A/N: Part 6 is here you beautiful people! Feedback and reblogs are much appreciated. And let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!
Summary: Imagine being an FBI agent and the daughter of Wolverine. You used to be a a black widow and Hydra assassin as well as a part of Bucky’s past, a past that he had forgotten over time, until one day, he sees your face shadowed behind the public eye, like an apparition, as if you didn’t exist. Confused over your existence and questioning whether what he saw was real, 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, and a slightly steamy scene towards the end. This chapter briefly mentions a crime scene that involves the assault and murder of a minor so read at your own risk.
It felt as if the world was swaying around you, shifting in and out of focus. Your head was spinning, reeling over and over with the name that was written across the card in maroon ink. That 5 letter name. Laura. There was only one person that went by the name Laura that you knew, and it was your sister. You had been too absorbed on the events before; beginning with the things that Matt had said to you, then the body of the dead girl and the vision you had of her, and now your sister. It couldn’t be a coincidence, your sister’s name written across a card right after you investigated into the murder of the girl. It had to be be him, the killer, the same man that raped and killed that little girl and left her body out in the woods to rot. You knew it the moment when you picked it up, you could smell his perfume off the small piece of cardstock. What you didn’t know was how he had managed to sneak past the other feds and officers to get to your car. And how he had come to know about your little sister was beyond you. You had worked hard to keep everything about your past a secret, and it seemed as if everything was slowly spilling out of the abyss you had locked those secrets in in the first place. First the confrontation with Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes, and now that bastard who now had the deaths of 4 underage girls on his hand. Your sister’s name on that card was a threat. And you were going to get to him before he could get to her or anyone else ever again.
You arrived at your apartment after what had felt like days worth of driving, unlocking the door and slamming it behind you before hurriedly locking the special lock you had made for it.
“Hey. You okay?” Your heard Yelena’s voice speak up from where she sat on your armchair in the corner, setting her book down on the table once she saw the troubled look on your face as you went over to the window to search the streets. “Y/n?”
“Hm?” You turned towards her with a distant look behind your eyes. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“I thought we promised each other no more lies. We even made a pinky promise.”
“…….Sorry.” You shook your head, letting out an exasperated sigh and pinching the bridge of you nose.
“Y/n. Is something going on?” Yelena stepped up to you with a concerned look on her face as she placed a hand on your arm.
“I think Laura is in danger.”
“Your sister? Why? What happened?”
“Have you heard about those missing girls whose bodies were found in rivers?”
“Yes.” Yelena blinked, confused by why you were bringing this up as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I heard about it in the news.”
“Yeah well. I was called to investigate his new murder victim and when I left the crime scene I found this on my car.” You handed the card.
Yelena stared down at the card in her hands, her eyes running over Laura’s name with a clenched jaw.
“Tell me that’s not a coincidence.” You started to pace the room with your hands on you hips as sweat started to build at your forehead.
“How do you know it’s him?”
“I’m pretty damn sure it’s him. I can smell his stench off it. Clive Christian’s Original Collection.”
“Clive what?”
“It’s his cologne. I smelled the same thing off the girl’s dead body.”
“Do you know who it is?”
“Yeah, I looked him up on the way here. Some rich executive named Harrison Ross. The bastard is holding some kind of Gala tonight as if he didn’t just kill a little girl. Jesus fucking Christ……….How does he know about Laura?”
“Maybe he had someone follow you and overheard you talking about her?”
“Shit.” You shook your head, placing both your hands on top of your head, thinking back to the time that you had dinner with your dad at the pub. Considering how many people were there, it’s possible that any one of them could have been working for Ross. “This is all my fault.”
“What? No. None of this is your fault.”
“But still. If I had been more careful-” You stopped, turning towards your front door at the sound of footsteps.
“Who is it?” Yelena followed your gaze, her hand slowly reaching for her gun at her hip.
“It’s my dad, and Laura. They just got out of the elevator.” You breathed out before turning back to her. “Listen, I need you to look after Laura.”
“What, why? Y/n, what are you going to do?”
“What I have to do.”
“Am I supposed to know what that means.” Yelena hissed, making sure to keep her voice low so that your father would not overhear.
“Just promise me that you’ll look after her. My dad can’t know about this or else he’ll freak the fuck out and go on a rampage.” You grabbed Yelena’s hands. “Promise me you’ll do that.”
“……..Okay. I uh, I promise.”
“Thank you.” You gave her a hug before handing her a piece of paper. “I’m going to need you to take yourself and Laura to the address that’s on there.”
“Wait….isn’t this where-”
“Yeah I know. It’s the safest place you could be. Tell Stephen I owe him one.”
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’m just going to go to the Gala tonight and lock his ass up in jail and that’s it. I’ll be fine.” You reassured her, but the words seemed to hold no meaning, as if they were directed more towards you, a consolation of what tonight’s events might lead to, praying that whatever happened would lead to the better end of the alternatives. At this point, you weren’t so sure just what you were about to do.
Just a second later after you had finished your sentence, your front doorbell had rang. Taking in a deep breath and banishing the dark cloud that was held over your head, you went over to open it to see you father Logan and your little sister Laura standing out front.
“Hey kiddo.” Logan smiled at you.
“Look who it is.” You smiled back, going into his embrace as he kissed the top of your head.
“Geez.” Your father scrunched up his nose. “You smell like shit.”
“Yeah well you smell like cigars and cheap whiskey.”
“Hey.” Logan put his hands on his hips, amusement written on his face. “Sometimes the cheap stuff tastes better than that expensive fruit juice that you get.”
“I know my wines. You just have terrible taste.”
“I’m serious. You smell like you cuddled up to roadkill. The hell did you do, roll around in a cemetery?”
“I uh, just got back from a crime scene actually.”
“Sorry, sounds like shit. Who’s this?” Logan nodded behind you.
“Oh! Dad, you remember Yelena Belova.”
“Hi Y/n’s dad.” Yelena waved shyly before stuffing her hands in her pockets.
“Nice to meet you.” Logan gave her a polite nod before studying the features of your face. “Hey, you don’t look too good.”
“Huh? Yeah, I uh, haven’t been getting much sleep lately.”
“Something to do with your job huh. How’s the investigations?”
“Good. I mean, not good obviously because people are dead. But we have some leads and hopefully we’ll have the suspects apprehended before tomorrow.”
“Sounds like you need a vacation.”
“Bad guys don’t rest so neither do I.” You sighed, pushing back a strand of your loose hair before bending over to level yourself to your little sister with a soft smile. “Hey there Laura. How’s it going?”
"Laura say hi to your sister.” Logan gave her a small nudge.
You maintained the strained smile on your face, trying your best to seem as friendly as possible. You were happy to see her no doubt the less, especially since you never had much time to spend with her due to your work schedule and her being in school, but the look she gave you told you otherwise. Laura face was stoic underneath her sunglasses, and it seemed as if there wasn’t a single thought nor regard towards you in her eyes as she walked straight pass you into your apartment before plopping down on the couch without a single word in your direction, even ignoring Yelena’s little hello.
“Yup.” You popped your lips before standing back up. “She definitely hates me.”
"She doesn’t hate you. She’s just shy.” Logan quirked a brow at your pessimism before handing you her little suitcase. “Here’s all her things.”
“I’m pretty sure her eyes are filled with a deep resentment towards me behind those little sunglasses of hers. It’s like I shit in her bowl of cereal or something. Good thing she’s not Scott’s kid or else I would’ve been fucking obliterated by now.” You scoffed as you took Laura’s suitcase from him and set it to the side.
“If she hated you, we’d know. Just give her time.” Logan sighed. “She was like that towards me when I first met her. And watch your language around her. Don’t need her learning from our bad habits.”
“I’m sorry,” you sassed, holding your finger up to make a point, “but didn’t I just hear you say the poop word like two times now.”
“Yeah well I’m doing my best.”
“Well the resemblance is uncanny I’ll give you that.” You sighed as you rested your hand on your hip and turned back to see Laura sitting there with a scowl on her face. “The scowl, the brooding, the whole fuck off attitude and even right down to the eyebrows. She is 100% you’re kid.”
“Yeah and so are you.” Logan scoffed. “You nearly broke my nose when you first saw me, remember? And you’ve got a hell of a colorful language.”
“Looks like I got it from you.”
"Guess I raised you right then.” Logan chuckled. “You know, the professor position is still open back at the school. You wouldn’t have to put up with this anymore and you could finally get some damn good rest.”
"No, I know. You’ve mentioned it to me before but I just…I can’t just leave you know. Those criminals are still out there, hurting other people, innocent people.”
“What you mean to say is those badge wearing bastards have you in a chokehold.”
“Yeah well I could’ve been locked up forever for the crimes I committed.”
“Yeah, crimes you had no control over doing. Don’t those brains of theirs know those Hydra and Red Room bastards had you wired up.”
“It doesn’t work like that dad. And besides, I volunteered for this job, thought it would do me good.”
“Yeah, it’s doing you good alright. You look the same from when I first rescued you from Hydra, sleep deprived.”
“Well this isn’t exactly an easy job.” You snarked as you tried to maintain your point. “I knew what I signed up for dad. And to be honest, putting those criminals behind bars is worth every goddamn minute.”
“I know, I get it. I just don’t want you to get caught up in the same mess like I was. You’re still young.”
“Well I wouldn’t really call myself young.” You scoffed.
“I know that. There’s still time you know, for you to move on with your life and find something that doesn’t involve all this.” Logan leaned on your doorframe with his arms crossed. “I was thinking we all can move down to Canada. Build a home by the lake like you always wanted where you, me, and Laura can live in, together, as a family. You can even have all the animals you want.”
"I know. With mom gone it’s just-” You sighed, staring down at your hands and picking at the skin on your fingers. “I just….feel like I haven’t done enough for all the things that I had done, ya know?”
“If you keep letting the past haunt you and trying so desperately to go down that path of redemption you’re gonna find yourself stuck in a hole you can’t get out of.”
"Well, what can I say. We’re Howletts, it’s what we do.”
“Yeah.” Logan let a low chuckle. “You know, you could always take up boxing, or mma, go fight in the ring, make more money than you do here.”
“What, like what you did?” You scoffed with an amused raise of your brow. “You fought underground dad.”
“Yeah so. I can be your trainer and we can nickname you Iron Fist.” Logan teased.
“I’m pretty sure that’s taken.” You laughed.
“It is? What kinda punk took that name huh. Bet his fists aren’t even made of Iron.”
“Yeah okay dad.” You rolled your eyes.
“I’m serious. The offer at the school is still open.”
“…………I’ll think about.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Atta girl.” Logan ruffled your hear with a chuckle much to your annoyance. “Well I’m about to head out now.”
“So soon?”
“Yeah. I gotta get on the road.”
“Well it was nice seeing ya dad.” You smiled.
“Nice seein ya too kid. Just remember to be careful, don’t want ya to loose sight of who you are.”
“I won’t.”
“And if ya got any problems, I’m a phone call away. I’m here if you need me kid.”
You put on your best smile, trying your best not to think of the dead girl and the picture of her pale and stone-like face. After finding the card with Laura’s name on it, this new fear had suddenly overcome you, a fear that had shook you to the core more than anything you had ever experienced. The last time you were this afraid, you were captured for the Black Widow program and Hydra, but this, this was something else. Now you were terrified for the life of someone else, someone you cared about, and the thought of your sister lying dead in those cold dark woods made your blood run cold. You didn’t know what this killer was capable of, but one thing was for certain, you would rather risk your own life than let that pathetic excuse of a human come close to your sister. Logan trusted you with Laura’s life, and you were going to keep that promise. But you couldn’t let your father know about what happened, and though the thought of it irked you, it was a good thing you were trained at a young age to lie. “Thanks dad. I appreciate it, really.”
“Love ya kid.” Logan gave you one last hug and a kiss at the top of your head before saying his goodbyes to Laura and leaving down the hallway.
You watched him disappear into the elevator with a frown on your face, your fists clenching at your side before closing the door and staring into the worried face of Yelena. “You should pack a few things for yourself.”
Yelena stared back at you with a darkened look, her eyes searching yours while the ends of her lips turned down at the ends. “Y/n, I’m worried about you.”
“I know, I know. But you have to trust me on this. Please Yelena.”
“I already lost Natasha.”
“I know, I get it Yelena. But you have to trust me.”
“……….Fine. Fine. yah okay. But if you don’t make it back I swear-”
“You’ll find me and kill me yourself, I get it.” You looked at the time, seeing that it was only 3. “You should get ready to go.”
“…..okay.” Yelena sighed with a small nod of her head before going off to pack her things.
You looked down at your sister who had not moved from her seat on the couch, her face unmoving as she flipped through the channels on your TV. Going to the kitchen, you opened up the freezer to grab a small carton of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream and a spoon before sitting next to her on your couch. “Hey.”
Laura did not give a single response as she flipped through various channels before stopping on a channel that was playing Shrek.
“Good choice.” You glanced at the tv with a nod of approval. “I bought you ice cream btw. Little birdie told me you like Ben & Jerry’s Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream. And since dad is not one for knowing how to shop for groceries much, especially desserts, I bought you four of these so you can eat to your heart’s content.”
Laura looked at you sideways, glancing up at your face before eyeing the carton of ice cream in your hands.
“Go on, it’s all yours.” You handed her the carton and the spoon, smiling in relief as she finally took them from you after a moment of hesitation before opening the lid and popping a whole spoonful in her mouth.
“You know, Shrek is one of my favorite movies to watch. I can quote the whole movie from front to back, but don’t tell anyone I told you that.” You sat back with a smirk as you watched the movie with her for a bit until your phone began to ring in your pocket causing an annoyed sigh to escape your lips as you picked it up. “Hello?”
“Y/n?”
“Matt?” You scrunched your nose in confusion. Your irritated tone had caused Laura to side glance at you and listen in on the conversation to figure out what could have upset you. “The hell. You tryna give me a reason to block you?”
“Wha-no, no……..Is that….Shrek in the background?”
“Yeah. My sister is staying with me for a couple of months. The hell are you calling me for Murdock.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that.”
“Whatya need Matt?”
“I uh-might need your help.”
“Oh yeah?” you scoffed. “Seems like you’re asking an awful lot of favors from me lately.”
“I know…….I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m-urgh.” You heard him let out what sounded to be a pained groan on the other end.
“Jesus fucking christ. You’re hurt aren’t you.”
“…Yes.”
“And let me guess. You need me to come over to your place to patch you up because I definitely as hell ain’t letting your ass in my apartment.”
“………yes.”
“Christ’s sake Matt. Don’t you have any lady friends of yours that are nurses or doctors? In case you didn’t know the difference, I’m a psychiatrist, not a surgeon.”
“I know. But the nurse that I know is out of town and you’re the only other person that I trust.”
You let out a frustrated sigh, running your fingers through your hair before rubbing your temples. “……..Okay. Fine. I’ll head out right now.”
“Thanks y/n.”
“Don’t mention it.” You hung up before getting up from the couch and grabbing your keys from the counter.
“Were are you going?” Yelena questioned once she saw you searching for something.
“I gotta go uh….help an acquaintance. Would you happen to have a first aid kit by chance?”
“Yeah. I put it in your cabinet there. You don’t have one?”
“Well it’s not like a need one.” You scoffed as you opened up the wooden cabinet you had by the door and grabbed the first aid kit before throwing on your shoes. “Just make sure to keep an eye out yeah. And if anything happens, call Stephen, he’ can get here much quicker than I can. His number is on the paper I gave you.”
“I can handle myself.” Yelena raised her brow.
“I know you can. But you’re also human, and we don’t know anything about the possible threat. I’ll be back in about an hour and a half to two hours.”
You arrived at Matt’s apartment complex not long after, pulling your car up to the curb and letting the rumble of the engine run for a moment as you stared up at the the windows that belonged to his place. “God damn it Matt.” You cursed under your breath before getting out of your car and heading up to his place. You tapped your knuckles lightly on his door, hearing the sound of shuffling coming from inside until the door opened to reveal a rather disarranged looking Matt.
“Wow. You look like shit.”
“Thanks for the compliment.” Matt gave you an unamused smile before letting you inside.
“I see you’ve done absolutely nothing to cheer up your place. Dull as always.” You looked around with a distasteful look on your face as you swiped your finger on one of his tables to see dust coating your fingertip. “Yikes. This place could use a proper clean too. I wouldn’t be surprised if traces of the bubonic plague could be found here.”
“Haha very funny. You here to do an inspection?”
“Um, considering I have to be here, physically in this place of yours, yes. Now get your ass on the couch and take off your shirt.” You set your purse down on the table, opening it up to pull out the first aid kit before heading to the sink to wash your hands.
“How’s your sister Laura?” Matt called out from his spot on the couch.
Your breathing hitched just the faintest at the mention of her name, squeezing your eyes shut against the image of her name written across the card in large maroon letters. “She’s uh, she’s doing good. She hasn’t spoken a word to me but she’s good.”
“That’s good to hear. At least you get to spend some time with her.”
“Yeah.” You shook your head, banishing any thoughts related to the case and the event later tonight as to keep Matt from getting suspicious. “I have your file btw. I left some notes in there.”
“Wait, you’re done?” Matt blinked his eyes with a scrunch of his nose before turning his head towards where you stood by the sink. He was surprised that you had already gone through the file and made up a conclusion, especially since he had handed it to you this morning. “That was fast.”
“What can I say.” You let your hands dry off before walking over to where Matt sat on the couch. “I’m good at what I do.”
“Which is why I asked for your help.”
“Oh yeah?” You raised a brow as you slipped on a fresh pair of latex gloves. “Is that also why you called me here now instead of I don’t know, contacting someone else like Foggy.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I just like the sound of your voice.”
You scoffed at his statement with a shake of your head, trying to keep down the blush that started to spread through your cheeks and thankful for the fact that Matt couldn’t see it. “And how many other girls have you said that to? 5? 10?”
“Ahah.” Matt let out a soft chuckle. “Well maybe one.”
“Oh? So just one?”
“Okay, so maybe 2 others.”
“2 meaning 3 or 4.” You teased as you sat yourself down on his coffee table to start on his wounds only to let out a hiss at the sight of him. Large bruises and deep gashes lined his torso, painting a picture of grisly along with a cut that went down his forehead, stopping right below his temple. “Jesus Matt.”
“Judging from the tone of your voice, I don’t look too good.”
“Yeah no shit Sherlock. The hell happened? You get into a fight with Freddy Kreuger?”
“I guess you could call it that.”
“You guess?”
“Well the guy was pretty huge…..and he had a sword.”
“A big guy with a sword. Huh, sounds like Wade.”
“Who’s Wade?”
“This vigilante I ran into once. Likes to talk a lot, super annoying, but kinda funny. Did your guy crack any jokes?”
“Nah. No my guy was pretty quiet, spoke in short sentences.”
“Yeah that’s definitely not Wade.” You opened up the first aid kit and stared at the contents inside. “He would’ve shit at your little costume. Where is it anyways? Did you forget it at the dry cleaners for this fight?”
“I uh, need to get a new one.”
“Yeah. You do that.” You scoffed with a shake of your head. “So…..you see a big guy with a sword and you think it’s a good idea to tango with him. You know, for someone with a law degree from Columbia University, you sure as hell are an idiot.”
“So I’ve been told.” Matt chuckled.
Grabbing some cotton and disinfectant, you gently swabbed at his wounds, wiping off any excess blood and making sure to get rid of any possible traces of bacteria. You felt Matt’s muscles tense under your touch as he let out a hiss, looking up at his face to see his eyes shut in pain. “Hey…..you need some anesthetic for the pain?”
“Nah, I’m fine, thank you.”
You shook your head with a sigh, focusing on your less dominant hand and causing a small fire to be ignited from within your palms, the red tendrils weaving through your fingers as you held it up to your eye level.
“Wha-what are you doing?” Matt tilted his head after sensing the sudden change in temperature. He couldn’t help but feel apprehensive from the unnatural source of heat that sprouted from your hands, afraid that it might somehow spin out of control. After all, he wasn’t used to this sort of thing, especially not in person.
“I need to sterilize the needle before I start stitching up your wounds.” You muttered as you held the needle up to the flame, watching the point of the metal turn red. “And relax. I got it under control.”
“Thought you wouldn’t read my mind.”
“Well maybe try not to think so damn loud next time.” You smirked.
“I’ll uh, do my best, Doctor.”
You rolled your eyes at Matt’s comment before distinguishing the flame, letting the needle cool down for a bit before beginning to stich up his open wounds, causing Matt to wince each time the needle pierced his skin. “You know, you really gotta be careful next time.”
“Is that-don’t tell me you care about me Agent Howlett.” Matt gave you his signature smirk behind those glasses of his, the action causing your cheeks to heat up again while you only forced to keep your heart rate the same so that he wouldn’t notice.
“You know, considering that I’m the one with a needle in hand, I’d choose my next words wisely.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Well Matthew Michael Murdock, if that’s the case, I just might have to stab you.”
“Well what if I just like to get you riled up?”
You let out a scoff, his words catching you off guard. “You’ve got a lot of confidence for someone who gets their ass kicked all the time.”
“Ouch that hurt.” Matt feigned an insulted expression to which you let out a small laugh with a shake of your head.
“Keep talking. I’ve got plenty of insults.” You joked, straightening up a little to work on the cut on his forehead while Matt chuckled, smirking at the way you reacted.
There was a short silence between the two of you, the air around you returning to it’s serious atmosphere while you worked on his last wound until you heard Matt’s voice speak up again.
“Does it hurt?”
“What?” You scrunched your nose.
“Your hands, when they come out.”
“……Every time.”
“How do you go through with it?”
“I just do. The same way you keep fighting despite being beat up.”
“What about the fire?”
“It did at first. Shit. It hurt like hell the first time because I didn’t know how to control it while it engulfed every inch of me, especially since my body kept trying to heal. But once I learned to harness it, control it, it didn’t cause anymore pain. Now it just feels like being wrapped in a warm blanket.”
“At least you won’t need a heater during the winter months.”
“Yeah. I guess not.” You laughed at his little joke, finding yourself gazing at him with a smile once you had finished up his last wound before clearing your throat. “You’re uh. You’re all done by the way.”
“Thanks for this y/n. Really.” Matt smiled at you. “It means a lot.”
“Yeah well…..couldn’t have you bleed out in your own apartment now could I?”
“No, I guess not.” Matt smirked before tilting his head towards you, bringing his hands up to caress your cheek while he did so.
You ever so slightly gasped at his touch, his thumb leaving trails of goosebumps in its path against your skin. “Matt.” You breathed out with your eyes fluttered closed. You wanted to pull away, terrified of what this would lead to and yet, you couldn’t help but feel drawn in, tempted to be able to feel something for once. And though you tried so desperately to not let your feelings show, Matt knew the hold he had on you. But he also was aware of the hold you had on him, and it drove him over the edge. You found yourself reaching for him, your hand placing itself on his thigh to steady yourself while your breaths fanned each others faces.
“Y/n, about what happened before-”
“Oh shut up.” You cut him off before crashing your lips against his.
Matt sat frozen for a second, surprised by your movement before molding himself into your lips, his hands finding a way to your waist to pull you flush against him before resting a hand on the curve of your back. Matt moaned against your lips, craning his head out towards you with half shut eyes as you pulled away with a smirk at the sight of him being a mess beneath you while you placed your hand on his chest, pushing him down onto the couch before straddling his waist. Sliding your hand up to the bottom of his neck, you bent down to make out with him, your hand slowly making its way up against his skin before finally reaching the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. Running your fingers through his hair, you dragged your nails down his scalp, biting his bottom lip as you did so before clutching his hair and pulling his head back, eliciting a grunt of arousal to escape from his parted flushed lips. Smirking, you placed your lips behind his ear, pressing kisses down his jaw and neck while his hands slid up your thighs to clutch at the soft flesh of your hips while you grinded down against him. Matt let out a groan, bringing his hand up to wrap around your neck before reconnecting his lips with yours.
The two of you were a panting mess, both of your heightened senses making the current moment much more intense than if you didn’t possess the abilities you had. Matt’s hands were warm against your body, leaving goosebumps wherever they went despite you being fully clothed. Yet yours were life fire against his, your body heat raising in temperature from the way you felt. You felt Matt’s hand slide away from your neck, his fingers tracing up your skin in patterns and making its way to your hair before stopping at the touch of ice cold metal meeting his fingertips. The action had felt like an electric shock running through your spine, the brief contact making you gasp in fear as you yanked yourself away, moving yourself off him and pushing yourself back towards the opposite end of the couch.
“Y/n?” Matt had sensed your emotion, noticing how your heart rate had sped up incredibly and the way you had flinched away from when his fingers came into contact with the strange metal device that was embedded into your skin right below the back of your head near the top curve of your neck. “You okay?” Matt asked, but you did not answer.
Your eyes were glossed over, your body trembling as various images flashed before your eyes. You saw yourself in an operating room, fully awake and conscious and strapped down onto the operating table while the sound of a drill filled your ears in piercing screeches before being overcome with the screams of your own as a sharp pain spread down your spine and through the back of your head.
“Y/n.” Matt’s voice called out to you in echoes muffled behind the shadows of your visions until the touch of his hands gently placing themselves at the sides of your face brought you back. Barely breaking out of your daze in an unstable snarl of fury, you knocked Matt down onto the ground, placing your body over him as your claws slipped out of your knuckles with their sharp points hovering right over where his head was.
“Y/n.” Matt breathed out, attempting to stay calm despite feeling the sharp metal just barely grazing against the skin on his forehead. Though he couldn’t see the expression on your face, nor the rage behind your eyes, something told him that he wouldn’t have been able to recognize you in this moment. “It’s me. It’s okay.”
You blinked back the tears that had formed in your eyes amidst the terrors of your visions, your brows knitted together at the situation unfurled while a choked whisper escaped your lips. “Matt?”
“Hey. It’s okay. It’s alright.”
“I-I.” You choked out as you unsheathed your claws before getting off him. “Matt, I-I’m so sorry.”
“Hey it’s okay. You’re safe.”
“I could’ve-I could’ve killed you. I could’ve-” You mumbled, staring at him with widened eyes filled with disbelief at the thought of how you were just seconds away from killing someone you cared about.
“It’s okay, I’m fine.” Matt scooted closer only for you to stop him.
“Don’t.”
“Y/n.”
“Stay back Matt.” You spoke in a firmer tone before running your hands through your hair. “Jesus fucking christ. I tried to kill you. Don’t you see that?”
“But you didn’t.”
“But I could have! What if I couldn’t have been stopped huh? What then?” You shook your head before getting up. “I need to go.”
“Were are you going?” Matt stood up with you.
“Home.”
“Y/n wait. Something’s been bothering you since I last saw you. What’s going on?”
“None of your concern Matt.” You clenched your jaw, avoiding his face as you gathered all your things. “I left your file on the desk.”
“Look, I’m just trying to make sure you’re safe.”
“Yeah well I don’t need you to keep me safe okay.” You snapped. “I can take bullets, you can’t. If anything you should be keeping yourself safe from me.”
“Y/n wait.” Matt called out for you, standing in the center of the room with concern written across his features. But you did not respond, nor did you turn back just once as you walked out of his apartment, your heart rate slowing down to it’s steady rhythm. Matt silently listened to the sound of your footsteps getting fainter and fainter the farther away you went, until the loud rumble of your car’s engine started up, echoing in the street followed the screeching of your tires as you drove off, farther and farther away until he could no longer hear whatever was left of you.
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.
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.
Summary: After getting badly injured, Matt decides you need some extra protection and won’t take no for an answer.
A/N: Sorry it’s been a little quiet recently - I’ve been a bit overwhelmed at work but all caught up now :) Matt Murdock deserves more love and so here this is. TW for vague descriptions of injury and blood. Please let me know what you think!
You awoke to a sharp pain slicing through the left side of your rib cage. Panicked, disoriented, and entirely afraid, you kicked out with a yell.
“Woah, woah,” warm hands stilled you but your location was so dark you struggled to find the source, “calm down. It’s me.”
That vague introduction did not help, the pain in your head chasing away the rational thoughts of how familiar the low voice was. The sharp sting of your side suddenly returned and you jerked back once more.
A low timbre of your name settled you once more and the sharp pain subsided. “You’re gonna make this worse if you keep moving,” your eyes were beginning to adjust and you could almost recognise the distant gaze of the man hovering over you, “I need you to stay still. This won’t take long.”
Finally, your brain put a name to the still foggy face. “Matt?” Some quirk of his lips told you of his relief at your ability to recognise him, a serious brain injury could at least be discounted. A little relieved at the sight of someone who wouldn’t be trying to hurt you, you let your head fall back into the softness beneath it. “What happened?”
A huff of air escaped him, the warmth of it spilling over the bare skin over your collarbones. You closed your eyes in some attempt to steel yourself from any reaction that may give you away; your still bleeding wounds should distract him from your other reactions to him, surely. “I was hoping you could tell me, actually?”
The almost scolding sound of his voice sent your lips pursing in consternation. Immediately, you went to defend yourself and explain your state and the events leading to it in some way that absolved you of sole responsibility. But, you couldn’t.
Thinking back to the events that immediately preceded your waking up you drew a blank. Well, almost. You could remember the pain and a fair amount of panic alongside it, but the circumstance escaped you.
Your answering silence, alongside the panicked uptick of your heart and the thousand other stress responses he could likely pick up on, spoke loud enough. In the end, he verbalised the answer for you; “you don’t remember?”
Wincing at the pull of the thread suturing you back together, you grit your teeth. “Do you have to sound so disapproving?”
A dark laugh met that, but no words. The silence surprised you. The pair of you often engaged in sarcastic exchanges to overshadow these more more morbid aspects of your existence. It was unlike him to allow this silence linger between you - silence a space that allowed quashed thoughts and feelings to bubble into stark reality.
In the silence, punctuated by the sting of your wounds, your eyes acclimatised your this new light. His features appeared in greater clarity, eyebrows drawn and lips pursed as he worked on you. His skin was splashed in shifting neon; purples, reds, and blues scattering rhythmically over his skin.
Where were you?
You sat up suddenly with this question. An immediate pain scratched through you at this jolting movement and warm, rough hands stilled you. One palm flattened against your back whilst the other gripped the crook of your elbow. “Slow down,” he all but grumbled, “you’ve lost a lot of blood.”
You ignored his concern and looked around, one hand gripping the back of the sofa in an admittedly feeble attempt to steady yourself. “Where are we?”
Looking back to him you watched a strange uncertainty pull at him, lips quirking as his jaw clenched. Eventually, he provided you your answer; “my apartment.“
“Oh,” you did not bother to hide your surprise.
Your meetings previously had always been of a more clandestine nature. Dark alleys and rooftops, stern and sardonic words shared over the hubbub of a city that never slept. You had seen his face only a handful of times, known his real name for only a few weeks, and a visit to his apartment seemed such a large leap.
“W-what happened?” You asked again, more concern lancing through you at the revelation of your location. “Why am I here?”
Another heavy sigh escaped him, hands leaving your now steadied figure to drag tiredly over his face. The rusted red of dried blood upon his hands widened your eyes. Without thinking, your hands darted forward to take hold of his.
You ignored the surprised catch of his breath at the feel of your hands and turned over his hand in yours. Thumb sweeping softly over the skin there, you struggled to ascertain the source of this stark amount of blood. “Are you hurt?”
He swallowed thickly, voice hoarse when he eventually replied. “It’s not mine.” Clearing his throat, he gently extracted his hand and stood. Collecting the scant and bloodied medical supplies he had scattered haphazardly around the pair of you, he moved to the sink. You watched him scrub his hands. His face appeared forced into stoicism yet still he looked haggard. More so than you had ever seen him, a surprise given the location should be so familiar to him.
In a voice unlike your usual, you timidly asked, “Matt, are you okay?”
A crash of something answered the question. His face split into an anger you could at least recognise. Leaning heavily against the counter, a ragged breath heaved from him and he directed sharp words at you. “No, I’m not okay,” a tremor rang through the words, blunting their sharpness somewhat. “I found you half-dead in some alleyway,” his shoulders hunched as his head dropped, voice rising in anger. “You need to be more careful!”
Defensive, against his tone despite the actions he had taken to save you tonight, you argued back. “What, like you?” You jabbed angrily. “You’re always so fucking careful.” You shifted from your place on the couch to dramatically stand and leave.
You didn’t need this from someone who had already spent so much of his life in similar states of injury.
You were going to leave, without so much as a thank you, and disappear back into the night. You were going to, but a fresh pain tore through your side and you collapsed back onto the sofa with a choked gasp.
He was before you again in an instant. So quickly, in fact, that you assumed you had briefly blacked out. “Are you finished?” He asked with a huff. The condescension of his tone was made bearable by the concern tightening his lips. One hand softly lifted your shirt, careful fingertips examining the landscape of torn skin. “You’ve torn a few stitches.”
You grimaced at that, you really didn’t want to have to sit through any more. “Will it be okay?”
Fingertips still surveying the damage, he gave you an answer that sent relief soothing through you. “It was only a couple,” he removed his fingers slowly, fingertips seeming to linger upon the unbroken skin of your ribs. “The others-“ the words cut off prematurely as he cleared his throat and shifted oddly in place. “The others should hold.”
Silence welled between you briefly and it felt so very heavy that you thoughtlessly broke it. “Thank you.”
His head jerked strangely in response, lips working oddly as he chewed over whatever response had sprung forth. Eventually, a few quiet words managed to escape him. “I need you to be more careful.”
The subtle difference between these words and those he had harshly thrown at you just moments prior stilled you.
You need to be more careful.
I need you to be more careful.
Your eventual response was whispered. “I’m not going to stop, Matt.” His jaw worked but no words left him; he had expected the answer but he didn’t like it. “You know that.”
“I’m not asking you to,” he told you when his voice, however hoarse, returned to him. “Just be careful.”
The request was helpless and he knew it. The world you chose to inhabit, that you both chose to inhabit, had little room for those that were too careful.
“I’ll try,” you supplied, voice wavering under the sudden and unexpected weight of this conversation.
The answer wasn’t enough. He leaned heavily forwards, a specific intensity to his expression that you had never seen before and were almost afraid to interpret. “Potter,” he provided, “my suit can stop knives, sometimes even bullets.” As he spoke he nodded to himself, seemingly attempting to convince himself that this solution would fix everything. “I’ll talk to him, he’ll make something for you.”
You were unconvinced. “I don’t know, Matt. He doesn’t know me, why would he do that?”
Matt was resolute. He needed this to work and seemed determined to force it to. “He will if I ask him.”
It was a moot point, arguing now was pointless. Matt had made up his mind, Potter would either agree or he wouldn’t. It didn’t matter in this moment. Besides, fatigue was swiftly catching up with you.
“Okay,” you half-heartedly agreed, a shrug shifting your shoulders.
Thumb and forefinger reaching to delicately grasp your chin, thumb absently swiping over your bottom lip, he smirked. “Thank you.”
