Clinging onto the metal bars high up, observed you, your targets. You watched at least ten men walk around the warehouse. Wooden crates were scattered around. One of the men in suits, pointed at one the crates. A slimmer man revealed a crowbar, breaking the wooden panel. Intrigued, leaned you a bit forwards to get a better look. The man was grinning, taking out a weapon. So that was what they were shipping. Of course these were Kingpin’s men. Sudden grunts caught your attention as they came from somewhere in the back. You gasped seeing an injured man being crashed against one of the crates. Kingpin’s men started shouting, drawing their guns.
It didn’t take any seconds for the warehouse to be noisy with gunshots. A dark figure came in sight, moving stealthy. From the way he was moving, knew you he was interfering. – “Oh, no you don’t!” – said you to yourself, getting up to your feet. You clamped onto the first metal bars, setting your foot on the third one. You helped yourself up, setting your two feet on top. Beneath you was the other vigilante having his way. Blocking gunshots and kicking kingpin’s men. You set yourself off, doing a backflip. Landing on your one knee, struck you a pose, cause why not. Some of Kingpin’s men shouted, pointing firmly at you.
You got up with not a scratch. Shots were fired at you, making you avoid them by staying low to the ground. Getting back up, stood you before the guy. You had taken a hold of his weapon, pointing it firmly up. He tried to work his way through your force with no help. You winked at him before throwing a blow against his stomach. Your hands releasing a bit of energy. The guy flew across the room, crashing into the wall that left a large crack from where his body hit. – “Oops.” – said you innocently, holding his gun sloppy in your hand. You threw it away with a mischievous smile. Another henchman came running over to you as you firmly grabbed him by the throat.
You easily lifted him up from the ground, his feet dangling. The devil was caught off guard, suddenly a new sense overwhelming him. He moved his head a bit to the sounds, trying to listen in. He had clearly heard the blow against the wall. He inhaled sharply, hearing another heartbeat. Steady and calm. Clenching his jaw, knew the devil that he wasn’t alone anymore. Someone had shown up, trying to steal his work. Grunting agitated, grabbed he a guy by his throat, smacking him to the ground. It pissed him off that someone else was trying to play hero.
You ignored Hell’s kitchen’s devil, working your way through Kingpin’s men. Shots were fired as you did a few backflips, avoiding them. With no way of seeing where you were going, straightened you your back again, bumping into someone. – “Sorry!” – you called out, peeking over your shoulder at the red leather fabric of a suit. You only heard a clearly annoyed sigh, followed by him grabbing a hold of your shoulders. You shrieked it out, getting thrown over his shoulder, falling onto the ground. – “Stay down!” – breathed he at you, his chest moving heavily with his deep breathing. You shuddered in pain, rolling over to your side. Damn the devil had some moves.
The devil turned himself around as you swung your leg over the floor at him. It hit his ankle, sending him falling flat forwards. He pushed himself up with a deep groan. Touché thought you. He was clearly agitated now as he was ready to teach you a lesson or two, was it not for the few remaining men of Kingpin that required his attention. They were making an escape for it with some crates. You saw him turn his head to the direction of the sounds, without actually looking it. It was more like his ear needed to see then his eyes. He spurted away, going after them as you slowly pulled yourself up. Brushing some dust of your sleeves, allowed you him to take down the last men.
You saw it coming but let him have his go on it. He pushed you with his elbow against the wall. You chuckled in pain from the impact. – “Who are you?” – called he out, pushing his arm deeper onto your throat. You weren’t letting him intimidate you. – “Who’s asking.” – replied you, moving your lips closer to his. He could feel your breath on his lips, making him shudder away. – “What are you doing here?” – asked he then. – “Same as you.” – answered you calmly. He didn’t answer back, just looked at you. observed you. He moved his head a bit to the side, so that his ear was closer to you. You swallowed a bit, finding the silence a bit tense.
He suddenly smiled, turning his head towards you again. He let go of you, turning his back on you. – “Hell’s kitchen has no place for you!” – stated he, making very clear to you that he worked alone. You removed yourself from the wall, creeping up on him. – “I wouldn’t mind dancing…” – started you, coming to stand behind him. Very close that your chest was almost touching his. Moving your hand up, wanted you to let it slide down his shoulder. – “with the devil.” – finished you in his ear, your hand hovering over his shoulder to go towards his chest. With a quick grip had he his hand around your wrist. It startled you a bit, catching you off guard. He spun himself around, a dark grin on his lips. He took a step closer to you, his face inches away from your head.
You breathed out slowly, feeling his breath on your jawline. – “Believe me…” – whispered he to you. – “You couldn’t handle a night with the devil.” – your entire body shuddered from the tension he was releasing on you. It made him smirk, your heart pounding like a maniac. Before you knew it had he reached one of the broken windows. He sat on the frame, looking over his shoulder to you. – “Stay out of it!” – called he out to you, disappearing into the night. You puffed loud, crossing your arms. – “Who does he think he is?” – called you out loud, speaking to yourself and some unconscious men. – “As if he is the only one with a vendetta against Kingpin.” – scoffed you out. Hearing sirens in the distance, took you, your leave as well. Disappearing into the night. For it would not be your last night. No one was going to stop you, not even a devil who had such dare.
***
With heavy rain in your face, were you running stealthily over the rooftops. A guy who moved like a freaking ninja in pursuit. You jumped over a metallic pipe, slowing your tempo a bit down. The guy in pursuit, almost flew over it, making you gasp loud. You ran up to the end of the rooftop, being surprised by a fall to death. You gripped onto the edge, looking down at the deep alleyway below. Of course there was the fire-escape hanging on the side of the building, but it was too low for you to reach. You quickly turned around, standing face to face with one of Kingpin’s trusty men. He pointed his knife at you, luring you out. You took a few steps closer to him, readying yourself to fight him. You motioned for him to approach you as you were ready to take him on.
Just as he was about to run over, was he suddenly gone. The devil standing in his place, grunting loud. You saw Kingpin’s man rolling over the rooftop, being hit by the devil himself. – “I told you to stay out of it!” – called he out, pointing at you as his face was still facing Kingpin’s man on the ground. – “And I decided to ignore that stupid ass decision.” – replied you, hearing him chuckle. – “I’m not going to ask you again! Back off!” – yelled he out, this time turning his head towards you. – “We’ll see about that.” – said you, running up to him. You kicked him in the stomach, releasing a blow of energy on him. The devil got throw almost across the rooftop, smacking against the other edge.
You tilted your head a bit to the side, focusing your attention on kingpin’s men. – “We weren’t finished yet.” – said you, cracking your knuckles. You readied your fist, feeling the energy flow through your veins, building up in one spot. Your hand started to glow in a shade of white. You screamed it out when you received a blow against your cheek. You stumbled down, seeing the devil hover over you. – “What are you?” – asked he of you, clearly still trying to figure you out. You got up to your feet, calling it out as you lashed out to him. He easily blocked your punch, standing face to face with you.
Pulling yourself away, went you for another round. He easily blocked it as well. You threw in a kick, making him catch your leg before it could hit his body. You hadn’t been storing any energy in those limbs, so your punches weren’t as strong as before. He suddenly pushed you away from him just as kingpin’s man waved with his knife in the direction of both of you. His knife landed in the space between you, leaving the devil to grab his arm. With a punch of his elbow, released he his grip on the knife. You gritted your teeth, not finished with the devil, throwing a punch at him. He easily predicted what you were going to do, pulling the guy before him like a human shield.
You hit him in the stomach, sucking the air out of his lungs. The devil then tossed him aside, kicking you back. You stumbled backwards against the edge of the rooftop. – “You really want a go at this?” – asked he, motioning with his hand for you to come closer. Wiping your nose with the back of your hand, got you back up. – “I do!” – spitted you back, not wanting to give him the pleasure. He curled up a smile, readying himself. You did the same, walking in a circle with him. Almost like a dance. You clenched your hand, collecting your energy in your fist.
You noticed a slight change in the devil’s body language as if he sensed what you were doing. You called it out, going for him. The devil did the same, ready with his fist. The two of you were about to clash when Kingpin’s man made his debut again. You quickly staggered back, missing his knife by an inch. The devil kicked him in the face. The guy stumbled your way as you punched his other cheek, sending him wobbling back over to the devil. – “We make quite the team.” – breathed you out. You swore you could see a tiny smile on his lips. – “Don’t push it!” – replied he, kicking the guy in his sheen. He sunk to the ground, calling it out in pain.
The devil went after you again. He wanted to make it clear to you that he worked alone. Taking much pride in it. He grabbed you by the shirt, your back leaning over the edge. – “I’m not saying this again!” – called he out, pushing your back firmer on the edge. You took a hold of his wrist, wanting to be sure that he wouldn’t suddenly let go. If he did, you would simply tip over the edge into the darkness. – “I don’t need you!” – the tone in his voice firmly as he spoke every word out slow and with a deeper meaning. Your heart rate went up at the sudden sense of danger. You were hanging on the edge, your life in the hands of another. – “Do you understand!” – continued he.
In a split second fell you weightless. Your body being held by feathers, your scream caught in your throat. Your mouth was wide open as your hands clawed desperately in the air, no sounds coming out of it. The devil had widened his eyes, feeling that his hands were empty. He came leaning over the edge, listening to your heartbeat. It was racing up in high speed, making him clench his jaw. Kingpin’s man had punched him with the back of his knife between his shoulders, releasing his grip onto you. You managed to hold onto a bar of the fire escape, breaking your fall a bit. The sudden snap made you release your grip, landing on the lower platform of the fire escape, squealing in pain. The devil jumped over the edge, landing on the highest platform.
He then made his way stealthily down, constantly focused on your heartbeat. He made it to where you were, kneeling beside you. – “Are you hurt?” – asked he worriedly. You gave him a push against his chest, not knowing what kind of charade he was putting on. – “You dropped me!” – yelled you at him. – “I…I…I didn’t meant to.” – answered he. You seated yourself down, putting pressure on your back. – “Right! How am I supposed to believe you didn’t just wanted to paralyze me, so I was out of your way.” – groaned you out, inhaling sharply from the pain.
“I’m not that cruel.” – responded he. – “Playing with the big boys is harder than it looks, right.” – added he with a slight bit of mockery towards you. You punched him in the shoulder to act out on him. You tried to stand as he quickly came to your aid. – “I don’t need your help!” – bit you at him, throwing his hand off your arm. You took a hold of the stairs, groaning in pain as you tried to make your way down. Your movement got pulled to a stop by a hand around your arm. – “Look you can’t be walking the streets like that!” – pointed he out, making you exhale deep. You spun around to him, sighing loud for him to hear. – “Well what would you have me do then?”
A large panel got slide aside as it functioned as a door. He gave you a small nudge in your shoulder, telling you to enter. You stumbled forwards as he pulled the ‘door’ to a shut. – “Make yourself at home.” – said he, walking casually around you. – “Who are you?” – questioned you, looking upon the most normal apartment. – “What, you think I lived in a cave or something with knifes hanging on the walls.” – chuckled he out, making you roll your eyes. – “No.” – answered you, stepping deeper into his apartment. – “just… different.” – you swallowed, moving slowly, biting through the pain. – “Sit!” – demanded he off you, pointing at his sofa. You limped your way over to it, letting yourself fall into the comfy seat.
You exhaled relieved, feeling some pressure released from your spine. He returned to you with a pack of ice, handing it over to you. – “You really gonna keep the mask?” – asked you curious. He pressed his lips together, turning his back to you. You shrugged your shoulders, placing the pack of ice against your back. You immediately shuddered in both pleasure and pain. He made his way over to his table, hesitating to take his mask off. He exhaled deep, bringing his hand to the back of his head. With one pull, tore he his mask off his face. Exposed and feeling a bit weird, breathed he out deep. Placing his mask down, was he still doubtful if it was a right thing to do.
Without thinking much further, walked he back over to you. He seated himself down. You noticed him, gulping silently at his handsome face. You had expected a messed-up face, scratches, and scars all over the place. Instead were you staring at a handsome young man with a clean face. - “A face! Does the face has a name as well?” – called you out loud, seeing him crack a tiny smile. – “Mine is Y/n if you were wondering.” – said you as first, letting him off the hook a bit. – “Matt.” – answered he. – “How’s the pain.” – asked he, pointing at you without looking away from the wall he was facing. – “It’s… it’s alright…” – replied you with a slight narrow of your eyes.
There was definitely something off about him. – “Why are you doing this?” – continued he to ask. – “I mean playing vigilante.” – you moved a bit uncomfortable, clenching your jaw at a sting of pain. – “I…I…” – you exhaled deep, looking down at your own lap. – “Kingpin hurt someone close to me…family… I’m not letting him get away with it that easily.” – Clenching your hand, channeled you subconsciously energy at your hand. Matt sensed it again, inhaling sharply. – “What is up with that?” – you blinked surprised, looking at your own hand as if seeing it for the first time. – “Oh…” – breathed you out. – “I’m… I’m what you call a mutant. I can channel any kind of energy through my body, releasing it with a good blow or so.”
“What’s up with you.” – shot you right back, wanting to know his deal as well. Matt swallowed slowly. – “I’m blind.” – confessed he. You hummed baffled. You leaned a bit closer holding your hand out. You wanted to poke him in the cheek with your finger to see if he truly was what he said he was. Before your hand even reached his cheek, had he his grip around your wrist. Not even moving an inch with his head. He pushed your hand down, getting up. – “You can spend the night here, but then you leave, Y/n.” – you watched him go into another part of his apartment.
Exhaling deep, sunk you deeper down into his sofa. Before the morning light were you gone already. Matt slowly awoke from his alarm. He stretched out, remembering he had let you in yesterday. He got out of his bed, walking into the grand living space. He couldn’t hear another heartbeat, making it certain that you had left. He exhaled deep, feeling a bit disappointed that you had left already. Frowning at his own thoughts, laughed he loud. He should be glad you were gone, for the devil works alone.
***
You jumped into an alleyway, thinking you were there first, but Matt landed in the same alleyway as you at the same time. – “You’ve got to be…” – mumbled you out, seeing Matt turn his head in annoyance at your presence. – “I told you to stay the hell away!” – called he out. You walked over to him, pausing close to his ear. – “I don’t listen very well.” – whispered you at him, continuing to strut away. Matt inhaled sharply, coming after you. You were making your way over to the building when a grip around your ankle, made you fall flat forwards. Matt walked past you, shrugging his shoulders.
Clenching your jaw, pushed you, your fist against the ground. Getting up quickly, ran you around the corner. Matt stood in the doorway, waving at you as he closed the door before him. It made you groan out loud annoyed that he kept getting in your way. The door wouldn’t budge as he must have blocked it. Letting all the energy flow towards your hand, clenched you, your grip. Wanting to make an entrance, punched you the brick wall. Clapping your hands together, walked you in, stepping over the crumbled bricks. – “Honey I’m home!” – called you out loud, wanting Matt to hear you.
You stood a bit lost in the dark room, wondering if there was even a fight going on. It wasn’t until you heard clear punches being sold, that you smirked. You made your way quickly up the stairs, seeing Matt already busy in the fight. He punched a guy in the face, making him stumble on his feet. You grabbed the guy by his shoulder pulling him towards you. Handing him one of your own punches, fell he to the ground. Matt turned to you stunned, like a lion that had just been stolen his piece of meat by a hyena. He turned his head swiftly to the side, listening in as someone approached him. He diverted him, allowing him to crash into you. You fell to the ground with the man laying on top of you.
“Huh, I guess not fast enough.” – joked he out with a deep chuckle. You pushed the man off you, wanting to punch him as Matt pressed his foot on the man’s stomach. He swayed his finger from side to side at you, telling you no. You called it out in annoyance that he kept proving to be better then you. You got up, walking away, letting Matt have his way with him. Matt felt a bit disappointed that he couldn’t taunt you anymore. You dodged knives and punches with such swiftness it almost seemed graceful. Matt and you were both stubborn in your fights, constantly trying to proof to be better than the other one.
Almost out of breath, delivered you a final blow. You turned your head, widening your eyes at a sudden heavy weapon. – “F*ck.” – breathed you out, seeing the weapon point at you. It was like a rocket launcher, ready to fire. Matt sprinted up to you, tackling you just when the rocket was launched. You smacked to the ground, rolling over with Matt’s arms around you. The rocket hit the wall, blowing a huge piece of the building up. Matt was laying on top of you, holding his head down, his lips close to your jawline. Crumbled pieces of building fell on top of him, shielding you from it. A wave of dust made its debut as well, coating the both of you.
Matt coughed loud, lifting his head a bit up, his lips inches away from yours. He froze, hearing your heart beat loud and clear. It was speeding up as he couldn’t ignore his own heart racing up as well. – “You okay Y/n?” – asked he, his breath against your lips which felt so intimate. You slowly nodded, answering afterwards as Matt couldn’t see what you did. He pulled himself up, leaving you breathless. He held his hand out to you as you took it, letting him pull you up. The guy with the rocket launcher threw the weapon away as it only had one hit. Matt puffed his chest up, clenching his jaw. He made his way over in a very intimidating way.
You followed close by, wiping some dust off your face. Matt grabbed the guy by his shirt. He smacked him against the wall, dragging him along it. He then released his grip onto him, sending him rolling on the floor. He made his way over, kicking him in the stomach. It turned you a bit on at how brutal he was handling him. When blood was gushing out of his nose, called you him to a stop. He stopped, his blooded fist, hovering the guy’s face. He let go of him as you moved by his side. You stared at Matt, feeling a sudden urge wanting to kiss him. He must’ve felt the same as he grabbed you.
He moved his hand to your shoulder, moving your hair up as he tried to reach your cheek, kissing you firmly. Your body shuddered at his kiss that felt so violent on your lips. Pulling him closer to your body, kissed you him deeper. Matt moved his thumb up towards your nose, trying to feel more of your features. Both of you pulled away out of breath. You nudged him with your hip. – “Does this mean we’re a team Matt?” – questioned you with a smile. Matt shook his head with a silly smile on his lips. – “I’ll think about it.” – whispered he out, cupping your cheeks to kiss you again.
summary:life isn’t all that bad as a former black widow turned hit woman. that is, until you meet a certain pain in the ass vigilante.
and end up needing his help.
word count:3.3k
warnings: ANGST, injury, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt no comfort, claire cameo my beloved!, matt makes bad decisions because he feels guilty, mentions of black widow traumas (mainly abuse & human trafficking)
author’s note: yes, my update schedule is every other week now, but i’m feeling generous today. also a little more matt pov, because the reader’s feelings are not completely one sided. enjoy this angsty chapter.
A/N:god that belt scene. right now i’m working on something completely unrelated to these two but i couldn’t focus until i got this little snippet down because it kept playing in my head like a fucking primetime movie. i’ve been playing around with Frank x f!reader x Matt for a while and this is a cheeky taste of a poly series i’ve got planned for the future.
Summary: Frank dishes out his punishments. (even though he’s giving it all that in this little drabble, i’m absolutely certain he would still melt like butter for these two every now and again)
Word count: tis but a filthy drabble, just over 500 words.
Warnings:SMUT 18+ ONLY. It’s filth right off the bat. Rough handling, rough p in v sex, purposeful finger gag, use of restraints, dom!Frank, illusions to a bratty!reader and softdom!Matty.
-summary; Matt comes home to find his cross missing. -warnings; blood, religious imagery. -a/n;Blue Horses, Mary Oliver
It had been a rough night. Matt could barely walk. He stumbled up the stairs, leaving a bloody trail in his wake. He was dying, maybe he was already dead. He struggled to unlock his front door. You listened from your place on his couch. You listened as he struggled.
The smell of you was the first thing Matt noticed. He breathed a sigh of relief. His apartment was warm and dry and it felt good to be home. You didn’t move. Normally, you would wander over to him, help him to the bathroom. But not tonight. Matt felt and fumbled his way to the couch. He collapsed into you. He wrapped his arms around your waist. You were familiar. Matt felt the life flow back into him, his skin warming under your hands. He could smell your perfume, your shampoo. It all calmed him. He ran his hands over your skin, mapping you out. He came up to your shoulders and then ran his fingers through freshly washed hair. His thumbs stroked your cheeks. You didn’t smile like you usually did. His hands were leaving trails of half-dried blood behind them, all over you. He dropped his touch to your neck, where he noticed something new.
You weren’t particularly religious. You never had been, not since Matt has known you. He first approached you because he could smell the lapsed-catholic guilt that radiated off of you. And he never left. Neither did the guilt. Matt had never known you to wear a cross, not like he did. You never usually wore necklaces at all. He could feel your rings digging into his thighs. He could hear your earrings chime with every shake of your head. But this necklace was new.
He took the chain between his fingers and ran them down, down until they reached a very familiar pendant. A cross, cold against his skin. This wasn’t yours. Suddenly he noticed the lack of a cross around his neck. It was his.
“You’re hurt,” you state. “You’re weak, Matt. You can barely stand.”
“I thought that’s how you like me,” he joked. “I think I look good in red, no?”
You shook your head. Blood was drying on your skin and you felt dirty, sinful. Hail Mary’s would not make up for this.
“This is mine,” he tugged harshly on the chain and your head lunged forward, your lips brushing against his.
“You forgot it here before you left.”
You unclasped it. Matt heard the cross jingle. He felt your hands behind his neck, cold metal on his chest. The chain settled around his neck. Matt touched yours again, it was bare.
You watched as Matt stood. He pulled his shirt over his head. His whole chest was covered in red. He rest on knee on the couch and leaned over you. His hand cupped your jaw, holding you still so he could kiss you. His tongue swept into your mouth and all you could taste was blood. You pushed Matt away.
“I don’t like it. Go wash it off. Patch yourself up.”
“Help me,” Matt pleaded.
You hovered your hand over Matt’s. He could feel you trembling. You were shaking uncontrollably. Matt knew what you meant. If you tried to sew him up, you’d only hurt him more. Matt nodded and disappeared into the bathroom. You scrubbed your hands and face clean in the kitchen sink. You scrubbed until your skin was raw. Matt reappeared behind you silently. You jumped at the feeling of his hands on your hips. He smelt clean. You were comfortable again, leaning back against his bare chest.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“You don’t have to make it pretty. It’s blood,” you pleaded. “it’s not meant to be pretty.”
“Everything is beautiful if you want it to be.”
“Maybe the desire to make something beautiful is the piece of God that is inside all of us.”
You weren’t expecting to end up at Daredevil’s apartment just two weeks after he suddenly decided to tell you his name, but there you were.
Sure, he had not much of a choice, he had a nasty gash on his back that needed stitches and his place was way closer. But Matt had also come to terms with the fact that this thing between you was something and he couldn’t keep you out any longer.
You had helped him back home and followed him when he entered his apartment from the roof. The place would’ve been pitch black if it weren’t for the flashing lights coming from the window and your eyes scanned the place with curiosity. It felt surreal to be there.
The pained groan Matt let out as he worked to take the top of his suit off pulled you back to reality, rushing to his side to help him.
“Wait, let me do it.” You started fumbling with it without taking into consideration you didn’t know what you were supposed to do, your brow creasing before you rested your hands on his shoulders and huffed. “Yeah, I have no idea how this works.”
“I noticed.” Matt huffed a chuckle as he rested his already gloveless hands on the sides of your hips. “I’ll guide you.” He said, starting to give you instructions on how to remove the suit as you went along following them.
Your eyes trailed over his scarred and bruised skin, your hand twitching wanting to brush your fingers across the scars, but refraining from it for the time being.
“Go sit, I’ll get the first aid kit.” You ushered him, guiding him to the couch.
“In the bathroom.” He let you know, pointing towards where the bathroom was before sitting sideways so his bloodied back wouldn’t touch the back of the couch.
You went to fetch the first aid kit, switching the lights on on your way to the bathroom.
You made a comment on /how absurd it was that he didn’t want you to know stuff about him but now you were literally in his apartment/ before you kneeled to look under the sink for what you wanted, your brows scrunching when you realized every item there had a small small label with raised dots on it.
No fucking way.
“So… is that braille on the hand soap refill under the sink?” You awkwardly asked, not knowing how to approach the subject after your mind just went through every image you had of him successfully fighting criminals and your new discovery about him, placing the bag down on the coffee table and sitting behind him.
Matt nodded, his masked head turning slightly towards you. “I’m blind, yes.”
“What the fuck, Matt? How do you even? What?” You tried to form a question unsuccessfully as you disinfected your hands before putting on a pair of gloves.
“Sight is overrated.” Matt shrugged and chuckled. “You already know I have heightened senses.”
“So it compensates?” You started cleaning the gash on his back, making him hiss when the disinfectant got into the open flesh. “Sorry.”
“I guess you could say that.” He nodded, even if he had his back towards you and you couldn’t see it, a small smile resting on his face when you didn’t question it further.
You felt silent after that, putting your attention on sowing the skin back together correctly. Like any other respectable local crime-fighter, you were used to tending your own wounds and you didn’t care if it wasn’t perfect, but you wanted to do a good job for him, so you needed to focus.
“I do want you to know me, by the way.” His soft voice broke the silence after a while, referring to your earlier comment, making you startle out of what you’ve been focusing on. “I was just trying to protect you.”
You took a moment to take in his words, taking a deep breath before you continued stitching, needing to be calm to be more precise with your stitches. “From what? You know if someone comes after me I’ll just ki-” you started, your tone light, but decided to rephrase. “…kick their ass.”
Matt chuckled at that, nodding in agreement knowing very well how you could handle things yourself, even if he preferred rushing to help you every time you stepped foot in the Kitchen. “I appreciate how you changed that sentence.”
You smiled behind him at the sound of his laughter, sighing before speaking again. “Y'know, I respect your boundaries but… I’ve had your tongue in my mouth and I don’t even know if you’re cute or not. Hell, we’re in your apartment! You’re shirtless! And I still don’t know! It’s getting ridiculous.” You exclaimed with amusement, finishing the stitches and cutting the thread.
“See? I can’t show you my face now, what if you think I’m ugly? You might not let me put my tongue in your mouth again.” He joked, his face scrunching under the mask at how stupid his words sounded.
“You can’t be serious right now.” You deadpanned after a moment of silence, a long gauze in your hands as you stared at his freckled, scarred back.
Matt’s chest bubbled with laughter making you laugh with him, his back muscles protesting but he didn’t care. He went silent again to bring the energy down before speaking again. “Do you picture me a certain way?”
“Honestly? Not really. In my mind this thing is your actual face.” You said lightly knocking on the top part of the horned mask.
“My best friend says I’m really good looking, if that helps.” Matt shrugged, smiling, feeling how you carefully pressed the bandage against his skin so it would stick to it. You were finished.
“It doesn’t, thank you.” You quickly answered, making him laugh again.
Matt’s hand reached behind him until he found your knee beside his hip, resting his hand there to caress your skin, a fond smile appearing on his face as he thought about something.
You placed your hand on top of his to squeeze it, leaving a kiss on his shoulder before getting up to throw all the bloodied gauze and everything you used in the trash.
You told Matt what you were doing as you moved around his kitchen, filling a glass of water after getting rid of the used supplies to bring it to him with an Advil from a big bottle you saw on the counter. He probably went through those like crazy, even if it did little to nothing to help with the level of pain his regular injuries brought him. He has sat like a champ while you stitched him though.
Matt didn’t need you to tell him your steps, he could hear it, but he still appreciated it. You were still facing the counter when he decided that you were right before. He couldn’t help but smile just thinking about what your reaction was going to be. Even if he didn’t know that much about your life, he did know you, and he was way more than fond of you.
You turned to head back to the couch, glass in one hand, pill on the other when the sight of a brown mess of fluffy hair froze you in place, letting out an audible gasp. That was his head. His actual head, not the smooth dark read mask. No horns in sight. Just fluff. You didn’t know how you didn’t drop the glass at the sight.
Matt chuckled in response, waiting for you to move, his head slightly tilting to the side to focus on you. You were just standing there, in silence. And he could feel you staring at the back of his head.
He raised a hand to wave at you to come. “C’mon sweetheart, don’t just stay there, I thought you wanted to see it.” His amusement grew as he listened to your heart go crazy inside your chest, making his beat fast with anticipation as well.
Matt’s smile widened when he finally heard you move, slowly stepping closer to him as you walked around the couch to meet his face.
You were met with his amused face. Kind brown eyes staring blankly at your general direction while his smile made the corners of his eyes crinkle.
That man was so fucking handsome. He looked so good sprawled on the couch, shirtless, mussed hair and a smile plastered on his face.
You didn’t even know what to say next. It was not only that he was trusting you with his identity and he turned out to be hot as fuck, it was the implications of him opening to you after months of fighting alongise each other, of making you furious but leaving you wanting more every single time, of inevitably and desperately making out on whatever rooftops ot alley you were at the moment, of taking care of each other.
Matt’s hand reaching outwards brought you back from your thoughts and you let out the breath you had been holding while you finally passed him the glass and the pill.
“So?” He asked before swallowing the pill with some of the water.
“Huh?” Still shocked, you went back to your previous spot on the couch, sitting facing Matt.
“Am I cute or not?” He raised a brow, a smirk forming on his lips.
“I can’t believe you just did that.” You breathed out.
“So I’m not cute.” Matt joked, turning his head towards you with that almost permanent smile he had been wearing on his face, even when he was beaten up and cut open.
"No, you’re like, ridiculously handsome.” You sighed, temptatively reaching for his face, the tips of your fingers tracing his brow, then the side of his face. Matt’s eyes fluttered close and his smirk softened into a smile.
He huffed a laugh and placed a gentle yet firm hand on your face to coax you into leaning in for a kiss.
Your lips found Matt’s and melted into a soft, slow kiss, taking your time to enjoy the gentle brush of his lips against yours. This wasn’t how it normally happened. Most of the time your make out sessions started all riled up from fighting crime and it would be all tongue and teeth and grunts and moans.
But that was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, you were with Matt now and he kissed with so much fondness and gentle passion it made you dizzy.
The intensity of his kisses grew when you hummed in delight and snaked a hand to the back of his neck, moving closer to him.
His free hand rested on your hip, squeezing the flesh as he kept kissing, softly sucking on your lower lip.
“I’m serious, Matt.” You said in between kisses but he barely let you speak, kissing you again and making you laugh into the kiss.
His hands trailed down your thigh, taking a hold on the back of your knee to make you straddle him, wanting to have you closer, but he hissed in pain when the fresh stitches on his back tugged at the inflamed skin.
You moved the hand you had on his neck down to his chest to stop him, caressing one of those large scars. “Take it easy, Devil.”
“I’m fine”. He huffed, leaning in for another kiss, but you pulled away just enough so he wouldn’t reach. “C’mere.”
You sighed watching the pout he had the audacity to give you, but you ended up carefully straddling his thigh.
Matt smiled as you sat on him, his hands landing on your thighs before moving up to your waist where he finally hugged you.
You kissed his satisfied smile, making him hug you tighter, and his mouth left yours to brush down your jaw to your neck, where he buried his face in, nuzzling against your skin to bask in your scent, humming in content. Something he’d wanted to do for a long time.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, threading one of your hands with his soft hair and smiling to yourself. “You should take me out on a date first, don’t you think?” You let out, Matt being able to hear your smile in your voice, twirling a strand of his hair on your finger, something you’d wanted to do for a long time.
He chuckled and stroked the small of your back. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m planning on it.” He said before placing a small kiss on the crook your neck, making you shiver.
“Then perhaps I should get going… or we’re never gonna get to the first date.” You proposed but made no attempt to pull away yet, your hands still playing with his hair.
“You're…not wrong.” He admitted, rubbing his face against your skin and almost purring. It was the first time you two did this in private and it was the first time he was able to feel your skin and smell you and simply appreciate you properly. And the way you were playing with his hair wasn’t helping him on having to let you go. So, even though you would be leaving soon, he wanted to indulge in this for as long as possible. “But give me a few more minutes, I promise I’ll behave.”
Matt felt you chuckle and smiled against your neck. “When have you ever behaved?” You joked, giving his hair a gentle tug, getting a delighted grunt from him as he tightened his hold on you.
“Don’t do that or I won’t be able to keep my promise…”
You ended up deciding to stay. There was no way in Hell you could just get up and leave when the other option was staying and enjoying his kisses, his beautiful face, the warmth of his body against yours and his soft hair between your fingers.
As much as you couldn’t wait for that date he said he would take you to, you were more than content with this for now.
Summary: The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is a pain in the ass, but he’s always there when you need him. You just wished he’d let you know who he was.
Word count:2224
Warnings: fluff, depictions of violence but nothing graphic, things get steamy but no smut (making out, grinding).
A/N: You guys this is a bit of a mess ksndkskfkd I’ve been having a hard time writing but I still wanted to finish this. Definitely not my best but here it is anyway.
Please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment if you enjoyed it <3
Matt was in the middle of jumping from one rooftop to the other when a waft of your smell hit him, distracting him just enough to land terribly on the next roof. Your scent was mixed with adrenaline, sweat and gunpowder. He huffed as he pulled himself up, pausing to hear closely where you were.
Summary: The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is a pain in the ass, but he’s always there when you need him. You just wished he’d let you know who he was.
Word count:2224
Warnings: fluff, depictions of violence but nothing graphic, things get steamy but no smut (making out, grinding).
A/N: You guys this is a bit of a mess ksndkskfkd I’ve been having a hard time writing but I still wanted to finish this. Definitely not my best but here it is anyway.
Please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment if you enjoyed it <3
Matt was in the middle of jumping from one rooftop to the other when a waft of your smell hit him, distracting him just enough to land terribly on the next roof. Your scent was mixed with adrenaline, sweat and gunpowder. He huffed as he pulled himself up, pausing to hear closely where you were.
The four times Matthew listened to your heart, and the first time he listened to his own.
1. When he first met you…
“That’s a big fish to fry, and you know how I feel about bad seafood.” Foggy frowned at the lack of reaction and leaned in close, hoping the heat of his proximity would get his friend’s impressively hard-to-earn attention. “Are you even listening, Matt?”
“Someone’s outside,” he replied coldly, forgetting himself, the moment, and letting the tone he reserved for his nightly, less than lawful activities fall across his tongue.
“What?”
Matt head cocked towards the door and laid his palms flat on the cool tabletop, letting every vibration of sound run up the metal supports and into his skin. Though muffled by the white walls of the office and frosted glass of the front door, the single, strong heartbeat that set him on edge clarified into two. Adrenaline spiked slightly in both bloodstreams and the breaths of the pair grew shallow, like a set of panthers preparing to pounce from the shadows, ready to reap Nelson and Murdock, and Page, like prey. At the thought, Matt quickly stood from his seat and swallowed hard, “two someones.”
“Do you have the Sixth Sense or something?” Foggy asked, craning his to look towards the entrance. “I don’t see anyone but you, and you are sca-“
A knock rang through the office, the waves of it echoing bright red in Matt’s mind. His heart skipped at the sound, skipped at the realization: a criminal wouldn’t knock. Fisk’s goons would have barged right in, ready to break anything and anyone in their path. Despite that truth, the knock alone did not soothe Matt’s worry. It was only when he focused again, listened as one of the beating hearts turned soft but strong; there was no sign of nervousness in it’s rhythm.
The sound was quickly drowned out by Karen’s heel clacking against the hardwood. “Hi, sorry! Come in, come in.”
“Hola,” came a voice, sweet but aged. Matt could hear the croaky twinge of a throat made hoarse by years of use and smell a sweet perfume that mingled with more latent, dulled scents of spices. “Es esto Nelson y Murdock?”
“Sí,” Karen returned, and Matt could so easily detect the smile she wore as she opened the door. “Come in, adelante.”
Then came Foggy, smiling too as his voice joined the greeting fray. “Hola!”
Matt would have laughed at his partner’s attempt at a Spanish accent, but he was far too preoccupied with trying to better attune his senses to detect…
Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.
There it was again, solid but soft. The beat’s gentleness coaxed Matt into, at last, unclenching his fists and ditching the thought of fight entirely. He focused all his senses towards the sound, towards you. All at once, his senses melted away but pooled together to take your shape. He saw you then, in his own way: your hair like wisps of flame, eyes shining like embers, and your lips a sloping curve of the red you were bathed in. Even in the fire of his strange vision, you were beautiful to Matt; a spark all your own.
“Me llamo Elena Cardenas.”
“And I’m Y/N L/N,” you added, and even your voice held it’s own shine. Matt smiled and tilted his head loosely in your direction as if he could try to see you better. He knew he couldn’t, not in the way he longed to see you. He could only ever have pieces of you: the shape of your mouth when you spoke, your fluttering lashes, your hands as you gestured, emphasized your words. When it came to seeing people, Matt could see best when they talked.
Which was why he asked, “how can we help you?”
A small shift in the air, along with the scent of your shampoo, flooded Matt’s senses as you turned your head to look at him. He heard the lightest and sharpest intakes of breath and the wide-eyed burn of your gaze on his face. Despite your hitch in breath, the soft beating of your heart remained steady and Matt’s smile broadened slightly.
How brave you were, how sure.
“I’m Matt, by the way.”
He held out his hand. You hesitated, and Matt knew you were realizing his blindness in that silent way most did; but instead of questioning it, your hand quickly found his. Your skin was soft against his own, warm, inviting, and he could feel your heartbeat through your flesh. It was solid, unyielding, as if you did not need to collect yourself within the newness of the situation you found yourself in, the newness of Matt himself.
“Matt Nelson or Matt Murdock?”
“Murdock. Matt Murdock.”
He wished he could see the smile on your lips, the smile he knew was there based on the minty hint of toothpaste that slipped out in the breathy edge of your small chuckle.
“Well, Matt Murdock, we hope that you can make sure Hell’s Kitchen remains our home.”
2. After the firm’s big victory…
“I figured you would be smiling more.”
Matt lifted his head at the sound of your voice, the smug smile on your lips evident in how your words tilted into a higher pitch. In the red, he saw you with your shoulder pressed against the doorframe of his office, eyeing him and the files of papers spread out across his desk. At the feeling of your eyes on him, Matt smiled. His shift in expression bought himself a moment of silence as you smiled widely back at him. He reached out with his senses, seeking the strong, warm sound of your heart beating in your chest.
A steady rhythm filled Matt’s ears and his smile widened. You laughed.
“That better?” Matt asked as you stepped inside his office, the padding of your shoes on the hardwood floor overshadowing your heartbeat.
“Much,” you beamed, your voice increasing in volume as you grew closer. Matt could trace the line of your figure as you neared his desk, your warmth cutting through the cool air and burning wisps he had left of his vision. “Though, something is still…missing.”
“Missing? If you’re talking about a drink, we have plans to celebrate at Josie’s later. I’d love you have you come along.”
“Thank you, for the invitation, but,” you said, stopping in front of Matt, leaning against the edge of his desk slightly, “that’s not what I was going to say.”
If he was not so overwhelmed by the heat of your body so wonderfully, terribly close his own, Matt would have followed your dialogue, asked what it was that you were going to say. Yet, his expression dropped as he channeled his first impulse. He needed to keep you close, to ensure your presence near his own. That was why, when he tipped his head up, Matt asked: “You were going to accept the invitation, right?”
You chuckled softly, “yes, I’ll be there…”
“Good.”
Matt leaned back slightly, satisfied enough to let a moment of quiet fall between you. He took the opportunity to reach out again, listen in on your heartbeat. As usual, it was untelling and steady in it’s pace. It made you so hard to read, to see in the way Matt could see people, their intentions and feelings. It, no, you maddened him, made him nervous.
You made him all the more nervous when you reached out. Matt could sense your hand extending towards his face, your palm cutting through the air with warmth. He did not flinch away, which, based on your slight pause, surprised you. Though, it did not stop you from gently pulling his glasses away from his face. The red dulled, but your heartbeat did not.
“You look tired, Matt,” you murmured, just as he heard the small clink of his glasses against his desk as you set them aside.
“I have been missing sleep,” he admitted. Matt was about to continue, make some smartass comment to make you laugh and ease any worry you held for him. Before he could, he felt your fingertips kiss his cheek, brush along his skin to the side of his face. Matt could not help himself but lean into your touch.
“You should rest.” At the mere idea of taking the coming lawyer-days and vigilante-nights easy, Matt scoffed. “Really, you should.”
“And let the lovely residents of Hells Kitchen get lost in the power vacuum Fisk left behind? I can’t..I can’t do that, you know I can’t.”
“I know,” you sighed, your hand falling from his face. “That’s why Elena and I came to you, to you and Foggy, and Karen. Hells Kitchen locals with the same heart.”
With the mention, Matt took another moment to check on your heartbeat: still no change. How strange. There was no slow with the sad mention of your late neighbor killed by Fisk’s goons. There was no slight hike in pace when your hand lifted once more and brushed a strand of brown hair from Matt’s forehead. You were calm, steadfast.
When the quiet stretched on too long, he cleared his throat. “We wouldn’t have been able to put him away without you, Y/N. You and Elena.”
“I think you’re underestimating your law firm.”
“I think you’re underestimating your importance in our law firm-”
“Our? Does that mean…”
“The paperwork was filed this morning,” Matt said, nodding, “you’re officially on the Nelson & Murdock payroll, starting next Tuesday.”
You let out a pleased hum, a sound that sent a shiver down Matt’s spine. “Amazing, I-I…thank you. I don’t know what else to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Matt held out an open palm and you rested your hand upon it. Against his rough skin, the callouses and scars, your skin was soft. “It’s like you said: locals with the same heart. We work together.”
“And we work well together,” you mused with a smile, the scent of your toothpaste hitting Matt’s nose. He nodded and smiled too. Matt was about to pull your hand to his lips, to kiss your knuckles with all the gentleness he had left in his bones, when there was a knock on his half-open, office door. At the sound, he tipped his head up.
“Hey you guys,” Karen’s voice rang out. “Foggy’s outside and is ready for Josie’s. You coming too, Y/N?”
“I am,” you said, letting your hand fall from Matt’s. Though, your head turned to face him, the scent of your shampoo flowing with the movement. “You ready?”
“Whenever you are.”
3. When he thought he almost lost you…
“Are you hurt?”
Without waiting for a reply, Matt darted towards you, his cane falling from his grip. You were on a hospital cot and all the noise of the scene drowned out his scarlet-toned sight of you; yet that did not stop Matt. His hands found your knees first, bent as you sat up, then they moved up to your waist then the sides of your face. You found your voice when his fingers traced the peaks of your cheeks and hairline, feeling for wounds.
“No, I-I, I’m okay, just-”
“You’re bleeding.”
Matt grazed the tips of his middle and fore finger across your temple, gathering drops of warm crimson. You winced at the contact and he pulled away quickly, murmuring a soft apology. Matt felt you shift with your knees rocking slightly against his thighs, as you reached up to feel the cut. You winced once more and a rush of fear ran through Matt as he considered the risk of a concussion or worse: internal damage.
He focused on you, your form, your head, listening to the rushing of your blood. There was no sign of abnormal clotting or deeper wound. And, much to Matt’s surprise, your heartbeat was steady, borderline slow. The gentle rhythm was in stark contrast to those around you who were panicked, still reeling from the mad man’s rampage through the hospital. Even Matt was wired, antsy to chase after the man in black who was after Grotto; but you came first, always.
“Y/N-”
“I’m okay, really. I’m in better shape than,” you paused and Matt knew you were surveying the bullet-hole ridden walls and shocked-faced patients. “Better than most.”
“You’re still hurt,” Matt pressed, his hand reaching up to cup the side of your face, this time careful of the cut. “He’s going to pay for this, he’s going to get caught. Did you see where he went?”
“He was following Karen while she was getting Grotto out, but- Matt,” you grabbed his hand with your own. “We don’t even know who this guy is. Legal action is hard to take against a man with no name. We need to wait until he’s in custody.”
“Someone like this isn’t going to go in quietly. The NYPD is going to need help.”
“Then leave Daredevil to do that,” you whispered. “I’m telling you, there was something in his face…something dark, sad but dangerous. They way he went after them…if we step anymore in the way, we’ll be the ones paying for it.”
Matt took a pause and listened to your heart again, sure this time it would be wild, thunderous as you recounted the shooter. He tipped his chin down, leaned in closer to you to truly focus, tune out the rustling of scrubs and chaos outside the hallway.
Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.
“Matt?”
He came to himself, pulled himself out of your steadying presence. “Sorry, I…I’m just glad you’re okay. But, I can’t let him, I can’t stand back.”
“Yeah,” you sighed, giving his hand a squeeze, “I knew you were gonna say something like that. Just be careful.”
“When am I not?” Matt asked, half-joking as he kicked out in search of his cane. As soon as his foot knocked against it, he reached down to pick it up. He had a facade to keep up, though how he hated keeping it up around you.
“Matt,” you pressed warningly, “please. Especially if the Devil comes. He can handle this guy, leave it to him. Please?”
Matt fought back a smile, and, as if sealing some envelope of a promise, Matt leaned towards you. He wished he could kiss you, really kiss. Wished that he could show his relief, his joy that you were relatively unscathed, that you were still you and unwavering. It took all he had to bite back the urge. And he the Devil’s work to do.
So, instead, Matt pressed his lips to your forehead, let himself linger until he felt he could no longer. He thought of Karen and Grotto, the man that could have killed you. Then he pulled away without giving your heart another listen.
4. After he told you his secret…
Dim light, stained red, shone through the frosted glass and filled Matt’s mind with shadows. Two shadows in particular stood out in is mind, alongside two heartbeats. One was bird-like, swift and slightly panicked; it belonged to Karen. Then, there was you, steadfast and solid as ever. It made Matt’s stomach tighten as he twisted the door knob and stepped inside.
Immediately, the two shadows, you and Karen, clarified. In the limited light, he could not make out the details of your expressions. Though, Matt could see your hair and the slight flow to Karen’s skirt. He could tell that you both turned to look at him, watch at the door shut behind him. Karen’s heels clicked against the floor as she stepped out from behind the front desk. You remained terribly still, focused on him.
“Thanks for meeting me,” Matt said, his voice low as he dropped his folded cane aside. With two hands then, he gripped the paper bag he held, his biggest secret.
“What are we doing here, Matt?” Karen asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I-I, uh, I have-” Matt held up the bag and tilted his head your direction. You did not respond to the gesture and remained leant against the edge of the desk.
Karen began shaking her head and took a step back. “I don’t wanna-”
“I have something,” Matt swallowed and stepped towards the both of you, letting his facade fall completely, “that I need you to see.”
As he moved, Matt reached inside the paper bag. He moved confidently without his cane and, because of that, he heard Karen gasp lightly. Yet, all he heard from you was the still steady beating of your heart as his fingers closed around his mask. Slowly, he pulled it out and, in a breath, said, “I’m Daredevil.”
A heavy silence filled the space. Matt had no choice but to listen to the blood racing through your veins and Karen’s. Hers was a wild rush, propelled into such speed by her heart but yours was slower. As usual, your body told him nothing, no matter how hard he listened and wanted. It was only when you took a step forwards that Matt realized he was holding his breath.
“Does that mean you can see?” Karen asked as you continued to step towards him.
“No, not really, only outlines, like I’m trying to see pictures in flames.” Matt turned his head from Karen to you, “like everything’s on fire.”
There was a pause, in which Matt felt your body heat grow more concentrated, more intensely against his skin. Then he heard your voice, soft and careful, “may I?”
“Y-Yeah,” Matt held out his mask and let you take it.
He saw your shape inspect it, hold it up in the desk lamp light before looking back at him. Your hand quickly cast a shadow as you reached towards Matt again, your finger plucking his glasses from his face. He held out his hand to take them from you and, when his fingers closed around the metal frames, he heard your breath hitch.
“Matt,” you whispered, your fingertips tracing the skin surrounding the cuts on his face. “All those times, the bruises and scrapes were from-”
“You weren’t falling or drunk…Foggy lied for you,” Karen realized out loud. “He knew, of course he knew. That’s why he got so angry.”
“Yeah, he knew, not the entire time. Only recently.”
“How long?” You asked, pulling his attention back to you and away from Karen. He frowned in reply and Karen let out a sound halfway between a scoff and a gasp.
“I don’t know if I want an answer to that question,” Karen admitted, “or any question, right now. I…clearly we’re not all in a place where we can be honest with each other.” The lithe woman grabbed her bag and jacket before she started towards the door.
“Karen,” you murmured, reaching out to stop her. She merely shook her head and continued towards the exit fo the office.
“Karen, wait,” Matt called, turning to face her as she left.
With a slight huff, she paused, hand resting on the knob and ready to turn it at any moment. “What? What it is?”
“I’m being honest when I tell you this,” Matt began, swallowing hard, “I’m done with Daredevil. With Fisk gone, justice is safe and I don’t have to be him anymore.”
“You being him isn’t the problem, Matt,” she glanced over her shoulder at him, he could feel the fire in her eyes. “The problem is that you didn’t tell us, tell me…after everything.”
Without waiting for a reply, Karen opened the door, darted out, and shut it behind her. Matt listened for a moment, to the sound of her steps until she reached the end of the hall. There was no hesitation in her gait, no doubt; only the heaviness of pain. Pain that Matt caused, the same painful ache he felt in his chest as he turned back to you.
“I understand if you want to follow her.”
You did not reply. Instead, you lifted the Devil mask up to Matt’s face, pressed it gently into place. Neither of you dared to make a sound. Though, Matt heard everything he did not want to: he heard the pattering of new rain outside and how your heartbeat faltered at the sight of him obscured. You made no other sound, no other move.
“You’re scared of me,” he murmured.
“No,” you replied, pulling the mask away from his face. “I could never be scared of you. Mad? Yes, but I’m worried because, well, I think Karen’s right.”
“She often is,” Matt said, trying to alleviate the tension that gathered suddenly on his shoulders. You nodded, the air shifting with the movement.
“And I don’t think you’re being honest,” you admitted, stepping closer to him. “I don’t think you’re done with him because you are him, Matt. He’s part of you and you can’t ignore a part of yourself, not forever, not like how you want to.”
“He was a means to an end,” Matt replied curtly, pointing to the mask, “an end to Fisk, an end to the chaos, the injustice he brought to the city.”
You hummed, but said nothing. Matt was waiting for you to say something when he felt your hand on his, the one that did not hold his glasses. You forced his palm open, uncurling his fingers, and placed his mask in his grasp.
“Injustice is never done, Matt, no matter who’s gone and who stays. You know that.” As you spoke, you pressed his fingers closed around the mask. “And you should know that I still, and I will, still feel the same about you when you figure this out.”
You held both of his hands, the glasses and mask, in yours and squeezed. He was too stunned to speak, to breath. All he could do was feel your fingers slip from his and listen as the beat of your steady heart grew softer and softer as you walked away.
1. Then, finally, when things began to get brighter…
“I always thought he was joking.”
“What?”
You gestured to the deli meats hanging from the ceiling and the cheeses on the trays before you both. “Foggy. I thought he was joking about the deli. But there he is, wearing an apron and slicing salami like a pro.”
“Clearly Foggy is nothing but serious,” Matt said, his hands feeling around the table for one of the napkins Foggy wrote on early. He tried to fit all four of your last names on a sketch of a plaque: Nelson, Murdock, Page & L/N. The letters didn’t fit and slipped out of the frame he had drawn. You laughed and Matt smiled.
“Not an artist either,” you quipped.
“I’ll let you be the judge of that.”
“Well, if I’m going to be judging art for you, I better get some rest.”
“Is it late already?” Matt asked, “I thought it was only five.”
“Karen went home at five,” you corrected, standing from your seat. “It’s nine o'clock now and Foggy’s family looks like they’re ready to recruit us into pickling some peppers.”
Matt chuckled and flicked his head towards the deli counter. He saw the outlines of Foggy and his brother folding cold cuts into packages while their mother chatted away. You were right; it was late and the celebration of Father Lantom’s life and the reopening of Nelson’s Meats ended long ago. With a sigh, Matt leaned back and began to stand.
“Can I walk with you?”
“Of course,” you replied, moving over to his side to help him to his feet.
You grabbed his cane and pressed the handle to his palm. Matt smiled to himself at the act and how chipper you sounded when you bid the Nelsons goodnight. The smile endured as you linked your arm in his as you walked out the door together. It almost felt natural, as if the past week never happened and you and Matt were just there, together.
“I missed this.”
“Walking around the city at night? I thought you did that too often,” you joked.
“I missed walking you home,” Matt clarified, “even when I was trying to…to push you away. I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” your arm tightened around his own. Matt wanted to stop you in your tracks, to spill everything he wanted to tell you every day before this one. He wanted to tell you about all those times he almost kissed you, he almost told you; and how each time he held back, listened to your heart to try to read you instead.
Matt leaned into the silence that filled the gap following your words. Only the sounds of the city, sirens in the distance, idle chatter, distracted him. If he focused enough, he could hear the sound, the steady thump thump thumping of your heart. If he focused enough, he could pretend nothing ever happened, that the past week never happened and that you and he were still waltzing around whatever it was you felt. It would be like old times.
But Matt was ready to move forward, after everything. He stopped mid-stride and pulled you into a pause on the sidewalk.
“What is it? Are you okay?”
“Do you still feel the same?”
You smiled, Matt knew this despite how he could not see. He could smell the drink on your breath, the fizzing, pink mix Foggy’s mom insisted you try. It must have been cherry-flavored.
“I do,” you replied, slipping your arm from his, “and I’m surprised you remember.”
“I couldn’t forget.”
“Not even with all the hits to the head you’ve taken?”
Matt chuckled and shook his head. “No, I…”
Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.
Not of your heart in his ears, but his own against his ribcage. He was alive, every part of himself and you were there, alit before him.
“Can I kiss you?”
You did not reply, not with words. Instead, your hands slipped up his chest and rested over his heart. They stilled only for a moment before they rose further to Matt’s jaw. Once there, you pulled him in close, pressed your lips to his.
You smiled, Matt knew this despite how he could not see. He felt the curve of your lips in the kiss, a feeling that made the rest of the world fall silent.
Inspired by all the peoole who are insecure about their skin and need reminders that skin doesn’t need to be flawless to be beautiful
Basically I just wrote about my own skin issues and what I’d be insecure about it
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You didn’t hear the first knock on the door.
Everything around you kind of ceased to exist as you stared at yourself in the mirror, eyeing the giant zit on your chin with distaste. You had felt the small bump this morning while washing your face in the shower, but now it seemed to have finally sprouted up completely, taking up a decent chunk of real estate directly below the corner of your lip.
Scowling, you clenched your hands, struggling to smash down the impulse to prod and poke and squeeze. It really was disgusting, and you needed it to go.away.
You knew that if you messed with it, the bump would grow angry and inflamed, until it looked twice the size. You had grown up with and continued to have hormonal acne, so you were used to ones that were red and painful, the ones that sat deep underneath your skin and stuck around for longer than you needed them to, really.
And normally, you wouldn’t care too much. You worked from home, and if you were required to be on camera for a conference call, no one thought twice about someone who didn’t put on make up just to work from their kitchen table. Slap on some concealer and you’d usually be ready to go.
But tonight you had a date.
You hadn’t been dating Matthew Murdock for very long, to be honest. Just a few months, but long enough for a strong sense of shared intimacy, in all the ways that mattered. You’d been taking it slow, feeling it out, still very much in the beginning stages of your relationship. With his busy schedule, and yours, you sometimes found it hard to spend dedicated time with each other.
But tonight was your weekly date night, and you had a giant zit on your chin that didn’t look like it would be going away anytime soon.
You knew he wouldn’t care, of course. As a blind man, he had no use for societal beauty standards. There was no need for him to care about the fact that your hair had split ends, no need to care about teeth that were ever so slightly an off white from years of drinking too much black coffee, no need to care about the stretch marks on your hips or thighs. You knew he didn’t care about any of it.
But that didn’t make you feel any less self-conscious about it.
Your friends had all grown out of their awkward teenage phases and sported clear, smooth skin, while you hadn’t been so lucky. No matter how much water you drank, no matter how many dermatologist visits you went to, no matter how much money you spent on high-end cleansers and scrubs and clay masks, you still had moments like this.
And it was date night.
Matt, you knew, was a very tactile person, which made sense when you thought about it. Even though he could do things, impossible things, things that even sighted people would likely be unable to do, it didn’t change the fact that Matt still used his hands very frequently to get a sense of the world around him.
He loved holding your hand, loved playing with your hair, loved kissing your forehead. He loved having his hands on you, whether it was strictly G-rated when in public, or while he was pushing into you from behind. Everything and anything was fair game when it came to you.
And, without fail, every time he kissed you hello, he’d tilt your head up with a finger underneath your chin and his thumb right underneath your lip. It didn’t matter if the kiss was sweet and gentle, or intense and passionate; he used his hand to draw your focus on to him, as if you could ever be focused on anything else but him when he was near.
You knew that when he greeted you tonight, he’d feel this giant pimple right there, and you were already cringing at the thought.
You brought your hand up to your chin, still tempted to mess around and pick at it, but jumped when a second knock sounded at the door.
Speak of the devil.
Sending the mirror one last rueful glare, you shut off the light and walked out of your bathroom. Your apartment wasn’t very large, so you made it to the front door in just a few steps, and you tried to not make it obvious that you were internally freaking out and drawing in deeper breaths than usual to calm yourself.
Opening the door revealed handsome Matt Murdock in all his glory, looking so effortlessly attractive that you almost hated him for it.
He was still dressed in what he probably wore to work that day, signifying that he most likely didn’t have time to go home and change. Not that you minded; the way his ass filled out his slacks and the way his broad shoulders stretched his collared shirt never failed to bring a small flush to your cheeks, knowing exactly what all that muscle and skin looked like underneath his clothing.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted you, suit jacket slung over the arm that was holding his cane, warm smile on his lips. His glasses were still on, but you avoided looking directly at the lenses where you knew you’d see your own reflection.
“Hey,” you responded instantly, unable to stop your own grin, despite the anxiety. You weren’t sure when the pet names had started, but you both knew you were absolutely putty in his hands everytime one slipped from his mouth.
Matt took a quick step inside your apartment, before reaching forward to grab your chin the way he always did, that telltale sign he was about to greet you again, but this time with his mouth on yours.
The insecurity spiked again, and without even thinking about it, you turned your head to the side. You took a sudden step to the right, effectively avoiding his grasp, much to his surprise.
He let his hand fall to his side, a sudden frown relaying his confusion. His head tilted in your direction, sightless eyes behind red lenses landing just to your left, and he didn’t bother masking the brief flicker of hurt that crossed his face.
“What’s wrong?” He questioned after a second, and you knew he could feel the awkward tension that had just landed between you two. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, knowing that this was all your doing, but unable to get the right words out to apologize. You plastered on a fake smile instead.
“Nothing.” The answer came out quickly, an obvious lie, easily detecable even if it hadn’t been given to someone who couldn’t decipher facts from falseties by heartbeat alone.
“We both know that’s not the truth,” Matt said slowly. He hadn’t moved from his spot in the doorway, as if unsure if he was welcome inside. You cringed. You hadn’t wanted to make him feel unwelcome, especially when all you thought about was how seamlessly he fit into your life and how much you wanted to keep him there.
But still, this stupid, small insecurity had reared up as suddenly as the zit that had grown on your chin, and you found yourself reluctant to let him in on the secret.
“Everything’s fine,” you answered brightly, trying to put him ease, even while you knew you were failing. “Are you ready to go?”
Matt was still rooted to the spot and didn’t look like he was going to move until he figured you out.
“I will be, once you tell me why you just flinched away from me.” A brief flash of his own insecurity flickered across his face, and you hated that you had caused it. You knew there were alarm bells going off in his head, and you watched as he took a deep breath as if he was already preparing for the worst. He licked his lips, something he often did when nervous. “Did I…do something?”
You sighed, closing your eyes.
“It’s stupid.”
“Clearly it’s not, if you didn’t even want me to kiss you hello.” Matt finally took another step forward, crowding you backwards into your apartment as he shut your front door behind him. “Is everything ok?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine, can we just-”
“Please don’t lie to me.”
You groaned and took a step back into the walk behind you, letting your head tip back against it with a loud thump.
“They never said having a super-powered boyfriend would be this hard. I can’t get away with shit.”
With a fond roll of his eyes, the tension in Matt’s shoulders seemed to ease a little, but he still didn’t let up. “Just answer the damn question.”
You looked briefly down at your shoes and took a deep breath.
“I have a giant zit on my face.”
“A…wait,what?”
“A zit. A pimple. A blemish. A giant red bump on my chin.”
If you thought Matt had looked confused before, it was nothing compared to how he looked now. He raised his eyebrows, seemingly not prepared for this. He looked like this was honestly the last thing he had ever expected you to say.
“You do realize I’m blind, right?” He asked dryly once he had recovered.
“Yup.”
“As in, I can’t see you.”
“That’s right.”
“Like…at all.”
“Absolutely.”
“No light perception.”
“Got it.”
“Ok, so…why do you think I would care? Why do you think I would care even if I could see you?” Matt’s hand came up to your chin again, and you smacked it away with a gasp of indignation.
“Don’t touch it!”
This time Matt full on laughed, as if overjoyed at this new insecurity he had found. You glared at him, arms crossed over your chest. “It’s not funny.”
His laughing quieted as he shook his head, but his grin was still there as he finally took his glasses off and placed them on the table next to your door that you reserved for your keys.
“Why does this bother you so much?”
“Because you can feel it.”
“What does that even mean?”
Groaning, you moved to cover your face with your hands, but he gently took them away and held them to his chest instead. “Tell me.”
“You…you rely on touch so much. Like, I know your hearing and sense of smell are insane, but you use your hands and skin and touch to navigate everything, too.”
“And…?”
“You like soft things,” you finally breathed out the root of this particular insecurity, specific only to him. “Silk sheets. Silk boxers. You use super high end detergents for your clothing to encourage maximum softness. You buy very specific paper towels and toilet paper and kleenex. You like everything to be so incredibly soft…and my skin isn’t.”
A look of realization had settled across his face as you spoke, which was soon replaced by a small frown. Gently, so very gently, he released the hands he had cradled to his chest, before he reached out to take your face in his hands. This time you didn’t flinch away, and he moved closer to press his forehead against yours.
“How come you’ve never said anything before?”
“Because I haven’t really needed to. And because it’s so stupid.”
“It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you like this, sweetheart,” he said quietly.
You looked up at him, staring at the pretty brown eyes that weren’t quite focused on yours, before reluctantly diving in.
“It’s just…I can feel my face starting to break out and it’s just something I’m super insecure about, I guess.” Your hands slid along his chest to fidget with one of the buttons on his shirt as you rambled on. “My skin gets like this every once in a while, where I’ll go through a phase of pimple after pimple after pimple. And for the most part I’m fine with it because there’s really not much I can do about it, as much as it sucks. And like…my skin isn’t even that bad right now, but that doesn’t mean I won’t wake up tomorrow with eleven more pimples along my chin and jaw. And then I started thinking about how you’ll feel every single bump and scab, more intensely than anyone else, and my brain just ran with it.”
Matt made low soothing sound deep in his chest as he lifted his head off of yours and pressed his lips to your forehead instead.
“You don’t have anything to be self-conscious about. Not with me.”
“But-”
“I can’t see any of the scars on my body,” he interrupted. His thumbs were absentmindedly stroking your cheeks as he spoke. “I can’t see them, but I can feel how rough and twisted and bumpy they are. And sometimes, I wonder what you think about them.”
“That’s not the same, Matt.”
“I know it’s not.”
“You got those scars saving people.” You tried to jerk away from him, but he didn’t let you. “Those scars meansomething.”
“It’s just skin.” He lips moved to kiss one eyelid, then the other.
“Matt-”
“It’s just skin,” he repeated. “And skin isn’t supposed to be perfect. And if you’re not bothered by anything you feel on mine, how could I ever be bothered by yours?”
“How can you even compare the two, Matt?” You objected. Again, you tried to move away, but this time he moved one hand down to your right shoulder to hold you in place against the wall. His hand may have been gentle, but you could feel the band of steel under the surface. There was no getting away from him if he didn’t want you to.
“I’m not comparing the two,” he said shook his head.
“Then why-”
He interrupted you again. “I’m not comparing them. I’m just saying that you’re self-conscious about something that’s out of your control. And maybe I’m a little self-conscious, too, when you run your hand over one of my scars.”
“But you’re beautiful.” The words slipped out without thought, and you went to cover your mouth with your hand before he grabbed it with a laugh.
“Shut up,” you grumbled at his laughter. He shook his head, still grinning at your embarrassment.
“You know you’re beautiful, too, right?”
You rolled your eyes. “You literally can’t see me, Matt, as you just pointed out, repeatedly.”
“You’re beautiful on the inside.”
“Gross, Matt. You’re so cheesy.” He laughed again.
“Maybe,” Matt shrugged, unbothered by your lighthearted insult. “But we both know I don’t need to see you to know you. And you don’t need to have perfect skin for me to enjoy touching you.”
You were quiet for a moment, unsure of what to say next. Finally, you just sighed as you leaned your body into his, letting your arms wrap loosely around his waist. His hand left your shoulder to rest at your lower back, further anchoring you to him.
“This isn’t an argument you plan on losing, is it?”
Matt kissed you lightly on the nose. “I wasn’t even aware this was an argument, sweetheart. Certainly doesn’t feel like one.”
“A disagreement, then.”
“It’s not about winning or losing,” Matt said simply. He rubbed your back lightly, knowing it would make you arch into him just the way he liked. “I spoke my truth. You spoke yours, even if you’re being silly.”
“I’m not silly!” You gasped out in outrage, pulling away abruptly. He only let you get so far before tugging you back in.
“I said you’re being silly, not that you are silly,” he clarified, more quietly. “And I definitely didn’t say that this…insecurity is silly. It’s just silly that you think something like this would bother me.”
“It bothers me.”
“I know,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss one check before moving to kiss the other. “But it shouldn’t.”
“Easier said than done.”
“I know,” he repeated, and you knew it was because he had his own suitcase of insecurities he was always dealing with, and how difficult it could be to move past the negative voices in your head. “But for the record, your skin is soft. Not always smooth, maybe, but always soft. I love feeling it against me, I love feeling it beneath my hands, beneath my lips.”
His hands dropped to pull your hips flush against his, and lowered his voice into that deep tone he knew always worked on you like a charm. But this time, it was laced with something extremely soft and tender.
“And if you’re okay with staying in tonight, I’d love to spend the next several hours kissing and touching every inch of your skin, if you’ll let me.”
As if you could ever say no to that.
Damn this man for knowing you too well already.
Matt must have heard the skip in your heart beat, the one that so often happened when he was near, because he slid a hand back up to the back of your neck and pulled lightly on your hair. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Moving closer, he grasped your chin slowly, with one finger under your chin and his thumb right below your lip like he always did, as he tilted your back to kiss you.
Contains/Warnings: NSFW - the explicit part is linked to AO3 but reader discretion is advised.
Chapter Summary: A girl needing the help of a really good lawyer, gets more than she bargained for.
Notes: This is not my usual fare, I haven’t ventured out of Star Wars fics before, but this was a mix of a request and a birthday gift for the ever-lovely @eyecandyeoz -both a wonderful creator and friend. I finally got this finished! I hope you like this, and thank you for being my friend, even when I am not the best in return.
An extra tag for @hellothere-generalangsty - look I finally finished that fic I told you about ages ago!
In Safe Hands - Matt Murdock x OC
Fear. The room was ripe with it. The woman held captive trembled as she tried to breathe through her terror. Her chest was tight and her breaths were ragged. Just a few hours ago she had thought she was safe. A few hours ago she had been sitting at a table opposite someone she thought was going to be able to help her. Her father had gotten her into this shitty situation and the man - the lawyer had said he could help. Said he could get her out. Said the gangsters coming after her for the sake of her father’s debt wouldn’t be able to hurt her. …He was wrong.
Here she sat in a dingy basement, God only knew where, awaiting those vile men to return and threaten her with more guns or beatings. She was already bruised and bloody, her lip split though she’d had worse. Courtesy of the same man whose fault it was that she was now stuck here. The bindings on her wrists and ankles were tight, and she had been trying to loosen the ties on her ankles first, she wasn’t sure if it was working.
She was pretty sure it had only been a few hours in and yet it could have been days for all she knew. Tears streamed down her face, her brown eyes, now accustomed to the dark peering out for any sign of light or life that wasn’t rats crawling in the walls. At least she hoped those sounds were just rats. Was she going to die here? Was anyone going to look for her?
I ALREADY SPAMMED MY LOVE FOR THIS GLEAMING GEM OF A FIC YOU WROTE FOR ME ON AO3 SO NOW THE ONLY THING LEFT TO DO IT SCREM AT YOU HERE ON TUMBLR!!!!
I can’t even begin to thank you enough for this BREATHTAKING story as well as your IMPECCABLE art. ✨✨
Also, I love how at the begging we got the Father Slander ™️ because you and I both know dads suck Feels even MORE personalized but in a nice, humorous way!
my crazed word babble under the cut
Okay absolutely love the humor right off the bad like can somebody say CHEMISTRY!!!! I also use humor as a coping mechanism
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UHM EXCUSE ME?!??? HOW YOU BE GETTING HIS BANTER SO SPOT ON?!? Legit read this in his voice.
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I SCREM WHEN I GOT HERE BECAUSE UHM OBVIOUS REASONS iykyk
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“not used to saying such things out loud-” yes officer it’s this fic right here. This is so well done, my friend. The constant reassurance not only for Maeve but for the reader as well like SERIOUSLY I AM SWOONIN’!!!
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Matt Murdock fucking knows all, mkay? You got his protective, affectionate, engaging character down so hella well, I am in complete and utter awe. Your writing is beautiful and I am fortunate to have been gifted such a masterpiece.
Rating:T // Warnings: Angst, Language. // Word Count:4,834
Summary–@gabymiller asked – can I request a frank castle fic where he’s married with a baby girl and they see on the news that he is dead but with the help of Curtis his wife finds out he’s Pete and they have a angsty fluffy reunion ❤️
A/N:This came out more angsty than I expected but I hope you like it anyway. There’s still some fluff and many bittersweet moments. // A/N 2: Lisa is Frank and Reader’s baby, with all my respect to Maria and the Castle family. A/N 3: The title comes from the song Baby, I’m yours, by Barbara Lewis. It’s mentioned a couple times if you wanna listen beforehand.
That’s what he believed. That’s what he needed. To be home and become the husband and the father he always wanted to be, but the universe cared little for what Frank Castle wanted. It had other plans for him and wasn’t going to let him settle that easily just cause he had a change of heart.
No, it wouldn’t be that simple. Not after what happened during his last deployment. Not after Cerberus.
His bliss at home – with you and getting reacquainted with Lisa, who had just turned one, – was quickly cut short only three weeks after settling back in your lives.
What pulled him out of that delusion was when, one day while you were at work, he took Lisa to the park and on his way back he found an envelope in the mail slot with no stamp or address on it. Just his name and CD that contained a very damning video of his last mission in Kandahar.
A couple days later, he disappeared before you woke up.
He took that piece of evidence as a threat and in order to figure out who was behind that, he had to be as far away from you as possible. It was the only way to keep you safe cause he knew that that mission was different, and while he hoped it had ended with that bullet, it didn’t. It followed him back home and he couldn’t have that. He wasn’t going to be the reason to put you and the baby in danger.
He wrote you a letter, though, that felt like a joke where he vaguely explained that he had to go away to figure things out and that he didn’t know if he would ever come back. He said that you and Lisa were better off without him, that he’d never be what you wanted him to be.
You couldn’t understand how he could have sunk that low to bury your relationship in such a crude manner like it was nothing. And despite being mad as hell, deep down you were certain that those words weren’t true. If he was trying to make you angry, he knew how to. But he couldn’t possibly believe that you were stupid enough to buy that.
You’ve been together long enough to read between the lines, and if he thought you were going to give up that easily, he was wrong.
Something was off and you needed to know the truth and the best way to do that was to visit some of his closest friends.
None of them knew shit, or so they said. Except for Curtis, if the others had lied, Curt didn’t. He couldn’t. He was an honest man and told you straight up that Frank had to leave to keep both of you safe, that there were people after him who weren’t going to hesitate about hurting you to get to him. He also reassured that Frank didn’t love anything more in the world than you and Lisa, that he was completely torn apart the last time he saw him.
But that wasn’t very reassuring at all. It was bullshit. You loved Frank but it didn’t make sense to you what he could’ve done so wrong that prompted an escape number instead of going to the police or coming up with something else.
A lot happened in the next few weeks since he left. To say it turned your life upside down was an understatement.
First, you were stunned by the bombarding news and headlines pointing your husband as the perpetrator of a series of murders, including his former CO, Ray Schoonover.
Quickly after that, you were brought in for questioning twice, once by the NYPD, and a second one by Homeland Security, claiming that he was part of two bombings along with a man named Lewis Wilson.
They got warrants and all kinds of bullshit to search the house. To their disbelief they didn’t find anything that could point them in Frank’s direction.
It was then that you understood the coldness of his words in that letter he wrote. He wanted everyone to believe that he had abandoned you so they’d leave you alone. He anticipated that happening and they still went at you either way, but not as viciously as they’d have if they believed you knew what he was up to.
It was heartbreaking seeing your husband dissected by the so-called experts and people who once knew him trying to put the pieces together of this person they claimed was a psychopath.
You wanted to believe Frank was innocent but the evidence kept piling up against him.
At the end of the day, you missed him dearly and there wasn’t a side or another, it was only his and yours and Lisa’s. And you were certain that behind all the secrecy, there was a good reason for his actions. You wished he had told you. Maybe he thought you were useless to him, or it was as dangerous as he said it was for you to be privy to all that, but being in the dark was just as bad. You’d have done anything for him if he had asked.
It was exhausting, you could barely keep it together. Most nights you didn’t sleep. And if it wasn’t for your commitment to Lisa you definitely would’ve lost your mind a long time ago. Taking care of her and making sure she was happy and healthy was the only thing that kept you going. She had the most beautiful face and smile, and you marveled at how much her eyes looked like Frank’s every time she opened them in the morning and you could even see it at night before she closed them.
Every evening before bedtime, you’d hold her up in your arms, showing her the picture of daddy in his dress blues sitting on the mantle cause you wanted her to remember him as the good man you knew, as that same guy you met five years who stood in line for ten minutes every day just so he could talk to you for one while he ordered his coffee, until one day he was brave enough to ask you out.
“Don’t believe anything you hear, okay? Daddy loves you,” you whispered in her little ear, staring at Frank’s portrait, as if she could understand anything that was going on.
“Dada,” that night she stuck out her arm and pressed her tiny finger against his nose over the glass.
“You like dada’s nose? It’s kinda funny, isn’t it?”
She stared at you and repeated dada.
“Don’t tell him I say that,” you smiled tiredly and glanced at the still portrait of Frank one more time, holding back tears, blindly hoping he’d come back some day.
In an old building near the river, Frank was watching the whole thing through the cameras he had David install in the house so he could keep an eye on you. The pace of his heart picked up, capturing his baby girl calling him dada behind a screen, and as much as he wanted to run back home and hold the both of you, it was nearly impossible. You were being watched, not just by him, and there wasn’t a safe way for him to contact you without arousing suspicion.
He could see how tired you were and how much you had endured. You were strong, he had no doubt, but he hated seeing you suffering, and if he could go back in time and change the course of his actions so he could be there with you, he abso-fucking-lutelywould.
Once Lisa was asleep and you turned in for the night, he laid back on the uncomfortable cot and closed his eyes, as all those beautiful memories he built up with you flashed behind them– from the moment he saw you behind the counter at the café, the first date, the first kiss, a couple of arguments in between, all the times he made love to you, countless of times speaking on the phone, your wedding, the day his baby girl was born…
If you had Lisa, he only had his treasured memories wrapped in an old song that started playing in his head that you first danced to on the second time you went out with him, and that was later the song that played at your wedding. It’s called– Baby, I’m yours.
Frank could hear the melody clearly and still feel the weight and touch of your hands when they linked around his neck on the dance floor when he invited you to dance. He couldn’t do the twist but he could definitely swing with you to a couple of slower songs like that one.
It was at the fundraiser at a VA center in Brooklyn where everyone was dressed like it was the 60’s. He would have never agreed to go to a themed party like that, no, but it was for a good cause and it also gave him the opportunity to ask you out on a second date. So, he bought the tickets, found himself a classic, nice suit like Don Draper wore in Mad Men, and traded his tactical boots for oxfords. Admittedly, he didn’t consider himself as handsome as Don, but you made him feel that way. He wasn’t a cheater either, so, all things considered, he could take pride in that but he was too humble to recognize his own good qualities and wasn’t going to start any time soon.
For all the times he called himself old-fashioned, that day he looked the part too. He showed up with a bouquet of flowers and tucked his elbow out so you could link your arm with his as you walked up to his truck. It was adorable how bashfully he looked at you and the way his lips curved up when you kissed him at the end of the night.
He wished for more moments like those. His life couldn’t end like this without getting to hold you and Lisa again. Could it?
That unbearable need pushed him to keep going, to settle his score, clear his name, just so he could return to you and make new memories.
But again, his plans were destroyed once more the night on the pier when he found who was working with Schoonover…
All his dreams of getting back to you blew up in that explosion. The puzzle was more complex than he initially thought, so he ultimately had to let you go for good and let the world, including you, believe that Frank Castle had died in that boat.
In his wake, he kept working in the shadows with his partner while watching you helplessly bury a burned body that wasn’t his. He had David hack and falsify all the appropriate DNA and dental records so nobody would glance at it twice and it worked.
The world finally left you alone after his death and when they stopped watching– he stopped too because you deserve to grieve and live in peace; and because every time he saw you on the screen it was like being run over by five cars in a row.
He’d still get an update or photo of Lisa from Curtis, who tried to convince him many times to let you know that he was alive, but he wouldn’t budge. He still believed you were safer not knowing.
Curt hated lying to you and after the funeral you only saw him a couple of times, briefly. First, you didn’t want to face people at all for a while, and second, you stayed focused on Lisa and your job, and that didn’t give you much time to do anything else.
Frank grew a beard, got a new identity for the time being, and kept his dead down, living like a ghost for ten months, hitting wall after wall of bullshit that kept him from finding out who was the real asshole behind Cerberus. That was the last piece he needed.
Being dead was easy, kind of. He didn’t have to worry anymore cause nobody knew what he was up to, and becoming Pete Castiglione gave him the freedom to come and go as he pleased, even during daylight, he’d just slip a cap on and call it a day.
What kept him up at night was abandoning the two of you. His whole damn word that he missed so much, it physically hurt. You were so close, barely a handful of miles away, that he could just be there in less than an hour if he wanted to. And that was it, he always wanted, alas the fear of putting you in peril was greater.
He’d stare at the picture of the two of you every night. Traced your features with his finger before succumbing to reading instead to keep his mind occupied. He had never read as much as he did during those months.
One day, he was getting a couple of books at this bookstore, cause he had already gone through Curt’s and David’s entire bookshelves, and he needed new material.
In there, he was taken aback at finding you with Lisa on your lap over the kid’s section. It seemed like some mommy and me kind of class, with mostly moms and a couple of dads, surrounded by babies and toddlers listening to a young girl and boy taking turns reading from a Dr. Seuss book.
Lisa had grown so much since he last saw her, obviously. And he couldn’t turn his gaze away, memorizing every detail of his baby girl from her hair held in two buns atop of her head, to her outfit of a flashy purple shirt with a dinosaur, jeans and sneakers. He was stunned by the way she freely gestured, expressing herself like he hadn’t seen before, laughing at the kids’ funny voices, and being nothing but inquisitive at her surroundings. She wouldn’t just stay seated on your lap and would stand several times up on her short legs, spin around, and go over to the front row with the other kids whenever she pleased.
His eyes welled up realizing how much he’d missed. She could walk now and he wasn’t there to see that happen. She was about to turn two and wouldn’t be there to witness that either out of his own stupidity.
He tried making himself invisible, peering behind a bookshelf so he could see you smiling and quietly sharing just a few words with one of the moms on your side.
His heart stopped when he saw Lisa’s little hand waving at him in one of her spins like she had recognized him, but she was just probably playing around. She couldn’t have. Could she? It’d be astonishing if she could.
When he looked at himself in the mirror, he could barely see Frank anymore behind all that hair. Maybe it was the eyes that gave him away, or the nose, probably. He figured you kept showing her pictures of him and telling stories no matter how painful it was; and he was right, you did.
His lips turned into a smile, and she smiled back widely, showing all her baby teeth before returning to mommy’s side.
When the class was over, he quickly slipped his ball cap back on and strode away towards the exit because if he didn’t, he might’ve ended up doing something he regretted.
“Bye-bye, dada,” you heard Lisa say to your surprise as you were putting her jacket on.
Your brow turned into a frown, glancing over your shoulder to see if she had seen someone that looked like Frank in the bookstore. That was the only explanation for it, you had never seen her say that other than when you put her to bed that she wished his picture good night.
She was too little to understand what death was so you saved that conversation for later, all she knew that even if she didn’t see daddy again, he’d always be with her. Maybe that was a little confusing too for an almost two year-old.
“You wanna see dada?”
She nodded and it broke your heart a little more, if it was possible, after everything you’ve been through.
You handed invitations to a few moms for Lisa’s birthday party that you planned for next week and chatted with them for a bit before heading home.
As you were finally starting to feel more like your old self, those few days left to her second birthday quickly changed that again. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it but you could tell someone was watching you, and it started to creep you out that Lisa kept babbling with her little vocabulary that she saw Frank more than once. First was at the bookstore, you thought it’d end there, but there was another time at the grocery store, and third time at the park.
It was like his ghost was haunting you. After all this time, only Frank would dare to show up right when you were pulling yourself out of the suffocating pit of sadness.
On the day of Lisa’s birthday, you found a package addressed to you on the porch but it was a present for her. Since there was no return address you opened it first, just for safety, unsticking carefully one side of the wrapping paper to find a box that had a stuffed green dinosaur inside, a cute card wishing her Happy Birthday, and a book titled ‘One Batch, Two Batch’ with a big bear and a baby bear holding a cookie on the cover. You knew she’d love that, so you put it back together as it came and hid it for later, wondering who could have sent that.
“I feel like I’m going crazy,” you told Curt after the party, fidgeting with Frank’s wedding band that was hanging on a chain around your neck.
He stuck around to catch up and helped you clean up cause you hadn’t seen him in a few months.
You had put Lisa to sleep already, which wasn’t hard after all the excitement of the day. She enjoyed every single second and went to sleep with that stuffed dino cradled to her chest from the mysterious sender.
“Yeah? What happened?”
“I don’t know, I just… she keeps talking about Frank and I feel like he’s watching over us or something.”
You saw Curt swallow as he towel dried the dishes.
“I am crazy, am I?” you said when he didn’t give you a reply.
“No, no… I was just thinking. That doesn’t sound crazy at all. You miss him, and so does she because you still tell her about him.”
“You think I should stop?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m just saying it is normal to miss him. He’s a great part of your life.”
“Yeah, but I’ve always missed him. This is different. It feels like I’m back to the beginning when he left and I knew he was out there but I couldn’t see him, you know?”
Curt simply nodded.
He couldn’t keep up with the lie anymore and hated seeing you hurt because of Castle, which he was sure now he had been lurking around for what you’ve just had said. He wished Frank would’ve listened to him earlier. You needed to know the truth but it couldn’t come from him.
It was a few days later that you left Lisa with the babysitter in the afternoon and drove to St. John’s after getting a text from Curtis saying that he needed to talk to you alone, that it was important.
The sky was already dark, since days were shorter then, and as you pulled up at the end of the street you saw a few people coming out of the church, some gathering on the pavement to have a smoke and a few words before parting ways.
Curt was waiting for you outside when you got to the doors, a couple of guys were saying goodbye to him as you walked up the stairs.
“I need you to keep an open mind,” he started, treading carefully and motioning in the direction of the staircase that led to a basement.
“Okay.”
You didn’t know what to expect to be honest, but all the secrecy made you a little nervous. You started biting the inside of your cheek and tucked your hands in your jacket’s pockets, following him in silence down the stairs and across a long hallway until he came to a halt before reaching the end.
He glanced at you, tilting his head to the side, pointing to the room where his meetings were held.
“I need you to take a deep breath and go in. There’s someone who wants to talk to you.”
“What? Who?” Your brow narrowed.
“Trust me. You gotta see for yourself.”
There was no breath to take but an exasperated sigh that left your nose before taking a couple steps forwards and crossing that little threshold into this room where a tall man, all dressed in black, was leaned against the big, yellow tiled wall, with his head hanging down.
You looked back for a moment and Curt was already gone or out of sight, and for lack of words facing this stranger, you cleared your throat loudly in order to claim his attention.
What came next was probably the last thing that you thought of finding here. You’ve never been hit by a bullet but in that moment – as the mysterious man slowly lifted his head, you captured Frank’s features behind disheveled curls and a bushy beard – it felt just like one went straight through your heart.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said and it sounded like gravel coming out of his mouth that made the skin at the back of your neck rise at the texture of his familiar voice.
The utter shock that took all over your body didn’t let you move or speak up. You wanted to scream but you could only stare, noticing your face quickly heating up, and it took you a moment to realize you were already crying.
Your heart pounded anxiously in your chest, begging you to take a breath.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, but I’m here,” he spoke again.
It felt like a cheap trick your mind was playing on you because that person in front of you couldn’t be Frank Castle. It was absolutely impossible. You buried his body, almost in disgrace after all the things they said he had done.
You blinked once, and twice more, as he moved closer, slowly presenting himself more and more as the man that once you recognized as your husband.
He was barely standing two feet away when you finally let a shaky breath fall between your lips that was held beneath that huge knot in your throat. And when his mouth opened again to say he was sorry you used both hands to push him back with all the force you could muster, which wasn’t much to be honest.
Frank merely swayed, and you pushed him again, harder, and he let you, and a third one.
“Let it out, sweetheart.”
On the fourth push, you started sobbing uncontrollably and his arms finally surrounded you, holding you tight against his chest.
“Shh, shh. It’s okay.”
“I hate you,” you repeated thickly a few times, falling apart against his hoodie, balling the fabric in your hands.
“I know, I know… I’m sorry.”
You felt his lips pressed on your head and a hand soothing up and down your back. He kept you like that until your heart settled at a normal pace and there weren’t more tears to shed, at least for now.
With a little hesitation, you pulled your head back to take a good look at him again, calmer this time.
Locking eyes with him, you brought your hands up and framed his face, rubbing your thumbs on the bags of his eyes that were tear-soaked just as yours.
“You coming home?” Of all the questions you could have asked, that was the only one that mattered to you.
“I can’t. It’s not safe,” his gaze fell low.
“Will it ever be?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re an asshole, you know that?” He nodded in your hands and you released his face, turning your back on him in frustration, “you lied to me and left me alone to deal with all this. I’ve mourned you… and for what? You should’ve stayed dead.”
You didn’t mean that but emotions got the best out of you in that moment.
“Please, Frank. I miss you,” you begged right after, letting out a sob.
“I wish I could, baby. I wanna tell you everything and go home with you and Lisa, but there are still people out there that would hurt you if they knew I was alive.”
“Then, tell me what to do, I’ll help you. Whatever you need,” you wiped your face and shifted on your boots again to face him.
“You can’t. One of us has to take care of her, and I’m already dead.”
“You let her see you, didn’t you?”
“I just…” his lips twitched nervously, “I saw her at the bookstore and she smiled at me and waved. And I had to see that again. I tried to stay away but she’s just…”
“She’s perfect and misses you too,” you finished his sentence, fitting your hands on either side of his neck, capturing the warmth of his skin, “come by the house later at night, even if it’s just for a little bit, just to hold her for a while.”
“I wanna. I really do but if anyone catches a whiff that I’m around…”
“Nobody will. I promise,” you whispered and brought your fingers up to move his curls away from his forehead, “look at you… you look so different, I could barely recognize you.”
“Dunno know how she did.”
“She’s smart for a two year old,” you laughed softly, petting his beard next.
“She got that from you.”
“I don’t know about that,” you sighted as Frank got hold of one of your hands and brought your palm up to his lips.
A tap on the doorframe interrupted the moment and you glanced over your shoulder to see Curt looking apologetic for having to cut your time short.
“Everything good with you two? I need to close up.”
You both nodded.
“Thanks Curt.”
He was a saint. Whatever he did to convince Frank to show up here to see you, it mustn’t have been easy.
Frank rode with you and explained everything on the way back home, every single detail without overstating or sugarcoating anything, and you listened quietly without judgment. You always knew he had his reasons and now they were all out in the open, and you didn’t know how to process all that in that short time frame. You couldn’t get behind all of it and wished he had found another way, but you couldn’t resent him either.
“Do you still love me after all that?” he asked once you were in the garage.
“Frank,” you stated his name as if it wasn’t obvious already that you’d never stop no matter what. “Until the end of time.”
It was a cheesy line from that song you both loved so much.
“Until the stars fall from the sky?”
“Until I die,” you leaned closer and pressed your lips chastely against his, and couldn’t help but smile at the prickling of his facial hair.
Then, he cupped your face so tender as his forehead touched yours, staying there a moment in silence, gathering some much needed courage to face your baby girl.
You went into the house first and when the sitter was gone he came in through the back door.
Lisa was soundly asleep, sucking on her pacifier, in her toddler bed that was converted from her former crib. That same crib Frank built three days before she was born because he got home just in time to see that happen. Then, she spent about three months sleeping in a bassinet next to your bed afterwards anyway. There was no rush you told him, but he spent a day just putting all that together cause he needed something to do.
You switched the night light on that turned the room into soft blues and yellows, and projected stars and moons across the ceiling as Frank took a seat in the rocking chair.
You carefully picked up Lisa and laid her on her tummy across Frank’s chest. She stirred up a little but stayed comfortably curled in daddy’s embrace without fussing too much, even tucked her arm underneath his beard.
Your heart swelled watching them both and you propped yourself on the arm of the chair, tucking your legs over his lap and hugging his neck.
summary:life isn’t all that bad as a former black widow turned hit woman. that is, until you meet a certain pain in the ass vigilante.
and end up needing his help.
word count:3.3k
warnings: ANGST, injury, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt no comfort, claire cameo my beloved!, matt makes bad decisions because he feels guilty, mentions of black widow traumas (mainly abuse & human trafficking)
author’s note: yes, my update schedule is every other week now, but i’m feeling generous today. also a little more matt pov, because the reader’s feelings are not completely one sided. enjoy this angsty chapter.
Your fingers trembled against the thin slip of paper. Its vague, yet incredibly daunting words had made your head spin— but that could’ve been the blood loss. You pulled your lip with your teeth in a futile effort to keep it from wobbling, and ignored the growing stinging in your eyes as tears threatened to bubble to the surface.
“What is it?” Matt questioned as he closed the door behind you softly as to not disturb the neighbors or draw any suspicion to you.
“Nothing, just… eviction notice.”
“Mhm,” he agreed dryly, navigating the obstacle course of your living room to set you down on your couch. “Read it to me.”
“It doesn’t even matter,” you dismissed despite the shaking of your voice betraying your cavalier words.
“Remember, I can tell when you’re lying.”
“Matt, please…” you trailed off weakly, as you sunk into your couch, groaning aloud quietly in a mixture of exhaustion and pain from your run in with the random hitman, and the growing crushing feeling on your chest from the threat of the note.
For a second, you wondered if the note referred to your more recent work in the city, but the sign-off of a spider told you everything you needed to know. Somehow, you’d prefer the threat of exposing your more recent night job to your time as a Black Widow. Your past would truly never stop haunting you.
Yet, you supposed that it was really only a matter of time. Part of you knew, deep down, that you would eventually have to pay for the crimes that you’d performed under someone else’s order, but that other naive part of you had just a sliver of hope that you had been worried for nothing.
You were becoming more and more light headed by the moment, a mixture of blood loss, the reservoir of adrenaline from the fight finally running dry, and now the final punch of imagining the new life you’d built for yourself crumbling before your eyes. Your vision was obscured by a vignette of darkness, making the design of your ceiling fade in and out of your line of sight until everything went black.
-
Your heart rate was slowing down, and it was slowing down quickly. Matt mentally scolded himself for not calling Claire sooner as he opened his burner phone and clicked the one and only contact, before setting the phone on speaker and placing it on your coffee table.
He kneeled down by your side and pressed two fingers against your pulse point, not that he needed to be any closer to hear your heartbeat, but feeling your pulse against his fingers gave him an odd sense of comfort. You were okay for the moment. Well, maybe not okay, but not dying just yet.
Scolding himself once more for wasting time, Matt went right to work with what he could do while he waited for Claire’s more expert assistance. With the already ripped fabric of your pants, Matt attempted to make a tourniquet to slow down the bleeding as much as possible.
After the third ring, Claire picked up the phone. “What’s wrong?” she slurred sleepily. Clearly, Matt’s ringtone had woken her up from her slumber.
“It’s not me this time. I’m going to send you my location, and I need you to get here as fast as you can.”
“Shit,” she murmured, the phone barely picking up on it. “Okay, give me a bit.”
-
“Did you meet each other at fight club?” Claire asked as she got to work unloading her rather extensive emergency kit.
“Something like that,” Matt murmured as he paced back and forth through your living room. To say he was on edge was an understatement. His ears were flooded with the sound of blood continuously pouring out of your wound, his mouth metallic with the taste of the soaked and hastily made tourniquet, and the scent of copper assaulted his nose. The instruments of Claire’s kit sounded far too canny for his liking, and his clothes were practically clawing at his skin with every second that your rather large wound remained open. Though he knew it was unlikely, the thought of you dying on that couch was making his stomach do acrobatics.
“What happened, Matt? Really,” Claire questioned as she began to clean your wound.
“It’s a long story,” he dismissed, not interested in divulging your complicated history, with the knowledge that he’d be asked to explain some of his more questionable decisions.
“You called me because a random woman was stabbed and bleeding out; instead of, I don’t know, bringing her to an emergency room, or calling 911. I think you can tell me what happened.”
Matt finally stopped his pacing and sat down in a stiff, slightly scratchy chair. “It really is a long story, Claire. I don’t want to distract you,” he offered.
“I’ve dealt with worse distractions than a little story,” she shrugged, threading a suture. “So what’s her deal?”
“She set me up one night to kill me. She’s uh, a contract killer, but I haven’t smelled death on her in a while. We kept having run-ins at night where she would try to kill me, and I would try to stop her, but she started pulling her punches more and more.”
“Jesus, Matt. That’s- why are you helping someone who’s been trying to kill you? Did you stab her?”
“No! And it’s more complex than just that. We accidentally met outside of our nighttime gigs. It was, uh, a mutual friend, which obviously complicated things-“
“Let me guess, things like your feelings?” Claire quipped as she began to work on you.
“Things like not murdering each other,” he grit out. Sure, it wasn’t the complete truth. Matt had only stooped to considering murder when it came to Wilson Fisk. With you, it was much more complicated. He’d grown to enjoy your little game of Cat and Mouse, liking sparring with you like his life depended on it— because it did. Yet, there was a palpable change in you following the exchange where you could’ve killed him, but didn’t. That exchange, mixed with you being the friend that Karen had so much to say about, had begun to create all sorts of problems for Matt. Problems that he didn’t particularly care to think about, let alone get into with a former lover.
“That was maybe a few months ago,” he shrugged. “We’ve seen each other less and less frequently since then, but I was out patrolling tonight and I heard distress. Distress from her, specifically. I came as fast as I could, and there was another hitman trying to get her for not getting me.”
Claire nodded quietly as she cut a stitch. “And she’s a no hospital girl, like you?”
“Yeah,” Matt breathed out. He noticed a spike in the previously steady pattern of your breath as Claire began to work on another suture, and suddenly words were slipping out of his mouth, “be careful.” Heat flooded his face. Of course she would be careful. This was herjob, and she’d patched Matt up more times than he could count. But for some odd reason, Matt was frightened for you.
Claire shot Matt a death glare. He could practically feel the daggers pressing into his skin based on the sharp intake of breath and the shift of muscles within his face.
“Sorry,” he added.
“I understand. You finally get a girl around who’s as crazy as you, and you want to keep her. And keep her safe. I promise she’s in good hands.”
Matt wasn’t a fan of how heat was rushing to his cheeks at her unfairly accurate statement. In a weird way, you both were oddly compatible, but Matt didn’t want to give that train of thought too much power.
-
Claire finished stitching you up not too long later as Matt held an ice pack close to your burning forehead. He could practically feel your skin from all the way in the kitchen, and he was well aware of how uncomfortable you must’ve been feeling from your own radiating heat. He would be concerned for infection due to your fever, but he didn’t smell any of the telltale signs, which made him believe you were in the clear.
You seemed so defenseless laying there as Matt hovered over you. Your breathing was deep, yet strained, sweat had been pouring out of you, and the smell he’d come to know as a stress hormone was ever present on you. It was so odd to perceive you like this, almost intimate. Matt couldn’t deny how his heart ached for you, despite him writing it off as sympathy for a hurt person.
Claire shuffled around as she picked up and disposed of used items, eventually pausing when she picked up a sticky note that was sticking out from under your torso.
“What’s this?” she asked aloud out of pure reflex. Matt’s head snapped up from you to Claire, curious to know what the note truly said.
“I’m not sure. She wouldn’t tell me before she passed out.”
“It just says ‘We know what you really are. And it’s only a matter of time before the rest of the world does too,’ and it’s signed off with a drawing of a spider. Whatever that means.”
“Hmm,” Matt grumbled aloud, not really sure what any of it meant. Maybe she’d finally been caught for her various hits. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that either, but he didn’t want to voice his thoughts in an effort to not get Claire involved in anything messy and unnecessary. “Thank you Claire, again. You really don’t know how much I appreciate this.”
Her lips parted in what Matt could only assume was a sweet smile. “I know, Matt,” she gave his shoulder a squeeze. “I don’t need to hear heartbeats to know how you feel. Try not to self-sabotage this one too, okay?”
Matt rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t completely deny it. “Goodbye, Claire.”
“Night, Murdock. I’ll see you next week when you break your ribs in three different places.”
“Ha ha,” he laughed dryly as Claire approached the door, sending off one final farewell as she left.
Matt sat down with a huff on the same seat that he’d waited on while Claire stitched you up, his mind laser-focused on Claire’s words and implications. At first, she’d been teasing about the two of you being together, but by the time she’d left, she was dead serious about whatever it was that was going on between you two.
Matt no longer did relationships. That was a luxury that he’d proved time and time again to himself that he could not afford. Silk sheets, artisan desserts, one night stands, and friends were already pushing it, but real relationships only caused trouble. While it certainly didn’t help that romantic relationships were the most distracting of them all, he somehow always ended up putting himself or his partner in serious danger— Claire was kidnapped, Elektra died… twice, Karen had been kidnapped and had absolutely gone through the ringer, and if tonight was any indicator, you would fall into that same trap. Pursuing anything more with you would only end in tragedy.
Matt ran a stressed hand through his hair. This little thing between you had to end tonight. He was going to find out who sent you the note to see if it would help him figure out who wanted him dead, then leaving.
He’d never been so sure of anything. He needed to extinguish anything that was there with you, and do it as soon as humanly possible.
-
When you woke back up, your brain felt like it was filled with lead. The world around you was foggy and buzzing, and for the life of you, you couldn’t grasp onto a single coherent thought. Slowly, things began to come back to you. Through your windows, you could tell that the sun was high in the sky. It was day, likely the afternoon. You were on your couch, but you weren’t sitting on its typical soft microfiber, rather than a harsh and loud piece of plastic. Your leg was stiff—likely from being stretched out for so long—and throbbing—likely from being stabbed in the thigh not too long ago.
You winced at the pain
“Matt? Why are you… What?”
“You were too injured for me to handle, so I had a friend over,” he passed you a glass of water and a gel Advil pill. “Drink. Your tea is cooling off on the coffee table.”
He sat down on the side of your couch by your extended leg and sighed softly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?” you asked, genuinely confused.
“What the note said. My friend, she’s sighted. She described the note to me after she was done stitching you up.”
“Oh,” you said plainly. The note. Your heart dropped once again as your memory was jogged by that dreaded piece of paper.
“You didn’t ever stop and think that your actions have consequences? That if your job is to commit felonies-for-hire, you won’t eventually be stopped in your tracks?”
“I really appreciate the lecture after I almost died, like a few hours ago.”
“And you didn’t die thanks to..?”
“Your sighted friend, apparently. Stop being a smartass. The note isn’t about that. It’s about…” you hesitated. You weren’t particularly in the mood for a stroll down memory lane, but it seemed more likely now than ever that Matt was going to need to know the full story in order to represent you in court. “Listen. I lived a very different life once. Not by choice.”
You inhaled deeply, shifted uncomfortably on your crinkling plastic-lined couch, and braced yourself for whatever might fall out of your lips next.
“I was just a girl when they took me to the Red Room. I never had parents, I didn’t know any better, and I fell right into every trap they set for me. I hadn’t even reached double digits before they began training me to be a Black Widow. I guess my body count reached the double digits before I did. It was like I was constantly living through a nightmare. I mean, what kind of eight year old knows the most effective way to slit a man’s throat? Or slip toxins into a mark’s drink?” your hands trembled as you spoke, and you set them on your stomach to attempt to ground yourself. “I should’ve been playing with dolls, or my friends. Instead I was spending every waking hour of the day training, or on missions.”
“But I was raised only to be a killer, nothing more. Not a kid, not a woman; a weapon, to be manipulated and used at anyone’s disposal. I was brainwashed more times than I could count, and it seemed like every time I managed to snap out of it, they’d pull me right back in. But the final time, er- most recent time, Natasha Romanoff, TheBlack Widow, y’know, the one who works with the Avengers, was able to free my mind, and take down the Red Room, where they trained us, in doing so. Her and her sister helped me get set up here, to live a normal life, or whatever,” you sighed, fighting back the stinging feeling behind your eyes and the growing knot in your throat.
“You see how well that worked out. I’m sorry Matt, for what I did to you, for how things played out between us. I guess doing hits was like muscle memory for me, it was almost nostalgic, in the way that people miss all sorts of fucked up things from their childhood. I figured it was fine, I was only getting people who really deserved it. I stopped countless abusers, rapists, and human traffickers, and I was getting paid along the way,” you frowned and fiddled with your fingers. “In fact, the only reason that I stopped myself from getting you too when I had the opportunity was that you were taking out the same people as me. If I killed the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, how many other girls just like me would have the same fate as me? Or worse? How many innocent people would have to suffer because I wanted to make my life easier.”
A tear escaped past your eyelid, and you expertly caught it before it had the chance to roll down your cheek.
“I guess that doesn’t matter right now. Someone knows that I was a Widow, and they’re going to make my life hell for things that I did when I had not one ounce of autonomy over myself. That’s what that letter meant. The DA’s gonna prosecute me, Matt,” the dam seemed to have broken as tears continued to slide down your cheeks. You didn’t bother wiping them, it wasn’t like Matt was going to see. “I can’t do this without you Matt.”
He was silent for a moment, his teeth gritting. You couldn’t believe that you’d bared your soul for him, only for him to meet you with silence.
“I’m sorry,” he began after far too long. Your heart sank like a million pound anchor to the bottom of the ocean. “I’m sorry, but this has already gone too far. You need to find someone else.”
His words felt loaded, as if they weren’t only related to your potential case, but to whatever had been blossoming between you two.
“Please, Matt, you’re the only one who understands,” you pleaded. Feeling hurt and desperate were understatements. Never in your life had you been so vulnerable with anyone— you’d given your body to Matt, and now the pain of your past that you hadn’t shared with anyone before. He knew about your more secret life, and you were more than aware of his. Matt was the only person who really understood you, the good and the bad.
But maybe, that was the problem.
You’d heard murmurs about Matt’s tumultuous dating life, along with his somewhat inconsistent friendship habits. But you weren’t coming to Matt as a romantic interest, or even a friend. You just needed him to save you, one last time.
“I’m sorry, but I just can’t. It’s Foggy, he’ll never-“
“Don’t pin this on Foggy, Matt. Just say it. You don’t want to take on this case. That’s fine but.. just claim it yourself.” It only hurt more that Matt would take the coward’s way out on something as important to you as staying out of jail for things that you weren’t even sure you were completely lucid doing.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am.
“Stop it,” you attempted to hiss it out, but you were sure it was far more pathetic sounding than you wanted it to be. “Stop saying that you’re fucking sorry. If you were really sorry, you would help me.”
You wiped the tears off your cheek with your arm in one fluid stroke. “Fuck off, Matthew. I can’t even… I can’t even look at you right now,” you were at war with the lump in your throat. This hurt so much more than a broken promise, or the idea of having a shitty public defender. You’d bared your soul to Matt, and he had no other reaction than empty apologies for deciding that you were a complete lost cause. “You need to leave.”
Matt didn’t protest as he got up from your couch, he didn’t even react when you threw the mug of now lukewarm tea at him. He just quietly walked to your door, as if he was completely unfazed by everything that had gone down between the two of you in your apartment.
“You promised me, Matt,” you quietly murmured out, knowing he would be able to hear. Matt continued past the door, not bothering to acknowledge you, or your parting words at all.
“You promised,” you whimpered out one last time, completely hopeless and dejected just moments after your door had closed.
Matt willed himself to ignore your shaky whimpers and the taste of salt from your tears as he exited your building. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it?
