Summary: Frank reacts to Matt being your fated and you make plans to bring Matt to your kingdom
Warnings: angst, war, fluff
Reader: Female Alpha Reader
Pairings: Beta Frank x Alpha Reader x Omega Matt
Word Count: 2409
A/n: Ok, so with how well everyone seemed to enjoy the first one here’s the second one! There will be a third one, promise! It’ll most likely be the conclusion but we’ll see how it goes! I’m so happy everyone’s enjoying it!
I am sorry Matt isn’t in this one, but he is for sure in the next one!
Let me know if you wanted to be added or removed from the taglist! I didn’t know who wanted to be tagged, if anybody, so I tagged those who specifically asked for a part two… I’m sorry to those who couldn’t be tagged!
You were prepared for a fight. You and Frank both understood that when you returned, you’d smell like the omega… Like Matt. But this is different. You didn’t just smell like Matt. His scent was clinging to you. It was like an entire bottle of this mouthwatering scent was poured over you. It was obvious the two of you didn’t just talk. You didn’t fuck each other but there was obvious scenting and scenting could be just as intimate.
Frank was already struggling with the idea of an omega coming into the pack. He didn’t like the idea of sharing you. He was nervous about everything and had a lingering hope that the meeting would go wrong. But that obviously wasn’t the case.
You walked into the room prepared to come face-to-face with his attitude. You waited for him to lose his temper. You feared this would be the straw that broke the camel’s back, and Matt wasn’t even in the castle yet.
Imagine your surprise when Frank took one look at you and practically jumped your bones. The kiss made you dizzy and before you knew it, he had you pinned against the wall. Your feet left the ground and crossed behind his back.
When he broke the kiss, he couldn’t stop breathing in your natural perfume. His nose ran over your hair and along your neck. You couldn’t help but to notice that he followed the trail Matt had taken when the omega instinctively scented you.
Your perfume was blended perfectly with Matt’s. Frank hadn’t smelled anything like it before. It was intoxicating. He couldn’t get enough of it.
“Is this him?” Frank grunts. Your eyes roll back as he rotates his hips into yours. You hum clawing at the back of his neck.
“I’m guessing you approve?” You ask, a confident grin on your lips. Frank growls nipping at your throat. “Frank,” You whisper, mildly (majorly) distracted by his rough kisses along your throat. “I have to tell you something,” He hums but doesn’t stop his ministrations. “Frank… he’s my omega,” You confess. He pauses before slowly lifting his head.
“Your omega? As in your omega?” Frank asks. You slowly nod, scratching the base of his hairline in an attempt to keep him from lashing out. You weren’t sure how he’d react to the news. “Congratulations,” He mutters setting you on the ground.
“Don’t,” You whisper, your hands falling to his chest. You grip his shirt trying to prevent him from moving away. “It doesn’t change anything between us,”
“It changes everything,” Frank says. “He’s your mate. Your destined omega,”
“And I choose you,” You stress. “I’ve met Matt and I’ve spent an entire afternoon with him. Not once did I think of sending you away or even consider a future without you,”
“That could change, you know it can. You know how omegas get. You saw how your mother could command you father. Anything she wanted, no matter how it affected him, she got,” Frank says.
You growl growing tired of his doubt in you. You grip his shirt and force him to spin around taking your place against the wall. You pin him back and look him dead in the eyes.
“Frank, I’ve gone through a lot with you and for you. If I didn’t run away because of your violent tendencies, murderous habits, and the fact that you had a wife when I met you then I’m not going anywhere now,” you tell him. “We’ve been through everything and have survived every trial thrown at us. The mere scent of him nearly threw you into a frenzy and omegas are much more sensitive to smells. If he reacts anything like that with you then I’m fairly certain you two will fuck before I get a piece of him,” You joke smirking.
“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Frank asks lightening up. Your grip on him loosens.
“Like what?” You wonder, leaning into him. “To watch my chosen mate, have his way with my destined omega?” You ask before promptly moaning at the thought. “It hasn’t crossed my mind before but…” You groan kissing the underside of his jaw. “Damn if the imagine won’t leave my head now,”
“When do you get him?” Frank asks. You growl as you remember the meeting with his uncle. You pull away knowing you needed to prepare for it.
“I have a meeting in two days,” you tell him. “If all goes well the war will end, his uncle will be left with barely any territory left, and we will have Matt,” You whisper.
“And if it goes poorly?” Frank asks as you round the table. You lean over it, your eyes scanning the multiple maps and documents.
“Then I will take Matt, every inch of his territory, and send him off to life on a farm in the middle of the ocean with no boat to reach the mainland,” You whisper, resting your hands on the surface of the table.
“Either way you come out on top,” Frank notes. You smirk, flicking your eyes towards him.
“Of course, darling. I always come out on top,” You wink at him.
The two days passed too slow. You wanted the meeting to be over with. You wanted the union to happen. You wanted Matt.
You were the first to arrive at the neutral site. It was in an open field where the closest place either of you could hide your guards is three miles in all directions. It would be useless to eavesdrop and stupid to attach each other since you both know that the people in the tree line have aimed guns with a guaranteed kill shot.
“Y/n, it’s a pleasure to see you,” You watch as the king stands on the other side of the table with his hand out, but you don’t offer yours in return. You know it’s an insult and you hope he takes it personally. Not the most proper greeting - you knew your parents would scold you for it - but you aner and hatred for the man surpassed your need to be proper.
“Fisk,” You greet simply. You motion to the chair he’s standing behind. “Sit,” You offer. You hated him standing looking down on you. You weren’t below standing on your chair to have the high ground.
“Wilson, please. We’re both equals here I think we can go by first names,” Fisk says taking the seat. You remain silent. “May I just say that you’ve grown to be a beautiful woman,” Fisk states. “Very smart and cunning. I have to admit I wasn’t expecting such an… opponent when you took the throne,”
“Don’t work, Mr. Fisk, nobody took me seriously when I took the throne. They were ignorant of my skills but not anymore,”
“No, not anymore,” He shakes his head. “I also have to congratulate you. You’ve accomplished more than your father ever did. I understand you’re a strong advocate the comfort of your people. Even going as far as to give them more power over not only themselves but each other and especially over you,”
“They’re people, Fisk. Just like us. They deserve more freedoms and more say in their own lives,” you tell him. “They also deserve to live in a war free world. They should be able to live their lives without worrying about the battle being brought to their doorstep. I want to send husbands, wives, brothers, sisters, parents, and children back to their homes. I want this war to end,”
“As do I,” Fisk reassures you. “That’s why we are here. So, let’s get to negotiating peace,”
“Let’s start with your terms, shall we?” You suggest, motioning to him. Fisk nods politely.
“Firstly, let’s discuss the union between you and my nephew,” Fisk says, keeping a close eye on your expression. You school it to be neutral. “If I’m not mistaken, other than a couple of your brothers, he is the only royal male omega,”
“That would be correct,” You nod. Fisk waits for you to continue but you don’t. You want him to keep talking. You hope he gets nervous. A nervous talking man admits more than he means too.
“With the union would come an alliance. The alliance would cease the war and all those people you mentioned will be able to return to their homes. We’d all have peace.” He states.
“Just like that?” You ask. “No other demands,”
“Just like that,” Fisk nods. You hum eyeing him.
“No deal,” You state. Fisk is visibly surprised. “You see, if you haven’t noticed, I’m winning the war. I will admit that you’re an equally cunning and smart opponent. Mr. Fisk, you’re simply too powerful and smart to stay in power. If we just go back to the way things, where we might have one or two years, at the most, of peace. Your ambition will eat at you until your raising arms and attacking either my kingdom or someone else’s,”
“And what care do you have if I attack someone else?”
“You have two neighboring kingdoms. Me and a very strong ally of mine. I can’t allow you to move against them. You’d pull us into a war. If you march across their lands to attack someone further away, you’d be pulling everyone into a war, and I promise you we won’t be aiding you. War is inevitable while you’re strong,”
“And what are your demands?” He asks.
“I form a union with your nephew. With the union will come the alliance, an end to the war, and three fourths of your army. Should you rebuild that army to the point where it’s over half of what you previously had then I will step in and take all of them. I also understand how having so many in one army is nervous for any kingdom. So, I will distribute the men and women amongst my allies. I also require that three members of my council will be invited into yours. You will not meet with anyone alone without someone from my kingdom to accompany you. And when I find out about your secret meetings, because we both know they will happen, then I will take control of your entire council. If both things mentioned before happens then I will take your army, take your council, take your lords and ladies along with all your territory,”
“And what makes you think I’ll allow you to do this?” He asks.
“If you’ve been paying attention, you’ll notice that I’m not only winning the war, but I’ve refused to call aid from my allies. They’ve been waiting on the sidelines with fresh troops. I can beat you myself but with their help I will dethrone you within a month and leave you in the middle of nowhere without anyone to talk to. If it comes to that and I hear even a whisper of you returning to power I will find you and slit your throat myself.
“Take the first deal, Mr. Fisk. Give me your nephew, your troops, and take my council. Live peacefully without raising trouble and everything will be just fine. If you refuse, I’ll finish this war and you’ll loose everything,”
“You don’t leave me with much choice, do you?” He asks.
“You have plenty of choices, but I implore you to do what’s right for you people and not your ego,” You urge before standing up. “I await your word. My troops will be on hold for another week. If I hear nothing from you then I will move on with option two - the taking of everything you hold dear,”
“It was a pleasure meeting with you,” Fisk smiles, remaining in his seat. You send him smirk looking down at him.
“I look forward to hearing from you,”
You didn’t have to wait a week for Fisk to send a response. When you got reports of one of your camps being attacked by his men the message was clear.
“What do you want to do?” Natasha asks, standing in your war room with your council surrounding you.
“I want to take everything from him,” You growl hating the fact that he didn’t submit. Your temper flared at the thought of being apart from Matt.
“If we do this on our own it’ll take nearly a year,” Bucky warns you.
“Eh, I say nine months,” Sam counters. Bucky sends him a look.
“Nine to twelve months then,” Bucky sasses.
“It has to be faster than that,” You demand.
“Then you’d have to call on your allies,” Yelena warns. “I know you and your father were putting it off but if you want this to end you have to start cashing in favors,”
“Start with Valkyrie,” You state. “She’s the only other kingdom that border’s Fisk. Also, send out messages to Stark and T’Challa. They should be able to aid us quickly,”
“Stark?” Natasha deadpans.
“Yes, him as well,” You insist. “He may be flamboyant and a party boy, but his tech is nearly unmatched and he’s loyal,” Natasha grumbles but agrees, nonetheless. “I want this war done by the end of the month and I want the omega. If all else fails get me his nephew,” You demand.
The messages were sent, and plans were made. You were anxious to get this all over with. The longer you were separated from Matt the more anxious you became. Luckily, you had Frank.
“You need to rest, baby,” Frank mumbles in the dead of night. His bruised hand brushes the hair away from your ear.
“I’ll rest when we have Matt,” You whisper. Frank sighs and pulls your chair from the table. You let him, leaning your head back to gaze up at him. “I need him,” You whisper.
“I know,” Frank scoops you from the chair and walks you to the bed. You shamelessly gawk at his muscles. “We’ll get him, I promise,”
You sigh snuggling close to him. He pulls the blankets over the two of you and kisses the top of your hair. He hums quietly until you fall asleep.
“You’re gonna be pissed when you wake up, I know,” He mutters before breathing in your scent. “If I’m successful hopefully you’ll just forget your mad,” Frank jokes quietly before slowly slipping out of the bed.
He slips into his punisher get up before sneaking out of the castle. He climbs onto a motorcycle and hightailing it to Fisk’s kingdom.
Summary: You take your father’s place as King despite being a woman. In order to make peace and end the war you agree to meet the prince - who ends up being your fated mate. You can only hope your fated mate gets along with the mate had chosen before you met him.
Warnings: angst, grief, fluff, little bit of smut
Reader: Alpha Female Reader
Pairings: Beta Frank Castle x Alpha Reader - Omega Matt Murdock x Alpha Reader
The kingdom is in mourning. The great king is dead; killed on the battlefield. The Lords are doing what they can to keep the peace among the people. The last thing anyone wants is for panic to spread whilst in the middle of the bloodiest war known to history.
You buried your father today. Even the Earth seemed to mourn this loss. The rain poured with such vigor that it raised the creeks and flooded the paths the enemy army might have driven down to siege the royal castle. You knew that the first chance they got they’d march right here and attempt to take the throne. Your father had no male successor. The throne is vulnerable.
You stood beside the throne with your siblings as the people greeted your mother, the widowed queen. You were right beside her. Everyone turned to you directly after giving their condolences to her. You knew what everyone was thinking but nobody has yet to say it out loud.
You’re not the eldest child. You’re somewhere in the middle of roughly a dozen other siblings. Twelve children are a bit obsessive, right? Your parent must have loved making babies and raising kids. Well, not exactly.
In your kingdom, and all the kingdoms in the land, it is law that only an alpha could succeed the throne. While you had older brothers and sisters - and younger ones as well - you were the only one out of the liter to present as an alpha. Your presentation out ranked your older siblings who only presented as either betas or omegas.
So, the twelve siblings weren’t due to the fact that your parents loved children. They were trying to conceive a male alpha. It’s the only thing in their reign they failed in.
While the kingdom mourned the loss of your father - their king - you mourned the future you had planned. You mourned the freedom you could have had; the life you could have lived.
You knew tomorrow would be the coronation. They couldn’t afford to wait. If there was nobody on the throne when the enemy arrived, then it would be all too easy for them to take it. While your mother was still alive, she was only a grieving omega queen who didn’t truly understand the art of war and the politics of man. She played her own realm of politics. The king and queen had two very different jobs; she wouldn’t know what to do.
Your father, fearful that he would never conceive another alpha, taught you how to be king. He prepared for every possibility and knew that when the time came it wouldn’t matter that you were a female; the job would fall upon your shoulders. He needed you to be prepared; he needed to know the kingdom would be in good hands if he should fall.
Tomorrow you will be crowned king. Your mother will remain queen until you find your own omega to take her place. It wouldn’t be an easy task. The omega would have to be a male; they’re as rare as you are.
When the night was over, and everyone was dismissed you returned to your room. Your ladies helped take the pins from your hair and undress from your clothes. Despite it being modern times, you still found the corset to be a nice touch to pay homage to the past.
They asked you if you would need anything else; you declined and bade them good night. The instant the doors were shut the man hiding in the dark corner came to the light. When you looked at him the emotions from the day rushed forward. You didn’t have to put up a front with him. You trusted him implicitly.
“Come here, baby,” He whispers, beckoning you forward. With a few large strides you’re in his embrace. He holds you close, and you nestle into his shoulder. He doesn’t give you his condolences or give you false promises. The two of you are past such formalities.
The two of you end up in bed. You’re laying between his legs, your head on his chest. There’re no clothes keeping you from the skin-to-skin you desperately need. You close your eyes and listen to his steady heartbeat. He slowly combs his fingers through your hair; periodically massaging your head.
“We could still do it,” He whispers. Your heart drops instantly knowing what he’s talking about. “We could be across the ocean before they even knew you were gone,”
“They’d find us… Maybe not soon but they would,” You whisper back. “It would be a life on the run and when we’re dragged back how could I look at anybody knowing I left when they so desperately needed me?”
“How could you help them after they treated you?” He asks, the anger coming back to his voice as it always does when talking about this.
“Frankie baby, you know it doesn’t bother me how they treated me,” You whisper, lifting your head. “It doesn’t matter what my personal feelings are. It’s my duty, my responsibility to take the throne.”
“And what about us?” Frank asks. Your legs move over his to straddle his waist. You move up his body and hover over his face. “I’m not exactly good for your image, baby,”
“What?” You ask teasingly. You lay back down on his chest and move your head just to the side to rest on your palm. Frank’s head follows you, unwilling to break eye contact. “I think telling the world that my chosen mate is the famed Punisher is exactly the image I need,” You whisper only half joking. “Your reputation is world famous. Everyone would cower at the thought of you. Kingdoms would think twice about moving against us,”
“But I’m only a beta,” Frank whisper. You sigh. Your eyes fall shut and your head presses against his. He instinctively holds you closer.
“But you’re only a beta,” You mutter knowing it wouldn’t be enough to hold the crown. You needed an omega. Omega and alpha parings had nearly a large chance at producing an alpha offspring whereas alpha and beta pairings rarely conceived them.
“You’ll look beautiful tomorrow,” He whispers, gently changing the subject. “You’ll take the throne and kick ass. You’ll bring us back to peace, I just know it,”
If only he realized that in order to bring peace would to the kingdom would be to marry the enemy’s nephew - a prince who happened to be an omega. The rival king took his throne with much controversy. The previous king had died mysteriously paving the way for him to take it. It was supposed to be temporary until the prince was old enough. Only the prince is blind, and people are hesitant to put him on the throne.
However, you taking the throne is the perfect solution for them. With your marriage the war ends, an alliance if formed, and they hand off their blind prince. Your kingdom wasn’t crazy about having a blind queen, but they were desperate for an end to the war.
You were king. You wouldn’t be pushed into anything that you weren’t certain of. You agreed to a private meeting but guaranteed nothing more. It was enough to pacify the other kingdom into pausing the war.
“What’s his name?” Frank asks, watching you get ready.
“You know his name, Frank,” You mutter going your makeup. You refused to let your ladies help get you ready. You wanted as much time with Frank as possible.
“Tell me,” He demands. You bristle a little at the demanding tone, but you force yourself to calm. You look through the mirror and sigh.
“Matthew Murdock,” You whisper. Frank’s jaw ticks. “You knew this was going to happen,”
“Didn’t think it would be so soon,” He growls. Neither did you. You were only king for four months. Within those four months you were quickly proving to be an even harder opponent than your father in regard to the war. You were more ruthless and daring. The bloodiest war was becoming worse, but you were winning. If a truce could be made over marriage you would consider it.
You quickly finished your makeup before walking over to Frank. He was sitting on the side of the bed pouting. You gave him a small smile while gently taking his face in your hands.
“I love you, Frank Castle,” You whisper. He softens and grabs your hips greedily. “And no number of omegas will change that,” You promise.
“What if he doesn’t like me? What if he demands you send me off? I’m not supposed to be with you in the first place,” He mutter. You smirk resting your forehead against his.
“Every king has had their concubine,” You mutter teasingly. He lets out a quick laugh and tugs you into a kiss. “I’m king… I’m not going to let anyone chase you away or send you off,” You hand moves from his cheek to the collar of his shirt. He shivers when you pull it to the side. “I claimed you a long time ago, beta,” You growled possessively. He moans as your lips suck and your teeth nip at the mark. “You’re mine,” You growl reclaiming him.
Frank chokes on a moan, his fingers bruising your hips at the sudden rush of euphoria. He lets out a shaky breath struggling not to cum in his pants. Wanting him to do exactly that you nip at the fresh wound while suddenly palming him through his pants.
“Fuck-” Frank chokes again and cums in his trousers like a teenage boy. You hum approvingly and lap at the bite mark.
“Good boy,” You whisper. Frank couldn’t help but to preen at the praise as he rides through the blissfulness.
“You always pick the worst times to do that,” Frank grumbles, as you pull from his neck.
“Whatever do you mean?” You ask, tilting your head. He shivers again when his shirt brushes over the mark. “Just be happy I didn’t claim a new spot,”
“Then I’d never let you leave,” He growls.
You loved claiming Frank. He always made the sweetest sounds and produced the most intoxicating scent. He currently had four claiming marks. Every time you made a new mark the sex… damn, the sex was wild and insatiable.
“I’m sorry I can’t stick around to help you clean up,” You whisper, running your thumb over his lips. “I’ll make it up to you when I come back,”
“If you come back smelling like that fucking omega then I’ll fuck you all night,” Frank growls.
“Promises, promises,” You wink. “I’ll be back tonight,” You gently kiss his lips and pull away before he could pull you into the bed. “Feel free to stay messy until I return,” You wink at him. “I wouldn’t mind coming back and licking you clean,”
Frank groans loudly and falls back onto the bed. You laugh slipping out of the bedroom.
“Have your way with that sexy beta?” Natasha asks, smirking knowingly as she finds you and matches your pace. You growl warning her to keep her voice down. Your inner circle knew about Frank - only those you would trust with your treasure - but everyone else was oblivious, hopefully.
“Is the car out front?” You ask. Natasha hums nodding.
“Yelena had it brought around. You sure you don’t want us coming with you?” She asks.
“I don’t want to arrive with an army,” you tell her. “Things are already tense, and this is neutral ground. I don’t want to break neutrality,”
“You honestly think he’ll be alone?” She asks.
“No,” You shake your head putting on some sunglasses as you stepped outside. You send Natasha a quick look. “And neither will I,” You mutter before walking to the car.
Natasha, having heard the message (follow and protect from a distance), instantly springs into action. Once the car is on the way she grabs Yelena, Kate, and Wanda. The four of them follow your orders and protect you from the shadows.
“Your majesty,” A man bows before you as you reach the destination.
“Has the prince arrived?” You question.
“Yes, he is inside. As I asked his guards, I must ask that yours remain out here,”
“I only brought my driver,” You inform him. You motion for Jarvis to return to the car before entering the building.
You had different expectations when you imagined meeting the prince. But finding out that the man in front of you is your destined omega was not one of them.
The instant you entered the building his scent wrapped around you. It surprised you so much that you were frozen in place. You breathed in deeply and it simply consumed you.
“Alpha,” His whimper strained as if he didn’t want to make a noise but couldn’t help it. Your eyes snapped open and zeroed in on him.
“Omega,” You growled closing the distance between the two of you. You didn’t touch him, but you stood as close as you could. You knew your eyes were dilated but you help your desires back. You didn’t want to startle him.
You lifted your hand, and as if he could sense it, he flinched away. You were hurt but you shushed him softly. He doesn’t move again as you close in on him.
“You’re so beautiful,” You whisper, gently running your fingers along his jaw. Matt shudders and instinctively moves into your touch. The light graze of your fingers seemed to open a flood gate. Matt needed you to touch him. He hadn’t had a gentle touch since he was a boy. The two minutes you’ve been in this room have been the most time he’s felt safe since before his father died.
“Alpha,” Matt whines twitching. He wants to touch you but fears of crossing a line. Reading his body language, you take a leap and pull him close.
Your arm slips around his waist and he takes that as a sign to give in. His head finds its way to your neck. You don’ realize you’ve been doing it but you’re purring to calm his anxieties.
Your arm tightens around his waist while your hand threads through his hair. He snuggles closer to you. He doesn’t want to hope but he can’t help it. For the first time he hopes he can get out of his kingdom. His kingdom of corruption and murder. He wasn’t a helpless omega. He tried to bring peace and squeeze out the corruption of his kingdom, but it proved to be impossible. His own family was at the heart of it all. Maybe with you he could actually have the power to change things instead of running around in a mask at night.
“Matthew,” You whisper. Matt hums pleasantly and nuzzles into your neck. “We have to talk about this,”
“I know,” He whispers back, tightening his grip around you. You smirk and shuffle him over to the comfortable love seat. You laugh softly as he straddles your lap and continues to snuggle into your neck.
“How likely is it that your king is going to end the war should we marry?” You ask.
“He will,” He whispers. “He’ll end the physical war, but he has plans to infiltrate your court. He’ll take your crown from the inside,”
“Do you want this marriage?” You ask him. “To leave your home and come to mine?”
“I do,” Matt nods, lifting his head. You couldn’t help but to lift your hand to caress his face. He leans into your touch. “If you’ll have me,”
You’ve had plenty of awkward moments in life, but none could ever compare to this moment. The tension was thick and neither you nor Matt knew what to say next. You knew this moment was coming but you had hoped it would be different.
When you imagined this moment, you thought about a few different scenarios. One would be where you cook him his favorite meal at home. You’d get him comfortable before dropping the biggest bomb since World War two. That way if he didn’t take things well, you’d at least have a good final memory of him, and it would be in the private settings of your home so if an argument broke out you wouldn’t have an audience.
Another scenario would be taking him out to a private setting to avoid the argument. With so many witnesses around, you knew Matt wouldn’t risk exposing you no matter how angry he is. Then if he didn’t approve you could run away without him being able to stop you.
This situation, however, never crossed your mind. You were so concerned about your own secrets that it never occurred to you that Matt had his own. Tonight, both of your secrets were forced into the light.
The two of you were sitting in the kitchen trying to wrap your mind around what you had just discovered. Honestly, his secret was much easier to swallow than yours but still you had plenty of questions and concerns.
Tonight, had been date night but you both mutually called it off. You both now realized that your excuses were total bullshit. Matt had claimed that Foggy needed him for a case and you had lied about an old friend being in town.
Well, it wasn’t a complete lie. An old friend was in town, but you weren’t exactly friends. Not anymore at least. Not ever if you really think about it. The two of you hung out in school because your families were close, you were in the same house, and it was expected of you to be friends. You haven’t spoken to them since…
When you realized they were in town you knew something bad was going down. You knew they weren’t alone. You had sensed some… magical activity spike recently. When you spotted them in the crowd your heart plummeted. You moved all the way from London, England to Hells Kitchen, New York to avoid these confrontations. You hated that your past seemed to keep following you around.
The first time your past came back was the first time Matt nearly figured out your secret. You had been dating for only about a month when agents from MACUSA began to corner you in the middle of the street.
It was lunch time. You and Matt decided to take lunch together. He could do with getting out of the office for an hour and you could use some fresh air. The two of you were heading back to your work building, arms linked together, and having a pleasantly flirtatious conversation when you began to spot them.
They weren’t very subtle. Of course, the muggles around you didn’t notice them but they were too obvious to you. You didn’t want Matt to get mixed up and knew you needed to get away from him.
“Oh, shit…” You muttered, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.
“What’s wrong?” Matt asks, pulling his arm from yours as you turn to face him. You rummage through your bag.
“I meant to go back to my flat to get those papers,” You lie out of your ass. Matt raises an eyebrow. “I don’t want to keep you from Foggy. I’ll see you tonight?”
“Sure,” Matt mutter with a strained smile. You felt guilty. You knew he didn’t believe you, but you had to get going.
“I’ll see you later, love,” You whisper, kissing his cheek before walking back down the way you came.
“Sweetheart?” Matt called. You paused and looked at him with a hum. “Isn’t your apartment that way?” He asks, point down the adjacent street. You look towards it and see that’s where most of the MACUSA agents were.
“I’ll get there eventually, love… Got to pick something up first. Be safe, I’ll see you tonight,” You reply before continuing toward you exit.
Unbeknownst to you, Matt slipped into an alley once you were gone and climbed to the top of the building. He followed you from a distance curious about what you were hiding.
You were trying to lose the MACUSA agents, but they cornered you away from the muggles. They don’t hesitate to surround you.
“Afternoon, fellas” You greeted them.
“We’re going to need your wand,” One of them said, holding out their hand.
“Why?” You ask. “What’s the charge?”
“Relations with a no-maj,” he tells you.
“Relations with a no-maj?” You ask, looking around at all the agents. “Wow, sounds serious,” You deadpan looking back at him. “Why don’t you tell me the truth? I doubt ‘relations with a no-maj’ requires such… force,”
“Wand!” He snaps. You pull it from your pocket but don’t hand it over.
“Tell me the real charge,” You demand, holding the wand tightly. The agents around you begin to get nervous.
“Affiliations with the Dark Lord known as Voldemort,” Another confesses.
“I was acquitted of the charges at the end of the war,” you tell them. “I gave valuable information to convict multiple death eaters. I betrayed Voldemort. You can’t take me in,”
“We need to assess any threats our government may face,”
“And I’m a threat?” You ask.
“You were a high-ranking death eater. You reported directly to Voldemort and carried out many of his orders,”
“He wasn’t exactly a man you could say no to,” You snip. “And that information you have on me? I’m assuming you got from the court reports from my hearing in England. You can’t take me, or you’ll hear from the Ministry. I’ve got some powerful friends in England. Save yourselves the headache,”
“There’s still the problem with the no-maj,” The original man states. “Relationships with no-maj’s are strictly forbidden on this side of the ocean,”
“He’s just a friend,” You lie. “He means nothing,” You lie again. “Witches and wizards have exploited me since I was born. Figured I’d try muggle friendships for a change,” That was a truth.
It took some intense back and forth between the you and them but eventually they left. Matt heard everything. He couldn’t make sense of it. Nothing added up. He tried to research everything that was mentioned but came up with nothing.
He didn’t know how to approach you. He continued on as normal. He found it a little hard to trust you but couldn’t really judge. He was keeping a whole life from you as well. Besides, you were still you. You made him laugh and smile. You were kind and always looked after your friends. You were still you; you just so happened to live a second life. Your relationship was still fairly new. When he felt comfortable cluing you in on his second life then he’d feel just in pestering you about yours.
Life continued on for another couple of months. Everything was going perfectly until this night. The night where Matt was staking out some suspicious activity and you were doing the same exact thing. Only you had more information on what was happening.
Matt had no idea what was happening. He was outmatched in every way. You didn’t know that Daredevil was Matt, but you knew the vigilante. Everyone in Hell’s Kitchen knew him. You knew he’d get killed without a chance to defend himself. You jumped in and fought the other wizards. When MACUSA showed up you knew it was time to dip. You grabbed Daredevil and apparated out of there.
When you appeared just outside of your flat, he hunched over and promptly threw up. You cringed knowing exactly how he was feeling. Only he didn’t get up. He fell back onto the round and then you noticed all his wounds.
“Oh shit,” You whisper, kneeling beside him. “I can help you,” You tell him.
“What… are you?” He wheezes. You hesitate.
“Let me help you first,” You whisper. Now, it’s his turn to hesitate. Ultimately, he nods. He trusts you. He knew you had a second life, tonight confirmed it. You were still you and he trusts you; you proved that tonight when you risked everything to protect him. You risked your life against the opponents and your freedom with MACUSA. “You’re not going to like this,” You mutter, grabbing his arm. It takes him a second to realize what you’re about to do.
“Wait-”
You apparate into your flat.
You quickly grab a trash bin for him to throw up in. You pat his back sympathetically.
“I couldn’t risk people seeing me take you up here and we didn’t have a second to lose. MACUSA will be scouring the streets for stragglers. It wouldn’t be safe for us to be seen,” You whisper, helping up up from the floor. He groans and tries to aid you. You manage to get him to the kitchen table.
“What are you?” He asks again. Your eyes flicker to his masked face. His voice is familiar, and it only takes you a second to realize who it is. Your heart jumps but you don’t comment on it. You don’t want to bring it to attention right now.
All you need to do is heal him, wipe his memory and move on. Then you can figure out why the fuck your blind boyfriend is running around as Daredevil.
“Don’t worry about what I am,” You mutter, keeping your voice steady. “You won’t remember tonight once I’ve healed you anyways,” His head tilts.
“What do you mean?” He asks.
“It’s a lot to explain to someone who won’t remember,” you tell him. “It doesn’t matter. Let me patch you up and I’ll send you on your way,”
“How am I supposed to trust you if you won’t tell me what’s going on?”
“That’s your problem, not mine,” you say, working on undoing his vest. “The more you know the more danger you’ll be in,”
“I like to know what I’m up against,” he says before groaning when you become a little rougher with him. You whisper an apology and force yourself to slow down.
“With any luck you’ll never have to deal with what happened tonight again,” You reassure him. “MACUSA would have either arrested or scared everyone off. They’d be stupid to return here,”
“What’s MACUSA?” He asks. You keep quiet. “If I’m going to forget then there’s no harm in telling me, right?” You ignore him. “I’m not going to stop asking,”
“You will if you know what’s good for you,” You snip. He huffs a laugh. You stare at him before relenting. “Magical Congress of the United States of America,” You inform him. “There, now you know what MACUSA means, can I heal your wound before you bleed out all over the bloody floor?” You ask.
“Telling me what it means doesn’t tell me what it is,” Matt grunts.
“Again, that’s your problem, not mine,” You comment assessing the damage. “Now keep still,” You mutter waving your wand around his chest while muttering incantations. Matt tenses not knowing what to expect. Slowly, the pain eases and the wounds close.
The air around the two of you seemed to buzz. There was a warmth to it. He realizes he’s felt this before. He never understood it but now he knows that this is your magic. You’ve used this around him and he never knew.
When it was done you sat back in your chair. The two of you were silent as the tension began to build. Sitting in front of you is your blind vigilante boyfriend. He didn’t know you knew it was him. You did know that he knew who you were. Your secret is out.
You knew you were obligated to wipe his memory, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You haven’t come across someone like Matt before. Someone who cared about you for you. Someone who didn’t want to use you. Someone who couldn’t care less about your blood status.
You didn’t want to wipe his memory. Now that he knew there was a weight off your shoulders. Now you didn’t have to hide. Now you could show your world to him. You wanted to share you world with him but feared it would just be too much.
Only one way to find out.
Leaning forward, you reached for his helmet. His hands quickly wrap around your wrists. He has a gentle but firm grip. You shush him softly.
“It’s alright,” You mutter. “Trust me,” Matt slowly lets your hands go. You smile and gently take his helmet off. “Looks like we both have secrets,” You whisper.
“You’re a wizard,” He mutters.
“And you’re the Daredevil,” You respond. Your hands lightly caress his cheeks. “Mind filling me in on how a blind man can do what you do?”
“As long as I’m not the only one opening up,” Matt bargains.
Matt’s hands clenched around his cane. The magazine of the M249 slid open, the smell of gunpowder residue stronger as the remaining bullets fell on the table. “When she wakes up,” he said. “Who will she be?”
Matt could feel the other man’s hesitation. Copper stung his lungs as Bucky pulled off his bloody gloves, dropping them on the table next to the gun, and rounded the sofa to look down at the unconscious woman. Her breathing was even, shallow, and Bucky carefully plucked the blanket off the back of the couch to lay it across her. “She’ll be who she always was,” he said. “The beautiful, psychotic little bird we both made the mistake of falling in love with.”
Summary: When a new threat turns into something much bigger, Matt Murdock finds help in the form of a woman with a very different moral code, and struggles to choose between himself and the Devil.
Matt Murdock x Reader //Past!Winter Soldier x Reader
Matt had been outside for a longtime. Of course, deep down Foggy knew that Matt was more than capable of withstanding the cold- there was a lot Matt could withstand. His best friend had been through a lot, between being beaten until he could hardly stand, being shot and stabbed, and having a buildingcrumble on top of him. Somehow Matt had always made it out alive; sometimes he came out in pieces, but always alive. It stood to reason that of all things, Matt could handle the bitter wind and snow just fine. But that didn’t stop Foggy from worrying.
Summary: When a new threat turns into something much bigger, Matt Murdock finds help in the form of a woman with a very different moral code, and struggles to choose between himself and the Devil.
Matt Murdock x Reader //Past!Winter Soldier x Reader
Matt had been outside for a longtime. Of course, deep down Foggy knew that Matt was more than capable of withstanding the cold- there was a lot Matt could withstand. His best friend had been through a lot, between being beaten until he could hardly stand, being shot and stabbed, and having a buildingcrumble on top of him. Somehow Matt had always made it out alive; sometimes he came out in pieces, but always alive. It stood to reason that of all things, Matt could handle the bitter wind and snow just fine. But that didn’t stop Foggy from worrying.
He’d been tailing Karen, mostly from a distance, all night. She was charming, so much so that it was very clear that she didn’t need any help. She carried around the same glass of champagne, balancing it between two fingers, as she casually asked about the show and its dancers. From what Foggy could tell, they were eager to share: yes, they had put in a lot of work and yes, they did know Y/n. Some of them had worked with her from the very first show, others had only met her this year, but they all had the same things to say. She was a quiet, private person, and didn’t spend a lot of time at the theater or go out to parties or bars with the rest of the cast. But she was funny and kind and charming, like Karen… and she ran her own studio a few blocks away, teaching dance at a ridiculously discounted rate.
Foggy made sure to note the address, and pulled it up on his phone. The other dancers had never been there before, but apparently she alsolived above the studio in a small flat- which was odd, he thought, because the ABT theater was known for paying rather handsomely.
And, as in most workplaces, there were rumors. Expensive alcohol fed into already swelled egos and gossip, both of which ran rampant in circles of artists. Most of the rumors were typical: that she’d slept with half of the ensemble, that she had earned her role as the princess by sleeping with the director. Foggy wished that he was surprised by how many rumors seemed to revolve around who slept with who, but then again… He’d been to college.
And then there were rumors so dark, they were whispers shared only over the rim of an alcoholic beverage.
“Do you believe it?” Karen ducked her head, her shoulder brushing against Foggy’s.
“We’re gonna have to owe Brett some serious favors to pull this one,” he said, smiling at a group of passing women.
“This wasn’t in the papers at the Bulletin,” Karen sipped idly at her champagne glass, watching over the rim. “Which means they either pulled the story, or it wasn’t… juicy enough.”
“Or someone got bribed… Or threatened.” Foggy sat his half-empty glass on a passing tray, using his free hands to smooth out his jacket. “What about Urich? He definitely would’ve—“
A violin screamed, the sharp, sudden screech of it echoing in the cavernous room. Foggy’s hands shot to cover his ears as Karen turned toward the source of the interruption. The crowd had also taken notice, a wave of craned necks all pointed towards the double doors, which had been abruptly shoved open.
It took a moment, just a few precious seconds, to register what was happening. Foggy couldn’t see over the ocean of people between him and the door, but a moment later, the ocean became a panicked wave as the attendees began to push and shove their way through the crowd. Where they were going was unclear, as they moved in opposing directions, and the only goal Foggy could register was away.Shouting began to fill in the emptiness left by the abrupt halt of music, and Foggy felt Karen grab his arm and start pulling him toward the double doors that led to the balcony.
In the ensuing chaos, Foggy caught only a glimpse of the source of panic- a snow white, flowing cape that dragged along the ground behind a massive figure. The beast of a man had not been moving, but the hood that covered the head of the figure had turned, slowly searching the crowd, and then Foggy was forced to turn and follow Karen toward the doors.
Others had started moving that way, too, most of them probably unaware that the balcony was not a safety net. There was no way down, not without falling five stories to the cold, unforgiving ground. But Karen- Karen was not looking for an exit, for a way to escape the caped intruder. She was headed for Matt and Y/n, and Foggy prayed they had time to find another escape.
***
The doors had burst open, a cacophony of screams and stampeding footsteps following in its wake. The crowd had dispersed like a bomb, the frantic silk and wool clad swarm of partygoers rushing toward one of only two sets of doors leading out of the ballroom.
Matt pushed you backwards behind him, his hand still groping your shoulder as he moved you as far back from the rush of people as he could.
“You have to run,” he was saying, his voice almost lost in the sea of horrified screams.
“Runwhere?” The iced over railing pressed into your back and you looked over it, quickly calculating the likelihood of surviving a vault over the side. It was… not ideal.
“When I say go,” he was saying, suddenly turning to grab your arm and pull you sideways, following the railing back around toward but off to the side of the doors. “You go.”
Pursing your lips, you didn’t take the time to ask what it was he was planning on doing- this lawyer, blind and in way over his head, was no match for an assassin capable of killing not just one, but three—
The crowd pressed close, their bodies huddled together. It was indiscernible as to who was who, and if the attacker decided to pick them off one by one…
But it was advantageous. You stayed behind Matt, letting him and the endless sea of frightened people conceal you as you silently toed off your heels, leaving them dangerously close to the edge of the balcony. You’d have to be unbelievably fast to dart past whoever was coming, lithe enough to slip below his grasp if he got too close, and hoped that he didn’t have a gun.Even you couldn’t outrun a bullet.
“Give me your shoes,” Matt said, holding out a hand. You frowned at him, but carefully knelt down to gather them in your hand.
“Matt!Matt!”A familiar female voice screeched among the timulting choir of cries as she pushed her way through the crowd. She had tried, hard, to reach you, but she and the stout man clinging to her back as he tried to keep up had not made it before the slow, heavy footsteps reached the doorway.
Karen’s eyes locked on yours, and Matt let go of your shoulder as she slid alongside you and gripped your hand.
“Get her out,” Matt said, carefully taking your heels in his hand. “Get out and keep running. Get her to the office.”
Karen didn’t respond, but her hold of your hand tightened as the figure slowly turned their head, scanning the crowd.
He was a mountainous man, visible even over the heads of frightened people. The long white cape draped over his back brustled in the wind, sucked back from his form in a dramatic flourish. Beneath it, a navy blue and orange suit pulled tight over his broad chest and the thick muscles of his arms and legs.
He turned his head, revealing the mask settled firmly against his face beneath the hood: a stark white skull, the eyes glowing amber in the darkness of the balcony.
Your heart rose into your throat, pulsing against your trachea and threatening to strangle you. The fear made it hard to breathe, and your mind rushed to warn you that you were failing, but it was overwhelmbed by a strong, solid voice echoing a sentiment you’d clung to for years.
Fight or fly, pretty bird. No time to feel anything else right now.
The slow, calculated movements of the hooded figure mutated as his head stopped turning, scanning the fearful crowd as the glowing eyes landed squarely on your face.
He reached for the belt tightened at his waist, the slick glide of a blade cutting through the unforgiving air. It twirled gracefully over his fingers, the hilt pressing delicately into his palm.
It happened in a moment. His arm raised, crossing over his body, and then the knife was soaring through the air, slicing through the snow and wind with precision. It was fast, so fast that you’d had little time to grab Karen by the back of her head and force her into a crouch beside you- but the knife didn’t come, didn’t bury its way into your abdomen or the arm you’d slung up to protect your head.
“Karen!”
Matt’s voice was further away now, and you shot to your feet, ready to defend against the mammoth that was inevitably stalking toward you. The rest of the crowd had started moving, rushing like a herd of gazelles back into the ballroom, toward the doors that led to safety on the other side of it.
You followed them, squeezing Karen’s hand, dragging her impossibly fast through the crowd. She nearly tripped, and you glanced down long enough to see the knife buried in the side of one of your stilettos.
Matt was nowhere to be seen, not through the rush of people around you, and you slowed your pace, turning frantically to search the crowd for the gleam of red from his glasses. Somewhere, you could hear the dull thud of impacts, flesh beating flesh, and the muted thump of your heart in your throat quickened as you released Karen’s hand.
“Go,” you shouted, stooping to grab the shoe. The knife twisted in your hand as you pulled on it, tearing the plastic of the shoe as you wiggled the blade free. “Karen, go!”
No one else was going to die because of you.
Karen didn’t run. She grabbed at you, flailing as you tossed the shoe back to the ground. She screamed your name as you pushed against the crowd, like wading through too deep water as you fought to reach the fight some distance behind you.
The stout man, no doubt Matt’s partner, had caught up, and grabbed you by the arm as you slid between the people separating you from your attacker. The crowd was thinning as people reached the ballroom and ran for the safety of the doors.
“What the hell are you doing?” Nelson’s fingers slid off your arm as you shrugged him off. You didn’t wait to see if he ran as you broke through the crowd to find the white-clad attacker standing at the edge of the balcony, his arm outstretched beyond the railing. He was gripping a thin strip of fabric, the tail of which snapped in the wind like a red flag. Matt’s tie.
Matt himself was nowhere to be found.
“Hey, asshole!”
His head turned as the knife left your fingers, the tip aimed for the center of his head, and you didn’t wait to see if it met the sleek bone of his mask before you were running at him, cursing the long skirt of your dress as you aimed your foot for his rib.
The knife bounced off of his forearm as he deflected it. In the same fluid motion, his hand wrapped tightly around your foot. You swung your weight up, using his hand and the momentum as a boost to push yourself onto his shoulders. You wrapped your legs around his head, squeezing your thighs on either side as your elbow drove down into the top of his skull.
His arms wrapped around your legs, his hands gripping tightly to your waist. He pulled, moving forward, and yanked your body up. You went over his head, his hands letting you freefall, and slammed into the concrete ground. Pain shot through your back as he stepped around you, tilting his head curiously. The moment of reprieve was not enough, your teeth grinding against the pain as he dipped down, wrapping his thick fingers around your throat.
Lights danced behind your eyes as you gasped for air. Several of your nails snapped as your fingertips tried to pry underneath his grip. His fingers tightened as he lifted you up, pulling you toward him until your face was level with his. The glowing embers of his eyes bore into yours, reflecting back the brazen image of your face as hues of blue flushed over your cheeks.
Your legs swung up, the left wrapping around his arm to keep your weight from pulling down on your throat. The other foot connected with his ribs, as hard as you could manage, and his grip on your throat flinched- just enough to get a swallow of air.
His free hand reached for his belt, sliding another knife free. It caught the gleam of light from the ballroom and your eyes widened. The flat sides of the knife were textured with a familiar feather pattern, and as you aimed another kick toward his hand, he drew back his arm with the tip aimed at your face.
His head snapped abruptly to the side, the sickening sound of a crunchas something blunt hit his temple echoing across the balcony. His hand released your throat and your back hit the concrete once more as the black batton bounced off his temple.
You rolled as he swung the knife down, the blade scraping against the concrete below him, and flipped yourself up onto your feet. Gritting your teeth, you grabbed the bottom of your dress, ripping away the excess silk.
He was moving toward you again, the knife flipping over in his hand. You wrapped the silk around each hand, holding it up in time for the knife to glide through it instead of your face.
You let the fabric go, barely sidestepping the knife as he brought it down once more. There was something familiar in the way he fought, the precise movements following you as you evaded him across the balcony. He turned on his heel as you dove under him, rolling to your feet on the other side, and would have brought the knife down again, except that something- someone- had come between you.
The figure was broad-shouldered but slim, his shoulders tense as he grabbed the knife aimed for your head. The red leather of his glove squeezed the attacker’s hand, and the two pushed against each other as you rolled back to your feet.
As the large, imposing man swept his foot underneath your savior, he jumped backwards, and you got a good look at him in the light spilling out of the ballroom.
He was clad in red, head to toe, his suit molded to a muscular form. The leather was interrupted only seldomly with sleek, black fabric along his vital areas. He was wearing a mask that covered the entire back of his head, and when he turned his face to follow the caped assailant, you could trace the stubble along his jaw. The mask had two horns, short and rounded, above his forehead.
Pushing off the ground, you rocked to the balls of your feet, ready to rush forward again. His hands flexed, gripping onto the second batton in his left hand.
“Go,” he said, voice deep, aimed at you though his face was still trained on the other man. “Go, now. Don’t look back.”
Your weight shifted, and you turned without sparing a second glance. The man in the cape wasn’t here for the other man- it was likely he would chase you down, and the further you were from innocent bystanders and the man in red, the safer they were.
Summary: When a new threat turns into something much bigger, Matt Murdock finds help in the form of a woman with a very different moral code, and struggles to choose between himself and the Devil.
Matt Murdock x Reader //Past!Winter Soldier x Reader
The ballroom music flowed between the voices of a thousand strangers. It wasn’t Tchaikavsky, but something slow and simple. Matt wasn’t sure who wrote it, but the string quartet positioned on the small platform near the door had drawn the attention of several guests. They were all dressed in matching blacks, the pages of their sheet music turning every few minutes.
The calming tune was juxtaposed by Matt’s severe alertness. With so many people, their heels clicking and boots squeaking on the marble floor, dresses dragging against the ground, the sickly sweet scent of wine and champagne, jewelry clinging against glass, laughter echoing against the huge glass windows that faced the dark skies of New York, hushed whispers of gossip, conversations about who had performed in Prague or Versailles and who vacationed there or who was dating who or who had invested in the Lincoln and whether or not the wine was the right age or the champagne sweet enough or did they have something dry—
Summary: When a new threat turns into something much bigger, Matt Murdock finds help in the form of a woman with a very different moral code, and struggles to choose between himself and the Devil.
Matt Murdock x Reader //Past!Winter Soldier x Reader
The ballroom music flowed between the voices of a thousand strangers. It wasn’t Tchaikavsky, but something slow and simple. Matt wasn’t sure who wrote it, but the string quartet positioned on the small platform near the door had drawn the attention of several guests. They were all dressed in matching blacks, the pages of their sheet music turning every few minutes.
The calming tune was juxtaposed by Matt’s severe alertness. With so many people, their heels clicking and boots squeaking on the marble floor, dresses dragging against the ground, the sickly sweet scent of wine and champagne, jewelry clinging against glass, laughter echoing against the huge glass windows that faced the dark skies of New York, hushed whispers of gossip, conversations about who had performed in Prague or Versailles and who vacationed there or who was dating who or who had invested in the Lincoln and whether or not the wine was the right age or the champagne sweet enough or did they have something dry—
Summary: When a new threat turns into something much bigger, Matt Murdock finds help in the form of a woman with a very different moral code, and struggles to choose between himself and the Devil.
Matt Murdock x Reader //Past!Winter Soldier x Reader
The ballroom music flowed between the voices of a thousand strangers. It wasn’t Tchaikavsky, but something slow and simple. Matt wasn’t sure who wrote it, but the string quartet positioned on the small platform near the door had drawn the attention of several guests. They were all dressed in matching blacks, the pages of their sheet music turning every few minutes.
The calming tune was juxtaposed by Matt’s severe alertness. With so many people, their heels clicking and boots squeaking on the marble floor, dresses dragging against the ground, the sickly sweet scent of wine and champagne, jewelry clinging against glass, laughter echoing against the huge glass windows that faced the dark skies of New York, hushed whispers of gossip, conversations about who had performed in Prague or Versailles and who vacationed there or who was dating who or who had invested in the Lincoln and whether or not the wine was the right age or the champagne sweet enough or did they have something dry—
There was stimulus everywhere, most of which Matt filtered through and pushed aside, concentrating as he tried to listen for a sound he hoped not to hear. If the assassin came into the ballroom, he needed to be prepared. So he listened for knives hidden under clothes, or boots with steel toes, and kept tasting the air for hints of metal.
That, and he was waiting for Karen or Foggy to spot the ballerina. They had agreed, with little argument, that Matt should be the one to seek her out. Undoubtedly she would refuse Karen, who was doing a much better job at speaking to the fancy to-dos than either he or Foggy could. She was smiling, laughing at the right times, subtly trying to find out who was friends with the lead dancer, digging for information the way only a really good reporter could.
Foggy had acquired himself a drink, swiped up from a tray being carried by one of several trays being carried throughout the venue. He mingled, too, keeping his eyes open as he smiled and sipped at the too-weak alcohol.
Matt swiveled his head, listening for mention of the name or any sign that someone was not who they claimed to be. A bump on his shoulder got his attention, however, as Foggy moved in close.
“She’s at the bar,” he said, his eyes trained on the figure sitting at the bar. She had a martini, one she had yet to drink, her finger idly tracing the rim. “Third seat. She is… damn.”
He didn’t need an explanation. The woman was damnbeautiful- even from here he could smell the rich scent of her perfume, could make out the way her dress snaked over her form, leaving little to the imagination as she twisted sideways in her seat to speak to her costar. A laugh danced on her face, her eyes alight with alertness as she listened to his terrible jokes. Matt frowned, tilting his head as he caught the powdery, chemical smell of too much makeup. Her face was done up, of course, with red lipstick and mascara, but the smell was far more potent than her face would suggest.
“Got it,” he said, wrapping his hand more firmly around his cane. Foggy turned towards Karen, whispering in her ear, and her eyes flickered to watch Matt head towards the bar before turning her attention back to the well-suited man she was speaking to. Matt ignored them, blocking out any and all things that weren’t the woman sitting at the bar.
***
He was still talking. Minutes had ticked by as you did your best to be vaguely interested, letting yourself smile over the lip of your champagne glass as Danny- one of the other dancers, currently playing a prince- kept going, and going, and going, about the new boat he’d gotten just before the snow blew into New York. He’d been trying to convince you to take a trip to the Bahamas with him and his supermodel friends after the run of the show, but you weren’t interested in sunbathing on a deck in the ocean, or drinking wine coolers in your bikini– at least, not at the moment. There were sharper, more pressing things on your mind, and none of them involved getting on a boat with Danny.
But, bless his heart, he was trying very hard. He had that smug grin, standing too close as he leaned on one elbow and signaled the bartender for another round of drinks. You’d made the mistake of drinking your champagne just a hair too quickly in an attempt to still yourself, to stop yourself from telling Danny that no, you did not want to go on vacation and no,you were not going to sleep with him orhis supermodels.
You’d had enough. The perfectly poised mask you’d been wearing all night was starting to slip, and you could feel yourself moving toward another catastrophic failurethe longer you sat there. Clearing your throat, you excused yourself from Danny, ignoring the falter of his grin.
The glass windows overlooking the city were separated only by the double doors leading to the balcony. They pushed open soundlessly, the cold night air standing the hairs on your arm on end the moment you stepped outside. It was far too cold to be outside in only your dress, but for a moment, it was welcome. The snow melted the moment it landed on your bare shoulders, and the railing was iced over under your hands. You gripped it tightly, peering over the edge.
If you had stood there, alone in the cold as frost coated the city, for a few minutes longer, you might not have been there when it happened. You might have already gone to the green room, dug out your suit, and been on the roof of a high-rise downtown. You might have been getting on the elevator, or back at the bar with Danny. You might have had a drink or danced or found someone, anyone, to take home with you.
But you weren’t alone, and so you didn’t do any of those things, and it just might have saved your life.
Instead of doing any of those things, instead of spending some time alone, contemplating the things you mightdo, the double doors opened. You let go of the railing, flexing your fingers as the feeling returned to them. A stranger came through the ballroom doors, the light spilling over fresh snow between you.
Like everyone else, he was dressed in a suit, but it was different from the tailored numbers you’d been looking at all night. It wasn’t quite as expensive, and didn’t fit quite as perfectly. Confusion painted his brow, and the corner of his lip turned into a lopsided frown. His eyes were covered with glasses, and when he stepped onto the balcony, the light caught the red tint of them. It wasn’t until that moment your eyes slid down to the cane tapping lightly against the snow.
“Something tells me this isn’t the hallway,” he said.
“No,” you said, voice low as he moved closer. He started, presumably unaware of your presence before you spoke. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“That’s okay,” he said, the frown melting into a small smile. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting something.”
“Just needed some air,” you cleared your throat, looking at him curiously. “The, uh, the hallway is on the other side of the ballroom.”
“Guess I got disoriented.” He chuckled nervously, clutching the cane in both hands. “You alright? It’s pretty cold out here.”
“Yeah, yeah. I just got…”
“Overwhelmed? I know the feeling.”
You tilted your head, moving closer, getting a better look at the stranger. His face was soft, much softer than most men, even with the rugged beard kissing his jaw and the lines of stress over his forehead. He was handsome, well put together despite the small details that only someone like you would pick up: the fibers coming off of his suit, the scuff on his shoes. His watch wasn’t brand-name, neither were the glasses. He was out of place, and somehow… That put you at ease.
“Can I be candid, mister…”
“Murdock,” he said, sticking out his hand. You took it, letting his palm slide against your knuckles. For a fleeting moment, his hand remained in yours. The moment hovered in the air like static, more intimate than any handshake ever ought to. His calloused fingertips brushed over your wrist. You did the same, feeling the steady pulse of his heartbeat in his veins. You smirked, realizing what was at play. “Matthew Murdock. Please do. I think that would be a nice change of pace, maybe for the both of us.”
So, he felt it too. Knowing that he was out of place, that he was not somewhere he should be. Even if he couldn’t see the scuffs or wrinkles or the small, almost imperceptible tear near the collar of his shirt, he knew what it meant to be… different than everyone else.
You shook your head, clearing out the intrusive thoughts.
“This party,” you said, swallowing down the part of you that had leaked out, that had felt Matt’s pulse; that tiny sliver of you don’t have to wear a different face right now. Faces weren’t everything- your voice had to remain just as well-kept as the rest of you. “It’s a reception for a ballet.”
Matt’s lips twitched into a smile. “You’re wondering why a blind man went to the ballet.”
“Well, frankly, Mr. Murdock-”
“It’s uh, you can call me Matt,” he said. “You didn’t give your name.”
“Matt. Yes, I am wondering that.” You fidgeted with your necklace, sliding the chain between your fingers.
He seemed to think it over, his head tilting back and forth for a moment. “Uh, well… I grew up in a church.”
“A church?”
“Orphanage,” he clarified. “Lots of kids, we only had one TV. But we had plenty of records, mostly Gospel, you know? But we had lots of classical ones, too. Vivaldi, Handel. Tchaikovsky, he was my favorite.”
“So you came to listen,” you finished, nodding despite the fact that he couldn’t see you.
“Yeah, more or less,” he said. “And my friend, Foggy, helikes the dancers. Not sure he cares much for the dancing itself.”
You laughed, all too aware of that sentiment. “That tends to be a popular motivation,” you told him. “Though I’m glad to hear there’s people out there who still appreciate art for what it is.”
“Music is the only art people like me canappreciate,” he said, switching the cane to his other hand. “So I have to appreciate it twice as much.”
“I don’t think that’s necessarily true. You just have to appreciate things like dancing in a different way.”
“Really?” Matt’s brows rose, like he was waiting for an explanation. You pulled your lip between your teeth, eyes narrowed as you looked him over. “How do you propose that, miss-?”
You stepped into his personal space, gently wrapping one hand around the cane. “May I?”
His head tilted, ever so slightly, the gleam of his glasses blurring the image of you in the lenses. His grip on the cane relaxed as you carefully pulled it out of his hand, leaning it against the wall beside the door. The music from inside was muffled by the windows separating you, Matthew Murdock, and everyone else. But you could still pick out the notes, and could recognize Pachelbel’s Canon in D tapping on the glass.
You reached for Matt’s hands. They were cold, his palm icy as you placed one on the small of your back, keeping a hold of the other. Your left hand rested on Matt’s shoulder, feeling the smooth wool between your hand and his muscles. The confusion on his brow smoothed over as you swayed.
The snow fell around you in whispers, tiny flurries dotting his hair and shoulders. He let you move him, the space between you so tight, you could feel the warmth of his breath. His heart beat just a hair faster under your hand on his shoulder, and the hand in yours wrapped carefully around your palm.
“The thing about dancing is,” you said, keeping your voice as quiet as the falling snow. “You can feel it, too.”
Matt pressed his fingertips against the silk of your dress, settling into the dip of your back as the two of you turned in tight, perfect circles. You were figures in a jewelry box, locked away from the rest of the world. Closed off from the party and the city, pressed closely into the arms of a man you’d just met, a man who couldn’t see the way your eyes ticked over his face as you read him.
There was so little and so much to see in the slight upturn of his lopsided, suppressed smile. As though he was trying to hide it, the muscles around his mouth strained to keep the smile from stretching into a wide grin.
“I don’t know what I expected,” he said, his resolve slipping as his lips cracked into a toothy smile. “Hope I don’t step on your feet.”
You hummed quietly, letting your body guide you. “You’re doing well,” you said. “You don’t need to see to trust your body.”
Matt didn’t tell you that he couldsee, that the outline of your form burned red with each slight movement. This close, he could make out the flush of your cheeks from the cold, the way you shivered as the snowflakes dotted your skin and melted against your warmth. He could see that, too, the warmth radiating from your skin in little waves of flame. Every hair that caught in the slightest breeze was a spark, every tilt of your head burned like coal. His world was on fire, and you were glowing embers pressed against the front of his body.
You, on the other hand, were tracing your eyes over his face. You’d been looking at him from the moment he stepped onto the balcony, but he had been so reserved, before, with his shoulders squared and his head held high. But now, with the two of you confined to the balcony as though trapped in a snowglobe, inklings of Matt Murdock- not the lawyer, not the vigilante- had begun to seep through the cracks. It was true you didn’t knowabout his other life, but pieces of the man he was when no one else was looking had started to shine through.
Your eyes lingered over the small, long-healed scars along the edge of his hairline; the rough grain of his skin beneath his beard; the crooked shape of where his nose had been broken at least once; the thin scars from where his lip had split open morethan once. These were the details of a man who had been scarred by something that left marks on more than just his skin. It was strange, to see them on someone who seemed so innocent on the surface. Even through his glasses, you could make out the slow, dripping molasses of his eyes, his lashes barely missing the lenses when he blinked. His lips were soft, despite the split running through them, and he smelled distinctly of sandalwood cologne; under that, though, was a touch of smoke and sweat.
You’d flirted before. It was part of the job,something you had learned much sooner than most girls. You learned it in tandem with your ABCs and mathematics, at a school that had very little in mind in terms of actual education. It was a go-to, for men like Danny, to flirt your way through a conversation to get exactly what you wanted, be it information or to lure someone into a false sense of safety.
Flirting with Matt Murdock had come as naturally as breathing. It was slightlymore difficult when looking up at him through your lashes or licking your lips wouldn’t work, but being pressed against the front of his body like this was effective.
What you weren’tcounting on was for the flirting to feel so… real. It was easy to separate flirting from your real feelings toward someone. You were never going to get on a boat with Danny, but it hadn’t stopped you from laughing at his jokes or placing a hand on his thigh.
Dancing was something intimate. Something so much a part of you, it was impossible for you to go about your day to day life without it showing through- like the cracks in Matt’s smile. You walked on the balls of your feet everywhere you went, moved gracefully in things as small as reaching for dishes or cleaning your apartment, getting coffee or putting groceries away. Even driving your motorcycle was a feat of precise elegance.
And here you were, using a part of the real you to flirt with the lawyer. Part of you longed to rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes, or find out for yourself exactly how soft those split lips were. But that- that was toofar, too intimate. That would more than cross the line- that would blur the line between flirting for a distinct purpose and flirting because you just wanted to.
“Well,” he said, his tongue poking out over his lips. He drew his lower lip in slow, like he was tasting something sweet, wanting to relish the flavor of it between his teeth. “I have the best dancer in New York as my partner.”
And, just like that, the snowglobe cracked. Your fingers curled against the wool of Matt’s jacket, and the genuine smile on your lips felt like plastic. He didn’t notice, or if he somehow did, he was unchanged. Reflexively, you looked up at him through your lashes as you sighed.
“Here’s where you’ve made your mistake, Matthew.”
The corners of his mouth twitched into a slight frown. You stopped turning in circles, suddenly becoming all too aware that you were freezing. The snow had moistened your skin, and the cold had begun to settle in your bones. Your lungs swallowed the steam from Matt’s lips, indiscernible as to whose breath was whose.
“What do you mean?”
“You weren’t looking for the hallway,” you pointed out, focusing on the warm wool under your hand and the even warmer expression on Matt’s face. “You were looking for me.”
“You never told me your name-“
“Exactly.” Your fingers dragged over the lapel of his jacket, remorseful for letting go of his heat as you stepped away. “But you knew who I was anyway. I’m guessing because your assistant-“
“Office manager.” Matt’s face hardened, knowing he was caught, his shoulders settling back into their upright, squared position. “Karen’s the office manager.”
“-sent you because she knew I wouldn’t talk to her. And for what, to convince me I need lawyersto babysit me? Or has your questioning come to a dead end?”
“Another woman is dead.”
“People die all the time-“
“Another Russian. Someone I’m betting you knew. Tatiana Klashnik?”
Matt’s eyes flickered back and forth behind his glasses, trying to discern whether this surprised you. Your heart remained steady. The wind howled, snow flurrying around your heels. “You can’t help me.”
“If you tell the police-“
“They won’t help me either.”
Matt bit the inside of his cheek. “Does this have anything to do with why you left Russia? You, and Anastasia Petrova and Tatiana Kalishnik?”
Your eyes narrowed. You shouldn’t have been surprised that he and the other half of Nelson and Murdock had done their research. There wasn’t much for them to find, thankfully, but it didn’t bode well that they had been able to connect you to Ana and Tatiana.
“It’s a short leap from you to them. How long before this… murderer comes for you next?”
“I can handle myself.”
“So could Ana,” Matt said, his voice low. “So I’m told. Did you know about the guns?”
The cold air pierced your lungs. The wind dragged the skirts of your dress with the snow, a rush of silk and ice sliding against the concrete. “Yes.”
“So it’s not a coincidence you took Karen to where the Night Wolves hang out.”
Flakes of snow landed heavily on your eyelashes. “I wouldn’t have taken her there if I thought she’d be in danger.”
“I need you to tell me. Just- tell me why, so I can help you.”
You swallow down the cold air, shaking your head with a dry chuckle. “I know the sort of criminals you defend, Mr. Murdock. I’m not one of them.”
You stepped around him, pushing towards the door, but he moved, quickly, catching you by surprise when his hand gently caught you by the wrist. His hand was still warm from being tucked against your back. His grip was tight enough to freeze you in place, but not enough to cause any amount of pain.
“Criminal or not, you don’t deserve to die.”
“And what if I do?”
Matt’s hair ruffled in the cold wind. His lips remained parted, clouds of breath circling around his face. “Whatever you did, whoever you used to be, this man is hunting you down and he doesn’t care-“
He stopped, his head snapping towards the windows. You looked past him, at the blurred shapes beyond the frosted panes. His back and shoulders tensed under the wool jacket.
“Do you hear that?”
You focused, hard, hearing only the distant sounds of the city, and the eerie howling winds from the east. “Hear… what?”
His hand still holding your wrist tightened as he tugged you backwards, the snow crunching under his feet as he moved so that he was between you and the doors. He let go of your wrist, but his free hand gripped your shoulder to keep you placed behind him.
Summary: When a new threat turns into something much bigger, Matt Murdock finds help in the form of a woman with a very different moral code, and struggles to choose between himself and the Devil.
Matt Murdock x Reader //Past!Winter Soldier x Reader
AN: So, uh. Yeah. The next part has the moment we’ve all been waiting for.
The pushpin dug through the cork without effort, denting it in with the force of Karen’s irritated thrust, and it was the loudest Matt had ever heard someone jab something so sharp into anything else. And he’d heard a lotof people be stabbed before.
Karen had taken it upon herself to hang the corkboard after he’d taken off on her and Foggy without so much as a word. She was tense, her hair falling in damp waves on her neck. It had been raining all day, mixing with the snow and ice to create a slush that dampened the whole mood of the office.
Foggy sat in Karen’s chair, absently twirling a pen in his hand as he handed her the contents of a manilla folder, one photo or article at a time. It was a trick she’d picked up from Ben Urich, leftovers from her time at the Bulletin. One column had the papers Foggy had gotten on Anastasia Petrova, photos from the crime scene, the little bit of information Karen had been able to pull from online.. The second had a copy of the work visa for Tatiana Kalashnik, which Foggy had painstakingly begged Brett Mahoney for, the I-29 petition that had granted her said visa, which listed street addresses and phone numbers that went nowhere, and a photograph taken in a bar some three weeks ago.
today is multiverse monday! send me requests containing any au you can think of, be it rockstar au, camboy au, lawyer au, hybrid au, or more. requests are open for any of the fandoms that i write for, so request away!
