Matt Murdock x Mutant!Reader, Bucky x Mutant!Reader Part 5
A/N: Part 5 is here my lovelies! I hope you all enjoy! As always, feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated and let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list. Have a lovely day! ✨✨✨
Summary: Imagine being the daughter of Wolverine and an FBI agent. You used to be a part of Bucky’s past. A distant part of his past that he had forgotten over time, until one day, he sees your face shadowed behind the public eye, like an apparition, almost as if you didn’t exist. Confused over your existence and questioning whether what he saw was real, broken memories of you come flooding back to him, and Bucky finds himself scrambling to search for clues that would lead to who you are and why he feels as if he had seen you before. You on the other hand had moved on, starting a new life for yourself and even finding yourself working with a certain lawyer. After the horrors you faced, you wanted to leave your past behind you, eventually forgetting mostly everything that ever happened. That is until the former Winter Soldier brings those memories all back.
Warnings: language, angst, blood and violence. Trigger warning, this chapter involves descriptions of a crime scene: homicide and sexual assault against a minor, so please do not read this if you feel this may affect you. I will also input trigger warnings around the areas that this theme is mentioned.
You pulled up to the sight of the crime scene you were just called into after working on some files at the office during the morning, parking your car on the side of the road that led to a local hiking trail as the lights of the cop cars danced across your face in patterns of reds and blues. You remained in your seat for a moment, your knuckles turning white from gripping your wheel as you stared off into the distance, drowning out the sound of the police radios with deep and steady breaths as you tried to prepare yourself for what you might come across. You usually liked to keep yourself preoccupied, whether it was your work or other simple things like reading a book, it helped to distract you from whatever it was you needed to take your mind off of. But now that you didn’t have your head buried in files and reports, your thoughts began to drift off to what had happened earlier. Various speculations ran through your head as you tried to analyze the things Matt had said to you and why he had even done so in the first place. Perhaps you were overthinking it. Sure, Karen was an extremely attractive woman, and you found yourself feeling silly for even thinking of the idea as if Matt knew what she looked like. But it wasn’t so much that, it was the way she looked at him that made you doubt everything he told you. Maybe the things he said were just a ploy, one of his lawyer tactics to get you to get over the anger you had for him so that you would end up helping with his case. If there was one thing he was good at, it was his way with words. Matt almost always knew what to say and he could be persuasive at times. And if there was one thing you were good at, it was knowing whether he was being honest or just being full of bullshit. If only you could have deciphered which one if it weren’t for your emotions getting in the way.
Turning off your engine, you stepped out of your car, squinting your eyes against the glare of the sun and searching the faces of the officers nearby. After throwing on your sunglasses you spotted the familiar head of dark brown curls sticking out from behind a Buick. Upon spotting you, your partner Pedro who was leaning against his car, waved you over. “Gomez.” You walked over to him, giving him a short and polite smile.
“Afternoon y/l/n. You feeling better?”
“Yeah. So what have we got here?”
“They found a dead body about a mile off the trail.” Pedro told you before walking alongside you to the destination.
“Any witnesses?” You brought up, your eyes focused on the dirt and pieces of mud that started to coat the tops of your boots while keeping a lookout for anything that could be a piece of evidence as you trudged deeper into the thicket of trees.
“A park ranger. Said he heard something between the trees and went to check it out and that’s when he found the body.”
“And the suspect?”
“Fled the scene before anyone arrived.”
“Any identification of a vehicle?”
“As of yet, no.”
“What about the media? They haven’t heard about this yet have they?”
“No. I have a few officers stationed outside in specific areas to block off all possible access to the scene.
"Good. Not a word of this to the press. Not until we know what’s going on.”
“Got it.”
Some time had passed, though not much. The sun was still high in the sky, its rays shrouded by the dense leaves and branches of the trees that covered the grounds. The smell of pine, damp soil from the moisture left over by the morning fog, and the smell of sap leaking from the cracks of trunks filled the air as Pedro and you hiked off the trail and ventured deeper into the woods, following the two officers in front of you. When you began to approach the area of concern, there in the distance your ears picked up on the sound of people moving about, paired with the soft chatter of voices as they discussed important issues with each other that seemed to blend with the preferred quietness of some. You noticed how some of them were unsettled, their muscles stiff as they carried out their duties while the rest carried an air of composure and focus resulted by the years spent working in the field. The familiar dark blue uniforms of the police and the black windbreakers with the printed word “Forensics” in white block letters were seen moving about the area inside the yellow tape that went around the perimeter.
“Here we are.” Pedro commented as the two of you ducked under the tape while making sure to be extra cautious where you stepped. “Hey, before you go any further,” Pedro stopped you, his eyes searching the ground as he tried to find the right words to say. “this…..this one is different. It might…….upset you.”
***Trigger Warning Beginning***
You gave Pedro a puzzled look, searching the clouded look in the dark chestnut depths of his irises that were shadowed beneath his brows that were currently knitted together. Being mindful of his words, you turned your head in the direction on your left where the trees had formed a clearing, the sun shining some light onto the patch where most of the others were gathered. You had caught note of the faint smell while you were still a distance away, a smell that you could never get used to, the sharp and stinging smell of rot that burned the inside of your nose and made you want to hurl. You knew there would be a dead body before you even arrived at the scene. Having knowledge that a location had a dead body was one thing, seeing it was another. The thing when expecting corpses was that you never knew just what to expect.
Just a few feet away, towards the center, a few personnel of the forensics team were crouched near the ground with their cameras, their flashes going off in clicks and sparks of white as they snapped multiple shots involving different angles of the body that was there. It seemed as if time had slowed down as you moved closer to investigate, your feet were heavy, like someone had tied weights to them using iron chains that burned against the flesh on your ankles. You could feel the eyes of those around you, hear the heartbeats of the members of the crime scene unit as they took a quick look at your stone like face before stepping aside as you passed. You nearly gasped at the sight, feeling your heart stop in your chest and fall to your stomach as your eyes bore into the lifeless face of the girl that lied there, a child.
“My god.” You breathed out with a clenched jaw, the ends of your lips turned downwards as you struggled to get ahold of the image. The girl, of age 14 or 15, lied there unsettlingly amongst the patch of grass, her skin ghostly white and the curls of her blonde hair splayed out behind her. It looked almost as if she were sleeping, and the somewhat peaceful image that was displayed haunted you to the core because of the monstrosity that lurked behind it. She was placed on her back with her hands folded neatly above her stomach, holding a single lily between her thin fingers. She was dressed in this white georgette dress that stopped a bit above her knees, the white fabric hinting just the faintest shade of pink while flowers adorned her hair, an assortment of lilacs and daisies. One would think that after working in this field after a certain amount of time, you’d get used to seeing stuff like this. But no, it never got easier. If anything, you just didn’t vomit like you did the first time you saw one.
“There’s speculation this one might be tied to the other 3 girls that were found.” Pedro crossed his arms over his chest as he watched you get a closer look.
“The other three? You mean the other 3 girls that were found in rivers in Massachusetts and Rhode Island? I read the files.”
“What can you make of it?” Pedro asked as he pulled out a notepad and pen from his pocket, the tip of the pen hovering over the paper as he waited for your observations.
“The murder victim is female, age 14 or 15.” You stated, pulling up the fabric of your pants before crouching down to your knees while slipping on a clean pair of gloves, the dry texture of the latex sticking against your skin as you pulled it over your wrists. “This one is fresh, killed not too long ago unlike the others that were in the later stages of decomposition. I’d say the time of death was……7 hours and 16 minutes ago. There’s….some bruising on her wrists that look like rope marks, silk.”
“Silk?” Pedro quirked a brow. “How can you tell?”
“The imprint of fibers.” You pointed to her wrists.
“What else?”
“He had her locked up, tied her up to make sure she wouldn’t escape. But he didn’t starve her, no, she was well fed. It looks like the suspect put some makeup on her. Not a lot, just some blush on her cheeks and some lipstick. Her nails are clean. She was……..groomed well, there’s hardly any traces of dirt on her. She has………..” You gulped, your nails digging into your palms as you pressed the back of your knuckles against your mouth.
“What is it?”
“There’s uh, bruising………near her inner thighs and uh……….signs of sexual assault.” Your voice came out in a broken whisper. “…………Have the forensics found any traces of semen?”
“None.”
“He made sure to wash her up. Fucking bastard piece of shit.”
“Hey.” You felt Pedro’s hand on the back of your shoulder. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Can we please move further?”
“……….What do you call the cause of death?”
“There’s no severe signs of strangulation or physical trauma.” You sniffed over her body with twisted lips, using your senses to pick up on any certain smells that could be a clue before recoiling from the acidic scent that burned through your nostrils, making you cough as a result. “Nightshade poisoning from ingestion. Hang on………..she’s wearing perfume.”
“Perfume? Any idea what brand?”
“………..Eleganter Schwan 06.”
“Say what?”
“Wait…….there’s more.” You stopped him, closing your eyes and breathing in the air. “There’s……leftover traces of cologne…………Clive Christian’s Original Collection.”
“You think the suspect was wearing it?”
“Positive.”
“How did you know what brands they are?” Pedro looked intently in surprise at the side of your face, watching the way your eyes darted around as you started to put everything together.
“I was studying abroad in France the summer of my sophomore year in uni and the place I was staying at was right next to a perfume shop. I used to have this little routine where everyday after class I would stop by the shop and test out the little sample bottles, a new perfume each day until I found the one I liked.”
“Makes sense, so what’s your analysis?”
“The suspect is a male, early 40s. He’s careful, made sure to leave no witness or any pieces of evidence that could lead back to him. But this,” you pointed towards the girl. It’s like he wants to show off, like he wanted us to find her.”
“Why the hell would he want us to find her?”
“To show off. If he wanted to hide her he could’ve hid her or dumped her in the river like the rest but no. The bastard wanted to show off his twisted sense of sentiment, which explains the elaborateness. He’s also wealthy.”
“Wealthy? What makes you say that?”
“The perfume and the cologne. They’re priced at about half a thousand each. The dress is Armani which is close to a thousand dollars.”
“Jesus. Who the hell would spend so much on someone they’re about to kill?”
“Someone with a lot of money to spare.”
“What else can you make out?”
“Whoever did this……this man, sounds disgusting but I think he loved her.”
“People don’t exactly kill the ones they love.”
“Which is why he did all this, it’s……..his way of honoring her death.” You gestured to the flowers. “You see, he thought he loved her, most likely has a twisted idea of what love is. But no, this man was obsessed with her, obsessed with her innocence, which explains the color of her dress and the flowers, they represent innocence and purity. His obsession with her also explains why he fixed her up like this. See those faint markings on her throat?” You pointed to the barely noticeable purple markings that lined her throat. “He tried to strangle her, but didn’t have the heart to finish the job. He also could have stabbed her or shot her, but that would have ruined her….image, so he poisoned her. I have a feeling this was his first planned target. Probably saw her somewhere in public when she caught his eye, maybe walking home from school? But he didn’t want to get to her yet so he killed the other three to satisfy his impulses. He took care of her, in his own sick way. Made sure to use soft ropes that are somewhat gentle on the skin, fed her and dressed her, and adorned her with flowers as if she was some kind of taxidermy that needed to be prepped and displayed.”
***Trigger Warning Ends Here***
“That’s one hell of an analysis Special Agent y/l/n.” You heard someone behind you speak up.
“Sir.” You stood up, turning around to your boss, the special agent in charge of your unit, Jack Morgan. He was a tall, thin man of age 50 with scattered gray hairs that lined the ash blondes of his hair. A pair of clubmaster glasses sat on the hook of his nose, the bottom rims of the frame somehow disguising the dark circles that sat under his hollow eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
“No worries.” He waved you off with a polite smile sitting on his thin lips. “Any clue that might lead to identifying the suspect?“
"Not yet sir.” You shook your head. “I’m working on it. But I feel close.”
"Well. We better get this bastard in handcuffs fast before he does it again.” Jack nodded with his hands in his pockets before walking off to speak to one of the deputies. “Let me know if you find anything y/l/n.”
“Of course sir. I’ll let you know.”
“So what now?” Pedro turned towards you as the two of you walked away for a moment.
“I’ll look into the surrounding buildings near the school she went to including the ones around her home, see if there is a possibility he lives in one of them, or at least visits them and etc. I’ll also check into the local perfume retailers, see which ones carry the brands I mentioned and get a list of who had bought them. We also need to keep a lookout on any gardens in the area. He mostly likely has a garden set up specially for his poisonous plants.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll see what I can find too.” Pedro nodded before noticing the distant look into your eyes. "You okay? I know this case mustn’t have been easy for you.”
“It’s just…..a lot to take in you know.” Your shoved your hands into your pockets as you kicked the dirt at your feet. Your voice had a slight tremble in it as a shiver ran through your body. You couldn’t tell if it was the cold breeze or the crime scene itself that wanted to make you curl into your blanket and hide. But, you were also beyond furious, disgusted, and even scared, scared of what this asshole of a man was capable of. You couldn’t even seem to get yourself to stay still. Your hands and legs were itching to throw on a pair of mma gloves and go to the nearest martial arts club and go full force on a punching bag, kicks and jabs and all, maybe even throw the damn thing though the wall. Better yet, you wanted to find the fucking bastard that did this, maybe even beat his face in a little, use him as your punching bag before locking him up. But more than anything you were furious with yourself, upset that you weren’t able to find out who this sick fuck was.
“You think you’re able to…..you know.” Pedro nodded towards the corpse of the girl. Him and your boss were the only other people, or non-mutants rather, that knew about your past and what you could do, after all, it was Charles who had recommended you to them. After you were pardoned, they needed to know just who was coming in to work for them.
“I don’t know.” You faltered. “I’ve done it before with living people, but this, this is different. I’m a telepath, not a necromancer.”
“She was killed recently.” He noted as he followed the doubtful look in your eye. “Maybe there’s a chance some remnants of her……energy or…soul is left.”
You stared into the face of the girl for some time, your lips pursed in thought at the paleness of her face that was probably once radiant and full of life, now cold and lifeless and never again given the chance to do the things that most children her age will be given the chance to experience. Everything was stolen from her. You couldn’t imagine what the parents must be going through, to hear that their little girl was lying dead somewhere due to the hands of some murderous bastard serial killer. “…………I can try. See if it works. I just………don’t know if I’m ready for what I might see.”
“You don’t have to if you don’t to.”
***Trigger Warning begins here***
“No. Whether I want to or not is not important. But this,” you pointed towards the girl. “This is important. I need to be up close though in order to see if I can pick up on something.” You walked back over to the girl’s body once the forensics team had left, crouching down on the ground where she lay while Pedro kept a lookout for you to make sure no one noticed. You breathed in a heavy sigh, taking a few reps of deep and heavy puffs of air to prepare yourself for whatever horrors you might face before closing your eyes and hovering your gloved hand over her head. Your mother had the gift of sight, just like you, and she too was able to read the thoughts of those around her. But the visions she received were different than yours, she was able to see ahead into the further, of events that have yet to come. You tried to hone in on the advice Charles had taught you. Being a telepath himself, he was able to help you with a few things in order to harness your power, like reaching out for something that had meaning, something that invoked a strong sense of emotion in you. So you followed his steps.
At first there was nothing, just the sounds that were present to the mortal ear; like the gentle breeze that whispered through the leaves of trees, the sound of footsteps against the patches of grass and dirt and mud, the chirping of birds perched in the branches of the trees around you, and the few uttering of voices discussing a mixture of the mundane and subjects related to the case. There was a certain stillness in the nature around you that one would have thought to be peaceful had they not seen the corpse that laid amongst the grass, and the feeling of it twisted your stomach in words you could not explain. It was too sunny for a day such as this.
With another deep breath, you started to zone out your surroundings, cutting out the voices and the sounds of nature until you could hear the sound of everyone’s heartbeats, and then finally their thoughts. In the beginning, it was chaos. You winced against the many voiceless words that belonged to the minds of those around you, each one thinking of something different than the other. Step by step, you cut them out, focusing instead on the mind of the lifeless body of the girl that laid in front of you. You struggled, straining to see anything, hear anything, but there was nothing, just emptiness. Yet you pushed on, desperate to find something. Your brows were knit together at the center of your forehead from your effort, the strain you were inflicting on yourself causing a vein to pop out at your temple.
And then there it was, faint, and hidden in the depths of something beyond the physical, like looking at a screen or a mirage far off in the distance. So you reached towards it, focused all your strength on that faraway image. And then it hit you like a bus. You were engulfed with screams, screams that belonged to the little girl that completely enveloped you and pierced your ears. It felt as if these invisible iron chains had wrapped around you, pulling you closer into the depths of her mind. And that is when the nature of your surroundings had vanished and you found yourself looking through her eyes. There was this room, but all you could see was the ceiling, a white tiled ceiling with designs molded into each panel and a chandelier hanging from the center. Your arms and legs were tied, constricting you of any moment on what felt like a bed beneath you. A dark shadow moved from the side of the room, and that’s when you saw him, a face of a man hovering over you, the angle of the light casting a shadow on his face that made him resemble a demon with a sickening smile that stretched from ear to ear.
***Trigger Warning ends here***
You awoke from the vision with a start, your heart pounding and your forehead beaded with sweat as you struggled to breath, choking on the air in your lungs. You felt a warm liquid run down from your nose, the taste of copper filling your lips as a sickening sensation suddenly overcame you.
“Y/n?” You heard Pedro’s voice, muffled against the ringing in your ears as if a loud explosion had damaged them. You struggled up to your feet, the world around you spinning as you swayed with each step. You heard his voice call out for you again, but all you could focus on was your vision becoming more blurry by the second with each step you took as you tried to exit the area. After pushing past the yellow tape, you held onto the tree next to you for support, the throbbing in your head getting more powerful by the second. With a cold ice-like sensation washing over you, you doubled over and vomited onto the dirt in front of you before collapsing to the ground, your vision becoming black as you lost all consciousness.
When you had awoken, you found Pedro crouched next to you, his eyes trained on your face as he pressed a cold washcloth against your forehead.
“Ugh….” You groaned, shifting your body to notice that Pedro had sat you up against the tree. “Did I pass out? And please tell me I didn’t fall on my puke.”
“You were unconscious for a good two minutes. And no, you didn’t fall on your puke. You okay?”
“I don’t know. I got dizzy all of a sudden.”
“……….You saw something didn’t you?” Pedro had stopped, lowering the washcloth down to his side as his eyes searched yours, both out of concern and out of curiosity.
You stared at him for a moment with a solemn expression, the pain you had experienced through the girl visible in your eyes. “……….She was in so much pain.” You choked out. You wanted to cry, to scream, anything to make all that you felt go away. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t so much as shed a tear or else you would risk being taken off the case for involving too much emotion.
“…………What about the suspect?”
You looked away for a moment, recounting the things you had seen. “I……I couldn’t see his face. The room was dark. She was in so much pain Pedro.” You lied. Lied about not having seen his face. You had seen every detail of that bastard’s face, and it was everything you needed. You knew what you had to do.
Pedro nodded his head in understanding before listening quietly at what you had told him about what the girl had been through, his jaw clenched in anger. He felt guilty for making you preform such a task, believing that he had endangered you in some way. “I shouldn’t have put you through that.”
“No Pedro, it’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong. I agreed to do it. It was to help with the investigation, to help catch this sick bastard remember?”
“You should go home.” Pedro gave you a regretful smile. “Get some rest. You look like shit after that.”
“You’re telling me.” You gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before getting up with a grunt as he helped support you up.
“Need me to walk you back to your car?”
“Nah. I’m fine. Thank you though Pedro.” You went back to your car, giving Pedro a wave as you went while he watched you go with a look of worry written across his dark olive skin. Something was off about you, and he had a gut feeling that you had not told him the whole truth regarding the vision you had.
When you returned back to your parked car, you took out your keys and unlocked the door, opening it up to get into the driver’s seat until a small piece of paper caught your eye, falling down right beside your feet. You stared suspiciously down at the dark gray rectangular piece of cardstock that looked to be a business card, seeing no print or writing on the side that was currently facing up. “What in the?” You muttered out, taking a quick glance around before dropping down to pick it up. The card was thick and smooth, of a matte finish, and felt heavy in your hands as you brought it up to your face. Small ridges lined the surface as you ran your thumb across the texture. Something about this card seemed off, causing the world around you to feel cloudy as an unnatural feeling started to form in the pit of your stomach. With trembling hands, you turned the card around to see a five letter word hand written across in maroon ink. A name. Laura.
Although some of them chose to become slaves, most were forced to, and in the end it was never really a choice, but a question of money. It was that, prison, or death.
So maybe she was “saving” someone by agreeing to become a Mistress, since she already knew that no matter what, she would treat that person like the human being they were, but despite everything, it was not a pleasing situation.
Still, as often, her parents didn’t listen to her, and when she graduated and arrived at her home, she found a stranger in the middle of her living room.
Young, quite handsome. No, very beautiful. With his little smile, his brown hair with some red highlights, and his dark glasses. It was by seeing his cane that Y/N understood why he wore glasses.
"Hello ?“ she said cautiously as she approached.
"Hello Mistress.”
"… No.“
"No ? I… I’m not suitable for you ? Is it because of my handicap ?”
"What ? No ! No, sorry, I just didn’t want a slave.“
"Oh. You… Are you dismissing me then ?”
The man quickly became nervous.
Even though she didn’t know much about how slavery worked, Y/N knew that it was not a good thing for them to be dismissed.
It sent a bad sign to the next Masters who were going to acquire them, if anyone wanted them, and it gave the assholes the right to be more demanding, more mean.
Even though most Masters were mean no matter what.
"It’s okay, we’ll find a solution.“ she sighed, holding out her hand, before feeling stupid and explaining to him what she was doing. “I’m Y/N. Please call me that, not Mistress.”
"As you wish Y/N.“
"What is your name ?”
"The name you want Mi…Y/N.“
"Hmm. But… I’d like your name. If you have one.”
"… Matthew Murdock. Matt.“
"Happy to meet you Matt.”
The first day was complicated. Matt didn’t seem to understand his new Mistress’ behaviour at all, waiting for her to order him around, use him or punish him.
Instead, she was kind, patient, asking him if he wanted to drink, eat, shower, sleep. Trying to get to know him.
It wasn’t easy to get him to say how he had become a slave, but he ended up doing it, probably because he thought he had no choice, and not because he wanted to.
Matt’s mother left when he was still a baby, he became blind when he was very young, and his father died when he was eleven.
Thanks to the money that remained in the account he had inherited, he was able to go to the orphanage, but not being rich either, there came a time, when he was finally an adult, when he could no longer pay, he did not have a diploma and even if he was strong and clever, his handicap prevented him from having access to many jobs.
Matt was thus more or less forced to become a slave.
He had two or three Masters before her, not for long, because they always had something to say about him.
That was why Y/N’s parents got him for a decent sum. She hated that sentence.
No, she hated the whole story.
"Good. Matt, let me be very clear. You are not my slave.“
”…Your parents signed a document proving otherwise. And the law says I must obey you without question, wearing a collar that…“
"Yes, I know. But I don’t want it to be like this between us. I want us to be like friends, okay ? You can do whatever you want… Well, I’ll look at the rules, but when we’re together, you don’t have to ask my permission to do anything, you don’t have to obey me, and you can tell me what you think or want.”
"… Okay ?“
He didn’t seem convinced, but Y/N hoped he liked it. No doubt he needed a little time to get used to it and be certain that she was sincere.
The next day, she inquired whether there were any measures to be taken to allow a slave to have more freedom under the law.
Also if she could free a slave.
For the first question, there were indeed permits that she had to sign, and that Matt had to keep with him, to prove that his Mistress had given him permission to go out alone, to answer back, to work, and lots of things. Absurd things that anyone should be allowed to do freely.
For the liberation, it was not so simple. Matt had to prove that he was capable of being a free man, and therefore he had to be financially independent. The system was flawed, as almost no slaves could manage to do this.
Y/N signed all the authorizations she could legally sign, and she kept the steps to take to free a slave, before returning home to discuss with Matt.
"If you could work, what would you like to do ?”
"… You want me to work ?“
"No. But when you were a kid, did you have a dream job ?”
"Hmm. Lawyer. I always wanted to be a lawyer.“
It wasn’t easy, but Y/N managed to convince her parents to let Matt study to become a lawyer. They had enough money, in addition to the subsidies that the State agreed to provide for certain programs.
It was very complicated and ridiculous. But Y/N didn’t care, as long as Matt could do what he loved.
Having a job, she couldn’t come to see him every day, but she called him, checking on him, and reminding him that he didn’t need to tell the other students about his status.
Matt told his roommate, Foggy Nelson, about it anyway. A charming boy. He didn’t judge Matt at all, keeping his secret, helping him when needed and becoming his friend. He also became friend with Y/N, admiring what she was doing.
"I have never heard of a Owner sending their Slave to school.”
"First of all, I’m not his Owner. My parents signed the papers. And to convince them, I had to sweet talk them saying that it would be convenient for him to be a lawyer, so we wouldn’t have to pay for one if we had issues.“
"And the real reason ?”
"I want Matt to be as free as possible.“
This made Matt smile, as he relaxed more and more with her as the years passed.
There were still times, when they were in public, when he felt he had to behave like a slave, but when they were alone they were just two friends, talking, laughing, being totally equal.
Of course, Matt being Matt, it didn’t take long for Y/N to fall in love. She realized this a little before he graduated.
To avoid an awkward situation, she decided that he should have his own apartment, as soon as he got a job with Foggy in a law firm. It would be good for his emancipation record, proving he was totally independent, and she wouldn’t suffer every day seeing him.
Because nothing could happen between them until Matt was free. Y/N couldn’t do that. It would have been unfair and an abuse of power. She had clearly told him that he could have lovers if he wanted to, that was no problem. And he did, even though she didn’t ask for any details.
Besides, even if in the end they were only friends, it was not important and would absolutely not change her decision.
When he got his first salary, she sent the liberation request. Without telling him. To surprise him. And he wouldn’t be disappointed if it was rejected.
The following month, he and Foggy had the good idea to resign to create their own agency. Y/N took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, before preparing a letter to support this decision and show that Matt was still going to make money.
Well, if Matt stopped doing pro bono and agreed to be paid with cash and not cakes.
"It’s very nice, really, but you have rent. Groceries to run. Matt, you have to get paid.”
"I’m telling him all this all the time.“ sighed Foggy. "He’s not listening.”
"You want me to ask customers for money ?“
It was a trap. She knew that when Matt asked those kinds of questions, in a certain way, it was to find out if she was giving him an order.
"No. I want you to avoid sleeping under a bridge, without having anything to eat. Of course, you could stay at my place or Foggy’s if that happened, but that would be a shame. Even if it’s not much, they have to pay a bit. It’s normal to pay for a job, Matt. Please.”
"… Very well.“
It was rare for Matt to refuse her anything. Y/N hoped it was because he knew she was right, and not because he didn’t want to upset her.
There were, however, times when Matt hid things, refusing to answer and even lying. Like when he started getting wounds on his face and body.
He always had a good excuse, saying that he had fallen down the stairs, that he had bumped into a door, that a bicycle had accidentally knocked him down. Y/N didn’t believe him, but when he asked her to leave it, she didn’t insist.
It was the night she happily came to tell him he was free, carrying a bottle of champagne and a Braille version of the letter, that she found out the truth.
Like everyone in Hell’s Kitchen, she had heard of the Devil. This masked man, dressed in black, who saved the innocent and fought the criminals.
She never would have imagined it was Matt.
Finding him bleeding on the floor, half dead, Y/N panicked, but when she wanted to call for help, Matt grabbed her arm saying he didn’t want to go to the hospital, asking her to contact Claire.
The professional nurse, visibly tired by the Devil’s bullshit, but sympathetic to Y/N seeing her distress, took care of him.
Before Matt woke up, Y/N had time to ask herself a lot of questions. How did he manage to fight so well ? Was he really blind ? Why was he doing this ? Wasn’t he afraid to die ?
She didn’t have time to ask him, because as soon as he regained consciousness and realized that she was there, that she had seen him, that she knew, he threw himself at her feet, starting to cry and beg.
"Mistress, I’m sorry. Please, don’t report me. Don’t dismiss me. I’ll be good. You… You can punish me ! Do whatever you want to me ! I’ll stop if you order me, I promise. Mistress, have mercy !’
Looking at him, Y/N suddenly felt empty, her heart slowly breaking.
She understood that Matt had never trusted her. He had always thought she was insincere when she said they were equal. So he had always acted the way he thought she wanted him to act, becoming her friend because she asked him to, like everything else.
Without saying a word, she handed him the letter, letting him decipher it with a shaking hand, as she walked out of the apartment without looking back, even when he cried her name desperately.
The days that followed, she avoided him, not answering his calls and not leaving her apartment.
Then Y/N wanted to drown her sorrows so she went to a pub, not caring about the time, and having to go home when it was late, and she was a little drunk, and the streets were dangerous.
Of course she got mugged. But she barely had time to understand what was happening, the Devil was already there, grabbing the man and knocking him out with a single punch, before turning to her to check that she was okay.
She pushed him away when he tried to touch her face.
"Fuck you Matt.”
"…Y/N. I’m sorry.“
"Why ? Because you’re an asshole ?”
"You… You freed me.“ he whispered as if he still wasn’t sure it was true.
"Shit. You doubted that too ? Really, fuck off and leave me alone.”
"No, wait !“ he begged her, pulling off his ridiculous mask, revealing his sad eyes, no doubt because he knew she had a hard time resisting them.
"No, you wait ! Damn it, Matt, I loved you ! We were friends ! And even if we hadn’t been friends, I would have freed you anyway. I would free all the slaves if I could! I said I was against this system from day one ! But you didn’t believe me. No, you said to yourself that I was an idiot, a little utopian who lived in an enchanted world, but who was going to abuse you at one point, so you had to be nice to her, to stay out of trouble. You… Have you been yourself with me at least once ? Just once ? Or it was all a lie ?”
"You do not understand.“ he sighed.
"You cried. You called me Mistress !”
"I panicked ! I had taken a blow to the head ! Listen to me, you would have had every reason to get angry and dismiss me ! I am breaking the law, and since I was your slave, your property, that would make you responsible. If I had been caught, you would have been in trouble, your family would have been in trouble, and I would have completely understood that you resent me for that. I never wanted to put you in danger. I did everything to be careful, so that no one ever knew who I was, so that they wouldn’t trace you. I want to make the city better, I want to protect people, I want you protect ! I love you, I…“
"You love me ?”
"I…“ Matt stammered, biting his lips nervously. "Of course. I knew you were sincere. It was so wonderful, too good to be true. You were too good for me. And I knew you liked me, but you were too honest to do anything because of our situation. I didn’t think that… I mean, I knew that if you could, you would do it, but the procedures are so long and complicated, I didn’t dare to hope…”
They stayed like that, without saying a word, in this small, dark and narrow alley, with an unconscious man a few meters from them.
It was all completely surreal, but Y/N tried to stay calm and to think.
Now Matt was free. He was sorry, he had panicked, but he loved her. Either way, he said he loved her. He had no reason to pretend now that he was free.
In any case, she hoped not.
And there were no more secrets between them, now that she knew about the Devil.
"Alright… We could… start over. Now that you’re free. Being friends, dating and then… Maybe more. But promise me it’s not because I freed you and that I didn’t report you to the police afterwards ! You don’t owe me anything !“
"I would never do such a thing !”
"Oh I know you Matthew Murdock ! You would, because you are a sweet idiot.“
"I promise ! Never !”
"Good, very good.“
Slowly, Matt moved closer to her, until their bodies were almost touching, his face inches from hers, as if he was going to kiss her.
"We could start over or… You could come to my place and… Hmm.”
"Hmm ? Hmm.“ she repeated, feeling her heart quicken. "We could.”
"I dream of kissing you since I met you.“
"Oh really ?”
"Yes. I liked your voice right away. Your scent. And then when I realized you were the nicest person in the world, it was hard to keep my distance. I was sad when we were separated during my student years, then when you found me an apartment, I liked living with you.“
Y/N didn’t move in with Matt the next day. But they spent the night together, and then they never left each other.
She understood that Matt had never trusted her. He had always thought she was insincere when she said they were equal. So he had always acted the way he thought she wanted him to act, becoming her friend because she asked him to, like everything else.
Imagine first meeting Matt as Daredevil when you’re out walking around the city at night during a rough mental episode and he helps keep you company and get you home safe. Then the next day running into him as himself because he wanted to make sure you were okay and you not knowing its the same person and the two of you becoming close friends.
(Inspired by https://youtu.be/W9luvmCkCJA So as someone who struggles with their mental health I know I really needed this so yeah. I hope you guys enjoy. And if you’re going through a rough patch right now just imagine our sweet Matty taking care of you and keeping you company through it.)
Imagine being related to Foggy and you and Matt meeting at Foggy’s birthday party and falling in love resulting in Foggy making Matt promise not to hurt you resulting in Matt just laughing and saying he would never. In fact plans to marry you one day.
Imagine Matt showing up drunk at your place to admit that he misses you after the two of you broke up and that is is harder then he thought it would be which leads to him crashing on your couch for the night to sober up before the two of you talk in the morning.
Imagine your besties Matt, Foggy and Karen cheering you on as you go off on your ex who cheated on you.
(Inspired by https://youtu.be/X0HMc_WmEIw I just could not resist. I would love this merry band of chuckle fucks cheering me on as I went off on my ex.)
Imagine dating Matt and confronting him when he starts distancing himself from you thinking he is loosing feelings for you when in reality it is because he is worried about you getting hurt due to his activities as Daredevil if anyone found out and him being forced to admit his secret to not loose you.
cw/tw: mentions of erection, explicit (18+), female reader
summary: some turn ons for some marvel men
ft. Steven Grant, Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Bucky Barnes, (request more if you would like other characters)
Steven Grant:
Wearing your hair up.
There’s something about the way your nape and collarbones are completely exposed that ignites a burn of desire deep in his stomach.
The need to press his lips and run his tongue along the bare skin chews away at his sanity. The moment you walk out of the bathroom, a cute sun dress and hair up into a French bun, clipped back with the pastel butterfly clip he got for you last week, he’s stunned.
“Babe!” You squeal the moment you feel his lips against your neck, sucking gently on the skin as his hands anchor at your hips. “You’re going to leave a mark.”
“You’re so lovely.” Steven presses a few kisses against the harsh, throbbing mark, “My pretty girl. I can’t help it.”
And as he presses his hips against your own to feel just how pretty he really thinks you are, you soon realize you’re going to miss your reservations.
Matt Murdock
After the shower
Honestly, he really doesn’t know what it is about it. With his heightened senses he could practically hear the water droplets grazing across your skin, gathering in the crevices of your collar bones and dripping to the floor.
Not to mention the smell, behind the lavender and flowers is the natural scent of you. It could be the comfort it brings or the familiarity but he’s hard before you can even step out of the shower. He waits at the edge of the bed, facing the door as it opens.
“Hi babe,” he’s still dressed in his suit, tie pulled from his collar before answering, “Hi baby.”
But before you can move another muscle, his hand finds your towel and pulls it from your body before pulling you into the bed.
Frank Castle
Wearing his clothes
Seeing you in his clothes does something to Frank. Maybe it’s because is scent is all over them or the fact that you without a doubt are completely his.
No matter the case, he always leaves a shirt or pair of pajama pants out with the hope you’ll see it and decide to throw them on.
Frank had been away for a mission for a few days. It’s normal for him to cut communication for the sake of not only the mission but the safety as you. Typically he calls you before coming home but didn’t bother.
Imagine his surprise when he walks into your shared home when you’re stirring a pot of noodles in nothing but his shirt. He leans against the door frame, admiring as the hem of the shirt rises and rises as you bend down to open the oven and peak inside.
His throat dries instantly at the realization that you’re not wearing panties. Just like that you’re wrapped in strong arms, kisses pressing against your nape as you feel the line of his erection against your lower back.
Bucky Barnes
Your lips
Bucky loves your lips. The softness and feeling he gets every time he touches them or kisses them he is filled with more love than he ever thought was possible.
But now, watching as you smile and giggle at the ladies that surround you, he wants nothing more than to take you home and smear the plum colored lipstick you just bought.
He leans against the bar, ignoring the bartender who asks if he wants a drink. All he can do is stare at you. While it did take some convincing to get him to this party, the moment he saw you and that damn lipstick he suddenly didn’t want to do anymore.
He lets out a troubled breath as you make eye contact with him from across the room, sucking in your bottom lip and winking - you were doing this on purpose.
summary: Moments in which he calls you his sweet girl.
Ft. Steven Grant, Matt Murdock, Frank Castle
and currently taking requests for preference topics such as this one, please include characters you would like :)
Steven Grant (mentions of Marc)
Steve can’t help the way his heart pounds inside his chest. Along with the warmness that fills his cheek, makes his hand clamy.
So beautiful and unbelievably soft. Watching the way your chest falls into a shallow pattern of breathing. Mouth slightly ajar as you cuddle the pillow closer in your sleep.
After canceling your date due to business involving Marc, the last thing he expected was to find you in his apartment, asleep on his couch.
A slight frown fills his feature rather quickly when noticing your hair done up and more makeup than usually. A darker color lipstick slightly snugging at the corner of your lips.
With a guilty heart he sighs, all of this just for him to cancel? He licks his thumb before reaching forward to wipe the corner of your lips. The weight of his finger makes your eyes flutter, a lazy smile matches yours.
“Hi, you look beautiful.” Guilty eyes moving closer and closer until the warmth of his lips press into your cheek, “I’m sorry I canceled, you put so much effort in.”
“’S okay,” it’s cute the way your word’s slur, “Just wanted to see you.”
Steven smiles for what seems like the nth time this day, arms wrapping around your body and pulling you into his chest. Nuzzling his nose against the smooth strands of hair, mumbling the words, “My sweet girl.”
Matt Murdock
Matt lets out a deep sigh, pulling his tie away from his collar but not before a certain scent catches his nose. He can’t help but tilt his head and breath deeply.
Almost instantly there is a rare smile filling his features. He texted you hours ago, it was nothing more than a 'having a horrible day, thinking of you.’
What he didn’t expect was you cooking his favorite meal of his day to cook. Ever since retiring and swearing the whole daredevil off, he began to find new ways to fill his time such as cooking.
And absolutely is terrible at, despite the lessons and following recipes but you always end up kissing his cheek and thanking him despite the fact it was burnt to bits and not edible.
“Tell me you did not spend all day cooking this for me.” Matt leans against the kitchen counter with a look of annoyance but he was anything but.
“It’s just lasagna, anyways, you said you had a bad day, I wanted to make it better.” Not bothering to look back as you continue to mix the salad but before you could even mutter another word, two large arms wrap around your waist. Matt hunches over but just enough to rest his head against the back of your neck and press a soft kiss there.
“I love you so much - you’re so -,” he pauses for a second before continuing, “My sweet, sweet girl.”
Frank Castle
The moment Frank turned the corner of the busy street and didn’t see you walking in front of him anymore, he of course, assumed the worst.
Heart beating a mile a minute as he surveys the area, looking for one glimpse of that red, winter coat to soothe his panic.
“Did you see a woman in a red coat?” He panics, asking every person who passes him but the majority deny or ignore him.
“Damn it,” he whispers under his breath, how could he even let you out of his sight? He knows how many enemies he has, how many people would crush you in order to get to the ex-punisher.
In a quick 360 around the block, there is a quick swish of red. Between his heavy breaths and the brutal New York winter he can barely make it out but catches sight of you rather quickly. Down a sketchy alley that smells of trash, footprint in the snow lead him to you.
Crouch to the side of the dumpster, talking softly but Frank doesn’t even give himself a second to think before grasping your shoulder. “Why did you run away like that?” He’s angry, voice raising with every word. “Don’t you ever do that again.”
“Frank, I’m sorry, I’m okay.” Heart filling with guilt as you find the bewildered expression across his face, he was scared. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I was thinking straight, I saw this dog and it’s snowing and so cold and - puppies.”
He takes the time to finally realize what you’re petting; a blue nosed pit with a wagging tail, the mama dog having four little puppies suckling from her stomach. He watches as you frown, “I’m worried, the storm is only going to get worse.”
Frank can’t help but crack a smile at his pretty girl, “I’m sorry for yelling,” He reaches forward to press his fingers against your cheek, “My sweet girl, you have a beautiful heart.”
Frank turns his attention back to the mama dog, petting her head softly, “Hi girl, you’re a good girl huh?” He starts to pick the puppies up, handing them over to you one at a time before affectionately tapping the dogs behind, “C'mon mama, my girl is too sweet to leave you out here - thata girl.” He looks up at you with soft eyes, “Let’s go home, we have some babies to warm.”
Arguments in which you sleep on the couch with marvel men
summary: what happens we you sleep on the sofa after an argument
characters: Steven Grant, Matt Murdock, Bucky Barnes (will do another set if requested)
Steven Grant
Arguments are a rare occurrence.. so when they do happen Steven is just as confused as he is upset. How did it get to this point?
One minute he’s leaving for work and then the next you’re yelling, frustration as clear as day as well as the crystal tears which freely flow down your cheeks.
The apartment isn’t big at all, the lack of walls makes it hard to escape his presence. The fact that you gathered some blankets and pillows while laying on the sofa makes Steven’s brows knit.
Before you know it Steven is on his knees, using the edge of the sofa’s cushions as he speaks softly, “Darling, why are you here?”
Honestly, you don’t know, today has been a hard day. Everything that could go wrong, absolutely has and poor Steven, the man that caters to your every request has gotten the blunt of it. It just happened, he didn’t mean to leave his clothes scattered across the bedroom floor, he woke up late this morning. He didn’t mean to leave the kitchen in shambles either.
It’s like he knows you; and your racing mind. A hand gently strokes the hair from your forehead and leans forward to press a kiss against your nose. “It’s okay, everything is fine.”
“I’m sorry, you don’t deserve to be treated like this..” the words are followed by tears which are only crushed under the soft pad of his thumb.
“Come back to bed, honey. It’s so cold without you.”
Matt Murdock
Matt is stubborn, always has been and always will be but it gets to the point where it’s absolutely maddening. He will not be the first to apologize despite the last hour of screaming back and forth at each other.
He’s the type to ignore it until it finally works itself out but will secretly sulk at the fact you’re no longer speaking to him or in this case, sleeping with him either.
He almost has to stop himself from commenting on how childish you looked, stomping into the room and grabbing your pillow before slamming the door close. In the morning you’re still fast asleep, clinging to the pillow.
With a coffee mug in the other hand, he uses the left to pull the blanket up and over your shoulders. Winters in New York City aren’t kind to apartments like his, he turns up the heat before setting off for another day of work.
On the third day he decides enough is enough, it’s about 9pm when his strong arms wrap around you, lifting you into the air before wrapping your arms around his neck and legs around his waist. With a strong arm secure around your waist, he reaches for the pillow and ignores your protest.
“I don’t want to sleep with you, Mathew.”
He presses a kiss against your temple, “I don’t care what you want, it’s cold.”
Bucky Barnes
Bucky is the type to be completely confused. He can’t tell that you’re angry at him - it’s hard to miss with the silence and small jabs. But when you don’t come to bed, poor baby is so confused.
He’ll quietly creep behind the couch, biting his bottom lip as he watches you snuggle closer with the blanket as the TV blares some show you’re watching.
“You’re not coming to bed?”
“No.” Short and simple.
Bucky clears his throat and before you know it he’s jumping onto the sofa, tucking himself between your body and the cushions. Metal arm wrapped around your waist as he pulls you closer, sighing into your hair.
“What are you doing?”
“Sleeping with you. Hard when you’re not in bed.”
Maybe you were being a little hard headed, it’s not like Bucky meant to shrink your favorite shirt in the washer, he was only trying to take some responsibilities off of you.
Without a word you turn to face him, only to find puppy dog eyes, “I didn’t mean to shrink your shirt, honey.”
-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.”
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.
Matt’s hands clenched around his cane. The magazine of the M249 slid open, the smell of gunpowder residue stronger as the remaining bullets fell on the table. “When she wakes up,” he said. “Who will she be?”
Matt could feel the other man’s hesitation. Copper stung his lungs as Bucky pulled off his bloody gloves, dropping them on the table next to the gun, and rounded the sofa to look down at the unconscious woman. Her breathing was even, shallow, and Bucky carefully plucked the blanket off the back of the couch to lay it across her. “She’ll be who she always was,” he said. “The beautiful, psychotic little bird we both made the mistake of falling in love with.”
Summary: When a new threat turns into something much bigger, Matt Murdock finds help in the form of a woman with a very different moral code, and struggles to choose between himself and the Devil.
Matt Murdock x Reader //Past!Winter Soldier x Reader
There was very little that compared to running on the thin sheets of ice and snow covering the city streets. It stuck to your feet, little shards of winter that froze your skin and proposed a challenge to your escape. It would have been easier to climb onto the nearest building, just a short distance from the frozen reflecting pool between the theater and the city proper, but this was the only way you could guarantee a chase. He would follow you, certainly, and if you wanted to give the man in red a chanceof getting out of this alive, there was no other choice.
You knew this city. You navigated it very well in the dark, the way you knew your home. You could pinpoint where each stoplight cast a glow of red, yellow, or green overtop the snow from miles away, even knowing approximately whenthe light would change. You knew where the sidewalks ended and which alleys were dead ends, knew which street lights flickered from dying bulbs.
Summary: When a new threat turns into something much bigger, Matt Murdock finds help in the form of a woman with a very different moral code, and struggles to choose between himself and the Devil.
Matt Murdock x Reader //Past!Winter Soldier x Reader
There was very little that compared to running on the thin sheets of ice and snow covering the city streets. It stuck to your feet, little shards of winter that froze your skin and proposed a challenge to your escape. It would have been easier to climb onto the nearest building, just a short distance from the frozen reflecting pool between the theater and the city proper, but this was the only way you could guarantee a chase. He would follow you, certainly, and if you wanted to give the man in red a chanceof getting out of this alive, there was no other choice.
You knew this city. You navigated it very well in the dark, the way you knew your home. You could pinpoint where each stoplight cast a glow of red, yellow, or green overtop the snow from miles away, even knowing approximately whenthe light would change. You knew where the sidewalks ended and which alleys were dead ends, knew which street lights flickered from dying bulbs.
He had three more knives, and one Glock 17 strapped to his back. Odds are it was a full clip, so that meant.. 33 opportunities to put a bullet in you. You also knew he was wearing military grade boots, which meant he had advantage over you in this terrain, and that also meant he could be faster.
Your only chance was to outsmart him. Which could be difficult, given that he was clearly an expert and you had no idea how clever he was. And you hated not knowing.
But you had to take the chance. You ran until your feet were numb, counting down the seconds that led you closer and closer to frostbite. Turning one corner at a time, you didn’t look back until you turned into an alleyway, cut off by a chain link fence. Your breath misted in front of your blued lips as your eyes fell on a misshapen lump of snow and you ran toward it, ripping more of the fabric at the bottom of your dress. The frayed edge was now only to the middle of your thigh, exposing your legs to the bitter cold as you used the fabric as a barrier between your hands and the snow.
The manhole cover under the snow had ice accumulated along the edge, and your fingers ached as you pried it open, sliding the heavy, frozen metal away from the opening. You cast a glance over your shoulder, taking only a moment to listen to the distant sound of gunfire and sirens. The sounds were close, and if the police interfered with the attacker, you would have just enough time to slip away without leaving a trail. You turned back toward the manhole, pushing away the hopes that the man in red had gotten away- there was no time for worrying or what-ifs- and made your escape.
***
Two of his ribs were broken.
He had heard them creak when his back hit the concrete, and when the heavy boot came down just under his shoulder blades, the cracks split. His scream had echoed through the balcony, and he was certain that the mammoth of a man towering over him was going to smash his head in before Matt could get his hands under him. But when Matt pushed against the ground, blood dripping from his nose and staining the snow a bright crimson, the attacker wasn’t even looking at him. He had started following Y/n, who had run through the ballroom straight to the fire stairs on the north side of the building.
Dizziness swarmed Matt’s senses as he clamored to his feet, not stopping as he swept up the two billy clubs and ran after them. He wasted no time with the stairs, jumping over the railing and rolling as he landed. He could smell the metal, taste the way it mixed with the copper on his tongue. His body ached, protested, begged him to slow down, but the man was following her, and even though she was far ahead of them, her footprints were leading them both right to her.
Lucky for Matt, he didn’t need them. He had gotten enough of the rich scent of her perfume, the heavy smell of too-much foundation, the slightest bit of sweat. He followed the quickest path to the end of your trail, his ribs and legs and lungs protesting as he leapt through the air between buildings, his back aching with each roll as he landed all too hard on the rooftops. He had to get ahead, had to find her before her would-be assassin could get close enough to put a bullet between her eyes or a knife in her throat. Whatever manner of death he had planned for the ballerina, he had to prevent it.
If he couldn’t, what was the point?
His feet slid on the ice, his boots not quite gripping the sleek sheets that coated every inch of the city. He was careful, calculating each step as he raced toward her.
He stopped at the edge of a movie theatre roof, his feet skidding and sending flurries of ice in the air. Frowning, Matt crouched, catching his breath. His head tilted toward the rich scent of her, tongue tasting perfume and snow and the heavy, metal manhole cover as she hefted it off the hole. She glanced back, the wind swiping her hair over cold, chapping lips. He could hear the gunfire starting, the police shouting at the assassin to stop.
She had met a dead end, and he wasn’t surprised that she had decided the best course of action was to flee to a new level of the city. It would be warmer in the sewers, without the wind and still falling snow on her skin, but it was dark and damp and not everyone had the advantages Matt had in an environment like that.
She dropped the silk in her hands, letting it fall into the snow near the manhole. Matt shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, ready to jump down and follow her, when she did something even he didn’t see coming.
Her hands gripped the nearby fire escape on the other side of the alley. How she had jumped from her point in the middle of the alley to the building so gracefully without taking a running start surprised him, and he nearly fell forward in his rush to go down. He hadn’t considered she would in fact go up.
She moved quickly, climbing the side of the fire escape to the roof without setting foot on the landings at each floor. Matt moved away from the edge of the movie theater as she reached the top and disappeared behind the roof ledge. The gunfire had stopped, but the sirens still pierced his ears as he took a running leap over the expanse of the alley.
***
You only had minutes. The cold had started climbing up your legs, leaving your feet near-numb. Behind the wall surrounding the edge of the roof, you were safe from the wind, but as you brushed the snow off your feet, you could feel the tips of your fingers tingle.
At this rate, the frostbite would set in before you could make it home. There was nowhere familiar close enough to slip into unseen, but at this rate, breaking into somewhere for warmth, just enough to get the feeling back in your limbs, wasn’t off the table. But you had to wait another minute, at least, to make sure he took the bait. There was no telling if he’d fall for it, or if he had some way of seeing you crouched down against the wall. If he followed you, found you, it was over.
Your eyes closed, the snow on your lashes sticking to your eyelids. Running this far, in the cold, in not at all the right clothes, had taken its toll. Your body was well-trained for each of those things, but there was no way a person could stave it off for long. Exhaustion had begun to creep in your bones alongside the chill, and you only had moments to catch your breath and wait for the assassin before you had to move again.
A soft, rolling thud jerked you away from your moment of peace, and you were back on your feet before the other figure had a chance to roll to his. Your hands were up, ready for a knife or a bullet aimed for your head or heart, feet poised to dive past him— but the man in red stood up slowly, his own hands up, not in fists like yours, but the open hands of surrender.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said, his voice low and gruff. He kept his hands up, maybe for your benefit, but more likely for his own. You were a cornered animal, and there was no way of knowing whether you believed him.
“Who the hell are you?”
He lowered his hands, cautious, and took a few steps closer. The stark red of his suit was rich against the snow surrounding you both, even in the dark, and as he stopped just a few feet away, you knew the answer before he spoke.
“I’m Daredevil.”
Your arms dropped to your sides, fingers flexing, trying to get the feeling to come back as you eyed him carefully. “Daredevil’s been gone for years,” you said.
His lips pulled into a thin line. “I was…” he searched for the right words, his head tilting back and forth. “Taken. We don’t have much time-“
His head snapped toward the alley below. You followed his line of sight over the ledge, ducking down as the white cape came swirling into view. Daredevil crouched beside you, chin pointed at the ground as the two of you listened. The crunching of snow was loud, even from this high up, as he neared the place you had last left signs of yourself.
You listened carefully, but your companion seemed to have something else on his mind as he reached for your shivering hands. You tried to pull them back, but he carefully clutched your wrist, wrapping his gloved hands around yours. “You’re going to freeze,” he whispered, frowning. “We need to go.”
“Not yet,” you hissed back, this time successfully prying your hands out of his. He didn’t speak again, only waited until you both heard the dull thud of boots landing in the sewer far below.
Satisfied by the distant sounds of retreating footfalls, you pushed yourself up, ready to run. If he realized he’d been fooled, you needed to be as far away from here as possible. But your legs shook, and the moment you took a step you were falling. You lurched forward, ready to catch yourself on the ice, but he was faster, catching you in his arms before you hit the frozen concrete.
“Slow down,” he said, pulling you to your feet. He kept his hand on your arm, steadying you. Even through his gloves he could feel the goosebumps on your skin, the dusting of ice settling in, and wasted no time in bending down to grab you under the knees.
In any other circumstances, you’d have batted him away, determined to make your way inside on your own. But your head spun as he lifted you in his arms, tucking you against his chest, and your body had begun to shake. He was warm, anyway, and you burried your face against his chest and jammed your hands into your armpits as he started walking. His steps were uneven, his chest heaving with uneven breaths, and he moved impossibly slow.
“You’re hurt,” you breathed, your eyes closing again. This stranger could be taking you anywhere, but you didn’t have a choice. He’d come to your aid and that didn’t mean you trusted him, but it was enough to know that he probablywanted you alive.
“It’s a fracture,” he said, inhaling sharply as he approached the other side of the roof. “I’m fine.”
“Whatever you say, horns.”
***
You didn’t remember falling asleep. It couldn’t have been for very long- your body still ached from the cold, and sitting up sent a torrent of pain through your head and back. Blinking against fluorescent lights, you glanced around enough to recognize the cluttered industrial kitchen of the coffee shop.
You were warm, though, wrapped in an old blanket and covered in a thin layer of sweat. Your fingers and toes had regained feeling, and your head was pounding. Your injuries were catching up to you, but that was better than going numb. You had been dangerously close to hypothermia, but Daredevil had gotten there just on time.
“Don’t move too much.”
He was sitting a few feet away, legs outstretched in front of him with his back pressed against the heavy door that separated you from outside.
Pushing yourself up, you mimicked his position, resting your back against the prep counter. “How long was I out?”
“Twenty minutes,” he said. “Who was that?”
You grimaced, rubbing the back of your neck. It popped as you carefully turned it side to side, pinching your eyes closed against the pain. “I have no idea.”
He stood up, crossing the space between you in one stride, and crouched at your feet. “I’m gonna need a lot better than ‘no idea.’”
“I’ve never seen him bef-”
“Why’s he trying to kill you?”
You caught your tongue between your teeth, halfway through a snippy remark, but it slipped out anyway. “Maybe he doesn’t like my dancing.”
He huffed a sigh, unamused, and his foot adjusted under him. “He’s already killed two people-“
“Three.”
His lips parted, head shaking slightly with confusion. “Anastasia Petrova and Tatiana Kalashnik.”
“And Nina Drugova. Albany. Found her in a dumpster- well, most of her.”
The leather of his gloves creaked as his hands curled into fists. His jaw tightened, chin dropping so that he was staring at the floor between his feet before he looked back up at you. “All people you knew.”
“All my friends,asshole.”
He hesitated. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Truly. But he’s after younow, and you can’t take him on your own. So I need a really good reason why.”
“You mean you need a reason why you should help me,” you snorted, pushing the blanket off. You grabbed at the counter, using it to pull yourself to your feet. He rose with you, his shoulders tense. Like he expected you to attack him or take off running.
“I help people who need helped,” he said. “But if we’re going to stop him-“
“Almost being the keyword. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, pal.”
“I’ve handled worse.”
You stared at him for a long moment. You had heard stories of Daredevil. Though he was gone by the time you were in New York, whispers of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had become something of an urban legend; he was a ghost story, a warning meant to scare criminals as they passed dark shadows. He was the boogeyman of the West Side. He had taken down Wilson Fisk, had fought criminal organizations damn near single handed. He was toughandscary— at least, that’s how the stories made him sound. But looking at him was different. He was just a man in a suit, and as far as you could tell, he didn’t have super powers like Captain America, didn’t have metal to protect him like Iron Man. He was just some guy, with some training, who beat the daylights out of men who were the realboogeymen.
“I don’t know who he is,” you repeated, letting the blanket fall on the ground between you. “But I know someone who might.”
“Black Swan?” He tilted his head at you, a smile playing on his lips. “You keep your feathers somewhere else?”
You willed your heart to remain steady, refusing to break eye contact. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He huffed a dry laugh. “The aerobics, scaling the fire escape like that. The whole… ballerina thing.”
You shrugged. “Not everyone is a superhero.”
“No,” he agreed, but the smile on his lips didn’t waver. He didn’t need to point out that he had seen you fight too. He knew- he knew who you were, and even if you wouldn’t admit it, it was one less mystery to solve. “If not her,then who?”
You sighed, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders. “An old friend,” you said. “A veryold friend.”
***
The sun was coming up. It peered lazily over the horizon, seeping through the cracks between the towering skyscrapers in the distance. The snow had stopped falling, leaving a thick blanket of white over the streets below. Any other day, you’d have already crawled back into the warmth of your apartment, pulling the blankets up over your head and falling asleep to the sounds of cars outside the window. The blackout curtains would keep out the sun, but instead you were watching as it crawled slowly into the sky. Most of the wind had been blocked out by the surrounding buildings, and the coffee in your gloved hand sent gentle curls of heat into the air. Bundled up at the edge of the building, you counted the passing cars as you waited.
“Your friend is taking his time.” Daredevil was beside you, pacing along the edge of the roof. He was on edge- no one had ever seen Daredevil in the daylight, and being out in the early morning hours ran the risk of being caught. It was a risk just to be here, with you. But the assassin had yet to attack during the day, and as long as he was at your side, he felt better knowing that you were protected, even if you didn’t necessarily need it.
“He’ll be here,” you said, bringing the cup close to your lips. “We just have to be patient.”
He stopped pacing, coming to stand next to you. “This had better be worth it,” he said, lips drawing into a fine line. “It’s dangerous for us to be up here.”
“More or less dangerous than being tracked down by an assassin?”
Daredevil stiffened, his head snapping toward the door of the roof-access. “Someone’s coming.”
“How the hell-”
“Not the assassin,” he said, frowning. “Someone else.”
“-do you know that?”
The door of the roof swung open, the seldom-used hinges groaning. His boots were heavy as he stepped out, ice crunching under heavy footsteps. He paused in the doorway, eyebrow raised as the door closed behind him. His hair fluttered around his tightened jaw, blue eyes flickering over Daredevil’s form before they landed on you. They softened, and a crooked half-smile painted over his lips as he strode forward, adjusting the M249 slung over his back. He crossed the expanse of the roof in slow, confident steps, and reached for you just as you stepped into his arms, wrapping them around his shoulders.
“Long time, no see, pretty bird.” He laughed into the side of your neck as you hugged him. His metal hand pressed delicately into the small of your back even as you stepped away, eyes trailing back over to the Devil, who was watching you with curious caution. “Who’s the suit?”
“Bucky,” you said, gesturing toward Matt, who, unbeknownst to his companions, had been reading the other man’s body language, vitals, and voice from even before he had stepped on the roof. “Meet the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.”
Matt’s hands clenched around his cane. The magazine of the M249 slid open, the smell of gunpowder residue stronger as the remaining bullets fell on the table. “When she wakes up,” he said. “Who will she be?”
Matt could feel the other man’s hesitation. Copper stung his lungs as Bucky pulled off his bloody gloves, dropping them on the table next to the gun, and rounded the sofa to look down at the unconscious woman. Her breathing was even, shallow, and Bucky carefully plucked the blanket off the back of the couch to lay it across her. “She’ll be who she always was,” he said. “The beautiful, psychotic little bird we both made the mistake of falling in love with.”
Summary: When a new threat turns into something much bigger, Matt Murdock finds help in the form of a woman with a very different moral code, and struggles to choose between himself and the Devil.
Matt Murdock x Reader //Past!Winter Soldier x Reader
Matt had been outside for a longtime. Of course, deep down Foggy knew that Matt was more than capable of withstanding the cold- there was a lot Matt could withstand. His best friend had been through a lot, between being beaten until he could hardly stand, being shot and stabbed, and having a buildingcrumble on top of him. Somehow Matt had always made it out alive; sometimes he came out in pieces, but always alive. It stood to reason that of all things, Matt could handle the bitter wind and snow just fine. But that didn’t stop Foggy from worrying.
Summary: When a new threat turns into something much bigger, Matt Murdock finds help in the form of a woman with a very different moral code, and struggles to choose between himself and the Devil.
Matt Murdock x Reader //Past!Winter Soldier x Reader
Matt had been outside for a longtime. Of course, deep down Foggy knew that Matt was more than capable of withstanding the cold- there was a lot Matt could withstand. His best friend had been through a lot, between being beaten until he could hardly stand, being shot and stabbed, and having a buildingcrumble on top of him. Somehow Matt had always made it out alive; sometimes he came out in pieces, but always alive. It stood to reason that of all things, Matt could handle the bitter wind and snow just fine. But that didn’t stop Foggy from worrying.
He’d been tailing Karen, mostly from a distance, all night. She was charming, so much so that it was very clear that she didn’t need any help. She carried around the same glass of champagne, balancing it between two fingers, as she casually asked about the show and its dancers. From what Foggy could tell, they were eager to share: yes, they had put in a lot of work and yes, they did know Y/n. Some of them had worked with her from the very first show, others had only met her this year, but they all had the same things to say. She was a quiet, private person, and didn’t spend a lot of time at the theater or go out to parties or bars with the rest of the cast. But she was funny and kind and charming, like Karen… and she ran her own studio a few blocks away, teaching dance at a ridiculously discounted rate.
Foggy made sure to note the address, and pulled it up on his phone. The other dancers had never been there before, but apparently she alsolived above the studio in a small flat- which was odd, he thought, because the ABT theater was known for paying rather handsomely.
And, as in most workplaces, there were rumors. Expensive alcohol fed into already swelled egos and gossip, both of which ran rampant in circles of artists. Most of the rumors were typical: that she’d slept with half of the ensemble, that she had earned her role as the princess by sleeping with the director. Foggy wished that he was surprised by how many rumors seemed to revolve around who slept with who, but then again… He’d been to college.
And then there were rumors so dark, they were whispers shared only over the rim of an alcoholic beverage.
“Do you believe it?” Karen ducked her head, her shoulder brushing against Foggy’s.
“We’re gonna have to owe Brett some serious favors to pull this one,” he said, smiling at a group of passing women.
“This wasn’t in the papers at the Bulletin,” Karen sipped idly at her champagne glass, watching over the rim. “Which means they either pulled the story, or it wasn’t… juicy enough.”
“Or someone got bribed… Or threatened.” Foggy sat his half-empty glass on a passing tray, using his free hands to smooth out his jacket. “What about Urich? He definitely would’ve—“
A violin screamed, the sharp, sudden screech of it echoing in the cavernous room. Foggy’s hands shot to cover his ears as Karen turned toward the source of the interruption. The crowd had also taken notice, a wave of craned necks all pointed towards the double doors, which had been abruptly shoved open.
It took a moment, just a few precious seconds, to register what was happening. Foggy couldn’t see over the ocean of people between him and the door, but a moment later, the ocean became a panicked wave as the attendees began to push and shove their way through the crowd. Where they were going was unclear, as they moved in opposing directions, and the only goal Foggy could register was away.Shouting began to fill in the emptiness left by the abrupt halt of music, and Foggy felt Karen grab his arm and start pulling him toward the double doors that led to the balcony.
In the ensuing chaos, Foggy caught only a glimpse of the source of panic- a snow white, flowing cape that dragged along the ground behind a massive figure. The beast of a man had not been moving, but the hood that covered the head of the figure had turned, slowly searching the crowd, and then Foggy was forced to turn and follow Karen toward the doors.
Others had started moving that way, too, most of them probably unaware that the balcony was not a safety net. There was no way down, not without falling five stories to the cold, unforgiving ground. But Karen- Karen was not looking for an exit, for a way to escape the caped intruder. She was headed for Matt and Y/n, and Foggy prayed they had time to find another escape.
***
The doors had burst open, a cacophony of screams and stampeding footsteps following in its wake. The crowd had dispersed like a bomb, the frantic silk and wool clad swarm of partygoers rushing toward one of only two sets of doors leading out of the ballroom.
Matt pushed you backwards behind him, his hand still groping your shoulder as he moved you as far back from the rush of people as he could.
“You have to run,” he was saying, his voice almost lost in the sea of horrified screams.
“Runwhere?” The iced over railing pressed into your back and you looked over it, quickly calculating the likelihood of surviving a vault over the side. It was… not ideal.
“When I say go,” he was saying, suddenly turning to grab your arm and pull you sideways, following the railing back around toward but off to the side of the doors. “You go.”
Pursing your lips, you didn’t take the time to ask what it was he was planning on doing- this lawyer, blind and in way over his head, was no match for an assassin capable of killing not just one, but three—
The crowd pressed close, their bodies huddled together. It was indiscernible as to who was who, and if the attacker decided to pick them off one by one…
But it was advantageous. You stayed behind Matt, letting him and the endless sea of frightened people conceal you as you silently toed off your heels, leaving them dangerously close to the edge of the balcony. You’d have to be unbelievably fast to dart past whoever was coming, lithe enough to slip below his grasp if he got too close, and hoped that he didn’t have a gun.Even you couldn’t outrun a bullet.
“Give me your shoes,” Matt said, holding out a hand. You frowned at him, but carefully knelt down to gather them in your hand.
“Matt!Matt!”A familiar female voice screeched among the timulting choir of cries as she pushed her way through the crowd. She had tried, hard, to reach you, but she and the stout man clinging to her back as he tried to keep up had not made it before the slow, heavy footsteps reached the doorway.
Karen’s eyes locked on yours, and Matt let go of your shoulder as she slid alongside you and gripped your hand.
“Get her out,” Matt said, carefully taking your heels in his hand. “Get out and keep running. Get her to the office.”
Karen didn’t respond, but her hold of your hand tightened as the figure slowly turned their head, scanning the crowd.
He was a mountainous man, visible even over the heads of frightened people. The long white cape draped over his back brustled in the wind, sucked back from his form in a dramatic flourish. Beneath it, a navy blue and orange suit pulled tight over his broad chest and the thick muscles of his arms and legs.
He turned his head, revealing the mask settled firmly against his face beneath the hood: a stark white skull, the eyes glowing amber in the darkness of the balcony.
Your heart rose into your throat, pulsing against your trachea and threatening to strangle you. The fear made it hard to breathe, and your mind rushed to warn you that you were failing, but it was overwhelmbed by a strong, solid voice echoing a sentiment you’d clung to for years.
Fight or fly, pretty bird. No time to feel anything else right now.
The slow, calculated movements of the hooded figure mutated as his head stopped turning, scanning the fearful crowd as the glowing eyes landed squarely on your face.
He reached for the belt tightened at his waist, the slick glide of a blade cutting through the unforgiving air. It twirled gracefully over his fingers, the hilt pressing delicately into his palm.
It happened in a moment. His arm raised, crossing over his body, and then the knife was soaring through the air, slicing through the snow and wind with precision. It was fast, so fast that you’d had little time to grab Karen by the back of her head and force her into a crouch beside you- but the knife didn’t come, didn’t bury its way into your abdomen or the arm you’d slung up to protect your head.
“Karen!”
Matt’s voice was further away now, and you shot to your feet, ready to defend against the mammoth that was inevitably stalking toward you. The rest of the crowd had started moving, rushing like a herd of gazelles back into the ballroom, toward the doors that led to safety on the other side of it.
You followed them, squeezing Karen’s hand, dragging her impossibly fast through the crowd. She nearly tripped, and you glanced down long enough to see the knife buried in the side of one of your stilettos.
Matt was nowhere to be seen, not through the rush of people around you, and you slowed your pace, turning frantically to search the crowd for the gleam of red from his glasses. Somewhere, you could hear the dull thud of impacts, flesh beating flesh, and the muted thump of your heart in your throat quickened as you released Karen’s hand.
“Go,” you shouted, stooping to grab the shoe. The knife twisted in your hand as you pulled on it, tearing the plastic of the shoe as you wiggled the blade free. “Karen, go!”
No one else was going to die because of you.
Karen didn’t run. She grabbed at you, flailing as you tossed the shoe back to the ground. She screamed your name as you pushed against the crowd, like wading through too deep water as you fought to reach the fight some distance behind you.
The stout man, no doubt Matt’s partner, had caught up, and grabbed you by the arm as you slid between the people separating you from your attacker. The crowd was thinning as people reached the ballroom and ran for the safety of the doors.
“What the hell are you doing?” Nelson’s fingers slid off your arm as you shrugged him off. You didn’t wait to see if he ran as you broke through the crowd to find the white-clad attacker standing at the edge of the balcony, his arm outstretched beyond the railing. He was gripping a thin strip of fabric, the tail of which snapped in the wind like a red flag. Matt’s tie.
Matt himself was nowhere to be found.
“Hey, asshole!”
His head turned as the knife left your fingers, the tip aimed for the center of his head, and you didn’t wait to see if it met the sleek bone of his mask before you were running at him, cursing the long skirt of your dress as you aimed your foot for his rib.
The knife bounced off of his forearm as he deflected it. In the same fluid motion, his hand wrapped tightly around your foot. You swung your weight up, using his hand and the momentum as a boost to push yourself onto his shoulders. You wrapped your legs around his head, squeezing your thighs on either side as your elbow drove down into the top of his skull.
His arms wrapped around your legs, his hands gripping tightly to your waist. He pulled, moving forward, and yanked your body up. You went over his head, his hands letting you freefall, and slammed into the concrete ground. Pain shot through your back as he stepped around you, tilting his head curiously. The moment of reprieve was not enough, your teeth grinding against the pain as he dipped down, wrapping his thick fingers around your throat.
Lights danced behind your eyes as you gasped for air. Several of your nails snapped as your fingertips tried to pry underneath his grip. His fingers tightened as he lifted you up, pulling you toward him until your face was level with his. The glowing embers of his eyes bore into yours, reflecting back the brazen image of your face as hues of blue flushed over your cheeks.
Your legs swung up, the left wrapping around his arm to keep your weight from pulling down on your throat. The other foot connected with his ribs, as hard as you could manage, and his grip on your throat flinched- just enough to get a swallow of air.
His free hand reached for his belt, sliding another knife free. It caught the gleam of light from the ballroom and your eyes widened. The flat sides of the knife were textured with a familiar feather pattern, and as you aimed another kick toward his hand, he drew back his arm with the tip aimed at your face.
His head snapped abruptly to the side, the sickening sound of a crunchas something blunt hit his temple echoing across the balcony. His hand released your throat and your back hit the concrete once more as the black batton bounced off his temple.
You rolled as he swung the knife down, the blade scraping against the concrete below him, and flipped yourself up onto your feet. Gritting your teeth, you grabbed the bottom of your dress, ripping away the excess silk.
He was moving toward you again, the knife flipping over in his hand. You wrapped the silk around each hand, holding it up in time for the knife to glide through it instead of your face.
You let the fabric go, barely sidestepping the knife as he brought it down once more. There was something familiar in the way he fought, the precise movements following you as you evaded him across the balcony. He turned on his heel as you dove under him, rolling to your feet on the other side, and would have brought the knife down again, except that something- someone- had come between you.
The figure was broad-shouldered but slim, his shoulders tense as he grabbed the knife aimed for your head. The red leather of his glove squeezed the attacker’s hand, and the two pushed against each other as you rolled back to your feet.
As the large, imposing man swept his foot underneath your savior, he jumped backwards, and you got a good look at him in the light spilling out of the ballroom.
He was clad in red, head to toe, his suit molded to a muscular form. The leather was interrupted only seldomly with sleek, black fabric along his vital areas. He was wearing a mask that covered the entire back of his head, and when he turned his face to follow the caped assailant, you could trace the stubble along his jaw. The mask had two horns, short and rounded, above his forehead.
Pushing off the ground, you rocked to the balls of your feet, ready to rush forward again. His hands flexed, gripping onto the second batton in his left hand.
“Go,” he said, voice deep, aimed at you though his face was still trained on the other man. “Go, now. Don’t look back.”
Your weight shifted, and you turned without sparing a second glance. The man in the cape wasn’t here for the other man- it was likely he would chase you down, and the further you were from innocent bystanders and the man in red, the safer they were.
Summary: When a new threat turns into something much bigger, Matt Murdock finds help in the form of a woman with a very different moral code, and struggles to choose between himself and the Devil.
Matt Murdock x Reader //Past!Winter Soldier x Reader
AN: So, uh. Yeah. The next part has the moment we’ve all been waiting for.
The pushpin dug through the cork without effort, denting it in with the force of Karen’s irritated thrust, and it was the loudest Matt had ever heard someone jab something so sharp into anything else. And he’d heard a lotof people be stabbed before.
Karen had taken it upon herself to hang the corkboard after he’d taken off on her and Foggy without so much as a word. She was tense, her hair falling in damp waves on her neck. It had been raining all day, mixing with the snow and ice to create a slush that dampened the whole mood of the office.
Foggy sat in Karen’s chair, absently twirling a pen in his hand as he handed her the contents of a manilla folder, one photo or article at a time. It was a trick she’d picked up from Ben Urich, leftovers from her time at the Bulletin. One column had the papers Foggy had gotten on Anastasia Petrova, photos from the crime scene, the little bit of information Karen had been able to pull from online.. The second had a copy of the work visa for Tatiana Kalashnik, which Foggy had painstakingly begged Brett Mahoney for, the I-29 petition that had granted her said visa, which listed street addresses and phone numbers that went nowhere, and a photograph taken in a bar some three weeks ago.
The Snap is a terrible, terrible thing, but for you it’s a blessing. Your abusive boyfriend vanishes along with half the world and you try your best to start over in the new world. But then everyone comes back, including the man whose apartment you now live in.
Words: 4.5K Author’s Note: Charlie Cox deserves all the love. That’s all I’m going to say. Well, actually there is a trigger warning for talking about an abusive relationship and a mild confrontation. Sorry if that’s not your cup of tea.
When Thanos eliminated half the world with just a snap of his fingers, you were probably one of the only humans alive who was grateful for it. While mostly everyone was going about their lives, you had been cowering in a corner and protecting yourself from shards of glass as your boyfriend threw objects at you in one of his temper tantrums.
No one had known what was going on when people suddenly turned to dust before everything quickly went to shit, and it wasn’t until almost a week after that the remaining Avengers put out a statement about what had happened.
You hadn’t been on your own for a little over three years, so it took you a while to get back on your own two feet. Prices for anything and everything went up, and you were just grateful that hospitals everywhere were in desperate need of nurses. Finding a new place to live, however, proved difficult but you lucked out a few months after the Snap when the perfect apartment went up on the market. It was an open floor-plan with brick walls in a fairly secure building, and the only reason it was so cheap was because of an enormous billboard two blocks away that poured too much light into the apartment at night. The apartment itself was lovely and the billboard issue was easily handled by blackout curtains.
For the next five years, you took your life back and really settled into your new life.
So of course, it all goes shit on your day off as you’re lounging around your apartment in nothing but a shirt and panties. One moment you’re catching up on one of your favorite supernatural shows, fantasizing about one of the lead vampires, and the next there’s dust materializing between you and the TV. Your mouth drops open as a man now stands there, head turning from side to side as he tries to get his bearings.
“Who’s there? Who’s in my apartment?”
Your heart thumps wildly as you quickly scramble off the couch. “Y-Your apartment? This is my apartment!”
The man keeps glancing around, eyes unfocused as his hand reaches up to tug his tie loose. You walk until the couch now resides between the two of you, your heart plummeting as you hear vehicles screeching just outside your window and people shouting and screaming. His head snaps towards the window, looking but not seeing. He’s.. he’s blind. He must be.
“What’s happening?” He asks.
It takes a moment for everything to click in your brain and your heart falls into your stomach. “You’re coming back. You’re all coming back,” you murmur.
“Excuse me? What do you mean by coming back?”
You gulp. “Sir, this might be hard to believe, but you’ve been gone for five years. You and half of Earth’s population have.”
“No. No,” he says. “That’s impossible. I was here, I had a dizzy spell, and then there was this stranger in my apartment. You were here in my apartment.”
“I am really sorry.” You wince. “But I am telling you the truth. There was this alien named Thanos. Earth’s mightiest heroes fought him in space and fought him here on Earth. We- we lost. And in losing, half of Earth’s population just turned to dust and vanished with no warning whatsoever. We thought you all died.”
He calms down some after your explanation, but he still seems confused as hell. “M-My friends! Foggy Nelson and Karen Page. Do you know if-”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know them.” He immediately starts patting down his pants’ pockets, frowning when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. “I, uh, I have a phone you can use if you want.”
“Yes! Yes, please.”
You walk back around to your coffee table, picking up your phone and holding it out for him. When he doesn’t make a grab for it, your suspicions about him being blind are confirmed. “Do you, um, do you need me to dial for you?”
“Oh. Yes.” He quickly rattles off the number and you dial it for him. It rings and rings before going to his friend’s voicemail. “Foggy? It’s Matt. I’m not sure what’s going on, but there’s a woman in my apartment and she tells me I’ve been gone for five years. If you need to reach me, call me back at this number. I.. I have no place to go and I can’t seem to find my phone.” You end the call, frowning at the fact that this man couldn’t reach his friend. “I’m sorry about putting you on the spot. I didn’t even think before telling Foggy he can reach me at your number.”
“Don’t even worry about it. I’m off today and tomorrow. If you need help, I’ll supply it.”
His shoulders sag in relief. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Anyone else you wanna call?”
“Karen.” He rattles off her number next, but when you dial it, an automated message tells you the number’s been disconnected.
“I’m sorry,” you tell him. “There’s a good chance Karen might have been blipped.”
The man starts pacing back and forth, and ends up running into your sofa chair. He sighs and leans down so his hands are resting on the armrest as he hangs his head. “I’m sorry,” he suddenly says. “I’ll try to get out of your hair as soon as I can. I just- I need..”
“Don’t even worry about it,” you find yourself saying. “This was obviously your apartment before and now it’s mine, and I’m sure thousands of people all around the world are having this exact same issue. If everyone suddenly reappeared, I’m positive we’re about to be thrown back into chaos once more. If you’re comfortable here, I don’t mind having a roommate until we can get you back on your feet.”
“That’s awfully generous of you.” He picks his head up, gaze just to the left of you. “I’m Matt Murdock, by the way.”
“YN YLN.”
“So Miss YLN, while I wait for my friend’s call, do you mind explaining what happened again?”
“Sure. Just, uh, just let me put on some pants.”
For the first time since he’s appeared, his lips twitch in amusement. “You’ve been pantless this entire time?”
“Well this is my apartment,” you say. “I was terrified at first, but when I realized you were blind, I figured I was good.”
He huffs a laugh. “I’ll just wait here then.”
“Mhm.” As you start making your way towards your bedroom, you call out over your shoulder, “Don’t walk around too much. I’m sure the layout I have going on now is a lot different than what you’re used to. I’ll give you the tour in a bit.”
Matt hums back an affirmative and you quickly pull on some joggers. You grab the hem of your overly large shirt, bunching it up in your hand and tying a knot with the material at the small of your back. And even though Matt is blind, you quickly fix your hair so you appear more presentable.
“I, um, I have water and beer if you want something to drink,” you say while reappearing back in the living room. “And some wine, but it’s the cheap stuff.”
Matt, sitting in the lone sofa chair, picks his head up and nods. “Water would be good. Thank you.”
“Mhm.” You head to the kitchen, grabbing yourself a glass of wine and a glass of water for your guest. As you head back towards Matt, you hand him his water and take a seat in the corner of your sofa with your legs tucked beneath you. “So, uh, Thanos..” You trail off with a sigh and take a sip of your wine. “According to Steve Rogers, Thanos had been looking for something called Infinity Stones. There were six of them and if all gathered by one person, they become the most powerful being in the universe.”
“And this Thanos guy found them?”
“Yep.” Another sip of wine. “The last one he needed was here on Earth. The Avengers and their allies tried protecting it, but they lost. And with a snap of his fingers, half the world paid the price. You all just- you vanished. Turned to dust and then nothing.”
“What happened after that?”
“It was complete chaos,” you tell him. “For weeks, it was nothing but violence and looting. It took Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff a while to give a statement, but after they did it kind of upped the government’s morale and they eventually got everyone under control again.”
“And what? Everyone just went on with their lives?”
“We had to. The remaining Avengers and their allies could not think of a single way to bring any of you back. We all just figured you had died. Hoped in some cases,” you say, heartbeat slowly accelerating at the thought of your ex seeking you out.
“Hoped? Why would someone..” Matt trails off, head tilting as if listening to something only he can hear. “Did you- did you hope that someone wouldn’t come back?”
“I was.. I was dating someone at the time. He wasn’t exactly nice,” you tell him, gulping down the rest of your wine before getting up to pour yourself some more. “He vanished mid-fight and I was left to pick up the pieces of my life. I’m happy here and if you’re all coming back, there’s a good chance he did too and-”
“And nothing. You’re going to be fine.”
“You don’t know that.” You retake your seat on the sofa, sighing. “He’s possessive and jealous, and very easy to set off.”
“But if we’re reappearing where we vanished, he’ll reappear in your old place, won’t he?”
“Yes. And it’ll piss him off even more when he realizes I’m no longer there.”
“Hey, listen to me,” Matt says as he looks in your general direction. “You’re going to be fine. My friend Foggy and I are lawyers. If it comes down to it, we can help you out.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Matt grins. “Your boyfriend-”
“Ex-boyfriend.”
“Okay. Your ex-boyfriend has no idea where you’re at. And by the time he hunts you down, if he even decides to hunt you down, Foggy and I will have hopefully settled. You’ll be in good hands.”
“Thank you. I-” A sudden pounding on the apartment door startles you into spilling some of your wine. “Shit!” Your heartbeat skyrockets and the voice yelling through the door hardly settles you.
“Hey. Hey, it’s fine. It’s just my friend Foggy.”
It takes a moment for you to calm and remember your manners, and you quickly set your glass down before getting up to answer the door. A blonde, slightly overweight man stands there, eyes wide as he pants.
“M-Matt?”
“In there.” You hook your thumb over your shoulder as you step out of the way. Who you’re assuming is Foggy brushes past you and you grin at his exclamation of relief upon seeing his friend.
You walk back in to see the two friends embracing one another before taking seats and you hesitantly take a seat back in your corner of the sofa. Foggy is trying to fill in Matt about what went on to ease his confusion, but Matt tells his friend you already told him as much as you could. Foggy looks at you as if just now realizing there’s another person there, apologizes profusely for barging in, and then proceeds to introduce himself to you after Matt tells him your name.
Foggy then tells Matt everyone they knew who had blipped away, Karen included, and tells him that she’ll be staying with him and Marci. He apologies for not being able to take Matt in and that’s where you jump in.
“Oh. Well that shouldn’t be a problem,” you speak up for the first time. “I already told Matt he can stay. I know everything’s about to go to shit again and people are going to be displaced, and this apartment is more than big enough for the two of us.”
Foggy stares at you, probably in awe of how kind you’re being. He then leans closer to his friend, whispering, but you still hear him loud and clear. “What is it with you and attracting all the hot girls? You literally just got back from being dusted and BAM!, hot girl accepts you into her apartment. You need to give me some of that Murdock luck.”
You snort and Matt shakes his head in fond amusement.
“Well that is very generous of you, YN,” Foggy says as he turns towards you once more. “Thank you for looking after my good friend Matthew here.”
Matt sighs in exasperation. “Me staying here will be good for YN also. I was just told about an abusive ex who might come looking.” Foggy winces. “I already told Miss YLN that we can help out if it comes down to it.”
“Of course!” Foggy smiles reassuringly at you and you relax a little bit more. “And Matt, I put your stuff in storage. I can be back later with some clothes and..” He trails off, glancing towards the bedroom. “And an air mattress?”
“Oh! Matt can take my room,” you say, but he’s quick to refuse.
“No way. I’m perfectly fine on the couch. And besides, isn’t there a billboard still outside the window?”
“Well yeah, but that’s why blackout curtains were invented.”
Matt grins. “I’m not taking your bedroom.”
“Fine. The couch pulls out,” you say. “And I have an extra cushion to add to it so it’s not uncomfortable.”
“Perfect.” Foggy claps his hands, standing up. “Matt, real glad to have you back, buddy. Give it a day or two and we’ll all go out for drinks.” He then turns towards you, reaching for your hand and shaking it repeatedly. “YN, thank you so much for taking in Matt.”
“It’s no problem,” you assure him. “At least now I have some company to watch- er, listen?- as the world goes to shit once more.”
Both Matt and Foggy grin, and then Foggy’s telling his friend he’ll be back later with clothes and his cane and some other things he might need.
After Foggy takes his leave, you give your attention to Matt once more. “So how about that tour? You can reacquaint yourself with the apartment so you’re not bumping into stuff all the time.”
“Sure. I’d really like that.”
Matt lasts a whole week on your sofa before his Catholic guilt kicks in and he starts looking for an apartment elsewhere. But in the one week that you’d known him, you grew incredibly fond of the blind man and his company. So throwing caution to the wind, you put some of your stuff into storage and had Foggy bring Matt’s bed. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but his bed fit perfectly where your dining table once was behind your sofa. And after making absolutely sure you were okay with him being there for the time being, Matt agreed to stay for a bit longer.
You worked from seven in the morning to five in the afternoon, so you had no idea what Matt did during the daytime. He, however, was very accident prone and you found yourself patching up a few scrapes here and there. The first couple of times you chalked it up to him being blind and clumsy, but the bruised and bloodied knuckles said otherwise. You, however, never confronted him about it and let him keep his secret. After all, he and Foggy had promised you free counsel if or when your ex came back around.
Late one evening, you’re just getting home from work to find Matt sprawled on your sofa and listening to the local news. You grin as you head towards your bedroom, your steps faltering when you see the dried blood along your friend’s temple.
Sighing, you ask, “Let me guess, I should see the other guy?”
Matt immediately realizes what you’re speaking of and smiles. “Boxing incident. I guessed I missed a spot.”
“You think?” You drop your bag by your bedroom entrance and then head back towards Matt. “Sit up. Let me take a look.”
Knowing it’s pointless arguing with you, he sits up. “The cut’s just on the inside of the hairline.”
“Jesus,” you mumble. “You would think people would know not to take a cheap shot against a blind man.” Matt chuckles and lets you angle his head whichever way you need it so you can see the small wound for yourself. “Well it’s not deep enough for stitches, but I can put a bit of glue to keep it closed and to keep anything from getting in. It’ll fall off anywhere from five to ten days.”
“Yeah. That’ll be fine.”
“Okay. Hold on.” You stand back up to go grab one of your First Aid kits, only to halt when someone pounds one the door. You glance at Matt, frowning. “You expecting anyone?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“One sec.” You sigh and head for the door, swinging it open with a friendly grin. Only the moment you see the person standing on the other side of the door, your grin drops and your heartbeat pounds as if trying to escape your chest. “W-What are you doing here?” You ask.
Your ex, David, smirks. “What? I can’t greet my girlfriend?” For every step he takes forward, you take a step back. “You know, YN, it was a real pain to reappear in our old place to a new family living there. You could have at least left a note.”
“Ex-girlfriend,” you tell him. “And I didn’t leave a note for a r-reason. Now what do you want?”
His smirk turns cruel. “Ex? When did I agree to that?”
By now you’ve stumbled out of the hallway and into the room where David has the perfect view of Matt. “YN? Is something wrong? I thought I heard another voice?”
When you and David both glance at Matt, it’s to see him standing with his cane in hand. Your stomach drops as you glance back at David and see his smirk turn cruel. “How adorable,” he coos. “I vanish into thin fuckin’ air and you start playing house with a blind man.”
“I-It’s not like that!” You blurt. Your heart is pounding so furiously that you feel like you’re going to be sick. You keep glancing between Matt and David, the tension getting thicker by the second. “Matt and I are just-”
“Are just what, YN?” You cringe at David’s tone and before you even see it coming, pain is exploding along the right side of your face. He’s backhanded you. Hard.
“Hey!”
You fall back as Matt rushes forward, dropping his cane along the way. Holding your face with one hand, you shout at David and Matt as the two of them meet with fists flying. But.. but Matt is perfectly holding his own. The blind man is actually whooping David’s ass!
You watch on in complete awe and shock as Matt expertly dodges David’s fists, delivering well timed punches of his own that actually connect and a knee to the gut that sends David doubling over and trying to catch his breath.
Matt then grabs David by the nape of his neck and hauls him up so he’s standing on his own two feet, murmuring something in his ear before shoving him towards the hallway. You can hear David scrambling for the door and then your gaze darts back to Matt as he makes his way to you without the aid of his cane. He stops in front of you, holding out a hand for you to take.
“Come on. I think it’s time we cash in that favor with Foggy. He can represent you since I’ve gotten involved now.”
“H-How did you do that?” You ask, shakily taking Matt’s hand and letting him help you up. “It’s like you saw every punch he was throwing, but you’re blind.” Matt remains quiet as he leads you to the sofa, dropping you off there and then heading towards the kitchen. “You are blind, right?”
“It’s.. it’s complicated.”
When he comes back from the kitchen, he has a bag of frozen peas that he hands to you for your face. “Well then uncomplicate it. I’m all ears, Murdock.”
“Let me make a call to Foggy real quick. I’ll explain after.” He does as he said he would, calling Foggy and telling him to get to the apartment as soon as possible as you attempt to get comfortable with the ice cold peas against the side of your face. When he’s done, he takes a seat on the opposite end of the sofa you’re sitting on. He sighs. “When I had the accident that took my eyesight, it heightened my other senses.”
“To the point that it made you a complete badass?”
He huffs a laugh. “No. I had to learn to fight like that.”
“Matt,” you say in utter disbelief, “the way you fought, that isn’t normal for a blind individual.”
“Well I’m not totally blind.” He gulps and you sit a little taller at his confession. “It’s kind of like- like a world on fire. It literally looks like everything is on fire until there’s movement or sound and then I can see. Sort of.”
“So all those times I’ve walked around in nothing but a shirt and underwear, you could see?” His lips twitch and your eyes widen before you chuckle in disbelief. “You’re such a dick, Matthew.”
“I apologize. If it makes you feel any better, I never actually looked when I realized you were half naked.” He’s smiling in your general direction before his head tilts as if he’s listening for something. “Foggy’s rushing down the hall. He must have been close when I called him.”
“What? You can hear him coming down the-”
There’s a sudden pounding on the door before it’s opened and then closed, and Foggy rushes around the corner nearly out of breath. “What happened? What’s going on?” Looking at him, you remove the bag of peas and he winces. “Is that a black eye?!”
“Remember that ex I told you about? Well he finally paid a visit.”
“Jesus, YN,” Foggy says. “Are you okay? Is that your only injury? Do you need a hospital?”
“Foggy. Foggy!” Matt says, chuckling. “She’s fine.”
“I’m okay,” you assure the blonde. “Apparently Matt’s been holding back on me. He totally kicked ass today.”
“Oh good.” Foggy’s whole demeanor seems to relax. “Now that the whole Daredevil secret is out of the bag, we don’t have to censor ourselves anymore.”
Wait. What? “Daredevil? What are you talking about?”
You glance between both men- Foggy who looks like a deer caught in headlights and Matt who’s pinching the bridge of his nose.
“You.. you didn’t know?” Foggy squeaks.
“No, Foggy, she didn’t know,” Matt says. “All I told her was that I had heightened senses and learned to defend myself.”
“What the actual living fuck,” you mumble. There’s a split second where the room is eerily quiet before Foggy has the audacity to giggle and Matt grin. Your mind is whirling with every news headline and picture you’ve ever seen of Daredevil, and then.. and then you sigh and lean back in your seat while placing the bag of peas back on your face once again. “You know what, all your injuries make sense now.” Another bout of silence follows before you say, “And can I just say that, that suit of yours does wonders for your ass. I don’t know how I didn’t realize sooner.”
Foggy loses it, guffawing loudly as Matt shakes his head in amusement. “You look at my ass?”
“Fair’s fair, devil boy.”
“I don’t stare at your ass. I politely look elsewhere.”
“Oh bullshit.” Foggy huffs. “Your good boy Catholic mannerisms fool no one.”
Everyone shares a laugh and then a minute later, the laughter tapers off.
“So are you really okay with this?” Matt asks. “I can find an apartment elsewhere if this is too much for you.”
“Are you kidding? This is actually kind of cool,” you say. “You keep on and I’ll just- I’ll continue playing dumb. But I need to see you in that suit of yours up close at least once. For educational purposes, of course.”
“Oh. Of course.” Matt smirks.
“So now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk about what happened to your face,” Foggy says.
You groan. “David came over and he wasn’t happy he reappeared in our old apartment, only to find a new family living there. He was under the assumption we were still dating, I told him we weren’t, and then he got set off by seeing Matt here. He backhanded me and then Matt kicked his ass.”
“Do you want to file a restraining order?” Foggy then asks.
“Yes.” Matt answers for you. “I know men like him. He’ll retreat for now, but he’ll be back after he licks his wounds. It’ll also be a good idea to photograph the evidence of tonight’s altercation and file a police report so they’ll have a file started on David in case this ever happens again.”
“You two are the lawyers,” you say. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
You and Foggy spend the next few minutes talking and him taking up close pictures of your bruised face, and then he steps into the kitchen to make a phone call to Karen to get your paperwork started.
You wander back towards Matt and he grins as you take a seat on the arm rest closest to him. “So my suit, huh?”
“Yep. If you let me feel you up a little, I’ll make you home cooked meals for a week.”
Matt chuckles. “I think your brain got a little addled when you took that hit.”
“Nah. Just made my tongue a little looser.”
“You know when you get back from the police department, we have a lot to talk about.”
“Oh for sure. But I better not come back to all your stuff missing, Murdock. I’ve grown accustomed to having you around.”
“I attract trouble.”
“Daredevil attracts trouble. Matt Murdock attracts ridiculously hot girls that are envious of me because I have you as a roommate and they don’t.”
His lips twitch. “My enemies will eventually figure it out.”
“Then when they do, we’ll be prepared. If I have to leave until you take care of the problem, then I will, but there’s no use in talking about it right now.”
“Hey YN, are you ready to go?” Foggy says as he’s finally done with the phone call.
“Sure. Let me just grab my bag.” You walk over to pick up your bag once more, chancing a look in Matt’s direction one last time as you head towards the hallway where Foggy is waiting. “Seriously, Murdock, chill. And don’t leave. I’ll hunt you down and figure out how to kick your ass if you leave me high and dry here.”
Looking Up: [Request]Matt Murdock x reader where the reader was born with GAD (General Anxiety Disorder) and she also suffers from depression and it’s just really fluffy
See You Again: [Request]One shot where the reader is a burlesque dancer in a famous house and one day Foggy and Matt got an invitation after doing good work for the house owner and the reader ends meeting Matt after the show and they turn a fluffy couple
Broken: [Request] One-shot with Matt Murdock and the reader dealing with a miscarriage.
Catch Me if You Can: [Request] “If you jump out that window with that teddy bear, you will suffer my wrath"
a/n: I thought this up randomly and I’m kinda obsessed with the idea of someone doing this for Matt. I think it’d be really cute and I needed to write it out.
word count: 1.4k
You lay with Matt resting bonelessly between your thighs, your fingers thoughtlessly running through his hair, basking in the afterglow of your previous activities.
All was peacefully silent in his apartment, the only noise being both of your calming breaths. Though that was all you heard, you couldn’t even imagine the sounds and scents that must be filling Matt’s senses. You often wondered what it was like for him to live with such a thing.
You always took notice of Matt. When he would squeeze his eyes tightly because there was just too much noise going on around him, when he would stifle a gag because there were too many mixing scents, when he would shift on the bed because there were too many differing textures. There were a number of times where you had seen Matt simply overwhelmed by the world around him.
You always tried to help as best you could.
You hear Matt inhale deeply from where his head lay, his face cuddled against your neck. You feel him smile, his lips soft.
“I think I could find you from anywhere in Hell’s Kitchen,” Matt spoke randomly, the smile still on his face. Your bodies moved as you laughed lightly. The sound of your laughter bounced around the room as it intensified from Matt nipping at your throat playfully.
“That’s random,” you replied once your laughter ceased, mentioning the previous silence. You tried to angle your neck to get a look at his face but Matt kept himself tight against you. Matt’s hand drifted down to caress his knuckles along your bare torso. You noted the warmth in his touch and the rough texture of his hands. Your fingers moved through his hair as he subtly shook his head.
“Everyone has a different scent and it’s constantly changing. It can be overwhelming. But you… you smell the same. Always. It’s become imprinted in my memory, I am more sure of it than I am of most. And I think I could find your scent anywhere,” he admits softly as he curls further against you, his nose brushing against your skin. The weight of him on you was comforting. It was as grounding as your scent was to him.
“Does it help?” You ask, having always wondered if all your attempts were in vain or not. His lips now ghosting along your collarbone, his warm breath now igniting goosebumps along your arms.
“It helps a lot. It calms me down if I’m being honest,” he admits, planting a soft kiss on your sternum before snuggling back against your throat. You sigh in relief, your body relaxing more into the mattress. Your hands slip from his hair and sweep along his back, the muscles there shifting from your touch.
“Your scent brings me comfort too,” you say back, a smile forming on your lips as well. Matt hums and it vibrates through your body like an electric current. Even the littlest thing he did to you made you feel more alive than you remember ever feeling before.
“I think you do it on purpose,” he states, making your eyes shoot open from their closed and relaxed state. Your hands stop their movements and you feel Matt jerk with a short chuckle.
“What do you mean?” You ask, making your voice light and airy. But you knew Matt would sense your increased heartbeat. Even as you tried to breathe evenly, you knew you’d fail to conceal anything.
Matt shifts and your arms fall around his waist, your arms wrapped around him. He braces his forearms on the mattress and he lifts himself off you slightly and all just so you can witness the look he sends you, lips pursed and brow raised.
“Don’t play dumb, darling,” he says, the start of a grin twitching in the corner of his mouth. Your arms tighten around him, making his expression soften. You look over his features, not truly being able to believe this man was yours.
“I notice everything, Matty,” you start softly, a little embarrassed to be admitting this to him. “Everything about you. I know this gift you’ve been given can feel like a curse… but when you’re with me, I don’t want you to feel that way,” you express, finishing strong. A hand moves to cup his cheek and he immediately falls into it, his eyes closing as he accepts its comfort. His scruff tickles your hand but you enjoy the sensation.
“So how do you do it all?” He asks, eyes still closed. Your eyes catch how his eyelashes fall against his cheek and your heart flutters. Your chest feels tight, revealing this to him. You never did it so that he would acknowledge it as if you were doing something special. You only ever did it to make him more comfortable.
“I use the same scent for everything. Body wash and shampoo, perfume, and soap so the different smells don’t overwhelm you. And I match a lot of my outfits too so no matter if you’re holding my waist or my thigh, you’ll feel the similar textures of fabric. You know, stuff like that I guess…” you share, your voice trailing off, your eyes darting to look over his shoulder.
After a few long moments of silence, you gather enough courage to look back to his face. His eyes are now open and wide, darting around uncontrollably. His lips are parted as he inhales and exhales shaky breaths. He’s speechless. And you don’t know how to take that. Worry builds within you the longer it takes for him to reply which causes your chest to tighten and your brows to furrow deeply. Your hand falls back to his waist, unsure of his reaction.
Matt doesn’t speak first. First, he moves to balance on his elbows as his hands fall to your face, slowly tracing your features. He chuckles breathlessly as he smooths out the lines between your brows. He traces the shape of your face, your nose, your cheeks, your mouth, and your chin. His hands rest against your neck as his thumbs graze your jaw. You merely scan his features as you lay there silently, waiting for him to speak. You note the disbelief on his face and wonder what he’s thinking.
“I love you… so damn much. I- I can’t believe— you do— shit,” Matt whispers brokenly and a giant exhale follows from you. You smile widely, your hands coming up to grasp his shoulders tightly. You shrug a little, knowing he can feel it.
“What can I say? I kind of love you too,” you say followed by a few giggles of laughter. A large smile breaks out across Matt’s face as he laughs heartily.
“Kind of?” He asks incredulously, raising his voice to add effect. It forces out a few more laughs before you lean up and plant a soft kiss beneath his earlobe.
“Do what you did with your tongue again and I’ll lose the kind of,” you whisper in his ear. You feel a huff of laughter against your neck before you lean back to face him.
“Alright, I’m gonna kiss you now,” he says with a grin. You shake your head, a look of faux disapproval on your face.
“Not the tongue thing I was talking about,” you say, letting the look on your face shine through your tone as he leans in closer and closer to kiss you.
“Shut up,” he says through a small laugh before his lips mold against yours. You sigh into the kiss, letting both of you fall back against the bed.
His lips are soft against yours and his tongue is smooth as it glides across your own. His hands hold you firmly. You can feel the effect of your kiss on your thigh but it doesn’t disrupt the kiss and the calmness of it. You feel his warmth surround you, blocking out the rest of the world. In this brief moment, it’s only you and him and the senses between you. No one else’s.
You only break apart once the sting of pain in your lungs reminds you that you cannot kiss Matt forever, despite your own wishes. Matt continues to lean over you, nose brushing against your own.
“Not what I was hoping for… but not bad…” you say breathlessly and with a smile on your face. Your eyes focus on Matt to see his expression serious. His thumbs reach up to swipe back and forth across your cheek.
“You are my sanctuary,” he says lowly, taking his time to say them. Your heart melts as you can feel the intensity in the meaning of his words.
Y/N dated Matt before, but because of his activities, the Hand, his bad temper (he was never violent, but he was moody, he had secrets, he was distant, angry, mean sometimes, refusing to talk about his feelings and problems) she leaves for London where she meets Steven.
Adorable Steven, who is not like Matt at all. He tells her about Marc and Jake after their second date, but not about Khonshu.
Of course Matt comes, looking for her, apologizing, saying he doesn’t want to lose the one good thing in his life, that he would leave her if she honestly tells him she doesn’t love him anymore. This is bad, but Y/N still loves him, will always love him, but he hurt her too much, and she loves Steven, who is a nice man. Matt asks her with a small smile if she’s sure her new lover not hiding anything from her.
The day before, Moon Knight fought with the Devil. (“Moon Knight ? Haha, I’m the Western Sun of the Hand, nice to meet you !”)
Later, Steven meets Matt at the museum, offering to give him a tour, then without him knowing how they ended having a coffee together. Matt is a real charmer.
Jake doesn’t trust this guy, but Jake doesn’t trust anyone. Marc thinks Matt is flirting, asking all these questions. Steven therefore tells him that he has a girlfriend, and Matt replies that she is lucky to have him, because Steven is really handsome. (“How can you tell ? I mean, you’re… Sorry.” “Don’t be sorry, darling. And trust me, I can tell.”) Matt makes several subtle references to the moon, which bother Marc and Jake, but Steven wants to believe it’s a coincidence.
When Matt asks for Steven’s number, because he doesn’t have a friend in London, he doesn’t dare say no. He knows what it’s like to be alone.
When he tells Y/N about it, saying he met a man who dresses in red, blind, and named Matt, she tells him he’s her ex and he should beware, without telling him why. This does not please Marc and Jake at all, who feel that she is hiding something. Steven is worried. It pains them, because they all like her.
They are right, she also has some secrets, she knows how to fight, Matt taught her how to defend herself. And an army of ninjas follows her everywhere to check that she is not in danger.
If the Hand hears of Khonshu, the trio will be in trouble.
But Matt doesn’t tell them about it, as he guessed who Moon Knight was. He doesn’t want to hurt Y/N, and he loves her weird boyfriends who talks to himself, changing their accent and gait several times a day, and having almost as many problems and secrets as he does.
Khonshu is suspicious of Matt, he feels that he can be dangerous, that his scale is not well balanced, but at the same time he is powerful and could be useful.
Marc doesn’t know what to think, Jake likes him in the end, and Steven is surprised to be loved by two people at the same time.
