured leg on a pillow. His daughter finally looked like she was at peace, especially since he could tell she wasn’t suffering anymore night terrors.

Good. She doesn’t need that right now. He remembers she had one after Brett left the hospital room, her body finally giving out after the nightmarish incident. He remembers she bolted up, drenching in sweat as her heart raced a mile a minute. She was hyperventilating in a way he’s never heard before as she started muttering. ‘Where is he?’ or ‘Where am I?’. It broke his soul to her muttering, to feel her shake in his arms as he calmed her down. He never wants to go through that experience again.

I wonder if Brett’s figured anything out? The whole kidnapping situation still wasn’t adding up. Why was this… man who claims to be their first client’s brother kidnap his daughter? Because… what? Nelson and Murdock ‘failed’ him? This just didn’t sit right with him. And Matt recalls when the man said something about a Boss. Boss? What Boss? Who could this Boss be? Who wanted to hurt Matt Murdock more than the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen? It just didn’t make any–

His daughter’s phone chimes loudly, the sound of a notification hit his ears quickly. Despite not being able to see it, he tries his best to reach over to the side table to hit the button to mute the sound. However his speedy actions cause a stir in his bed.

Kaila grumbles in her sleep, eye opening half lid. “Is it morning yet?”

Matt shifts back around, frowning at himself as he shakes his head. “No, no. Not yet.” He replies, gazing at her. “Go back to sleep.”

“Are you going out?”

That was like a little needle in chest, and made his face soften. “No. I’m not going out.”

“Shouldn’t you though?” She asked, dazed and confused.

“No. Not until I know you’re okay.” He brushes some of her stray hair out of her face, tucking it away gently. “Go back to sleep, baby girl.”

She hums at his touch and words, closing her eyes again, snuggling up the mattress some more. “M’kay… love you…”

He smiles. “Love you.” He waits for her to fall back to sleep before he does, closing his own eyes and forcing himself to sleep lightly for obvious reasons.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

He opens the door to the light knocking, a soft smile on his face as he senses who it was. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Karen said, with a small wave and her little quirky bow of her head. 

“I'm just about ready.” Matt explains letting her in and walking towards his living room to finish up.

“Okay.” She closes the door behind him, watching him closely as he struggles to finish his tie. “Uh, here, let me help with that.”

“Oh, thanks.”

She hums in reply, getting real close to help him out. She mentally curses at herself when she could hear her own heart in her ears. Now that she knew his secret, she felt embarrassed by everything she did in the past.

Karen bites the inside of her cheek, keeping her eyes on the fabric in her hand. “You feeling any better?” She asked, knowing the last few nights were rough in the hospital. 

Matt nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good… Now.” He swallows and whispers as she finishes, “With you.” He felt her curious eyes on him, now he felt embarrassed by what he just said. “Uh, not that I can verify, but you seem good at this.”

She brushes off her flustered face with laughter. “Uh, well, my brother wasn't, so that's where I came in.”

“Your brother must have been lucky for you.” He soon regretted saying those words as soon as it rolled off his tongue. Matt didn’t miss the goosebumps suddenly covering her body, and how her heart rate went up three notches. He frowns, concernedly. “Karen… You okay?”

She pales. “Um–”

“I thought I heard Karen.” Kaila says, coming into the room (unknowingly saving the day). She had her backpack in hand while her free one was gripping the crutch she was given for support.

In a motherly way, the blonde comes over to take the bag. “Let me grab that. That looks heavy.” She replies, slinging it over her own shoulder despite the teen’s protests.

“I can carry it.”

“The doctor said nothing too heavy, which…” Karen gestures to the bag and makes a face. “What’s in this?”

Kaila shrugs. “I gotta keep myself entertained somehow, because I ain’t doing you guys’ paperwork when I get there.”

Karen shakes her head, turning away towards the front door. Matt comes over next while sliding his jacket on, worriedness creeping on his face.

“You feeling okay?” He asked, hearing her crack a smile.

“Yes, Dad. I’m good. A little sore, but I’m alright.” Kaila replies, honestly. “So…” Her eyes flickered to the woman by the door before back at her father. “When’s the date?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “The what?”

“The date?” She chuckles at his puzzled expression. “Come on, Dad. I see the googly eyes, and you can cut the sexual tension in here with a knife.” She jabs him in the arm as he mouth becomes agape. “So when is it?”

“There’s no date.” He says, expressionless.

“But you want there to be.”

“Uh, well–”

“She knows you’re the devil, and she didn’t run away. I’d say that’s a keeper.” She walks past him, hand patting him on the arm. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“He’s lucky to be alive.” Karen says, as Kaila holds up an x-ray of the Punisher’s skull for them to see. “This is all of the stuff that the DA’s collecting for her case. And most of it’s about the Punisher’s victims. The Dogs of Hell, the cartel... But this was in the middle of it. Not someone he shot, him.”

“He’s insane.” Foggy says, as he, and everyone in the room, looked unwell by the picture. “Maybe he shot himself.”

“But he saved me.” Kaila points out, puzzled and baffled at the same time. When she learned that this was the man that helped save her from Baldy, the man known as ‘Punisher’, she was honestly surprised by how much of a bloody trail he’s really left behind.

“I know, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t.”

“I-I thought about that, but at that close of a range…” Karen trails off, waiting for someone to finish.

Which was Matt with, “Yeah, he’d be dead already.”

“Okay, not to go all tin-foil hat here, but Tower obviously slipped this to me for a reason. What if the Punisher isn’t the worst of it? What if Reyes is trying to cover something up?”

Now it was Foggy’s turn to look surprised. “You think that murderous psychopath isn’t the worst of it?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “And I think our best shot at protecting Nelson and Murdock is to find him.”

“It’s our best shot at career suicide or just getting shot.”

“She kind of has a point, Foggy.” Matt says, hands on his hips.

Foggy blinks in disbelief. “How?”

“I owe it to Frank, alright. He saved my daughter.”

“I know that. But what if he was just trying to get something out of you? Like an IOU? Or maybe he’s trying to pin the blame on you? Have you thought of that?”

“I have. But I don’t think those options are logical.”

“How? In what way is it not?”

Matt frowns. “He told me, ‘He expects me to do the same. Father to Father’. He’s a family man, or at least he was, I get the impression.”

Foggy sighs. “Look. Even if he is, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s a dangerous man that tried to kill our client and a couple other groups of people.” The phone starts ringing and he gets up. “Just think about what I said, okay? I don’t want you getting shot again.”

Karen looks Matt’s way, confused. “Shot again?”

“Uh, he…” He clears his throat, blind gaze going somewhere else. “Kind of shot me in the head when I first met him.”

Her eyes widened. “Huh?”

“It was the day you came for a visit and I was pissed at him.” Kaila replies, setting the x-ray down after gazing at it for so long. “He went temporarily deaf too.”

“You went deaf?!” Karen said, scolding. She watches him shrug sheepishly before sighing. “And I thought I was insane.”

“Welcome to having a Murdock in your life.”

She sighs again, rubbing her face. “Okay, I… I know this Punisher, or Frank, is a lunatic, but–”

“But you care, anyway?” Matt finishes.

“I wouldn’t say that, it’s more like curiosity. In between these files and… Reyes’ obsession and the fact that humans are a pretty complicated species to begin with, I just feel like there’s gotta be more to the story.”

He hums. “I think you are.”

She scoffs. “Oh, my God, you think I'm insane.”

Matt chuckles at her reaction. “I’m kidding. You’re compassionate. It’s a good quality, Karen. Stuff of saints.”

Karen frowns. “Yeah, well, I’m no saint…” She mumbles, looking away (Kaila does too for obvious reasons).

Matt, sensing something was off, replies with, “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that.”

“Matt!” Foggy calls from his office. “We have real, live, non-criminal clients who need our help.”

“Excuse me for a second.” He excused himself and entered the room. “Tell me.” 

“Mr. DiPesta defaced the elevator in his building.”

“Which, technically, makes him a criminal.”

“That’s what his slumlord, excuse me, landlord says, but look. He’s got no AC, no hot water. This has Nelson and Murdock written all over it. But we gotta file today. Kar–”

“Dad!” Kaila shouts, and the boys immediately run back to the front at a quick speed. She was standing at the door that was open. “Karen told me she’d drive me home later and then left.”

“Maybe she just stepped out for some fresh air.” Foggy suggested just as Matt suddenly had a sinking feeling.

“Did she take the files?” The blind lawyer asked, worriedly.

“I think so. She grabbed some folder quickly that I didn’t see.” Kai continues, as her father feels around her desk; His head drops immediately while sighing.

“Shit.” Foggy rubs his head.

“I have to find her.” Matt said, already shedding some of his work attire for some street clothes. 

“Find Frank first.”

“Already planning on it.” 

“But, Dad–” Kaila begins, watching him slide a sweatshirt on. “You didn’t bring your suit.”

“I don’t need it.”

She blinks. “Huh?”

“I’ve been waiting to pick up my new one. Reinforced alloy.”

“Which means…?” She trails off with her eyebrow raised.

And with a ghost of a smile he says,

.

.

.

“Which means I won’t get shot again,”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Thanks to Karen’s A+ detective work, she manages to track down George Buck, a nurse with an… interesting past experience. It took a little bit to convince him to walk along the Hudson, just a small bribe of getting coffee.

“You were with him when this was taken?” She asked, ready to jot down the mental notes in her head.

“Yeah.” He replies, nodding. “That bullet tore through his head. Not many people survive that.”

“Well, I’d like to know what you remember.”

“John Doe. Guy was a total vegetable. I guess that’s why they decided he only needed one nurse.”

“Any family or visitors?” She knew Frank was a father judging by what he said to Matt, but still wanted to know if they were still around.

“No. I mean aside from the suits.”

“Suits?”

“Yeah. Uh, sometimes men, sometimes women. You can tell ‘em ‘cause they all wear the same ear pieces. That and the black suits. Kind of like uh…” He trails off while gesturing to the open air, hoping she gets the idea.

“Got any idea who these suits were?” She asked, curiously.

“No.” He shakes his head. “Uh, but they had their run of the place and they were the ones that pushed for the, uh, the DNR.”

She tilts her head. “A ‘do not resuscitate’?” 

“Yeah. They had the paperwork. And I was there when the doctor pulled the plug.”

“I…I’m confused.” This wasn’t making any sense. “You’re saying this guy died?”

“Yeah, for about a minute. It’s crazy, but they say it happens sometimes. You know, one minute, flatline, then boom.” George’s eyes widened with the shock that was still there. “His heart starts back up again. On its own. He just didn’t wanna die. Within ten minutes of being awake… h-he reaches up and grabs my scrubs, yanks me down, and says, real close ‘Take me home’.” He frowns, guilty. “I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have done it. I should’ve known it’d get me fired.”

Now this got her interest peaked even more. “His home.” She tests out, hopeful. “Do you have an address?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

As the sun finally kissed the sky goodnight, Frank was reliving his gut wretched past. He could still hear the music from the carousel; His children’s laughter; His wife’s beautiful words.

All of it.

The lights of the morbid thing only go off when the ride stops and everyone walks away with a smile on their face. Now all he sees is the silhouette that haunts him in his dreams. And with his extra sense, Frank quickly notices the mysterious man sitting on the next bench over, grinning like the son of a bitch he was.

“Nice night.” Is what he said, causing the ex-soldier some confusion. Before Frank could say anything, the man, who’s name was Rory, flashed the gun in his belt and replied, “I’m not alone.”

Right on cue people were coming in every direction, an expressionless feature greeted him.

Rory continues to boast saying, “You wanna come with us? Or you wanna make a mess?”

Frank, wasting no time, goes for him and starts beating him up, not caring that Rory had stuck some kind of needle into his neck. Rory’s guys move in only for Frank to take them all out with a single bullet each. But as soon as he thought the fight was over, someone knew entered the ring and shot his challenger.

The Punisher stumbled on his own two feet as the sedative kicked in, but his spirit wouldn’t be broken yet until he knew who this other person was. 

The Irish gang leader, Finn, strolls over with his own set of individuals, looking more cocky than the man before. “Well, thanks for thinning out the herd. You’re surrounded, son. Now be a good lad and drop the iron.” He says, just as his men pointed their laser at his prey’s chest. “Come on. You seem like a smart one.”

With strong will, Frank tries to advance, only to be shot with various tasers and rendered unconscious.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Matt waited until he came out from the crime scene from the Irish themed bar. He stayed in the vibrant black and red light, ignoring the gun that was trained on.

“I need to know what happened here.” Sounds more like a demand than a question.

Mahoney looks behind him, nervously. “I’m not telling you shit.” He whispers, harshly. “You helped us catch Fisk, that don’t make us friends.”

“Was this the Punisher?”

“Jesus. The Irish, okay? To find the Punisher. They put a bounty on his head. Now people all over the Kitchen are getting hurt. It’s the goddamn Wild West out there.”

“Have the Irish found him?”

“As long as we keep getting calls like this, I guess not.” Mahoney watches as the vigilante seems satisfied with his answer, and was about to leave, although the cop was concerned for his safety. “Hey, stay out of it. You hear me?”

“I just wanna help, Sergeant.”

“No, you can’t help this one.”

“We’re on the same side, you and I.”

“Listen, You’re–”

‘2-Adam, shots fired. 65th Street transverse, by the carousel. All units to back.’

Mahoney touches his radio, eyes moving away. “Fifteen Sergeant responding, Central.” He replies, just as Matt makes his move to leave. Once seeing this, he couldn’t help but shake his head.

Jesus, Murdock. Stay out of this for once.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The window rolled down completely to see Foggy’s smugged face. “Ah, look who finally showed up. Did Cinderella really want to go to the ball that bad?” He asked as Karen sighed apologetically. 

“I’m really, really sorry, Foggy.” She says, honest.

“It’s okay, just remember, we’re your friends. We worry.” He says, as she apologizes again. “It’s okay. Seriously. But don’t run off like that again. I’m still technically your boss.”

Karen snickers. “Alright, Boss man, I’ll remember to ask.”

“Thank you, my lovely co-worker.” He smiles and gestures for the teenager to come over. “Ready, K-Pop?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Kaila replies as he opens the passenger door. “Thanks.”

“Sure you don’t want a ride?” Karen asked, as he shook his head.

“No thanks. You know I live in the opposite direction.” Foggy said, waving them goodbye. “I’ll see you in the office tomorrow.” 

The girls wave back as he takes a few steps down the sidewalk looking for a cab. As the young Murdock starts putting her seat belt on, she could see the blonde’s mind practically racing over something. It especially was clear when she was gnawing on her bottom lip and her fingers lightly drum the steering wheel.

You can really never turn that Reporter brain of yours off, huh Karen?

“You ready?” The blonde asked with a ghost of a smile.

Kaila tilts her head, feeling her out. “You’re taking me back home, right?” 

“Yeah.” Karen said, nodding.

The teenager raises a knowing eyebrow. “But I can tell you don’t want to.” She says, ignoring Karen’s shocked face. She sighs and rolls the window back down, poking her head out just enough to still see her Uncle. “Hey, Foggy!”

The man perked up at his name just as he was raising his hand for a cab. He wastes no time to jog back over, concern on his features. “What’s up?”

“Get in.” Kaila jerks her head towards the backseat. “We’re breaking and entering.”

Those hazel eyes of his batted quickly, bafflingly. “What?”

“I said, get in the car. We’re going to need a lawyer if this goes south.”

“...What–”

“Just get in the car, Foggy.” Kaila said a bit more stern, which managed to get his ass in the back seat, muttering about what was going on. She pays no heed to him for a second and looks back at Karen who still had the same exact look on her face from a moment ago. “All yours, Cap.”

“Huh?” Karen looks between the teenager and the road ahead of her, debating. “Kai, I really shouldn’t–”

“Listen. I don’t really know who he is, but he saved my life. Whatever you have in mind, we owe it to him.” She smiles bittersweetly. “It’s the least we can do. Right?”

Karen took a minute to let it sink in, before putting her game face back on and taking the car out of park. While she starts pulling away, their guest in the back still seemed clueless about what this really was.

“What exactly is going on here?” Foggy asked, watching as the two girls give each other a look before deciding on a way to spill it to him.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Rory did his best to pretend to be dead, but once the Irish took away the Punisher, he made his move.

Somewhat.

His leg was dead weight from the bullet wound, so his only option was to crawl across the grounds around the carousel. He was using all the adrenaline he had to make his getaway, but that dream seemed short lived when the Devil was suddenly peering down at him. He was soon pinned against the ride, his wrist broken so fast when he tried to use his gun, causing him even more agony than necessary. 

“Who did this?” Daredevil snared, still holding a nice grip on the man’s wrist.

Rory clenches his jaw as he tries to catch his breath. “People you don’t mess with.”

With the subtle tilt of his head, he replies, “You’re bleeding out. And I got all night.”

“Go to hell!!”

Matt twists his arm, getting him to cry again. “Who did this?”

“The one they call Punisher.” 

“Where is he?”

Rory lets out a laugh. “It doesn’t matter ‘cause when we’re done with him, he’s as good as dead.”

Matt mentally sighs, “That’s helpful.” He mumbles, and twists a bit more, causing a louder scream. “But it’s not what I asked.”

His voice grows darker just as the sirens around them become louder and louder; and with a look of fear in his eyes…

Rory spilled everything.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

So this is the Castle family’s house? The trio was thinking as they parked their car across the street before trekking along the darkness to the back door.

“So, what are we doing here again?” Foggy asked, feeling like he was still in the dark about everything.

“We’re going to find anything that can help us with understanding Frank.” Karen explains, surveying the area. 

“And how are we going to find something by looking at a house?”

“Because we’re going to be looking…” She slowly gestures to the back door. “Inside the house.”

His eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“What– Karen, we can’t just–” Foggy trails off when he notices the teenager, crouching down carefully and jiggling a lock with a bobby pin. With a disapproving touch of his hand on her shoulder, he says, “Uh, excuse me, young lady. How do you know how to do this?”

Kaila smirks. “Remember that ‘secret’ candy drawer in your apartment?”

“Yeah…” He gasps quietly. “You were the one stealing from there?! Why?”

“Because–” She shrugs. “I wanted candy and you weren’t giving me any.”

He scoffs and shakes his head. “You’re in so much trouble. I interrogated a lot of people over that!”

“Yeah, and I lied. Sorry,” She pauses for a second. “Huh, and my dad knew the whole time.”

“You’re so grounded.”

She continues jiggling the lock until they hear a small ‘click’. She grins, standing up and grabbing her crutch as she moves inside, the other two following swiftly. The first thing they noticed beside the darkness was how cold the house was, and how you couldn’t hear anything. It made them all get goosebumps and a slight shock up their spines. 

All having the same idea, Karen, Foggy and Kaila slowly start walking around the house with their phones’ flashlights. Going from the kitchen in the back to the main area. When they slowly start to make things out, Karen pulls a tissue from her purse, carefully grabbing and examining things as Foggy looks around, paling.

“This is really eerie, Karen.” Foggy replies, feeling his heart skip a beat.

“Well, I wasn’t really expecting a picnic in here either.” She says, feeling the same way.

But to add more to their emotions, the three of them nearly jolted out of their own skins when Kaila’s crutch hit a small toy frog on the floor, activating it. 

“Jesus…” Kaila muttered, holding her chest before sighing with relief. “What was that?”

Foggy shines the light where he heard it land, frowning. “It’s a wind up toy.” Then the realization hit. “Oh, God… He really was a father.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Matt arrives at the scene just as Frank manages to get himself untied and kill Finn while muttering a very… interesting phrase. He knocks out the two that would have put a few more bullets into Castle’s brain before cautiously walking towards him, but there was still a concerned aura around him.

Frank’s face twitched in anger. “They’re gonna pay. Every single goddamn one of ‘em.” He spews with boiling venom.

“They will.” Matt agrees before shaking his head. “But not tonight. Move. And no killing.”

Frank gives him a glare. “Altar boy.” He replies before grabbing something he could use as a weapon.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

After a while, it was starting to become more and more heavy. It hit even harder when they came across the table filled with very depressing items. It made the whole situation worse than they thought.

Kaila stares at all the bouquets of flowers sent with condolence cards. The cards were addressed to none other than Frank Castle himself. She finds herself feeling very teary eyed.

“This is really…” She trails off, heart hurting. She couldn’t find the right word to say. Losing your entire family? In one night? She could only imagine what this must feel like.

So this is why Frank wanted to help my dad.

“I guess this explains his actions as the Punisher.” Karen said, standing next to her, looking the same. “I guess anyone would do the same thing in his shoes…”

“No shit.” 

“Looks like he was a war hero, too.” Foggy calls out to them, getting them to turn around to face the wall of memorabilias. Sure enough there was Frank in uniform in several pictures, and a couple of his metals were on display. “And this is where his sniper skills come from.”

“Now it all makes sense.” Karen said, looking over them carefully, imprinting the images in her head. 

“True. But–”

On cue, the three of them immediately turned their flashlights off when a vehicle pulled in front of the house. The headlights powered off just as Karen decides to take a peak. And just like the nurse from earlier was describing, here comes both men and women in black suits strolling out of the yellow van.

“Shit…” She whispers, letting go of the curtain.

.

.

.

What the fuck do we do now?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

On the other side of town, after an intense battle for their lives, Matt found himself carefully setting down a heavily injured Frank Castle against a tombstone. The man grunted at the way his body seemed to mold against it, his adrenaline finally wearing off.

“Hey.” Frank begins, panting. He spares the blind man a glance. “Not bad.”

“Thanks.” Matt said, breathing through his nostrils. 

“I guess I, uh… I guess I was wrong.”

A tilt in his head. “About?”

“About you being a pussy.”

“Don’t get all sweet on me now, Frank.” Matt said, getting a laugh which soon turned into a coughing fit. He frowns worriedly. “Help’s on the way.”

“Nah.” Frank shakes his head. “You should go. I’m past saving. At least I’d have company, right?” A sigh. “I think I might cash out. You’d have made a hell of a Marine, Red.”

There was a twinge of guilt as he could hear the sincerity from his voice. Although Frank was the definition of ‘rough around the edges’, he could still see the soft and wonderful man he really was underneath. 

It made Matt feel like shit to even think about.

“That rhyme. What's it mean?” Matt asked, genuinely curious while crouching down.

This catches Frank off guard for the first time in a while. “What’d you say? …Huh?”

“The thing you say. Right before you pull the trigger.”

“What do you… You heard that?”

“Well, when you’re a blind man, your other senses get heightened so… yeah, I heard it.”

Frank blinks in disbelief. “What the…” He sighs, not even going to question it. “I gotta say, sometimes... Sometimes I think you really just might be the devil.”

Matt nods in agreement. “Sometimes I think I might be, too.”

“It’s, uh…” Frank begins, already getting choked up. “One batch, two batch. Penny and dime, you know. It was her favorite book. You know, you… You gotta cross the ocean… and go fight. You see… whole time you’re thinking you’re gonna be scared, right? But then, you’re not. See, that part of it was always easy for me. Killing. Even watching my buddies die, it just… it didn’t mean nothing.”

His face twitches. “The first time I got scared was on a plane on the way home. I kept thinking God was gonna pull the rug out from under us, you know? Shit, that’s his kind of funny, you know. But the plane landed safe and we were home. Driving through traffic. Yeah, you pass fast food and donut shops and all that… that greasy shit. It’s the shit you fought to protect and then the car stops. We were outside her school. I get to her classroom, right?”

Frank keeps going as Matt slowly sinks himself into the ground, listening wholeheartedly. “She’s in there… but she’s got no idea.” His dark eyes glisten with tears. “She’s got no idea that Daddy’s home. I walk in, these kids, they’re not even studying, they’re–” He chuckles. “Doing some kind of yoga. Yeah. You know? She’s there. She’s doing her poses, you know. She’s bending and, you know, she’s moving. She looks like a flower. Yeah. And, you know, you can’t even understand it, you know, how does something like that have... How does something that beautiful– How does that… does that come from me, you know? I know you probably do. Don’t you?”

Matt nods. “Yeah. I do.” He could relate to that. Sometimes his daughter was so pure compared to him. So innocent despite the things she’s seen. It hurts a lot to think about sometimes.

Frank smiles brightly. “And she looks up and she sees me. I see her. By God, that’s real. That’s real, Red. Boom. In an instant, she’s across that classroom floor, she’s in my arms. She’s squeezing me so tight, I swear I was gonna bust a rib, you know? We just stayed there like that, we’re holding each other. Teacher, she’s filming the whole thing on her phone, you know, she’s gonna put it on YouTube or some shit. She can’t hold the thing steady, because, you know, she’s… she’s bawling so hard, and the kids are all wailing, you know, they’re screaming. And me? Shit, I’m the worst of all. I’m a… I’m a rubber-face clown, you know. I cried so hard.”

He looks up to the sky, trying to hold the floodgates from opening. “But not my baby. Not my girl. You know, she’s my girl. She’s… She’s not crying, she’s holding me up. My girl, she’s keeping me on my feet.” He sucks in a shaky breath. “She says, ‘I knew it, Daddy. I knew it.’ And then we go home. Wife, the boy. Place is the exact same. It’s like it was just holding its breath waiting for me to get back, you know? Then it hit me.”

Now he sounds desperate. “All of it, you know. The first time I felt how tired I was, you know, I was just tired, you know? You… Y-You ever been tired, Red?”

“Yeah.” Matt nods, sadly, knowing that feeling so very well. He’s known it his entire life.

“So, you know. It’s just, I couldn’t do nothing, you know?” Frank's lip quivered. “All the things… I couldn’t take my wife to bed. Ball with the boy. Shit, I was too tired, I couldn’t even drink a goddamn beer, you know. But not her. My girl was up. See, she wanted me to, uh… she wanted me to tuck her in. She… She outgrew it, she knew it, but she didn’t care. She wanted it. She had that book. Her favorite book was out on the pillows.

“‘One Batch, Two Batch Penny and Dime’. Yeah. I read her that book every night before this shit. I read it every single night, but, see, that was over now because Daddy’s home now. She looked at me and she begged me, Red. She begged. She begged. I said, ‘No… Daddy’s too tired, see. But I’ll… I’ll read to you tomorrow night. I’ll read to you tomorrow night, I promise’. Yeah. Never think that… for her there was not gonna be any tomorrow, see. The last time I’d see her, I’d be holding her lifeless body in my arms. Meat was spilling out of her, Red. The place where her face used to be.”

Frank casts a glance at the vigilante, pity on his features. “As much as I hated you for interfering with my work… I couldn’t stand the thought of another father going through that. I don’t think I could stand seeing you holding your daughter in your arms like that. Wailing like a baby, praying that the clock would turn back and the bullets would come for you instead. I didn’t want that for you.” He sighs, letting go of everything. “No. I think I’m done, Red. I think I’m done.”

Matt opens his mouth to speak, but a cop car pulls up with two officers hopping out, drawing their guns from their holsters.

“Police.” Brett said, walking at them at a steady pace. “Don’t move. Hands where I can see ‘em.” He sounded and seemed so disappointed. “Shots fired. Bodies, mayhem and shit. How come I just knew you weren’t going to listen?”

“I have something for you, Sergeant.” Matt said, standing up and giving them a view of the Punisher.

“That’s him?” Brett asked, getting a nod. “Cover him and get EMS.”

“Yep.” His partner replies, and moves around the Daredevil for the other man.

“And you, you incredible pain in my ass.” Brett continues, sheathing his gun as he makes the man before him kneel, hands behind his back. “I really wished you listened.”

“Get him help.” Was Matt’s reply.

“Shut up.” He starts pulling out his handcuffs. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Take the collar.”

Brett falters his movements. “What?”

“You heard me.” Matt replies with a bite. “You caught him, not me. It can’t be me, it has to be you.”

“Why?”

“To protect the Kitchen. For law, for order.”

“You’re telling me how to file a report now?”

“Yeah.” Matt scoffs. “Take the collar. Take the credit. Get a promotion, if you can. You’ve earned it.”

Brett purses his lip. “Bullshit.”

“No, people have to know the system works. Not his justice and not mine. Vigilante days are done in this town. The police are in charge.”

“That’s not how it happened.”

“Then make it how it happened.”

The cop closes his eyes, realizing he is speaking the truth. “Shit…”

“EMT and backup on the way. Two minutes out.” The other officer calls out.

Brett sighs, and pulls Matt up from the ground. “Go. Go!” He shouts, making the devil run off into a sprint, leaving him with a newfound understanding.

Now I really know that’s you, Matt. A smile graced his lips for a split second just as thunder rumbled the sky and rain started to fall.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Miraculously, the troublesome trio somehow got out of the house without being seen. Which ended up being Karen taking Kaila’s crutch from her hand, and Foggy throwing the girl over his shoulder like a shake of potatoes. On the drive back was a mixture of anxiety and small bickering. How in the world are they going to explain this to their vigilante friend? As Foggy puts it, they’re ‘so fucked’. 

But they eventually could release a breath of relief as they arrived back in the city, and back on route to where they were supposed to have gone in the first place. And despite their protests, the exhausted teenager went inside the apartment alone as the adults watched from the car.

“Think she’ll be okay by herself?” Karen asked, being a mother hen she was.

Foggy nods. “She should be fine. She’s just going to sleep.” He sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “Matt’s going to be so pissed when I tell him what she can do. Fuck. He’s going to be pissed at all of us.”

“I’ll take the blame again.”

“Oh, hell yeah you are.”

Suddenly her phone starts to ring, a picture of Matt appears along with his favorite song. 

.

.

.

Oh, yes…

Perfect timing Mr. Daredevil.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

After picking up their important guest, who had slipped a long coat over his costume, he had Karen drive them all back to the same apartment, watching/listening to the “news of the year” on the phone:

‘Frank Castle, the gunman wanted in connection with the Metro-General shooting and linked to dozens of recent gangland-related killings throughout Hell’s Kitchen was apprehended just hours ago outside Saint Michael’s Cemetery. An NYPD spokesman says, “Tonight, New York has Sergeant Brett Mahoney of the 15th Precinct to thank”.’

“Gotta hand it to Brett. He seems to follow you wherever you go.” Foggy replies, sending a look at Matt from the backseat.

Matt ignores that jab and says, “I’m glad people like him are looking out for Hell’s Kitchen.”

Foggy chuckles. “Yeah.”

“And I’m glad someone was looking out for him.”

“Oooh… I wonder who.”

“Press are calling Castle ‘a cold-blooded psychopath’.” Karen said, scoffing. “The DA’s gonna have a hell of a time using his prosecution to turn herself into a hero. It’s all working out perfectly.”

Now it was Matt’s turn to laugh. “Wow, way to bring us down, Ms. Page.” He says, smirking. “I think we've had enough Punisher for one evening. We’ll worry about the rest tomorrow.”

“Amen to that.” Foggy agrees, and Karen sighs again (Only Matt noticed something underlining there).

“You okay?” Matt asks, hearing her shift in her seat.

“Yeah.” She breathes, just as his eyebrows shoot up, not buying it. “Okay, that wasn’t convincing, was it? Um, I don’t know, I just, uh days like today remind me how precious life can be, you know?”

Matt and Karen exchange loving glances and that’s when Foggy, who was grinning like an idiot, made up an excuse to leave.

“You know what? My apartment’s kind of far. I-I should get a cab.” He explains as he starts gathering his things. 

“A cab?” Karen asked, confused. She swears she convinced him earlier it was okay for her to drive him. What changed?

“You know we don’t mind driving you.” Matt adds as his friend shakes his head.

“Nah, that’s okay. Cab’s fine.” Foggy continues.

“It’s raining.”

“A little rain never hurts anyone.” He smiles and clasps a hand on each of their shoulders. “Well, you two have fun, have a drink for me, maybe play a board game, and try to keep it PG with your daughter in there. Okay? Goodnight!”

He wiggles himself out of the car with his belongings, leaving the two of them staring in disbelief…

Before both turning beat red.

Karen buries her face in her hands. “Oh, Foggy…” She said, making them both chuckle. “Uh… should we… um…?

“...ignore… him?” Matt says slowly.

“Uh, y-yes? Maybe?” She starts hearing him laugh again. “I don’t know.”

“Uh, m-me neither. So…”

“You… Um…” She fiddles with her hands. “Actually…”

He tilts his head. “Something you want to tell me?”

She shakes her head. “Oh, I’ll tell you tomorrow. Promise.”

He smiles. “Okay.”

“I’ll walk you inside.”

The two of them get out of the car, Karen taking him by the hand and pulling him towards the door. The warm rain soaking them immediately, but neither of them minded. They walked the concrete path, touching the edge of the steps with their toes when Matt suddenly tugs them both to a stop. The atmosphere was so light and comforting; It made them feel like they were on cloud 9.

Matt’s fingers ghosted her arm, trailing seductively up to her shoulder as she quietly gasped at his touch. Finally he cupped her cheek, some of her golden locks getting entangled, trapping his fingers like a spiderweb. And with hope in both of their eyes, both of them leaned in for a (long overdue) blissful kiss. Short and sweet, but it was breathtaking, exhilarating. And when they broke apart, they let their foreheads rest against each other, smiling.

“Can I take you to dinner?” Matt asks as he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Yes.” She replies, happily.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

His smile grew, his chest feeling a thousand times lighter now. “Goodnight, Karen.”

She mimicked him at this very moment as well. “Goodnight, Matt.”

With a new pep in her step, she heads back to her car which was just the cue Matt was waiting for to head back inside. He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as he climbed the stairs and entered his home. Setting his things by the door, he starts heading in the direction of his room. If his daughter was still up then–

Oh, boy. He thought, only imagining what her reaction would be when he tell her the news.

Kai’s going to have a field day with this one.

But just as his hand was reaching for the door handle, his senses suddenly caught onto something. He jolts in his stance, spinning around with his fists up, ready to fight. He tunes in on a figure -a woman- in his kitchen, twirling with one of his knives. With that sweet, sweet voice of poison he remembers so very well, she says,

“Hello, Matthew.”

With his heart in his throat he croaks, “Elektra.”

Her sharp eyes stayed on him for a while before she stopped her movements to take a swig of the drink she stole from the fridge. “Mmm! German beer. Tastes like piss.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” He says, lowering his hands slightly, focusing completely on her.

“You’ve never been hard to find.” 

He clenches his jaw. “That’s not what I asked.”

“At least your furniture’s improved.” She said in her attempt at small talk. She sets the bottle down and starts making her way over.

“Kinda liked my old futon.”

“I liked breaking it in.” She says, seductively. “Nice place. Too bad about the clothes, though.”

He holds his hand up, a sign she took for her to stop as she entered the living area. “Why are you here?”

She sighs. “Would you believe it if I said I missed you?”

Not missing a beat he says, “No.”

“Smart man. Columbia education really paid off.”

“No thanks to you.” He bites back.

She chuckles. “I’m in New York for a meeting. I thought I’d pop by.”

“Well, you’re not staying here, so…”

“Fine.” She shrugs. “My penthouse in midtown will just have to do, then. We spent some nights there.”

He mentally cusses, holding back an eye twitch. “Look, if you came here to walk down memory lane, I don’t really have the–”

“I’m sorry. I’ve spent years trying to convince myself that things happen for a reason, that you and I were not meant to be. But I know now. That wasn’t fate. It was a choice. My choice. And I’m sorry. I’m alone in the world, Matthew. Do you know what that feels like?”

Matt scoffs in disbelief. “No.”

She seemed disappointed. “Of course you do. You–”

“I really don’t.” He snaps, bitterly, honestly. “Not in a long time I haven’t.”

Elektra sighs. “Well, you must know what it’s like to clean up your father’s messes. A long time ago, before he died, my father did business with the Roxxon Corporation.”

Matt raises an eyebrow. “Roxxon?”

“Energy, cleaning supplies, macaroni and cheese. Child labor, slave trade. They have their fingers in everything. I believe it’s called diversification. And thanks to my father’s shitty investments, they hold most of his wealth.”

“Yeah, okay. I–”

“I have a meeting tomorrow with the board at the Yakatomi Building. And I need your help, Matthew.”

“How am I supposed to help you?” He asked, puzzled. 

“I want you to use that expensive legal training of yours to help me get my money back–”

“See, I’m a defense lawyer.”

“I’ll pay you well.”

Matt laughs, shaking his head. “I’m not taking your money. And, even if I accepted, there’s not enough time.”

“For what?” Elektra asked, confused.

“Oh, just research. Accounts, shareholders, hierarchy of the–”

“You have fifteen hours.”

He blinks. “Fifteen hours, Elektra, are you insane?”

“Matthew.” She sighs his name. “You’re the only person I–”

She trails off like she suddenly listening for something, and Matt was puzzled on what until–

Nobody could miss the way he tenses and holds his hands up. “Elektra.” He starts warning, as he could hear her gripping the kitchen knife. “Wait– Don’t!!”

He manages to snag the knife midair just as the bedroom door slide opens, his quick action startling his poor kid. He winces as soon as the blade makes contact with his skin, and lets it go immediately. 

“Shit!” He cusses, blood pooling from his open palm.

“Are you okay?!” Kaila gasps, shifting her weight onto her good leg as she tries to look at his injury.

“Matthew?” Elektra’s voice broke through making him stiff up again. “Who’s that?”

He hides his pain quickly, and uses his non-injured hand to push his kid behind him. “You need to leave.” He said, stern and underlining cold.

Kai casts a glance at him. “Dad?” She whispers, scared.

Elektra looks between the two, puzzled. “Dad?” She asked, hurt in her face as she looked at her ex. “You have a daughter?”

“Dad, who’s is–”

“You need to leave. Now.” Matt repeats, tougher.

“Since when did you have a kid?” Elektra asked, pain in her voice as steps closer. “And with whom?”

Matt pulls his daughter completely behind, a subtle sign to tell her to stay back. “Does that even matter?” He asked, not even letting her answer. “You have no right to ask me that. Leave.”

“Matthew–”

“Leave.”

If anyone else was in her place they would have trembled under his tone of voice alone; But even Elektra, who claims she knows the real him, seemed taken back. Not even saying another word, she left out the front door like she was a guest and not someone who trespassed (which seemed to piss Matt off more than it should have). Matt almost didn’t want to relax, he knows she’ll come back. She always does. She always seems to–

Kaila nearly fell to the ground if he hadn’t been standing there. Her name passed by his lips quickly as he caught her, leaning her against him.

“Why are you walking on your own? Where’s your crutch?” He asks, getting them both settled down on the bed. 

“I kind of leaped out of bed ‘cause of concern.” She replies, before grabbing a gentle hold onto his wrist. “Your hand.”

“It’s okay. I don’t think I need stitches.”

She stares at his palm, carefully feeling around the cut to confirm his words before asking, “Who is she?”

He frowns, slightly ashamed. “She uh, is an old… flame of mine. Second year. My uh… party boy era.”

“Party boy era?” She watches him nod. “You told me some stories. But you never mention a girlfriend.”

“She’s… not my proudest accomplishment.”

Kaila frowns, sadly. “Was she before my mother?”

“Before Mary, yeah.”

“So what happened with… her?”

He sighs. “After a while, she started doing stuff that… I didn’t like. The last thing she did was pretty awful. When I comforted her about it, she yelled at me and then disappeared. That’s the last time I ever saw her.”

“Damn.” Kaila muttered. “That bad, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“Well…” She starts leaning forward to grab the first aid kit under the bed. “You might have dodged a bullet there, dad.” She pulls out some disinfectant wipes and a gauze. “She seems… violent.”

Matt chuckles dryly. “Very.” His expression fades back into worriedness. “You’re not going to ask more questions?”

“I’ve heard enough. You told me enough.” She starts looking around for her phone. “Besides–” She snags it off the end of the nightstand. “If there’s more to what you need to tell me you will. But if it doesn’t affect our lives, then I’m not worried about it.” 

She smiles up at him, and he couldn’t help but copy her.

“I really lucked out with you as my daughter, Kai.” Matt said, making her snort.

“Well, that’s good, ‘cause you’re stuck with me. Here–” She hands him her phone that had the flashlight on. “Hold this up for me.”

“Can do.” He lets her do her thing, taking this small moment and cherishing it despite the circumstances leading up to it. “Thank you, Dr. Kaila.”

She smirks. “Hey, that’s Dr. Murdock for you, sir.” Kaila replies, cheeky just finishing up. “‘Least it was your non-dominant hand.”

“And I’m grateful for that.” He says, handing the device to her. Just as he does, the teenager’s phone buzzes and he feels her gaze immediately lock with it, disappointment registering on her face. Matt latches onto this quickly. “What’s wrong?” 

“It’s… nothing.” 

“Doesn’t sound like it. You seem… upset.” He uses his non-injured hand to tilt her head towards him. “What’s wrong?”

She frowns. “It just… I met someone at work–”

“You met someone?”

“A friend. His name is Jayden–”

“His name?”

She rolls her brown eyes. “Dad, stop.”

“Sorry.” He apologizes. “Continue.”

“Anyway, we started talking and texting one another, and we even made plans to hang out, however I got… you know… kidnapped.” Her frown deepens as she crosses her arms. “He texted me if I was okay, I said I was, and then… that’s it. He hasn’t responded to any of my texts. It’s… weird.” A sigh. “Do you think I did something wrong?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Of course not.”

“Then how come he’s ignoring me?”

“Well… maybe he doesn’t know how to respond after what happened to you. Maybe it just feels awkward for him. It’s not everyday that someone’s friend gets kidnapped.” 

Kaila nods slowly, processing his words. “True.”

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

“True.”

“Just give him some time. If he doesn’t respond, maybe try giving him a call. Okay?”

She sighs. “Okay. You’re right.”

“Good.” He says, as a smile starts to grow. “Well, on the bright side–” He nudges her a bit. “I’ve got good news.”

“What?”

“Your old man might have… put a move on a certain blonde tonight.” A gasp. “And I might have asked her to dinner tomorrow.” Another gasp. “And she might have said yes.”

She squeals. “Dad, that’s awesome!” She shouts, making him laugh. “Awe. Do you have something to wear? Or do we need to go shopping? Or–”

 “Kai–”

“We could go to that new tailor store up the road. Or we could go into town square for the day.”

“Kai–”

“What about places to eat? Do you have any idea where you’re going to take her?”

“Kai–” He laughs again at her enthusiasm and grabs her by the forearm to stop her. “Relax. You’re way more excited about this than I am.”

“Sorry.” She said, blushing. “You haven’t been on a date in a long time. One that you actually seem happy for.”

“Well, I…” Now it was his turn to get red. “I like Karen. She makes me feel… good. Happy. Warm.”

“Awe.” Kaila threw her arms around his neck. “I’m glad you feel that way. Although… I can’t believe Karen of all people is trying to take my number one spot with you.”

Another laugh. “Oh… baby girl–” He kisses her temple. “You'll always be my number one.” 

And that was the absolute truth.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Morning.” Kaila said, as she and her father entered the office the very next day.

Foggy smiles, eyes still glued to the newspaper he was currently reading. “Murdocks.”

“We, uh, have anything for breakfast?” Matt asked as he started pouring himself a glass of water from their filter.

Foggy raises an eyebrow. “You hungry or hungover?” 

A brief pause. “Both.”

Kaila gives him a look as she sits down. “Since when did you have a drink last night?” She asked, and got a shrug in return.

Foggy chuckles. “All right, you need some potassium, some electrolytes, and a jolt of caffeine. I’ll give you, uh…” He looks around before snapping his fingers at something. “-The last piece of Mrs. DiNizio’s peach cobbler, which is… the last piece of anything in this office.”

“I guess our finances haven’t improved since last week.” Matt said, frowning.

“Yeah, well, clients don’t respond well to a ‘closed’ sign.”

Kaila looks between the two, concerned. “Should… I be worried?”

Her father sighs and shakes his head. “No, baby girl, don’t… it’s my fault. I’m sorry, Foggy.”

“Don't be.” Foggy replies, taking a seat next to his niece, still reading. “You got Punisher off the street. I’m hoping Reyes will get her jackboot off our neck and this office can go back to normal.”

“Can you though?” Kai said, getting their attention. “I mean with everything we’ve gotten entangled with… can we be normal again?”

Before the boys could process her words, Nelson and Murdock’s last employee finally arrived.

“Matt–” Karen enters the room, startling herself as she tries to balance a tray full of beverages. “Uh, good morning.”

“Hey, Karen.” Matt said, a little smile ghosting his face.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Uh, not so much. You?”

“Me?” She slurred, closing the door with her elbow. “Yeah, sure. Uh, I-I mean–”

“Is that coffee I can smell?” He said, feeling his heart race.

“Hmm?”

“Coffee.”

“Uh, yeah, um… Yeah, arabica for all.” She chuckles and starts handing the cups over. “For everyone.” She hands over the last one for Kai. “Uh, Chai for you.”

The teenager’s eyes light up with happiness. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

“Yeah, Thanks. You’re a goddess.” Matt said, still grinning.

“Okay, you two.” Foggy cuts in, still smiling like a goof. “Let’s talk business. Potential clients. Real ones. With bank in the bank.”

“Uh, actually, yeah, can we, uh, talk about these first?” Karen asked, holding up some paper. The boys follow her as she stands behind her own desk. “The, uh, press is still painting Castle like he’s nothing more than some deranged lunatic.” 

“Well, it’s not like our boy was out collecting for the Red Cross.” Foggy points out, even after knowing what he discovered last night. 

“I know. I know, but–”

“You think there’s more to the story.” Matt finishes, already knowing this was going to be true (everyone did).

“Exactly. I mean, five different papers and not a word about the bullet he took to the brain, or his military record, or his family.” She continues, running a hand through her locks. “So we know what he said last to you about his daughter was true. W-We found this photograph. It’s of him and his wife and kids at the carousel–”

“We?” The Blind man asked, confused. “You mean…” He points between his friends. “The two of you?” He didn’t miss the way their heartbeats flickered. “You guys found it where, exactly?”

“W-We… sort of broke into his house last night.” 

“Broke in? Last night you–” He trails off at a realization, and with a steady expression he turns in his daughter’s direction who was nervously sipping her drink.

She eventually just shrugs. “Murdock curse…?”

“I… shouldn’t even be surprised at this point.” Matt said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Anyway, I get what you were trying to do, but that still was dangerous and illegal.”

“I know, I know. Sorry.” Karen said, apologetically.

“For the record, I didn’t know that’s what we were going to do. I just thought we were going to look at the house from afar.” Foggy said, holding his hands up. “But, I will still take some of the blame… but your daughter knows how to pick locks.”

Matt looks her way again. “You know how to do what?”

“Why are you throwing me into this?” Kaila asked, dumbfounded. “Shouldn’t we be listening to Karen? I mean, I know Frank is a lunatic, but he threw one of his missions away to save me. Shouldn’t Nelson and Murdock at least try to see if they can help him?”

“No.” Foggy shakes his head. “No. I mean, yeah he saved you, but come on, we successfully dodged a metaphorical bullet and quite a few literal ones. We need to be done with the crazy, guys. We need normal.”

And with that said he stormed into his own office.

“I’m sorry.” Karen said, bowing her head. “I’m really sorry if I– I pushed it too far.”

“It’s okay.” Matt said, with a light laugh. “Just Uh, I don’t think you’re wrong about him, I feel the same way too, but it’s really simple, Karen. Just I don’t want you to get hurt. Not like I have…”

She lets those words sink in before deciding to test the waters somewhere else. “So, uh... Last night.”

“Last night?” He pinches his brows together, all tongue and cheek. “I don’t– What happened last night? At Josie’s? With Foggy?”

She giggles. “You…”

“Did something happen?”

“Yeah.”

“Anything else? I don’t–”

“Yeah?”

Matt laughs quietly, softly. “Yeah, it was great. And I like to think I can do better, if we’re still on for dinner.”

“Uh, yeah. It’s a date.”

“Holy shit!” Foggy said, coming back into the room. “That was the bank.”

Karen frowns with dread. “Oh, no.”

“No, it’s all good.” Foggy continues, still stunned by the news. “There was a deposit. A big one.”

“What?”

Kaila’s eyes widened with realization before looking at her Father. “Dad–”

“Uh, actually, do me a favor, don’t spend any of it.” Matt blurts out nervously.

“Dad–”

Foggy gives him a strange look. “Why not?” He asked, concernedly.

“I-I was hit up by a potential client yesterday, so, I just–” Matt tried explaining but his friend was now nervously saying things.

“Is it dirty money? Are we doing that again?”

“No! No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just, um– I’m not sure it’s gonna work out, let me… Let me just–”

“Dad!!” Kaila shouts, getting him to stop. “Enough lying! Just tell them the truth. You promised no more secrets.”

With those words, she trapped her Dad like a deer in a headlight. He felt everyone’s eyes on him, puzzled and on the border of hurt.

“What secret?” Karen asked, with a tilt of her head.

“Okay, who’s this client, Matt?” Foggy asked, bracing himself for the answer.

Matt lets out a sigh knowing he’s been pinned down. And with a small shift in his stance, hands on his hips he says, “It’s… Elektra.” And he didn’t need sight to know that his college roommate’s eyes were slowly bugging out of his head.

“Wait…” Foggy mumbles, hands waving around, grasping something imaginary. “Elektra?” He tests out the name that burns on his tongue. “Psychopath Elektra? Your old girlfriend from college?”

Karen immediately copies his expression. “Old girlfriend?” She asked, looking between the two.

“Yeah!” Foggy boasts, arms flinging out in a dramatic way. “I-I mean she was beautiful, b-but fucking off the walls crazy!” He stares at Matt in disbelief. “You mean she showed up back in your life?”

Matt nods. “S-She… was at my door when I came home last night.”

Karen crosses her arms, intrigued. “W-What did she want?”

“Uh, basically, long story short, she wants to get her father’s wealth back from this company called Roxxon. She wanted me to be her lawyer. I told her no, but apparently she didn’t listen.”

“What do we do?” Foggy asked, while rubbing his tired face.

“I’m going to have to talk to her, I mean we’re defense lawyers. What can we do?” 

“And you’re talking to her as… Matt Murdock? Or the other guy?”

Matt frowns. “Not sure yet. I’ll be back.” He says, making his way where he left his walking stick. His gaze soon leads to Karen. “I’ll make sure to be back for tonight.”

Foggy raises an eyebrow between the two. “What’s tonight?” He asked, confused by this potential memo he missed.

“They’re going on a date.” Kaila sang, grinning ear to ear while making the two adults blushed.

“What?!” Her Uncle said, baffled. “Are you serious?” He gets a quick nod of confirmation from his niece before throwing his arms in the air. “Finally!”

Matt listens to his daughter’s giggle before touching her shoulder, grabbing her attention. “I’ll be back.”

Kaila nods as her expression fades. “Be careful.” 

“I will, but–” He taps the top of her phone, knowing exactly what she was doing on it. “Worry about meeting your friend.”

Her eyes widened. “How did you know I was texting–” But he leaves without another word, and she’s left staring at her device.

Once the door closes, Foggy reverts back to a curious fellow. “Your friend?”

“Uh–” Kaila meets his eyes for a split second before looking away. “I made a friend at work, and I’m… having some trouble with him.”

“Him?” He asked in the same tone of fashion her father had the night before.

She almost visibly eyerolls. “Okay, I don’t need the protective lecture again. He’s just a friend that happens to be a boy. Alright?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry. Habit, you know?”

Suddenly the office phone rings and Foggy excuses himself to go answer it just as Karen takes a seat next to the teenager.

“Need some advice?” She asked, softly.

Kaila shrugs and sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Well… what’s this boy like? Is he nice? How did you meet?”

“I… I met him before the summer, right around the time you guys were about to bring Fisk down. I met him, Jayden, at that coffee shop I like to go to sometimes. We talked, just a short little conversation as we waited for our drinks, then that was it.” Kaila explains slowly, shifting in her seat. “Then, about a month into my job, he started working there. Maybe it was just a weird coincidence, but I took it as a sign that maybe the universe was finally giving me a friend.”

Karen tilts her head again. “Finally?”

The young Murdock shrugged. “I never really had friends growing up. Everyone was also so cliquey. It was strange. I was basically the girl you invited to a party because you felt bad.”

The blonde frowns. “Kai…”

“It’s fine, really. I’m not bothered by it as much as before. I mean, I did have one friend who I considered my best friend in the sixth grade, I mean we did everything together.” She slouches in her chair. “But the day she and her parents met my father, she never spoke to me again. Her parents were the helicopter ones, strict about everything. And… they obviously didn’t like blind people. Rich jackasses.”

“Kai, that’s horrible.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I like Jayden because we have a lot in common. Same music taste, we love scary movies, love books, I could go on. But ever since the kidnapping, he texted me if I was okay, I replied back and that was it. Dead silence.” She continues. “I want to go talk to him, but I don’t know where he lives, and I can’t exactly go back to my job because I’m on temporary leave, and to quote my Boss, he said, ‘If I see you set foot in this store instead of being home healing I’ll fire you’. And I kind of like my job, so… yeah.”

“Huh.” Karen said, thinking. “Have you talked it over with your dad?”

“He suggested I should give him a little bit before calling, but I don’t know. Should I even wait?” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” And just before more could be said, a certain DA’s right hand came strolling in. Karen stands up, surprised. “Mr. Tower? I, uh, wish you’d called. I’d have something set up.”

“Are they in?” He asked, quickly. And right on cue, Foggy peaks from his office door.

“Just the Nelson half.” He replies, puzzled as well.

“We need to talk. In private.” Tower replies, ignoring the many jabs the people in the room were giving him as he entered Foggy’s office.

“Asshole.” Kaila said, once the door was closed.  

Karen chuckles. “Can be…”

“Why don’t you do what you have to?” The Murdock gestures towards the exit. “I know that detective brain of yours wants to work on the Castle case.”

The blonde looks surprised again. “You sure?”

“Of course. There’s not much I’ll be able to do since I don’t know what you’re looking for. Besides–” She holds her phone up. “Maybe I should try.”

Karen smiles and grabs her purse. “Good luck.”

“You too.” Kaila waits till she leaves before scrolling to his contact and hitting the phone icon; She lifts it to her ear, waiting to see if it’ll stop ringing.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hours later after their separate adventures, both Karen and Matt made it on time for their date. The blonde was nervously flipping through the menu as the lawyer stayed silent, just listening.

“D-Do you drink wine?” Karen nervously stutters. “I should know that.”

“I… don’t drink anything they don’t serve at Josie’s.” Was Matt’s answer, which got her to laugh.

“Yeah, well, I don’t see swill on the menu.”

Their eyes locked for a moment before getting preoccupied again. Eventually they both tried to speak at the same time. “So how was–/So what did–” A laugh. “I’m sorry–/I was just gonna–”

Karen smiles, setting the menu down. “Uh, you go ahead. Go, go first.”

Matt copies her. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Uh, yeah, just a regular day at the office.”

“Well, it’s a nice change of pace, right? Not being shot at?” He nervously laughs. “That’s gotta feel good.”

She hums, and takes a sip of water. “Yeah.” She sets the glass down, folding her hands on top of one another. “You, uh… how’s the, uh, new… you know. Elektra.”

Matt inhales deeply, clearly still frustrated over the mess. “Honestly, I didn’t get the chance to talk to her. I kind of…” A slight shrugged. “Eavesdropped on the meeting.”

“Is she… in trouble you think?” Karen asked, genuinely curious.

He sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe. But I don’t want to get involved. Like I told Kai last night, she left many years ago, I’ve forgotten about her, and that’s all I want to do.”

Karen looks at him worriedly, finally seeing the hurt he’s been through appearing on his face. “I’m sorry. It… sucks when your past comes back to bite you. I know I’ve… I’ve had my fair share of that.”

Matt’s heart clenched, frowning sadly. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He whispers, and there was a brief pause before they both recollected themselves. “Well, uh… that covers work.”

She changes her expression to a joyful one like earlier. “Uh, well, it's a start. Um–” She pointed to a corner of the restaurant where the bathroom was. “I’ll be back in just a minute. Order something fantastic.”

“Sure thing.” He says, hearing her leave. Once she does he lets out a sigh, embarrassed how this was going. He thought maybe his struggles would be helped when the waiter suddenly appeared by his side. “Look. If I had to seem like I knew everything there is to know about wines in the next 60 seconds, what would I… what would I order?”

“Matthew Murdock?” The waiter said, sounding all buddy-buddy.

Matt tilts his head in confusion. “Yeah.”

He holds out a phone. “You have a call.”

“Oh.” Matt takes it. “Thanks.” He lifts it to his ear. “This is Murdock.”

‘Sorry to bother you while you're out, but you have a few moments before she returns, right?’

Matt mentally curses as soon as he hears her voice. He clenches the phone, and hiss, “What do you want from me?”

‘You should ask yourself the same question. That rooftop act was cute.’

“Yeah, nothing compared to your damsel-in-distress one.” He grits his teeth as she laughs at his reply.

‘Oh, you’re right. I didn’t actually need you. I told you, maybe I just missed you. But don’t worry, you can keep the money.’

Matt chuckles sarcastically. “Aw.. Go to fucking hell.”

‘If you really want to be done, consider this me firing you.’

And then he was met with the dial tone, supposedly ending this ‘nightmare’ (or maybe it was just starting it). 

“Hey.” Karen’s sweet voice broke through, pulling him away from the memories of his past.

He flashes her a reassuring smile. “Hey.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah… th-they ran out of wine.”

She chuckles at what she thought was a joke. “No.” She frowns when she sees he wasn’t laughing back. “Wait, seriously? Matt–”

“I-I don’t I don’t like this place, you know?”

“Is it the place? Or is it–”

“It’s definitely not you.” He quickly says, truthfully.

“You’re sure?” She said, heart skipping a beat.

“Yeah.” He hears his own heart flutter, getting back into the groove. “I’m positive.”

She bites her lip seductively before taking him by the hand. “Come on. I know where we can go.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Thank you.” Karen said to their new waiter at their new date spot. 

“Wow, this smells amazing.” Matt replies, the curry and other spices hitting his nose blissfully. “What is it?”

“Um…” She laughs at herself, not knowing either. “Who cares? They have wine.”

Matt finds himself grinning ear to ear. “Right. That’s…  You know, I’ve always felt more comfortable with the cheap stuff. You know?”

“Yeah? Well, here, I’ll drink to that.” She holds her glass up waiting for Matt to do the same before clicking.

“Cheap stuff.”

She grins too. “Cheap stuff.” She sets her glass down after a sip, grabbing her fork to dig in. “You know, I never even had Indian food until a few months ago.”

“How is that possible?” Matt asked, surprised.

“Well, my hometown in Vermont had about 400 people, so the most ethnic food it offered was French fries.”

“So that’s why you, uh, came to New York? For the food?”

She shakes her head at his cheekiness. “Uh, no. Although, if I knew places like this existed, I’d have left Vermont ages ago.”

“You see, that’s why I love this city.” He says, hearing her hum to continue. “I’ve lived here my whole life, and the place never stops unfolding new secrets.”

She nods in understanding. “Yeah, you know despite the crime, and the darkness, every once in a while, New York makes me feel…

“Like, safe?”

“Yes, is that weird?”

He shrugs. “Well–

“Huh.”

“I get it.”

Another flutter to her heart as she leans in closer. “I wish you could see this place.”

Matt smiles. “I can, if you describe it to me.”

She hums again, setting her fork down and using her hands to speak. “S-So, anyways, my favorite part… is the ceiling. It’s literally dripping with thousands of lights. They’re shaped like chili peppers–” She holds her hand up before he could protest. “Which sounds really tacky, I know, but it’s um, it’s not. Just… It’s magic.”

“Magic?” 

“Yeah.” They lock eyes again. “Magic.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

After dinner, the two of them took a lovely stroll hand and hand. It seems like this wonderful night would last forever, until they arrived just outside the Page residence.

Karen looks torn as she pulls them both to a stop. “This is me.” She said, before laughing nervously.

“Are you sure you don’t… live two more blocks?” Matt asked, feeling the same way. “Maybe three?”

“I wish.” She shifts her towards him. “We could sit.”

“Yeah.” He guides them down on the steps, and he pulls his shades off, taking this moment in. He chuckles, scooting closer. “All right, I’m gonna kiss ya.”

And she lets him.

They both started off sweetly before turning it up a notch, hands gripping onto each other’s clothing like it was a life line. Maybe in some way… it was.

“You can come up… if you like?” Karen asked in between their kisses.

Matt hums against her lips, smiling. “I’d love to.”

And he kisses her again.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Okay, so how many voicemails did you leave?” Foggy asked his Niece as they walked from the office back to her home. He wasn’t surprised when Karen left earlier in the day to do some research, but he was taken back by how his Niece seemed very repetitive with her moves today.

Looking quite embarrassed, and not even looking at him she said, “...Eight.”

“Eight?” He replies, shocked. “Jesus, Kai. I don’t think I’ve seen you stress something over like this before.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He frowns at how disappointed she sounded. “Kaila–”

“It’s okay, Foggy. I’ll be alright.” She says, as she heads up to her apartment entrance, keys in hand.

“Hey.” He says, getting her to finally turn around to look at him. “Try not to stress over it. I’m sure he’ll come around. And if he doesn’t…” He shrugs. “Fuck him. You’re too good for him anyway.”

Kaila cracks a smile. “Thank you, Uncle Foggy. Goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too, kiddo.”

She unlocks the front door and heads inside, carefully guiding herself to ride the elevator. She sighs after hitting her floor number, a wave of exhaustion hitting her hard.

He’s right. I shouldn’t be stressing over this. And she shouldn’t, but it still hurts to admit that.

I finally found someone that I consider a real friend and he ghosts me. Lucky me…

The elevator dings and opens, and she slowly moves across the hallway to the very end. She fishes around her key ring for the right one–

“Hey, Coffee girl.” A voice erupts behind her, making her nearly jump out of her shoes.

Head whipping around quickly, she blinks upon confusion. “...Jayden?”

The dark haired boy looks nervous, and out of place, but still manages to give her a wave. “Hi.”

“W-What…” She shakes her head, recollecting herself. “What are you doing here?” 

“Uh, I… got your voicemails.” He holds up his phone before putting it back away. “Can we uh… can we talk?”

“Talk…?”

“Yeah. Can we?”

She doesn’t know if this was a dream or not, but if it isn’t, something was telling her to cease this opportunity or else. Finally relaxing her tense body, she replies,

“Sure.”

-Taglist is open if anyone wants to join-

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[unholyhelbig]

I have a request as I see they are open! I enjoyed the last Oversight AU! Could I request a one shot of Kate’s imitation / first meeting with Natasha? And maybe go into the specifics of the Eli situation? I love to see the badass protective side of Natasha!

Title: Dig Your Own Shallow Grave [An Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff (Technically, this is one part of a bigger story)

Summary: Kate Bishop is known as the ex-heiress that was welcomed into Natasha's fold long before you. You learn pieces about her everyday, but never the full story. Not until today.

Warnings(PLEASE READ): physical violence, handcuffs, thunderstorms, threats, mentions of death, mentions of jail, incarceration, cheating, toxic relationship dynamic, gaslighting, emotional manipulation, horrible grammar

[a/n: This one is different! I don't know anything about the Elijah that's portrayed in the MCU, just the Young Avengers Eli and I can't stand the dude.]

Check out the full Oversight universe

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

The large leaden handcuffs seemed like an unnecessary and overzealous precaution to Natasha Romanoff. They rattled as if the young girl was nothing more than a ghost of Christmas past. They were sinched at her waist, both hands balled into fists until her knuckles were a sickly shade of white.

There was red around her eyes, making a charcoal gray hiss into something muddy and sad. There was a flash of confusion and then disgust that fell over her features when she caught a glimpse of herself in the large two-way mirror that stood parallel.

Natasha turned in her seat, made eye contact with the guard. They had a silent understanding. The cameras that were situated at the corners of the room had been shut off- technical difficulties, they would say.

She collapsed into the chair adjacent to Natasha, never taking her eyes away from the only other distraction in the room. The chain connecting her cuffs were bolted to a hook in the table, but her feet were left free. Unless she was an Olympic swimmer, which she wasn’t, that would be no problem.

The guard nodded before he left them in the room and locked the door behind him. The mechanism in the metal door was loud and sighed with age when turned. The light above them swung back and forth within its cage. A circle of yellow enveloped them both.

Her hair was unkempt, nearly feral. They must have kept her separate from the other prisoners but that didn’t ease her tossing and turning under the fluorescent lights. Natasha had been in holding cells, she’d been stripped of her clothes for testing, and her dignity for much less. Something inside of her broke for this girl. This heiress.

“Who are you?”

It was clear that her voice had gone unused for at least a day, maybe more. She shivered and shrunk into herself at the sound of it. Natasha’s features softened ,that break in her soul cracking just a little further. Her file said she was twenty-two, but the girl in front of her was nothing more than a scared child.

“The woman who is getting you out of here.”

“Please don’t talk in riddles,” She moved to press her fingers against her temples. Her hands were pulled back viciously by her binds. “That’s all my mother does. Did. She talks in circles until I’m too confused to find the start.”

“I suppose that’s fair. You’re Eleanors daughter. Katherine?”

“Kate, but yeah. I’m her daughter.”

It was said with so much bitterness. They weren’t being held at the same facility. Kate was in a deep blue shirt made out of something that was less like fabric and more like paper. She wore the pants to match, her clothes being tested for gunpowder residue.

Eleanor was in a large brick jail in an orange jumpsuit. Natasha had considered going to her but found much more interest in her daughter; the one brave enough to stand up against Wilson Fisk and his incredible size. Bishop took King and destroyed a good amount of property in her district in the process. She’d have to pay thousands to get the folded storefront fixed.

“My name is Natasha Romanoff.”

The sentence was simple and conjured fear. She could see the look in Kate’s face. The girl threw her back against the metal chair, and it screeched from the force. “Why are you here?”

“You smashed my window, and a few displays, and I’m pretty sure you set off an explosive.”

“I’ll pay for it.”

“With what, Kate?”

She paled at this. It was apparent that not only had her assets been frozen, but her mother’s as well. They barely had enough to cover legal fees, much less cosmetics that suffered the aftershock of the blow. She sighed and stared at the cold metal table. It was too scratched to show her reflection.

“I didn’t come here to make you feel bad, Kate. Calling law enforcement on your own mother is a ballsy thing to do. It also makes you a snitch. If you get charged, if you get locked up, it’s not something you’ll make it out of.”

“I know that.” She whipped her head up, eyes hard with anger. They softened after just a moment, to something scared. “I know.”

A silence fell over them both, one that Natasha let settle heavily on her chest. Kate was a spitfire, she was a spoiled girl who had a moment of clarity and turned her mother into law enforcement. She was regretting that now, shivering into herself, having to wait until after the holidays until anything could move from the stone it was trapped in.

Natasha had influence with the guards, and with the chief of police in this district. They had an understanding, and she fully intended to walk out of here with Kate Bishop under her wing. Not for free, of course. Natasha was charitable, but even her good deeds stretched so far.

“I’ve already paid your bail and they’re more than happy to release you into my custody.”

She scoffed “Your custody? I’m an adult.”

“You might be an adult, but you’re one without money, without a home, and I’m guessing everyone that’s still alive and free in your life isn’t too keen on taking you in.”

“Fuck you.”

“Okay,” Natasha said in a breath, staring hard at the girl across from her. She looked so washed out under the harsh lights of the room. Despite her anger, her poisonous words, she reminded Natasha of a dog that broke free from her leash and had almost too much freedom to handle.

The woman stood, her chair sliding elegantly compared to the horrid noise that Kate’s had produced. Natasha moved to pull on her coat, covering the deceivingly hard muscles in her arms. Kate had pretended not to stare; but it was fruitless. All she could think about was what those hands had done, what they could do.

Of course, she felt some veil of safety with the cameras being here. Surely, someone would come in and pull Natasha back the second she started to advance on her, if she started to advance. The distance between them was closed and she sat on the edge of the table. Kate pushed herself flat against the back of the chair.

 Natasha didn’t do well with being told ‘no’. She also didn’t do well with expletives directed towards her instead of because of her. Natasha’s slender hand wrapped around the cold chain attached to Kate’s wrists, she pulled forward and Kate’s sore ribs collided with the edge of the table. She let out a dissatisfied grunt.

She grabbed the back of Kate’s head and slammed her cheek against the cold surface with a dull thud. Natasha didn’t’ let up on her weight, instead, she held her in the perfect position to maintain control.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” Natasha knelt down, making eye contact with Kate. She pushed against the hold, but Natasha had the leverage. Kate flexed her fingers, still in chains. “You destroyed my storefront, and while I toyed with the idea of killing you for that alone, you’ve impressed me.”

“I’ve impressed you?”

Her words were smushed, drool pooling from her lips. It was almost comical, but Natasha pushed harder on the back of her neck, making her cry out. “I’m talking. When I’m talking, you’re not.”

She was met with silence and figured that was as good as she was going to get with this one. Her spit-fire reminded her a bit of Clint when he was younger. It made Natasha gravitate towards him, but this girl had a lot more to learn than her closest friend.

“You’re a spoiled little brat who crumbled one of the oldest clocktowers in the city. The habit didn’t’ seem to improve when your mother cut off your credit cards and that’s a dangerous thing. Getting the shit kicked out of you in jail might serve you well. So, by all means, you can try your luck, or you can follow me out of here so I can correct your behavior.”

Kate swallowed hard, but she didn’t’ say anything. Natasha’s first lesson seemed to be sinking in. After a few moments, she released the girl who sprang up like a jack in the box. She was giving Natasha the same look that she was used to, one of absolute fear. Her face was red and when she moved to wipe her chin of drool, she was stopped once again by her chains.

Natasha took pity on her, for just a moment, and used her thumb to ebb away the line of spit. Kate knew better than to pull back, instead she looked up at Natasha like a kicked puppy, making a small noise in the back of her throat.

“Anyone who stands up to Wilson Fisk is too valuable to kill for some property damage. But let me be clear, Kate, this is not a get-out of jail free card. You work for me. You belong to me. And we’re going to fix that attitude of yours.”

He had moved to the city during Kate’s senior year and wasn’t much for talking. Eli Bradley was as mysterious as they came. He was lanky and had deep brown eyes that were so dark they were nearly black in color. Eli wore a gold hoop in one ear, and while Kate would usually find something like that off-putting, it worked on Eli.

She played cello in the orchestra, first chair with pride, and he was modest with a viola. She made a point to make eye contact with him at least once a day, and eventually he started to return her small smiles. She thought the subtle way his lip quirked up at the corner was nothing but endearing.

In early October of that year, when the air was still crisp but not exactly cold, Kate had sat in the courtyard until the sun threatened to dip behind the horizon. She was avoiding going home to get ready for a party her mother was hosting and had worked it out so she could take the last bus uptown.

“Isn’t it a little dangerous for a pretty girl like you to be out here all alone? It’s getting dark.”

Kate frowned, but quickly retracted the expression when she made out the form of Eli Bradley and the silhouette of his viola case. It hung at his side like a briefcase filled with important papers. Instead, she hiked herself forward and leaned her elbows against her knees. He’d never spoken to her before.

“I’m a 9th degree red belt in Jiu Jitsu, and I have pepper spray. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Impressive,” Eli grinned “I guess it would be pointless to walk you home then, Kate Bishop.”

“I think I can make an exception, Eli Bradley.”

Kate did find herself making exceptions for Eli Bradley over the next few months. She would let him order for her, even if she didn’t find the dish he chose at all appetizing. She had to gently remind him that she was, in fact, allergic to shellfish and if she ate the pasta he insisted on she’d need an epi-pen.

He made up for it by being a gentleman and opening the car door for her when they pulled up to said restaurant.

Kate stepped behind Eli one winter evening when it was the type of dark outside that breeds bad behavior. A woman in a hoodie stepped out from an alleyway, twitching and with a wild look in her eyes. Kate could have easily disarmed her, could have gotten her someplace warm. Eli had delivered a hit to the stomach and pulled Kate along. It was a blur. But she’d never felt fear- just regret.

He made up for it by holding her tight that night, his warmth and sturdiness eventually lulled her to sleep and convinced her that maybe she could live with herself. Maybe she could live with Eli.

Clint Barton glowered at her over his bowl of cereal. Natasha didn’t know if it was some sort of interrogation technique, but it even made her uncomfortable. It was much too early in the morning and Kate’s wrists were still an ugly purple from how tight her cuffs had been. Natasha may have pulled a bit too hard, aggravating the already raw area.

“Your cheerios are going to get soggy,” Yelena entered the kitchen in a pair of plaid pajama bottoms, scratching the exposed skin of her stomach with a stifled yawn. She stopped for just a moment to regard Kate, who sat up with a rim-rod quickness. “You always dump them down the sink and it makes the drain smell.”

Clint looked towards Natasha for help. She shrugged, adjusting the reading glasses on the bridge of her nose. She had pulled the paper in this morning and was very careful to remove the front page story of Kate’s mother and her set trial date. She may be cruel in some aspects, but psychological torture was Yelena’s department.

“Who is this?” Yelena asked, voice muffled by the chill of the refrigerator.

“This is Kate. She’ll be here for a while, and if she behaves well enough, she’ll be here longer than that. I expect both of you to regard her well and teach her everything you know.” Natasha took a sip of her steaming black coffee. “Hand to hand combat should not be an issue, isn’t that right, Kate?”

Kate waited a moment, remembering the sting of the table against her cheek. Natasha had asked her a question so it was okay to answer, right? It must be. She had a tendency to not stop talking once she started but it was clear from the prying eyes in the room that she was expected to reply.

“Yes,” She found her voice easier than she had in the jail. “I’m advanced in Jiu Jitsu, hand-to-hand combat, fencing, sword fighting, archery, kick-boxing. Once I used a set of staves from this really nice woman named Bobbi…”

She trailed off when she realized Clint had stopped fishing for the last cheerio and Yelena had cracked open a bottle of juice like she was snapping the neck of a small animal. Her cheeks turned a bright pink, and she averted her gaze.

Natasha smiled softly and took another long sip of her drink. The blonde woman, the one with the chiseled jaw and the striking green eyes, let out a hum. Her stare raked up and down Kate’s form, even while she was shrinking into herself.

“I will train her.”

“That’s not an option, Yel. I want to utilize her, not kill her.”

Kate’s head shot up at the word. She caught Clint’s stare, and he gave her a dejected shrug before pushing the little life-raft of a cheerio under the milk once more. He had no interest in eating it, just drowning it.

Yelena was smiling wolfishly, lilting her head to the side like it was the most innocent thing in the world. “Kill her? Sister, I would never. She’s clearly an asset. If you let Clint train her then she’ll be regressing.”

Kate watched the tension bounce back and forth between the two like a sadistic game of ping-pong. Yelena had just hit the little orange ball with enough force and trajectory to burn a hole directly through Natasha’s paddle.

She’d never dream of pushing Natasha in the slightest, much-less the way that Yelena did right now. Her body language was relaxed and quiet. The two of them stared at each other, and the newspaper was folded, discarded in favor of the stand-off.

“I will not kill her,” Yelena reassured, yet somehow, Kate hadn’t been assured the first time, nor the second time. “Give me a chance.”

Susan Bishop had a harder stare than Eleanor. She had inherited it from her, Kate was sure, but knew how to work it like a double-edged blade. Rarely would she look at Kate. Even rarer so was the two of them being in the same place for more than six minutes at a time.

Kate had her eyes downcast, pretending to read the same paragraph of the same book over and over again. Once she felt the sharp stare of her older sister on the side of her face, it shown brighter than the sun above them.

She’d been stretched out on a poolside chair, just enjoying the pungent scent of chlorine and the occasional low hum of a car passing their large home. It was too chilly for her to actually swim, but she had a fuchsia bathing suit under her long-sleeve shirt and jeans nonetheless.

Susan had settled into the seat next to her and let out a deep sigh as she typed quickly on her cellphone. Kate had cast her a sidelong glance, but quickly pretended to lose interest. They were going back and forth like this for a long, pregnant moment.

Eventually, Susan sighed and softly closed the book in Kate’s hand, not regarding the page that she was on. Kate didn’t mind much. Her older sister never did anything softly. Kate’s heart thrummed in her chest when their eyes met.

“Hi?” Kate cautioned.

“Hi. We need to talk.”

“What do you want?” There wasn’t anything Kate had that Susan didn’t. Hell- she could ask Eleanor for anything and would instantly get it. There were no rules for the eldest, responsible, child. All of that strangling focus was on Kate.

“I don’t want anything. I just want to talk. Sister to sister.”

“Right… sister to sister.”

“You need to break up with Eli.”

The statement through Kate back. It was like Susan had kicked her directly in the diaphragm. The oxygen in her lungs deflated and she stared at her sister in disbelief. Then in startled rage. What did right did Susan have to meddle in her relationship like this?

Kate wanted to tell her just that, but nothing came out except for the last squeeze of air that could be interpreted as a noise of discontent, but Susan never was good at reading signals and Kate needed a fleeting second to catch her train of thought after it had been so violently derailed.

“I get the appeal of the student athlete, I’ve had plenty of them myself, but Eli is not the man for you. You can do better.”

“Seriously? Is this mom speaking or you?”

“This is all me, sweetie.” She didn’t’ say it in a condescending way. In fact- Susan actually reached out and gently touched Kate’s bare arm. She tensed under her, but the hand wasn’t removed. Not even when dark grey eyes looked at her incredulously. “I don’t like the way he changes you.”

“Changes me? You think Eli changes me?”

“I think he makes you shrink and Bishop women are never meant to shrink.”

“That’s all mom has ever done.” Kate bit back venomously.

“Wrong. Mother has full control over Father, she just makes him think that he doesn’t. She’s the decision maker and if she has to keep a hand on his shoulder to do that, then so be it. The world listens to men, and looks at women. It’s how society is. But Eli? He’s binding your hands, not taking them.”

Kate shoved Susan’s hand from her arm and placed both feet on the ground. She didn’t have to listen to this… this practical stranger. Susan didn’t’ know what she was talking about, and neither did Eleanor. They were both ignorant to the way she felt about Eli and the way Eli felt about her. He wanted to the best for her.

Sometimes- she just had to remind him that she was allergic to shellfish.

“Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine.” She gritted before standing. She disregarded her book, not that interested anyway, and began walking to the patio doors. Tears had started to sting her eyes. First out of sadness, and then maybe a mix of malice.

“He’s cheating on you.”

Susan said it so softly that could pretend she hadn’t heard it. The water filter for the pool was loud enough to drown out the statement. But she’d stopped with one foot on the bottom step of the patio and the other planted firmly on solid cement. Her nails dug stinging half-crescents into palm.

“You’re wrong.”

“Ask him.”

“I won’t,” She turned, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “Because I trust Eli. Maybe you could grant the same to me.”

Her childhood home held onto the darkness like a vice. A place that was once so maintained and bright was past falling into lawn decay. The pristine shrubbery had springing curls of foliage and the grass hadn’t been painted like her father insisted upon each year.

The structure stood strong, only a few months and some change abandoned. A small strip of tape on the mahogany door was the only indication that this had been an active crime scene at one point. The FBI had taped an order against it before they shattered the wood with a battering ram and raided the home.

Kate hadn’t been back since. She’d been living out of her Aunt Mira’s apartment and wearing her eccentric clothing. But the elder woman would be back soon and eventually she would need to get her own belongings back. If she didn’t, then squatters would when they realized just how vacant the home really was.

Yelena let out a low whistle as she peered up at the home, as if they didn’t live in one with the same amount of wealth. Even the tone she produced sent shivers down Kate’s spine. It had been four months since that day in the precinct.

Each day was spent from dawn to dusk in Yelena’s presence, and it never became easier for Kate. She was a bumbling and incompetent mess around the woman but had grown some kind of comfort in her presence. Kate no longer believed she was in danger at her hand specifically.

That didn’t’ mean that her body didn’t ache from the constant hell that Yelena had been putting her through to put her in ‘the peak performance state- Kate Bishop’. Yelena only said her first name and barked it at her if her pace lessened on one of their multiple-mile runs, or grueling weight training sessions.

Kate didn’t want to admit that she was entranced by the tone of Yelena’s muscles. She chalked it up to admiration, because that’s all it was. Admiration. And a bit of resentment. But Kate’s chest puffed out proudly when she noticed the way her own body began to change under Yelena’s tutelage. Enough that she was ready to go back to her old home for some closure, for some clothes.

Natasha shoved her keys into her pocket and fell in line on Kate’s right side. She peered up at the expertly crafted wood. It had begun to chip. Kate thought that was ironic; it had always been so pristine, but the more she thought about it, she’d often duck under a ladder to step into the foyer.

Bad luck all around, and a simple patch job that would crumble if not properly cared for.

“We can just buy you new clothes,” Natasha urged in that flittingly careful way that made Kate know she really did give a damn, but not if you asked. “You don’t have to go in there.”

“And add to the debt I already owe you for busting me out of jail?”

“I think she has to do this.” Yelena said firmly.

She was right. Kate had to do this. She was always handed everything in life so easily and it made her reckless, but far from undisciplined. It just took Natasha slamming her face against the cold metal of an unclean table for her to get some sense knocked back into her.

Kate had called the police on her mother. She’d done it after the knowledge of crimes committed festered and grew in her mind. It bred resentment in her mind until she came face to face with the fact that she wasn’t putting her mom away, she was putting a monster away.

Stepping through these doors would humanize her and it would cut Kate deep enough to draw blood. But then, she felt Yelena’s fingers on the small of her back. A light touch that was telling Kate that she wasn’t as alone as she thought she was.

The door let out a whine of protest when she pushed it open. They were met with a stale scent and a soft glow that ruminated from what Kate knew best as the living area. There was a grand piano that was mostly untouched, and large oak bookshelves that had multiple editions of old encyclopedias bound in leather.

She and Susan used to flip through them and try to pronounce the words by phonic spelling. They’d trace their little fingers over the inked illustrations and giggle if they had found something even remotely obscene. She remembers the word ‘Dam’ making them laugh until they couldn’t breathe.

Natasha’s hand darted out and pressed against Kate’s mid-section. Her other one grabbed the gun from the back of her pants. She shot the girl a sideways glance. “You left that on?” she mouthed.

Kate shook her head, her fingers itching for her own weapon. She didn’t have one. While Kate was an expert at professional archery and her aim wasn’t in question by anyone in the room- her familiarity with handguns with the serial number scratched off was minute. Yelena had pulled her own weapon, jaw firm.

Maybe squatters had broken in, and if they had, she’d gladly allow them to have the place. She just needed to stuff a duffel bag full of items and the small sentimental necklace she had gotten from her father as a child, and then she would be on her merry way.

Natasha stepped around the corner and raised her gun, screaming something that was drowned out by the startled yells of another. Kate recognized that yell, that rasp. She frowned, letting the tension in her shoulders drop before she got a good look at the living room herself.

It was incredibly lived in and lit by a single lamp that had it’s shade discarded. It was blinding and left spots in her eyes, but not enough to disregard the box of white sticky rice that had spilled all over the floor like maggots.

There was a makeshift bed on the couch and a few of those encyclopedias strewn about as if they were bedtime reading. In the center of it all; Eli Bradley with his hands up and a fork between his lips. His mouth dropped open and it fell to the floor with a dull thud.

He was shirtless, in a pair of boxers that Kate was pretty sure was her fathers. She was thankful she hadn’t eaten before this because the simple fact was enough to make her gag.

“Elijah?” She exclaimed.

“You know this guy?” Yelena asked, voice tight. She lowered her weapon, but Natasha kept hers in the same position it was before, trained right at his genitals and ready to shoot at a moments notice.

Kate wished with her entire body that she didn’t. His boxers held his athletic thighs, his deep brown eyes flashing to the guns aimed at him. Yelena was never a patient woman but somehow, in this moment, Kate knew deep down that she would be patient here. Her mouth was dry and her throat like sandpaper. It was incredibly hard to swallow.

“I’m her boyfriend.” Eli sounded out, his fingers twitching “I have a key.”

Yelena looked at Kate with pleading eyes, to which she received a nod in return. Kate supposed she hadn’t officially broken up with the man in front of her. The aimed weapons were lowered to the floor, but Natasha kept her hold. One false move and she wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet through his bare foot.

“Yel, idi soberi yey sumku.”

Kate didn’t understand a lick of Russian, but she knew that Natasha’s tone was not to be questioned. Yelena holstered her weapon and slinked up the stairs. She’d be able to guess which room was Kate’s. The trophies and medals and photos tacked up to bulletin boards. It was the only room Kate was allowed to personalize, and even then, it was meant to be spotless.

Natasha must have caught onto the tension in Kate’s stance. She shoved her hands into her pockets, shoulders hunched and eyes submissive. It wasn’t something she wanted to see in her young trainee.

It wasn’t at all the woman that sat across from her in an interrogation room. Not even with her face her neck in Natasha’s grip. Something was wrong, and it was something stronger than Kate being back in her childhood home. That warranted sadness. But compliance? Absolutely not.

“Katie, baby. Who is this?” Eli asked. “Come on, you can tell me.”

When Kate opened her mouth to speak, Natasha held up a hand, instantly silencing her. The woman lilted her head to the side, unripe eyes taking in the scene in front of her; the discarded take-out containers, the balled-up socks in the corner of the room. The rain that had begun to pound against the roof and slather itself across windowpanes.

Natasha’s voice came out as a snarl “I’d love to introduce myself, but first, could you ask your little friend to come out from behind the curtains?”

Kate’s stare hardened and she whipped her head up accusingly. Still, she didn’t say a word. The wine-red Versailles fabric shifted; the view blocked by the grand piano but not enough for Natasha to ignore. Kate’s mother had spent hours looking over Swatches that would fit the room, and eventually chose the option that brought the room into a gothic elegance.

Kate didn’t need to wait to know who it was. Cassie Lang. Best friend, confidant, and exactly who Kate caught in bed with Elijah weeks before. But this was different. This was her home. It had already been violated by law enforcement. Torn apart just for two of her friends, people she trusted and loved, to take advantage of its vacancy.

“That’s better,” Natasha purred. Cassie was shaking because of the cold, wearing only a silk robe that belonged to Kate’s sister. “Now, let’s all have a chat.”

 “Kate, Katie, it’s not what it looks like. Just… tell your friends to leave and I’ll explain everything.”

Eli attempted to step towards her, hands no longer raised in caution but reaching towards Kate. Natasha felt a surge of anger lick against her skin. She stepped between them, splaying her hand out on his chest before shoving him recklessly onto the center of the couch.

He sprung back onto his feet, voice dripping in venom “Back off lady! I’m trying to talk to my girlfriend here!”

Natasha let out a sigh and crossed her arms over her chest before turning her gaze to Kate. Something about this situation was juvenile, but so important. Though she only had the girl under her care for a few weeks now, she felt nothing but warmth towards her.

She’d mislabeled her as a rich, undisciplined trust fund baby. Natasha didn’t’ often admit her mistakes but that had been one that weighed heavily on her. Sure, Katherine Bishop had a bit of an incorrigible sass to her, but it wasn’t unwarranted. Her boasting was backed up by actions true to her words. Strong, determined, actions.

Natasha hated how she was shrinking. Hated how this man had chipped away at her until she was hugging her mid-section to stop the thrumming pain of betrayal. She couldn’t’ find the words, they were lodged in her throat. There was the strong suspicion that if she hadn’t sent Yelena away, they’d be scrubbing blood from an imported carpet.

Something tole Natasha that Kate never got a choice in this relationship, and she wasn’t about to continue the toxic pattern that had led to her demure state.

 “Ketrin,” Natasha’s voice was soaked with her native tongue “Would you like me to take care of this?”

She opened her mouth and then closed it again, almost like a fish. Words escaped her. Natasha’s soft exhale brought her back to the room. Everything was fuzzy around the edges and reminded her of the first time she had pushed herself too hard in competition. She never lost consciousness but came close to it.

Yelena had successfully pilfered a duffel bag, having removed the sabers that resided there and filled it with whatever clothes she could find. Kate felt her stomach flip at the naive idea that the Russian woman had gone through her underwear drawer.

She flicked her eyes back to Eli, his chest heaving up and down as he eyed the gun still in Natasha’s grasp. Cassie was still like a statue, rubbing her palms on the silk fabric of her robe. She had the decency to look guilty.

“Take care of it.”

The words were barely more than a hurt whisper. She didn’t trust herself right now, not with the sharp pain that coursed through her veins. Tears had stung her eyes in the back of the detective’s car, but she didn’t know if that was on account of Eli or Eleanor.

Kate silently excused herself as the silence that settled over the room became thicker, palpable. Yelena’s deep stare was on Kate in a way that made her squirm. But she remained at the head of the stairs, even stepping to the side when Kate began to trek to a room that had already been rifled through. There was an unspoken agreement. Natasha would take care of it.

 “What’s your name?” she asked, directing the question towards the girl.

“Cassie.” Elijah answered.

Natasha held her hand up to him again, fingers barely ghosting his shoulder. He shivered at the near touch but snapped his mouth shut. “I wasn’t asking you. I was asking her. Sweetie?”

“It’s Cassie… Cassie Lang.”

“Okay, Cassie.” She kept her voice soft, cajoling. “I want you to go home and get some rest. And under no circumstance are you going to call law enforcement. I’ll be informed immediately if you do so. Do you understand?”

She nodded frantically, keeping her head down as she moved to smooth past Natasha. The woman grabbed her sleeve, holding her in place for just a moment. She was so close she could smell the sex on her, see the sweat against her brow and the fear in her stare.

“Sweetheart. I suggest you learn to keep better company.”

Cassie let out a squeak that almost bled into a whine before taking advantage of Natasha’s loose hold. She darted with a quickness unseen, the door slamming behind her, the roar of the rain hissing to a muffled stop.

“And you?”

“What about me?” Elijah asked in a nauseatingly confident way.  

Natasha let out a long sigh and studied him. Everything from the way he stood to the faux dog tags that hung against his chest bled fury. This was exactly the type of man that would attract someone like Kate with a level of badger-like charm before clamping his jaw down on her throat.

Thankfully, Kate’s mother had fantastic taste in artwork. A bronze Clyde Ball piece lingered by the entryway. While he was known for his extensive statue work and abstract designs, Natasha liked that he used a heavier metal, one with a base that was easily grasped.

With a sly swing of the hand she connected the corner of the object with Eli’s temple. A flash of blood instantly stained his skin and splayed against the floor when he collapsed. Natasha dropped the artwork next to him. She let out a hum, figuring that a Clyde Ball may be worth purchasing after all.  

His truck had kicked up a rut in the normally spotless lawn. Eli had barely missed the mailbox with his erratic driving- which was bold considering the amount of unmarked and marked police vehicles that encircled Kate’s property.

Kate was sitting on the front steps, the concrete cold and unwelcome against the small of her back. They’d handcuffed her and her fingers were numb. Still, she flexed them when the commotion caught her attention. They didn’t’ bother with police tape, but a man in a wrinkled suit stopped Eli.

It took her a few long moments to realize that Cassie was in the passenger seat of the truck. She made eye contact with Kate, a look of sorrow forcing her to glance away. She was wearing Eli’s lettered jacket and naively, Kate convinced herself for a fleeting moment it had something to do with the busted heating vents in the old vehicle.

She knew better.

She’d smelled Eli’s specific spicy brand of cologne and deodorant on Cassie the last time they embraced. His lips tasted of the bubblegum ChapStick that Cassie had worn everyday since the six grade when Kate landed on her during a game of spin the bottle. Admittedly, she felt more during that kiss than anything she’d ever shared with Eli.

Kate adjusted her shoulder against the hold of the cuffs. They were uncomfortable, digging into her wrists. Even if she wanted to break out of them, she couldn’t. She was a nervous fidgeter and Elijah was using some degree of charm to weasel his way past the officer blocking him. Just as he’d weaseled his way into Cassie’s pants.

“Oh my god, Katie.” He rushed out when he got to her, kneeling down on the damp sidewalk. It was unnaturally cold and they hadn’t let Kate pull on a jacket over the tank top she wore for her morning run. His hands ran down her thighs and squeezed her knees. “Fuck, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Kate’s stare brushed past Elijah blankly and to the fogging up window of his truck. If Cassie hadn’t already been wearing his jacket, she was sure he’d offer it to her, an offer she would vehemently deny. All of his charm, his commanding power, had been washed away with her mothers as she ducked her head and settled into the back of a squad car. One that probably had heat.

“Jesus, I heard that this place was swarming with cops. What did you do?”

“What did you?”

“I don’t… Katie, babe, come on.” He glanced back at the car and when he turned to face Kate once more, their eyes locked. He didn’t’ need to say anything and neither did she. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Kate felt the warmth of Detective Brigid O’Reilly behind her. She wasn’t a stranger to Kate, but she acted like one when she tightened the cuffs around her wrists. Temporary informant or not, Kate was still a Bishop and they weren’t trusted in this town.

“Miss Bishop. It’s time to go.”

Her forearm was gripped and she was pulled to her feet with a grunt. Her legs were numb, needles rushing through them. Part of her was grateful for being dragged away. The other part was terrified, sad, hurt and angry. They’d all betrayed her.

“Where are you taking her?”

“Fifteenth precinct. Don’t waste your breath, kid. She’ll be indisposed for a few hours. Take your little girlfriend home.”

He winced at the detective’s words and averted his stare to the ground. Kate let herself get let to the unmarked Lincoln town car. At least she’d save the humiliation as the whole lights and sirens routine.  

Most of the time, they didn’t wake up screaming, but Elijah did. His senses were overwhelmed, and his body instantly registered the cold and the slickness of muck beneath him. Even over the brutal beating of falling rain, he could hear the cars that swept past on the highway.

His head was pounding, and the headlights of vehicles passing over the highpoint of evergreens only served as something more disorienting. It was only when a crack of lightening flashed across the sky did he notice the woman standing over him, a shovel slung over her shoulder.

So, he screamed, and he swore she smiled at the sound.

He turned over on his stomach and coughed into the mud, his toes not finding purchase in the mud. Natasha’s boot came down on the center of his back and he found himself sprawling, tasting a mix of metal and dirt. He realized that he underestimated the situation Kate had gotten herself into.

“Good morning, Elijah.” She crowed, dropping the shovel next to his face, barely missing his brow. He flinched and shrunk into himself. “I have a job for you.”

She used the tip of her shoe to flip him over onto his back. The falling rain that had gotten through the pine needles above him hit his face in a cooling effect. He saw another set of headlights, eyes darting towards the road. Maybe if he yelled loud enough, all of this would be over.

“I need you to dig a hole.”

“What?” He panted out, his breath leaking out in puffs of condensation. “a hole?”

“Mm, glad I didn’t rupture an eardrum. It needs to be a big hole. How tall are you?”

“I don’t… What?”

Natasha knelt next to him, a sadistic smile falling from her lips. Instead, it was replaced with something darker. Almost as if a flip was switched. Her deep red hair was adhered to her forehead from the rain, her jaw clenched and unclenched.

“I don’t know you, Elijah. But, I know Kate and that girl has been through hell and back. She’s guarded and hides behind her humor to deflect the pain that she’s experiencing. And to me… it seems like you’re a big catalyst here.”

His breathing had become shuddered. Natasha grabbed the shovel before standing and delivering a swift kick to his side. His ribs instantly ached and a cry escaped him. She wanted him to right himself and to safe another deadly spark of pain, he complied.

She had, in fact, started a small divot where she expected him to dig. Tears were running down his face, small sobs muffled by his determination to put on a front. She didn’t’ find any admiration in his sniveling. Instead, she let him scoop out three frothy loads of dirt before she continued, circling like a lion.

His hands had started to bleed.

“She believed in you enough to trust you and you turn around and fuck her best friend?” Natasha got close, yelled over the rain. He stuttered in his movements, clenched his eyes shut. “Don’t stop digging! Was she not enough for you?”

Elijah stuck the tip of the shovel back into the soup of rainwater and mud. It was a black slush at this point, something he could drown in if he laid facedown for long enough. “She was… she was.”

“Then why did you do it, huh? You took everything she was and whittled her down to nothing before discarding her for someone else you could break. Is that it? Did that make you feel more like a man?”

He didn’t’ respond, instead, moving another round of slop to the side of a hole that was starting to look more and more like a grave. He was up to his knees in cold, unforgiving water. His toes flexed in the icy earth.

“Answer me!” She yelled with enough anger to split earth. However, Natasha didn’t give him the chance. She dug her nails into the back of his neck and shoved him forward into the muck. He could taste dirt, words bubbling.

Elijah groaned and brought himself to his knees. His ears were ringing, his heart pounding in his throat. He was crying loudly now, sitting back on his heels. Natasha was above him, standing on the edge of the grave he had just dug. Headlights flashed over her cold stare.

“If you’re feeling helpless, Elijah, so was she. Kate needed you, and you weren’t there for her. She was suffocating, and everyone could see it, but you kept her just out of reach, didn’t you?”

“Yes! Yes,” He groaned out, digging his fingers into the soft earth. “Fuck, yes. I hurt her, I know that.”

“Lay down.”

“What?” His voice broke.

“You’re going to lay here until morning.” She knelt down “You’re not going to move a muscle.”

“I’ll drown,”

“You might.” She growled, taking account of the heaviness of the rain, the way the tires of passing vehicles sloshed around in the collected puddles. “But at least you’d understand how Kate felt.”

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[theetherealbloom]

NOTRE DAME - CH. 8

Chapter 8: We’re Nothing But Myths Now That Neither Of Us Believe In

Summary: In the rafters of Clinton Church, a mysterious reader with magic and the power of illusion manipulation silently watches over Matt Murdock, the blind vigilante known as Daredevil. As danger engulfs Hell's Kitchen, their unlikely friendship blossoms into a bond of trust and longing, intertwining their fates in a battle against darkness that tests their resolve. Will their connection illuminate a path to salvation in a city of darkness or lead them deeper into the abyss?

Paring: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt to Comfort, ANGST, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, Religion, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Anxiety, PSTD, Nightmares, Catholic Guilt, Amnesia, Violence, Blood, Dark Undertones, Eventual SMUT, Shy Reader, Mentions of Abuse, Criminal Activities, Mobsters/Mafia, Character Death, Slowish Burn (I lied it’s a SLOW BURN), Disassociation, Magic, Superpowers, Insecurities, Guns, Bullets,

Word Count: 7.3k

A/N: WELCOME TO S2!!! I TOOK A LONG ASS BREAK FROM THIS STORY IM SORRY!! At some point, I got stuck and was so scared to keep writing… ANYWAYS “Started making it… had a breakdown… Bon Appetit. 🙂”

Song: Hurt by Sleeping At Last

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A FEW MONTHS LATER…

KAMAR-TAJ, NEPAL — SUNSET

"Again."

Your frustration boiled over as you let your hands fall to your sides, the faint shimmer of your magic fading into the morning air. With a heavy sigh, you cast an irritated glance skyward, then towards Ancient One's patient gaze meeting yours.

"Again," she repeated, her tone unwavering.

Months had passed since the apprehension of Wilson Fisk, yet your progress in mastering the art of teleportation remained agonizingly slow.

"What if I just throw myself off the temple?" you quipped, a trace of exasperation in your voice.

"Perhaps you should. Sometimes, the greatest lessons come from unexpected places," came the Ancient One's cryptic response.

You groaned audibly, clearly expressing how frustrated you were. "This is hopeless. We’ve been at this for months, and I can barely teleport across the courtyard."

"You need to focus. It's a miracle you didn't end up scattered across the multiverse on your first attempt at teleportation without a sling ring," the Ancient One remarked, her voice tinged with a blend of patience and admonishment.

Your eyes closed in frustration, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as you hung your head, shoulders weighed down by the burden of your struggles. Sensing your inner turmoil, the Ancient One regarded you with a penetrating gaze.

"Is this about Matthew?" she inquired, her tone gentle yet probing.

Your arms folded defensively across your chest, you shot her a guarded look. "I do not want to discuss my personal life with you," you retorted.

Undeterred, the Ancient One raised an eyebrow, prompting you to relent. With a resigned grimace, you approached and seated yourself beside her on the steps of the temple courtyard.

"I haven't told him yet," you admitted, the pressure of your unspoken truth evident in your troubled expression.

"And I'm terrified of what comes next. I have a feeling that our encounter with Fisk was merely the beginning of something far greater than any of us," you confessed, anxiety lacing your words.

The Ancient One regarded you with a pitying expression, her gaze fixed upon you as she spoke, her voice carrying an otherworldly resonance. "Prophet girl, anointed by the One Above All," she began, her words imbued with a sense of ancient wisdom. "Do you hear the gods muttering their faint starlight words? Destined daughter, muttering insanities no one believes,” she continued, her tone tinged with sorrow. "Do you regret taking the vow?" Your jaw clicked with tension, but you remained silent, unable to muster a response. As the Ancient One turned to leave, her form blending seamlessly with the shifting rays of the setting sun, you were left alone with your thoughts. The golden hues of twilight painted the landscape, casting long shadows across the temple courtyard as the day drew to a close.

A WEEK LATER…

2624 BROADWAY, NEW YORK — EVENING

The golden portal sealed shut with a soft hum as you trudged through the alleyway, the cool air of the night enveloping you. Casting a cautious glance around, you found the dimly lit alley deserted except for a stray cat rummaging through a nearby dumpster.

Though you could have requested to be sent back to the church, you opted for a solitary stroll to clear your head, despite the lingering soreness in your muscles. With a resigned sigh, you rolled your shoulders back and stepped onto the bustling streets, seamlessly blending into the flow of pedestrians.

The silence was broken abruptly by the cracking sound of gunfire coming from behind you and a terrified cry from a lady. Whipping around, your senses heightened as you spotted a group of armed robbers clad in ski masks, each clutching a silver briefcase tightly in one hand and brandishing a gun in the other. Reacting instinctively, you extended your arm, swiftly maneuvering bystanders out of harm's way as the robbers barrelled past.

Moments later, the urgent wail of police sirens pierced the air, signaling the arrival of law enforcement. Two officers darted into view, hot on the heels of the fleeing robbers. Yet, before they could apprehend the criminals, a sudden gunshot rang out, causing one of the officers to stagger and fall to the ground.

Amid the chaos, you swiftly directed one of the bystanders, your voice firm and authoritative, as you dashed past them in pursuit of the fleeing robbers. "Call 911! And apply pressure on that wound!" you instructed urgently, your words punctuated by the urgency of the situation.

Navigating through the bustling streets with purposeful strides, you veered into a nearby alley, utilizing it as a shortcut. With a deft flick of your hand, you manipulated the fabric of your clothes, transforming them into a cloak that billowed around you as you emerged from the shadows. Spotting a police officer kneeling on the ground, vulnerable to the imminent threat posed by the robber's gun, you felt a surge of energy course through you.

With swift precision, you seized the assailant from the shadows, pulling him into the confines of the alleyway. The dim light cast eerie shadows across your features as you unleashed a flurry of strikes, each blow calculated and purposeful, momentarily subduing the robber.

However, your solitary vigilante act was short-lived, as the distinctive presence of Daredevil materialized beside you, his imposing figure radiating an aura of determination. With a fluid motion, he intervened, swiftly incapacitating the assailant with a decisive blow before turning his attention to the pursuit of the remaining robbers.

"I was wondering when you would show up," you remarked, your voice tinged with the subtle distortion of your powers. Daredevil's lips curled into a smirk, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he regarded you.

"Missed me, angel?" he teased, his voice laced with a playful undertone.

Tilting your head slightly, you lowered your hood, revealing a fraction more of your face as you shrugged nonchalantly. "And if I did?" you countered, your tone laced with a hint of shyness.

His lips curled into a charming smile, a glint of mischief in his tone. "Then I'd have to kiss you," he quipped, his tone playful yet suggestive.

You responded with a playful roll of your eyes, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. With a light bump of your hip against his, you teased, "Let's deal with these guys first, and then we can discuss dinner plans."

You and Daredevil dashed into the bustling kitchen of a Chinese restaurant, slipping through the backdoor with practiced ease. In perfect synchrony, you swiftly engaged the assailants, each movement calculated and precise. With a surge of power, you ignited your hands, the iridescent glow casting an ethereal light as you delivered a series of decisive blows, swiftly incapacitating your opponent and leaving them to the restaurant staff as they began to gang up on him.

You and Matt burst back onto the chaotic streets, a whirlwind of action and determination. Matt swiftly dealt with one of the robbers with a decisive blow, rendering him unconscious as you raced past. You spotted the final assailant, his grip tight around the arm of a woman conversing with her friends outside a building. Without hesitation, he dragged her hostage, disappearing into a nearby church.

You cast a glance at Matt, his breath heavy as he stands at your side, his red suit a stark contrast against the dimly lit alleyway. With his billy clubs gripped firmly in hand, he appears every bit the vigilante defender Hell's Kitchen has come to rely on. As you peer ahead at the imposing doors of the church, doubts gnaw at your resolve. How much longer could you maintain the facade? The fear of his disappointment weighs heavily on your mind, threatening to unravel the fragile balance between truth and secrecy.

You push aside the gnawing fear, burying it deep within as you trail behind the Devil's imposing figure into the solemn sanctuary of the church. With a swift strike, he shatters the light, the echo of glass breaking resonating through the sacred space. Gunshots ring out, a chaotic symphony of danger, as the robber unleashes a barrage of bullets, blindly firing into the darkness. But in the middle of all the turmoil, the flickering lights created an ethereal glow that highlighted the two of you standing guard at the door, your silhouettes a sharp contrast to the darkness.

Two shots pierce the air, but you and Matt evade them effortlessly, a dance of survival in the dimly lit church. With practiced precision, he swiftly disarms the robber, while you, with a gentle touch, render him unconscious, the power coursing through your fingertips quelling the threat. As the assailant falls, you offer a comforting squeeze to the girl's shoulder, a silent reassurance amidst the chaos. With a shared nod, you and Matt ascend to the rooftop, vanishing into the cover of night as the wails of police sirens herald their arrival.

PARK AVE & E 118TH ST, NEW YORK — DAY

"You ever wake up in the morning…" Foggy begins with a heavy sigh, his tone laden with fatigue. "From the second you get out of bed, it's like… every molecule in your body hurts?"

"No, never," Matt responds with a playful smirk, his hand resting on the crook of your arm as you guide him through the bustling streets, Foggy walking alongside.

"I'm in agony, dude," Foggy groans, eliciting chuckles from you and Matt alike.

Matt's smile widens. "What, did you go back to the gym?"

"Hell, no. Do I look capable of making healthy life choices?" Foggy retorts, prompting a raised eyebrow from Matt.

"Why am I even here?" you interject teasingly as you look between your two friends.

"Because you missed us.” Matt grins and then continues, “And you wanted to grab some supplies for the church by the store near the office, and you said you wanted to help in the office today after you heard about what had happened to Mrs. Almeida," Matt explains patiently.

"Oh, right, okay, gimme a sec, I’ll be right back," you reply, darting into the store to retrieve your items.

As you engage in conversation with the kind lady at the register, the voices of Matt and Foggy continue in the background, their discussion gradually fading into a distant murmur. Through the glass doors of the store, you catch glimpses of them still deep in conversation, their expressions earnest as they deliberate over matters that could range from Matt's nighttime activities to the recent client who sought refuge at Nelson & Murdock.

The name Zuly Almeida comes to mind, bringing back memories of the recent troubles that had shaken your workplace. Her desperate plea for help had come in the dead of night, her life dangling by a thread as she recounted the horrors of her situation. You had helped her find safety with Matt's help, recommending the shelter for battered women where you volunteered, only to learn of the news that he woke up in a hospital with two broken arms and a restraining order safety pinned to his chest.

Exiting the store with your paper bag in hand, you catch Foggy's smile directed at you, a warmth in his eyes mirrored by Matt's grin. You inquire, "What's going on?"

"Foggy's got me swearing on my life," Matt replies, his hand finding its familiar place on your arm.

"Don't mock me," Foggy retorts, his tone laced with playful seriousness, while Matt's chuckle punctuates the air as he forms a cross over his heart. "I swear."

"Alright, you guys need to get to work before Karen loses her mind," you agree, adjusting to the heaviness of the bag in your hand.

"Yeah, this heat's killing me," Foggy continues, sounding a little uncomfortable with the weather.

NELSON & MURDOCK ATTORNEY’S AT LAW OFFICE – MORNING

“Good morning, guys. You take the scenic route this morning?” Karen says while popping a hip out and you take note of the crowded waiting room in the office.

“Morning to you, too.”

“Morning, Karen.”

“I tried to make them walk faster.” You loudly whisper to Karen as you hand her a coffee and some croissants.

"Thank you, I appreciate you helping," Karen says, her smile warm and grateful. You return the smile, then turn to Matt and Foggy, a touch of humor in your voice.

"Alright, you're all fed and caffeinated," you say briskly. "I’ll take my leave now. I need to head over to the shelter and then stop by the DA’s office to sign and drop off some papers. I’ll catch you guys later."

You’re just about to turn when Karen calls out, "Wait!"

You pause, eyebrows raised as you meet her gaze. "Yeah?"

"Will you swing by Josie’s with us later? Grab a couple of drinks, maybe play some pool?" Karen asks, her expression hopeful. You glance at Foggy and Matt, who are both watching you expectantly, waiting for your reply.

You hesitate for a moment, juggling your commitments in your mind. "Uh… yeah, sure," you finally say with a smile. "I’ll see if I can swing by if nothing comes up."

Karen’s face lights up, and she lets out a little cheer. "Okay! Yes! Great, thank you!"

You wave them off with a quick goodbye, heading for the door. As you step outside, the cheerful chorus of farewells from your friends follows you, their voices muffled as the door swings shut behind you.

You linger in the hallway just outside the door, the soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead filling the silence. Taking a deep breath, you let it settle into your lungs, grounding you. You try to collect your scattered thoughts, brushing off the creeping exhaustion that’s taken root in your bones. 

After a moment, you turn, making your way down the narrow, dimly lit staircase. The wooden steps creak under your weight, each sound echoing off the walls, like a heartbeat reverberating in the quiet of the old building.

As you reach the bottom, your gaze catches on the worn, slightly faded sign mounted on the wall: Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys at Law. You feel a familiar pang, an ache in your chest that comes from memories and ties that run deeper than you sometimes care to admit.

You let out a slow, deliberate breath, steeling yourself as you reach out, brushing your fingers across the lettering. It’s a quiet promise to yourself—a way to remind yourself why you’re here, why you keep coming back despite the burden of secrets, the ever-growing distance between you and the people you care about.

Cut the costs, limit the feeling, you tell yourself. It’s become a mantra of sorts, a shield you wear to keep from getting hurt, to keep from hurting anyone else. And yet, standing here, it feels thinner than ever, as if one wrong move could tear it apart completely.

But you push that thought down, lock it away. There’s no room for weakness. Not here. Not now. 

With one last glance at the sign, you straighten up and step out onto the bustling street, letting the noise of the city swallow you whole.

JOSIE’S BAR – EVENING

The bar’s packed, dim lights casting a hazy glow over the bustling crowd. Shots are passed around, laughter mingling with the sounds of clinking glasses. You’re standing by the pool table with Matt, Karen, and Foggy, the familiar warmth of camaraderie thick in the air.

Karen lines up her shot, her focus intense as she takes aim, the pool cue sliding through her fingers with practiced ease. The ball sinks into the pocket, and Matt chuckles, holding his beer close.

“See, I don’t know, that definitely sounded like cheating to me, Miss Page,” he says, his voice laced with a playful skepticism.

Foggy scoffs, gripping his own cue stick, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Matt, are you sure we’re not being hustled here?” he stage-whispers, glancing at Karen with faux suspicion.

“As sure as Josie’s AC is busted,” Foggy adds, shrugging.

Right on cue, Josie appears with two pitchers of ice water, a smirk on her face as she overhears them. “What AC?” she snorts, setting the pitchers down with a thud.

Karen moves to grab one, but the three of you shout in unison, “Oh!”

Matt and Foggy quickly interject, words tumbling out in a rush.

“No, you don’t wanna do that,” Foggy warns, his tone almost grave.

“You can’t drink the water here,” Matt adds, an amused smile playing at his lips.

“Josie’s pipes… they’ve got issues,” Foggy continues, and Matt chimes in with a knowing nod. “Rust, mold.”

Foggy leans closer to peer into the pitcher, feigning horror. “I think I can actually see the bacteria floating in there.”

Karen pulls her hand back with a shudder, wrinkling her nose. “Oh, ew. Ew.”

Matt chuckles, taking a swig of his drink. “That’s why we keep our cocktails neat.”

You sip on your ginger ale, hiding a grin as Foggy laughs, “Just pretend you’re abroad, someplace exotic. No mojitos, though—Josie just throws mint in the beer.”

Matt’s laughter echoes softly, and then Foggy nudges you with his cue stick, raising his brows in mock anticipation. “Come on, your turn.”

You raise a skeptical eyebrow, holding up your hands. “I don’t know how to play.”

“Right,” Foggy sighs, smirking as he hands his cue to Matt. “Take over, buddy. I gotta hit the head. And don’t let her out of your four working senses. She’s as quick as she is beautiful.” He pauses, casting you a cheeky grin. “Reminds me of myself.”

Foggy ambles off to the bathroom, and as you stand between Matt and Karen, you notice the way she leans in close to him, her laughter soft and genuine. There’s a lightness in her expression, an ease that somehow feels like it belongs.

Something twists in your chest. You clear your throat, mumbling, “I’m gonna go grab another ginger ale… be right back.”

You weave through the crowd, slipping up to the bar, where Josie hands you a fresh ginger ale without a word, just a quick, knowing nod. Leaning on the bar, you steal a glance back toward the pool table, watching as Karen leans over, adjusting Matt’s grip on the cue stick. She’s laughing, he’s smiling, and there’s an undeniable spark that hangs between them.

“Aren’t they something to admire?” Josie murmurs over your shoulder, her voice low, and it takes all your willpower not to let the sting show.

You force a tight smile, nodding. “Yeah. They are.”

As you shift your weight, you accidentally bump into someone standing nearby—a man with shaggy blonde hair, a heavy coat clinging to his shoulders despite the stifling warmth in the bar. He looks like he’s been sweating bullets, and his gaze darts around, uneasy.

“Sorry,” you murmur, offering a quick nod.

He merely grunts in acknowledgment, his eyes flicking past you, but something about him feels… off. Years of working in shelters have taught you how to read people, and he wears the tension of someone with something to hide.

“Hey, you new around here?” you ask, giving him a careful once-over.

He swallows a sip of his drink before replying, voice low and gruff. “No, actually.”

Before you can press further, you feel a gentle yet firm grip on your elbow. Turning, you see Matt beside you, his face calm but his expression etched with a subtle concern that only you can read.

“You okay?” he asks, his hand lingering as if ready to pull you away.

You give him a reassuring nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just…” You glance back at the stranger, then decide to offer a word of caution. “Hey, it’s all right. Just letting you know, this place has good people. Lots of places a guy like you could drink. Just saying.”

The man shakes his head, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s not what you think. I got business here. With Nelson and Murdock.”

Matt’s grip on your arm tightens, his posture shifting ever so slightly, like he’s readying himself for a confrontation. He subtly angles himself between you and the man, his body language protective, a silent barrier.

The man’s gaze slides to Matt, his eyes narrowing as he takes him in. “You must be the blind one,” he mutters, a hint of a sneer in his voice.

Matt’s expression doesn’t falter, his jaw set as he holds his ground, his presence an unspoken warning. You can feel the tension simmering between them, thick and charged, as the crowded bar fades into the background.

JOSIE'S BAR – NIGHT

The bar hums with low chatter and the clinking of glasses, but the quiet tension at your table cuts through it all. You, Matt, Foggy, Karen, and the stranger—sit in a tight circle, leaning in to hear his story, his voice rough and hurried, carrying the weight of something horrific.

“Fifteen men,” he says, looking each of you in the eye, his gaze darting from face to face. “Tough Irish. Armed. All of them blown away. It was a massacre. We weren't hit by any rival family there. I'm telling you, we were… hit by an army.”

Foggy raises an eyebrow, leaning back slightly as he holds his beer. “That’s quite the story,” he says, tone skeptical but edged with curiosity.

“It’s a fact.” His voice drops to a near growl, his hand clenching the edge of the table. “And believe me, you can go see for yourself. Burren Club, 47th and 10th. Can’t miss it. It’s the… part of New York that looks like a goddamn war zone.”

Karen leans forward, her eyes narrowing as she studies him. “What’s your involvement in their organization?” she asks, her voice steady, probing.

The stranger’s gaze shifts, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. “Who are they?” he asks, eyeing both you and Karen with suspicion.

Foggy doesn’t miss a beat, his tone hardening. “Answer the question.”

The man sighs, seeming to deflate just a bit. “Brannigan. I’ve run with them for a long time. I don’t deny it. Pick-ups, drop-offs… sometimes doing things I shouldn’t be.” He rubs a hand over his face, guilt flickering in his eyes. “No question, I’m… I’m no choir boy. I’m tellin’ ya, I just skirt the surface. Unlike the men I work for, and the guys that did this. I’m telling ya, I had nothing to do with that massacre.”

You glance over at Matt, watching as he tilts his head, focusing in that subtle way he does when he’s listening more intently than anyone else at the table. After a moment, he gives a slight nod to Foggy, the confirmation unspoken but clear— he isn’t lying.

Matt leans in, his voice calm but firm. “Assuming you’re correct, and the Irish were hit by a powerful crime syndicate tonight… if you’re the only one who survived, your good fortune’s gonna rub some dangerous people the wrong way.”

He snorts, his expression a mix of fear and frustration. “No shit! I got a pack of killers gunning for my men. My people think I’m a traitor or a rat.”

Foggy nods slowly, tapping his fingers on the table. “So, what can Nelson and Murdock do for you, Mister…”

“Grotto,” he says, cutting in quickly. “Just Grotto.”

Matt’s brow arches, unimpressed. “Grotto what?”

“Just Grotto.” He sighs, his voice dropping, almost pleading. “Witness protection. You guys need to get me the hell out of here before I end up in the only place hotter than this… permanent.”

Matt shakes his head slightly. “We’re a private law firm,” he points out, though there’s a trace of sympathy in his tone.

“Yeah, but a trustworthy one. You got quite a reputation after you took out Wilson Fisk.” Grotto’s gaze shifts, desperation settling into his features.

Foggy sighs, shaking his head. “The DA’s office is the only place that can make a deal.”

Grotto’s jaw tightens. “Yeah, well, I’m not walking to the DA without representation. I know a lot. I’ve seen a lot. I’ll give the cops anything to get me out of Hell’s Kitchen.”

Matt’s expression hardens. “We have a reputation for representing the good people of Hell’s Kitchen, not for negotiating on behalf of career criminals.”

Grotto’s shoulders slump, and he casts a weary glance at each of you, his voice breaking just a little. “What if a criminal wants to… change his career? A second chance, that’s all I want. I know I’m only coming here with my word. I got nobody to vouch for me, but I can… barely cover your fee. But word is… that Nelson and Murdock put their faith in people. And I need a little of that right now.” His gaze turns pleading, desperate. “Please.”

There’s a moment of silence. Matt sighs, the tension in his expression softening slightly, and he shares a look with Foggy. Finally, Foggy nods, his voice firm but reluctant. “Lie low. We’ll look into it.”

Matt leans forward, his tone cautious. “You have somewhere you can stay?”

But before Grotto can respond, his face goes ghostly white. His hand trembles as it knocks against his glass, which slips from his grasp and shatters on the floor. In the same instant, his body slumps, collapsing to the ground with a heavy thud.

Instinct takes over, and you’re the first to move, rushing to his side. You kneel down, your fingers pressing against his neck as you check for a pulse. He’s clammy, unresponsive. Your hand brushes aside his coat, revealing a dark, wet stain spreading across his shirt—a wound, still bleeding.

“Guys, he’s bleeding,” you say, urgency sharp in your voice as you look up at the others. “Someone call 911.”

The world around you fades to the background as you work, your focus narrowing in on Grotto, who’s barely holding on. The bar’s noise, the patrons, everything else becomes a distant hum, your mind honing in on one thing—keeping him alive long enough to get help.

Matt, Karen, and Foggy exchange tense looks before Foggy fumbles for his phone, dialing with shaky fingers. Time feels like it’s slipping through your hands, each second marked by the faint, unsteady rhythm of Grotto’s heartbeat under your fingertips.

BURREN CLUB — NIGHT

The humid evening air clings to your skin as you, Matt, and Foggy make your way through the crowd gathered outside the Burren Club. The blue and red lights from NYPD cruisers flash, casting long shadows across the grim faces of onlookers. People crane their necks, desperate for answers, while the officers keep them at bay. You catch sight of Brett Mahoney by the police tape, managing the restless crowd. His expression is hard, tired, as he fields questions from civilians.

“The paramedics said he’s stable,” you say, wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans. Your voice is steady, but the adrenaline from earlier hasn’t fully faded. “They’re taking him to Metro-General Hospital. I told Karen to text me when he woke up.”

Just ahead, you hear a man’s frantic plea. “Hey, I just need to know if my brother’s in there!”

Brett shakes his head, holding his ground. “Step back, please. I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t answer that right now.”

Foggy lifts his hand, calling out, “Hey, Brett!”

Matt’s hand grips your arm as he maneuvers his cane with his other hand, letting you guide him around the clusters of people and the scattered debris. You glance at the scene unfolding before you—a forensics team combing through evidence, cops sectioning off the area, the dull murmur of a distressed crowd. The entire place is bathed in tension, thick as the heat that presses down on the night.

Brett turns to see you all approaching, and his expression barely softens. Foggy gives him a small shrug. “I would say it’s good to see you, but under the circumstances…”

Brett’s brow lifts, unimpressed. “Would you please step aside, sir?”

“We just have a couple of questions, Brett,” Matt says, his voice calm but purposeful.

Brett sighs, rolling his eyes. “If you’re here to chase ambulances, you might notice there are none.”

Foggy forces a casual chuckle, but his eyes stay sharp. “Any leads on what happened?”

Brett doesn’t give an inch. “Oh, you wanna know what went down? Read about it in the papers like everybody else.”

“We’re not everybody else, my man.” Foggy tries to lighten the mood, his attempt landing with an awkward chuckle.

Brett cocks an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Did you just say ‘my man’?”

Foggy looks mildly wounded but presses on. “All right, we get it. You can’t talk about an active crime scene. However… what if… hypothetically speaking… we may have recently acquired a new client that could help… shed some light on this investigation?”

Brett’s gaze sharpens, scrutinizing him. “How recent?”

“Farm fresh,” Foggy replies smoothly, a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Brett’s lips twitch into something that might be amusement. “Was he here?”

Foggy shakes his head, giving him a diplomatic look. “Client privilege.”

Brett lets out a low chuckle, though there’s no humor in his eyes. “Well, uh, Mr. Nelson, if that was true… hypothetically speaking… I’d tell you that withholding your client from the NYPD would be obstructing governmental administration, and I’d probably just arrest your ass myself. In theory.”

You can’t help but arch a brow, smirking just a little as you reply, “Guess we really can’t help each other after all.”

Matt shifts closer to Brett, his voice dropping to a low murmur, almost lost in the ambient noise. “It’s over 100 degrees out here tonight, Sergeant. Why would an Irish mobster wear body armor to a private meeting inside his own club?”

Brett’s eyes widen just a fraction, momentarily thrown off balance. You can see him recalculating, a spark of realization glinting in his eyes. He shoots a warning look over his shoulder toward the bustling crime scene, then mutters to a nearby officer, “Hey, tell those guys to keep it down in there, or someone’s getting written up.”

He turns back to you, his stance shifting, the guarded walls dropping slightly. “I help you… you help me?”

Matt gives him a small, reassuring smile. “That’s all we want.”

Brett hesitates, glancing around before lowering his voice. “There’s a total clampdown on any of this getting out to the press. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Brett… you can trust us,” Matt says, the sincerity in his tone carrying weight.

Foggy grins, attempting a charming smile. “We’re lawyers.”

Brett rolls his eyes but gestures for you all to follow him. “Come with me over here. Come on.”

He leads you past the police tape, around the perimeter of the crime scene, to a quieter corner near an NYPD vehicle. The flashing lights cast ominous shadows against the nearby walls, and as you step further into the restricted zone, the air feels heavier, thick with the secrets and violence that hang over Hell’s Kitchen.

The heat lingers in the air, thick and oppressive, pressing down on every breath you take. The faint sounds of sirens and agitated murmurs from nearby cops create a gritty symphony, underscoring the heavy tension surrounding the Burren Club. Brett's face is a hardened mask as he turns back to the three of you, lowering his voice just enough to keep this conversation from prying ears.

“DA's going batshit trying to figure it out,” he mutters, glancing around as though the very walls might betray him. “This isn’t the first hit that matches this MO. Call it massive gang-on-gang overkill. Downtown office thinks we got new players in Hell’s Kitchen, and whoever they are, we’re talking some kind of paramilitary-type organization with the training, knowledge, and hardware to take out half the city.”

You exchange a look with Matt and Foggy. The implications sink in, heavy and sharp. Whoever’s out there, they aren’t playing by the same rules as the usual scum in Hell’s Kitchen.

Matt, calm but intense, tilts his head in Brett’s direction. “What do they want?”

Brett exhales, the lines on his face deepening. “That’s what’s driving the DA nuts. We don’t know who they are. We just know who they’re not.”

Foggy gives a dry, humorless chuckle. “I’d say they’re definitely not fond of the Irish.”

Brett’s jaw tightens, his eyes steeling over as he nods. “You think?” His voice lowers, tone shifting to something darker, more personal. “Now, we got history, so I’ll tell you as a friend: stay out of this shit. If you got a witness, the smart move is to turn him over and walk away. Hell’s Kitchen is about to explode.”

With that, Brett gives one last look, something almost like a warning in his eyes, before he turns and walks back toward the swarm of uniforms, resuming his duties among the controlled chaos.

There’s a beat of silence as you, Matt, and Foggy stand there, absorbing Brett’s words.

Foggy breaks the silence with a faint grin. “Did you hear that? He called me friend.” 

You roll your eyes playfully, giving him a nudge. “Try not to let it go to your head, Nelson.”

As the three of you start to walk away from the crime scene, the reality of what Brett said hangs in the air, dense and heavy. You lower your voice, casting a cautious glance around. “I told you guys this morning that I was gonna swing by the DA’s office. When I was there, it was… busy as hell. People working overtime on some case. Couldn’t get all the details, but one of the biker gangs—Dogs of Hell—they were hit too.”

Matt’s brow furrows, his expression contemplative as he processes the information. Foggy’s face reflects a mixture of confusion and worry, the wheels turning as he tries to piece it all together.

Before you can say more, a buzz from your pocket snaps you back to the present. You pull out your phone, glancing at the lock screen to see a text from Karen. It’s brief, but urgent.

You bite your lip, the weight of it all sinking in as a sudden tension tightens your chest. “I gotta go,” you mutter, slipping your phone back into your pocket and taking a few steps back. “Grotto just woke up.”

Foggy’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, worry flickering across his face as he realizes what that could mean. “Hey! You be careful, alright?” His voice is firm, an edge of protectiveness lacing his words as he watches you turn to go. 

Beside him, Matt’s grip on his cane tightens. His fingers curl around it, knuckles turning white, as though holding himself back. He stands silent, but the way he angles his head, listening, tells you everything. You can practically feel his attention zeroing in on the situation, calculating, strategizing. You know him well enough to understand that he’ll be up all night, digging for answers in his own way, likely stalking rooftops and alleyways before dawn even thinks of breaking.

You meet Matt’s gaze behind his lenses for just a heartbeat, exchanging a look of silent understanding. A small, knowing smile touches your lips as you nod. “You too.”

And with that, you turn and disappear into the night, leaving Foggy and Matt behind in the wash of streetlight and shadow. As you walk away, you can feel their eyes on your back, both of them watching, each in their own way, knowing that you’re all stepping into something none of you fully understand yet—but can’t walk away from.

METRO-GENERAL HOSPITAL — EVENING

The fluorescent lights hum softly in the quiet hallway as you approach Grotto’s room. You knock lightly, almost hesitant, and after a moment, the door cracks open to reveal Karen’s face. She offers a quick, tense smile and steps aside, letting you slip into the dimly lit room. She shuts the door behind you, sealing the three of you in this small, sterile pocket of safety—for now.

You exhale slowly, steadying yourself as your eyes settle on Grotto. He’s lying in the hospital bed, looking more irritated than wounded, though the medical equipment surrounding him says otherwise. Wires and tubes attach him to various monitors, which beep softly, a reminder of his fragility despite the rough edge in his glare.

Karen steps closer, her voice barely above a whisper as she updates you. “Bottle sliced through his flesh. Multiple lacerations into the muscle, but no vessel damage.” She glances at Grotto with a mixture of relief and amazement. “Nothing that a few weeks of physical therapy can’t cure. It’s… exactly as you said.”

You pull the chart from the foot of the bed, scanning over the notes with a practiced eye. Grotto’s file confirms what Karen just told you. Bruised but alive, and somehow, still intact despite the hell he walked through. You smirk, setting the chart back as you mutter, “Well, I’ll be damned, ‘Steve.’ Got real fuckin’ lucky.”

Grotto glares at you, irritation flashing in his eyes. He shifts in bed, wincing slightly as he adjusts against the pillows, his voice a low, rough grumble. “It’s not safe for either of you to be here.”

You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow, meeting his defiant stare with a calm resolve. “We’ll manage.” 

A flicker of something—fear, maybe regret—crosses his face, but he quickly masks it, casting his gaze out toward the window where the night stretches dark and endless beyond the glass. Karen looks between the two of you, worry etched into her features, but she stays silent.

The room’s tense silence is shattered by a shrill scream echoing from the hallway. You and Karen freeze, your heads snapping toward the door, the distant sound of chaos prickling down your spine.

“Oh, God,” Grotto mutters, his voice low and laced with terror. He clenches his fists, his face pale. “What was that?”

Karen glances at him, alarm widening her eyes. “What’s going on?”

Grotto’s gaze darts between you both, panic setting in. “No, no, no, no, no,” he hisses. “Someone's come to finish the job. Shit.”

Karen takes a step toward the door, but you hold up a hand, stopping her. “Shh! Don’t move,” you whisper sharply, placing a hand against her shoulder to keep her back.

But Grotto is already unhooking himself from his IV line, the heart monitor beeping wildly as he yanks the wires away. “No, to hell with that,” he mutters, adrenaline overtaking fear.

You edge closer to the door, cracking it open just enough to get a glimpse of the hallway. Your heart races as you spot a figure moving through the chaos—a man, bulky, gripping a shotgun. His face is shadowed, but his intentions are clear as terrified hospital staff scatter, screaming, desperate to escape his path.

You whirl back around, your voice urgent. “We gotta go. Now.”

Karen grabs Grotto by the arm, and together, you three bolt out of the room, slipping into the flow of fleeing doctors and patients. Karen leads the way, practically dragging Grotto, who’s stumbling along, while you bring up the rear. The shotgun’s blast rings out again, deafening, tearing through the air as people scatter in panic, and Karen lets out a startled yelp, shoving her way toward the stairwell with the assailant close behind.

The three of you burst through the stairwell door, taking the steps two at a time, adrenaline propelling you forward as the sounds of gunfire and shouting echo above. Reaching the ground floor, you push your way outside, lungs burning. Karen fumbles with her keys as you spot a parked car nearby.

“What? You… You don’t have the right keys?” Grotto yells, a note of hysteria creeping into his voice.

“Shut up! Shut up!” Karen snaps, frustration flashing across her face. Grotto’s eyes widen in disbelief.

“Is this even your car?”

Karen shoots him a withering look, unlocking the door with a quick flick. “Belonged to a friend.”

“Where’s he?” Grotto demands.

Karen doesn’t miss a beat. “He’s dead.” She yanks the door open, gesturing to the passenger seat. “Get in!”

But you’re already moving, shoving Grotto into the passenger seat and slamming the door shut. Without a second thought, you bolt to the driver’s side, your voice low and firm as you lean in through the open window. “I’ll meet you at the precinct. Go!”

Karen calls out your name, worry flashing in her eyes, but you’re already sprinting toward the nearest alley. She curses under her breath, hitting the gas and disappearing into the night. The distant roar of her engine fades as you duck into the shadows, feeling the energy course through your veins. You close your eyes, letting the familiar glow shimmer over your skin as you pull your mask and suit into place.

With a deep breath, you focus, teleporting yourself up to the rooftop of the hospital. The world blurs for a moment, and then you’re there, the wind whipping against your face as you land. Your hunch was right—the assailant is crouched on the roof, sniper rifle aimed at the street below, ready to take the shot.

“Hey!” you call out, your voice slicing through the night air like a blade.

The man’s head snaps toward you, eyes narrowing as he quickly raises his weapon, aiming straight at you. But before he can pull the trigger, a dark figure swoops in from the shadows. Daredevil, silent and precise, lands a brutal kick to the shooter’s head, knocking him back. The assailant stumbles, but he’s far from finished.

You dart forward, instincts flaring, but keeping your power in check. Every move feels calculated, the electricity pulsing at your fingertips, begging to be unleashed. The shooter swings at Daredevil, and Matt ducks, his movements fluid, barely missing a beat. You try to find an opening, heart pounding, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

The assailant shifts, pulling a pistol from his side, aiming point-blank at Daredevil. There’s a flash, the sound of the gunshot cutting through the night. "Bang."

Time slows as you watch in horror. Matt’s head snaps back, his body teetering dangerously at the edge of the rooftop. You scream out but he’s already falling, the darkened streets below yawning open to swallow him whole.

Without thinking, you dive after him, launching yourself over the edge, arms outstretched as you chase the falling figure through the night air. The wind whips past, cold and unforgiving, as you reach out, fingers brushing against his chestplate just as the ground rushes up to meet you both.

TAGLIST: @scoliobean @thychuvaluswife @pantrashtic @ofmusesandsecrets @c-losur3 @coco-karfunkel @lunaticgurly @loves0phelia @theclassicvinyldragon @iusedtofloat @megara0224

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

The devil in disguise

Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

summary || You are the sweet innocent daughter of Wilson Fisk who has fallen in love with Matt Murdock. Unaware of their private lives, you introduce them.

word count || 2.7k

warnings || nothing really, just a bit angsty. brief mention of violence & blood

a/n || hii, I hope you all enjoy this. I spent a very long time writing and rewriting it. I don’t want to sound like a beg, but Id be very thankful if you gave feedback. this is based on a request. much love💌

masterlist + rules

taglist

Being an artist in New York was a tough job, a city where everyone wanted the same thing- opportunity. In the beginning, you had a bit of a tough run with selling your pieces, you wanted people to buy them because they loved your art and not because of the connections to your well-known father. You loved your dad, but you wanted to do this on your own. You wanted your gallery to be something that you made, not your father.

So after a couple of years, spending hundreds of hours curating your artwork, you were finally able to display them in a mini store that you converted into a gallery.

You have only been open one day and things were already flying off the shelves, selling your most loved artwork for thousands of dollars apiece.

Today, your boyfriend of six months, will finally be meeting your dad at your gallery. You wanted to share this special time with the two people that meant the most to you. Unlocking the doors, your arm linked into Matt’s, leading him through the shop of your most prized work.

“Pass your hand.” You say sweetly, taking his hand in yours. Laying it flat against the canvas on the wall, directing his hand to brush along the mixed media. “You inspired me for this one.” You smile. “If you feel here. There’s a message… I indented the canvas to make braille, and if I got it right… it should say something.” Watching the way his lips turned into a smile.

The bell rings at the door, immediately diverting your attention. “Hello princess.” Your dad greets you, pulling you in for a hug.

“Hi.” You smile, pulling apart to introduce your boyfriend who was looking around uneasily. “Dad, this is Matt, Matt, this is my dad.” You sweetly grin, looking between them with gleaming eyes.

“Pleasure.” He greets your boyfriend, firmly shaking Matt’s hand.

“Good to meet you, sir.” Matt smiles forcefully.

Excitedly screeching, gazing between the two. “Okay- I can’t wait anymore, let me show you around.” Grabbing Matt’s hand to lead him. “Dad follow me.”

You showed them throughout the whole gallery, talking endlessly about the inspiration behind each piece of work, chatting their ears off about every detail.

“Excuse me one moment.” Your dad announces, walking into the back room to answer his phone call.

Matt inconspicuously pulls you aside now that it was just the two of you. “You never told me his name…” Matt quietly asks.

“Oh my goodness- sorry, I completely forgot. It’s Wilson. Sorry, that must’ve been really uncomfortable.” You apologise, placing a sweet kiss on Matt’s now tense cheek. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah- I’m fine. Just you know, meeting your dad.” He partially lies.

“I’m sorry princess, I’ve got to go.” Wilson enters the room, glancing between you and Matt with questioning eyes. His stare penetrated the side of Matt’s face.

“Dad?” You warned, disguising it with a cough. Noticing the way he was looking at Matt.

“Right. I’ll see you soon.” He kisses your cheek before leaving. “If you hurt my little girl…” he turns around to warn, focusing in on your perturbed boyfriend.

-

Matt has been uneasy around you ever since the day at the gallery a few days ago. You thought it was because your dad frightened him with that scolding, but you didn’t know if it was just that or if there was something else to it. You haven’t seen him since then either, he avoided all your texts and calls, replying hours later with ‘sorry, I was on a case’ or ‘I couldn’t find my phone.’

You had spent the day at your gallery doing inventory and rearranging pieces, quietly enjoying the day to yourself. Taking a seat on the sofa by the wide glass window, zoning out as you gaze at the busy city. Aimlessly scanning around until you notice something out the corner of your eye. It was a car you had seen dozens of times over the last couple of months. You tried not to look at it for too long, never wanting the person inside to acknowledge your awareness.

You picked up an art magazine from the coffee table, opening it and raising it to your face. Peeking your eyes over the top to get a better look at the number plate, and to no surprise, it was the same one you had been seeing everywhere.

Startling yourself when the door opens, the bell ringing obnoxiously. Dropping the magazine, you see your father by the entrance with a solemn expression.

“You okay?” You ask nervously, walking over to him.

“I have some news.” He frowns, gesturing for you to take a seat.

“What is it? You’re scaring me.” Scanning your dad's face for answers.

“I don’t want you to hate me...”

“I won’t, what’s up, tell me.” You push once more.

“I did some digging…” Wilson trails off.

“Yeah?”

“Your boyfriend…”

“What about him?” You snap, desperately needing answers.

“I’m afraid he’s not someone you should trust…Here…” Pulling out his phone to show you a clip.

Staring at the video confused. “I don’t get it- what is it?” Darting your eyes between him and the screen.

“That’s… Daredevil.”

“Yeah, so?”

“That’s your boyfriend…” he says slowly. Masking his lies.

“No, it’s not.” Shaking your head.

“It is. ‘The devil of Hell’s Kitchen’ or whatever he calls himself. He’s a vigilante… and he’s dangerous… he…” he starts.

“‘He’ what?”

“It’s too much...” He closes his eyes, avoiding your surveying gaze.

“Please just tell me.” You plead.

“He… killed your mother.” Intensely staring at the floor.

“What-? Why are you telling me this?” Walking away in disbelief, pacing around. “Why would you say that?”

“There are more videos.” Extending his phone.

“No! I don’t want to see it. How can he do that? Seriously, how? He’s blind.” You defend.

“He was lying about that… it was a cover.”

“Let me see the video.” You demand, snatching the phone from his hand.

Anxiously fiddling with the hem of your dress as you watched the clip of your boyfriend in the red suit. You couldn’t believe your eyes- you didn’t want to believe them.

“I’ve seen enough.” Sliding the phone along the coffee table.

“I’m sorry. I’ll get out of the way.” He frowns, sitting up and leaving without a single look back.

-

You had decided to close the shop early, feeling too confused to want to be anywhere but home. Right now you wanted nothing more than to slump into the couch and watch shitty tv with a big bag of chips.

When you return to your apartment building, panic settles in when you notice the car again. Unlocking the door with shaky hands, trying your best to keep them still.

“Allow me.” A male voice says from behind. Immediately shuddering and dropping the keys.

“I’m sorry.” Turning around to look at the man. “Just a long day.”

“I’m sorry, that must’ve been really hard.”

“Yeah.” You exhale, disguising it in a laugh. “Thanks” taking the keys from his hand. “Do you- uh, live around here?” You ask, anxiously looking around.

“No, I was here to see a friend. But I saw you struggling so had to help.” He smiles. “And you are…?”

Telling him your name with a friendly smile.

“I’m Dex.” Shaking your hand. “Good to meet you… I’ll uh- see you around.”

—

After a long hot bath and take-out dinner, you lump yourself onto the couch. Pulling out your phone to see numerous missed calls from Matt. Deciding not to engage, you place it aside.

Frantic knocks pound at your door that startle you upright. Quietly walking over, peeking through the peephole to see Matt anxiously pacing around.

“What?” You snap, whipping the door open.

“I came to see you… you wouldn’t answer my calls.” He gushes, smiling apologetically.

“Not so nice is it?” You say snidely.

“No-“

You cut him off. “I’m not in the mood right now. What do you want?”

“You scared me- you didn’t answer, I thought something bad had happened-” He continues, catching his breath.

Interrupting him again. “Are you actually blind?”

He flashes a confused look, head tilting to the side as if to understand you better. “Yes. Why would you ask that?”

“Wait a second- how did you get here?” You ask, finally putting the pieces together. “If you can’t see… then how did you run here?” You question with a stern whisper, not wanting your neighbours to hear.

“Can I come in?” He asks, avoiding your question.

“No, you can answer from out there.” Placing your hands over his chest to stop him from coming any further.

“What’s going on?” He questions, his face looking puzzled.

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“… I don’t know.”

“Who are you?”

His mouth opens but no words are made, gazing at you with his eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?” He snarks, walking past you and into your apartment.

“I didn’t say you can come in.” Forcefully closing the door to follow Matt into your living room.

“Where’s this coming from?” He sadly questions, taking a polite seat on your armchair.

“I saw my dad today…” you start.

He gives you a nod to tell you he’s listening.

“He told me something and… I don’t know.” Burying your head in your hands.

“What’s wrong?” He asks sweetly, rushing over to the seat next to you to console you. Gently stroking over your back.

“Please just tell me who you are.” You quietly ask, your words muffling against your palms.

He deeply sighs, brushing his spare hand through his hair. “I think you know...”

Your back stiffens and your neck twists around to stare holes into Matt’s closed eyes. “You’re ‘him’? You’re Daredevil?” You speak quietly as if to soften the blow. “He was right.” You mumble to yourself.

“Who was right?” He questions.

“My dad- he showed me a video… you’re the devil of Hell’s Kitchen? You killed my mom?” You ask, almost rhetorically.

“Wait a sec-“ he interjects. “I don’t kill anyone.” Shaking his head.

“So you are him?”

“Yeah- but that’s not me.” His face grimaces at the thought. “That’s why I’ve been busy…”

“What do you mean?” You ask warmly as if the haze was clearing and you could finally see a few pieces to the puzzle.

“Your dad… he showed you the clip?”

“Mhm.” You mumble, listening intently.

“Was the person in the suit wearing red?”

“Yeah, like a- like a dark red.” Ears pulling back with intrigue.

“I know this might not make any sense right now, but I need you to understand… I don’t wear that red suit anymore- not after midland circle. That person… he isn’t me.” His face looks as though he’s thinking. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” You reply instantly, not once giving it a second thought because it was the truth.

“I think your dad is framing me.”

“Why?”

“I think he knows who I am, and is setting me up.” Placing a gentle hand on your knee.

“Why would he do that?” You question.

“Because he’s not just a businessman.” He says, almost as if he’s regretting it already. Not wanting to ruin your perception of your father.

“What is he?” Searching his face for more answers.

“I can’t do that to you.” He says sadly, stroking your confused face. “Just… in your phone, type in ‘Kingpin, Hell’s Kitchen’.”

Immediately opening your phone, typing into the search engine, instantly overwhelmed by the dozens of articles. Clicking the top one, reading through an article from the New York Bulletin. Your eyes darting over the words, as your heart thumps in your chest.

Matt laces his hand into yours, stroking his thumb over your skin to calm you down.

“My dads a crimelord?” You question in almost disbelief.

“I’m sorry.” He emphatically comforts, hating the idea of you feeling betrayed by your father.

“How did you know?”

“I’ve been after him for years…“

“Is that why you’re with me?” You sadly ask, already thinking the worst.

“No.” He gushes, cupping your cheek. “God, no. I only found out at your gallery the other day.” He reassures, sweetly brushing over your cheek. “Please come and stay with me for a few days. I don’t think it’s safe here…”

“Can I ask you something?” You almost whisper. Mind is racing and struggling to keep up with everything that’s happened over the last few hours.

“Of course, anything.” Gently placing a stray strand of hair behind your ear and then cupping your jaw.

“If you’re daredevil- the real one… are you really blind? Or is that a cover?”

“I am blind, I lost my sight when I was nine.”

“You can say no, of course. But, I don’t think you’ve actually told me how you lost it. I don’t want to push you, and you can stop me from talking because I feel like I’m blabbering-“

Sweetly smiling at the way you were so considerate with your delivery. “No no, it’s okay.” He interrupts.

Matt thought it was finally time to give you a look into his past, telling you every minor and major event that has happened in his life. Stories about his dad, St Agnes, Maggie, his abilities, what he does as Daredevil, and even about Fisk.

-

Matt was waiting patiently on the couch while you finished packing your bags; throwing in anything and everything you might need over the next few days.

“I’m ready.” You smile, lugging your bags by the front door.

“You left a light on in there.” Nodding to your en-suite.

Rushing to the bathroom to flick the switch, returning with a grin. “That is amazing.”

Flashing you a wide grin in response, collecting the heaviest bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

When you exit the building, you do a quick look around the street, quickly observing everything. Across the road you spot the car again, squinting your eyes to double-check the number plate. Matt doesn’t know about your potential stalker, to be honest, you didn’t want to worry him. But now you know he’s capable, you decide to finally tell him.

Discreetly covering your mouth to hide what you were about to say. “Matt.” You whisper. “That car… I see it all the time.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, barely moving his lips as he purposely twisted his head to look around.

“I think it’s been following me.”

His face grows stern and rigid, looking as though he’s calculating the situation. Placing your bags to the floor, taking a step onto the sidewalk. Immediately grabbing his arm to stop him from walking any further.

“No- don’t go over.” You plead, trying your hardest to stop him freeing from your grip.

“Wait there.” He sweetly instructs, shaking himself from your grasp.

“No, I’m coming with you.” Chasing after him.

Matt pulls out his stick, tapping it against the ground as he walked down the street, looking around aimlessly until he ‘accidentally’ bumps into the car. The person inside slides down the window “watch it, man.”

“My apologies, I don’t suppose you know the way to Josie’s bar. It’s just… you know.” Raising his arm to show the man his cane.

Watching from the side, you see a familiar man in the wing mirror. Immediately walking over, following after your legs that had a mind of their own.

“Dex?” You question, head tilting to the side in confusion.

He coughs, lowering his cap to hide his face. Stammering on his words.

Matt’s ears pull back in concentration, listening intently. Reaching his hand inside the car, gripping Dex’s neck and yanking him towards the window. Hitting his head with his free hand, as he pulled him through the window and out of the car. “Who are you?” He demands, landing another strike to his face. Instead, he doesn’t do anything, he just tauntingly laughs, purposely trying to provoke Matt.

“Enough.” You shout, pulling Matt off Dex who was laughing hysterically on the floor, blood dripping from his cheek.

“What the fuck was that about?” You grit, ushering him away.

“That’s Special Agent Poindexter.” He starts. Straighten his tie and adjusting his glasses, linking his arm into yours, acting nonchalant.

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” You whisper shout, quickly looking over your shoulder check on Dex who was splayed out on the sidewalk.

“Fisk hired him. If I’m right, and I’m sure I am… he’s pretending to be me.” Leading you across the street, and back to your apartment building.

“Wait a second…” letting go of Matt’s arm and halting in your tracks.

“That video my dad showed me… it was a CCTV clip…” pausing as if to complete your thought. “It was outside of my mom’s house… and…” face contorting at the idea. “He had my mom killed?”

sorry for the cliffhanger!! I wasn’t sure how to end this and was hoping that some of you guys could maybe give some ideas. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with Fisk and Dex, and how Matt would work into it. but if you have any ideas I’d love to hear them. I will be doing a part 2, just need some help from you angels first

I think it’s because I’ve been working on this so long my mind has turned to mush😭

but thank you for reading, hope you liked it🤍