Writer and Nerd @shiorimakibawrites - Tumblr Blog

Sep 24, 2023

Shiori's Fan Fic Masterlist

This is my general masterlist for my fan fiction, gathered here to make it easier to find what you are looking for.

In addition to current WIP, previews for upcoming stories will also be posted.

Anything marked as smut is not appropriate for minors. Image description is supposed to be the ALT but please let me know if it isn't working.

Likewise, please alert me to any broken links or if you would like to be added to any of character or series taglists.

My work is also posted on A03.

My fan fiction recommendations can be found here.

None of my fan fic is or will ever be AI generated. I write every single word.

I do not give permission for anything I write to be used for AI.

Last Updated: 7/16/2024

Matt Murdock/Daredevil Masterlist

Frank Castle x Fem! Reader Series

Image Credit:kissmegoodbye.net / Jakub Kapusnak (Unsplash) / Kevin Turcios (Unsplash)

A Vigilante and a Gentlemen {Installment List}

ON HIATUS

You are an office manager and aspiring novelist. One day when you are walking to work, you past a construction site where the men began to catcall. With the exception of one who stops the others in their tracks. You find yourself intrigued by this rather mysterious man who calls himself Pete Castiglione. It helps that he keeps taking off his shirt in the summer heat. {18+}

Tags: Strangers-to-Lovers Romance, Drama Warnings: Canon-typical violence, eventual explicit sexual content, sexual harassment, anxiety disorder, panic attacks, referenced character death, referenced murder of children, PTSD

Port in a Storm {UPCOMING}

One night during a nasty storm, a mysterious stranger comes to your door looking for help. His arrival at your home coincides with the beginning of a deadly conspiracy, a danger from your past that threatens not only your life but the lives of your children. Is this handsome stranger your enemy or your salvation? {18+}

Part One: A Dark and Stormy Night {coming soon}

Tags: Slow Burn Romance, Strangers-to-Lovers, Murder Mystery, Original Child Characters Warnings: Canon-typical violence, eventual explicit sexual content, temporary characters deaths, permanent character deaths, murder, referenced suicide, worries about suicide, threats to children

One Shots

One of Those Days: You have a bad day but Frank makes it all better. (fluff, hurt/comfort)

You Are To Me: You take a bullet for Frank (hurt/comfort)

Michael Kinsella x Fem! Reader Series

Image Credit: kissmegoodbye.net / Qui Ngyuen (Unsplash) / Mayur Gala (Unsplash)

Rhapsody {Installment List}

You have always had a weakness for bad boys. Which why you were surprised to find yourself charmed by a man named Michael Kinsella, who is as sweet as he is handsome. But there is more to Michael than meets the eye. {18+}

Tags: Strangers-to-Lovers, Small Town Life, Drama, Mystery Warnings: Canon-typical violence, explicit sexual content, organized crime, referenced character death, epilepsy, seizures, referenced drug use, referenced drug trafficking

A Brand New Ending {UPCOMING}

On a visit to Dublin, you run into your ex-boyfriend Michael Kinsella in a pub. You get to talking to each other. You kiss him. And the next morning, you wake up in his bed, naked and pleasantly sore. You would have loved to stay but a family emergency calls you away. A couple months later, you discover that you are pregnant. You always wanted to be a mother but to your disappointment, it seems like Michael isn’t so eager to become a father again . . . {18+}

Part One: Your Old Flame {coming soon}

Tags: Second Chances, High School Sweethearts, Family Drama, Mystery, Small Town Life Warnings: Canon-typical violence, explicit sexual content, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, fears of miscarriage, flashbacks to traumatic events (sexual assault, miscarriage, stillbirth, teen pregnancy, domestic violence), referenced drug use, drug trafficking, organized crime, murder, seizures, epilepsy, referenced character deaths

One Shots

Warm: Michael keeps you warm. In more ways than one. Written for Mandy's Sweater Weather Challenge (smut)

Mo Ghrá: You're on your period and you miss Mikey (hurt/comfort, fluff)

Sharing an Umbrella: You and Mikey are sharing a walk with your dogs. Written for 300 Follower Celebration (super fluffy).

Ya're Staring Again: You can't stop staring at your coworker Michael.

Peter Parker x Fem! Reader Series

Legacy {UPCOMING}

Your father Matt Murdock disappeared along with half the universe. He never wanted you fighting but you cannot stand by while all of his hard work is destroyed. Hell’s Kitchen needs its Devil. As you patrol the nighttime streets, you meet another young hero who is struggling to uphold the legacy of his own mentors. {16+}

Part One: In the Beginning {coming soon}

Tags: Slow Burn, Strangers-to-Friends, Friends-to-Lovers, Superhero Adventures, Secret Identity Hijinks Warnings: Canon-typical violence, temporary character deaths, permanent character deaths, grief, mourning, bullying, ableism, eventual making out

Adrift {UPCOMING}

Things have been hard since you came back to life. You were gone for five years. And in that time, everything changed. All of your old friends moved on. Your parents had another kid. School is full of strangers. Even over a year later, your life still doesn’t feel like yours anymore. Then you meet two other lonely souls struggling with the same feelings that you are – your coworker Peter Parker and the vigilante Spider-Man. {16+}

Part One: Alone in the Crowd {coming soon}

Tags: Slow-Burn, Strangers-to-Friends, Friends-to-Lovers, Secret Identity Hijinks, High School Drama Warnings: Canon-typical violence, referenced temporary character deaths, referenced permanent character deaths, alienation, depression, guilty, self-doubt, suicidal thoughts, worries about self-harm, suicide concerns, eventual making out

STAR WARS

Defying Gravity

Masterlist

Overall Rating: Mature Summary: Matilda Adler, like many Star Wars fans, had occasionally daydreamed about what if it was all real? The Force, the Jedi, the whole Galaxy Far, Far Away. So far, the reality of it being real is leaving a lot to be desired AU of Knives & Spices verse Tags: Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Earth is Space Australia, All Terrans Are Force-Sensitive, Earth is Force Suppressive, Tatooine Slave Culture & Language, Original Characters, Mandalorian Culture, Jedi Culture Warnings: Canon-typical violence, original characters, slavery, war, referenced sexual slavery Also posted on AO3

NARUTO

Screaming into My Pillow, a Memoir

Masterlist Overall Rating: Mature Summary: Waking up in a new body after dying is the stuff of fan fic but I was rolling with it. My new life didn't seem too bad...until I realized whose kid I was. And just how incredibly screwed I was. Featuring a loose relationship with canon and feral Hatake Tags: Self-Insert / Original Character Reincarnation, Timeline? What Timeline? Canon Divergence, Parent Hatake Kakashi Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, child soldiers, referenced suicide, sexism, swearing

OTHER

Daredevil

Conservations with the Damned - Foggy Nelson stands in front of Matt’s grave. And has the talk he should have had . . . before (Angst, hurt no comfort, tw for perceived character death and mentions of suicide)

The Secret Keeper - Foggy Nelson has noticed there is something . . . peculiar about his roommate Matt Murdock. Not bad! Just odd.

Events

Flightless Angel Wing's Kinkotober 2023 - Personal Masterlist

Tuna-Tober Prompt Challenge 2024 - Masterlist

Tuna-Tober Prompt Challenge 2025 - Masterlist

Other Collections

Headcanon Collection

Castlevania (2017 - 2021)

Silence of the Mind (angst, hurt no comfort): All Trevor Belmont wanted was the silence of the mind.

#fan fiction #masterlist #daredevil #the punisher #kin amc #matt murdock x reader #michael kinsella x reader #frank castle x reader #matt murdock #frank castle #michael kinsella #image description in alt #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker #mcu spiderman #mcu daredevil #mcu punisher #kin rte #kin bbc #frequently updated #fan fiction recommendations #star wars #star wars prequels #star wars clone wars #naruto

shiorimakibawrites

Jun 29

I am Nobody (The Phantom #9)

Word Count: ~7700 Main Pairing: Matt Murdock x Project Beagle! Reader Summary: You're all over the place today. You're blaming the concussion. Or hormones. Warnings: Angst, horny thoughts, denial of feelings, references to traumatic events (including death), brief mention of injuries, banter, Catholic stuff The Phantom Masterlist Matt Murdock / Daredevil Masterlist My General Masterlist Taglist: @pastafossa, @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @pastafossa, , @yarrystyleeza, @justvalkyrie, @xoxabs88xox, @spn-reader, @jkjklopo, @shouldbestudying41, @wonderland2425 A03 Link Divider was made by @saradika-graphics

Chapter 09: I am Nobody

It was awkward at first. Matt seemed to believe that he had to remain strictly on 'his' side of the bed. You were gonna respect that. Matt had set a clear boundary and you tried to respect those when you could but there were few things less conductive to sleep than two people laying like planks.

"It isn't gonna work."

"I'll go—"

"Don't be ridiculous. Let's try this."

'This' being sleeping back to back. It took some shuffling around to avoid laying on your cracked ribs but it was worth it. The moment his warm back pressed against yours, the relief was instant. You felt your body relax and sleep crept back in. Best of all, you didn't dream again.

Any other night, that would have meant a wonderful night's sleep. Since you were under concussion protocol, it more often felt like you had only just fallen asleep before Matt was waking you up again.

"Still alive?"

"Fuck. Off."

"I'll take that as a yes."

Rinse, lather, repeat until dawn. When it wasn't Matt waking you up but your phone cheerfully chiming the alarm that you forgot to turn off. Somewhere. You didn't quite remember where you had left it last night. You needed to get up and turn it off but convincing your eyelids to stay open long enough was proving difficult. The rest of your body felt just as heavy and unwilling to move.

You felt the bed as Matt sat up. You must have made some small noise because he patted your shoulder. "I'll take care of it. Go back to sleep, sweetheart."

You should argue but you couldn't think of why. So you closed your eyes and let sleep take you.

You aren't sure what woke you up the next. Maybe it was the light? The sunlight streaming in through the windows, uninhibited by any curtains, was mid-morning bright. Maybe it was a noise? You were still getting used to the near-constant sound of the city — the chorus of car engines, horns, sirens, talking, and shouts. Neither? Both? You decided it didn't really matter. You were considering going back to sleep regardless.

You were still tired. More importantly, you were too comfortable to have any real desire to get up. Part of that was this ridiculous bed. In addition to the mattress that cradled your body like a cloud, there was also the sheets, pillows, and blankets — all of which were stupidly soft and fluffy. Where had Matt found these? You'd have to find out.

Or just steal his entire bed for your own place…Not gonna lie, it was really tempting.

The other part of your current cozy feeling was Matt himself.

Matt, it would seem, was a cuddler. His legs were tucked tightly against yours, one arm around your waist and face nuzzled against the nape of your neck. You didn't think he had done it on purpose. He had kept to the requested pressed back-to-back position most of the night. But it seemed that at some point during this last sleep, he had turned around in his sleep and started cuddling you like you were a oversized, living teddy bear.

You didn't mind. It didn't feel unnerving or awkward. Just comfortable. His warm body pressed against yourself at every point soothed an ache deep inside. An ache that you had forgotten was there. It had been there for so long. Almost as long as you could remember. It had disappeared for a while but it had come back after…After. When was the last time someone had held you like this? You couldn't remember. Nor could you remember the last time you had spent a lazy morning in bed, enjoying the warmth and scent of another human being. The last time you had felt someone else's deep slow breathing, heard their random sleepy noises as they burrowed their face against your neck…

The heavy, muscular arm on your waist was soothing in a different way. It felt safe. Just like last night's hug. Safe and protected…

It was nice. Feeling so warm…safe…and not alone. Dangerous, whispered the sensible part of your mind.

It would be so easy to get used to this. To fool yourself into thinking that it would last. That this was something that you could have. The smart thing to do would be to slide out of his embrace, out of this bed. Avoid any further intimacies between you. Keep things strictly business.

And you would. In a few minutes. You wanted to enjoy this just a little longer.

Five minutes, you thought and closed your eyes. That's all you asked. Five minutes to absorb as much of this peace as possible. Five minutes to pretend this warmth and safety was yours. That you didn't have to survive on the tiniest crumbs of human affection. Five minutes to pretend you'd never have to leave and be alone again…just…five fucking minutes.

"You're crying." Matt murmured against your neck, his voice concerned and thick with sleep.

You were? And suddenly realized that your face was wet. But you couldn't stop the tears from spilling silently down your checks. Matt's arm around your waist tightened. "What's wrong?"

You shook your head. Can't talk past the lump in your throat anyway.

Matt says your real name. His voice was so concerned…like he actually gave a shit. And suddenly you can't keep it inside anymore. "I don't…want to be alone anymore."

Your breath hitched, fighting a sob. "I'm tired of having nowhere to go. Tired of being…nobody. With no one. I'm so tired…"

You can't talk anymore. All you can do is cry.

You don't fight Matt shifting your body around so you can bury your face against his neck. He rubbed your back, muttering soothing nonsense in your hair. Impossible things like 'Stay here, make this your home' or 'You aren't alone. You have me. You'll always have me.'

Tempting. So tempting…the sweetest poison. "No. I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"No…I can't," you repeated. "Tried. After we escaped…tried to make a place. A life. Thought it was safe."

You closed your eyes again. It didn't matter. You could still see the fire. Could still smell the smoke. Could still hear the agonized screams among the roar of flames…"I was wrong."

"I'll protect you."

You tried to smile. It was kind of him to offer but you weren't delusional. "You can't."

"Yes, I can."

"No, you can't." You raise your head from his neck. You needed him to understand this. "We had a friend there. He's powerful. Rich. Has connections. Bodyguards." You took a deep breath. "And none of that was enough. He came anyway."

You swallowed hard. "He hurt people. Killed people. To get me back. To get Twenty back. I ran. Kept chasing no matter where I went."

"How long has it been?"

Since you last felt safe? Didn't feel like you'd die alone? That sometimes you would welcome death because then you'd finally be free? "Fou-fourteen years."

"Fourteen years?" Matt repeated. He couldn't keep the horror out of his voice.

You nodded, then slumped against him like a puppet whose strings had been cut. "Fourteen" you confirmed, your voice dull with exhaustion. Just as defeated as the night you had first meet. "I live somewhere for a few months, maybe a year or two when I get lucky, under a fake name doing a random job. Friendly but not friends with my neighbors, coworkers. Sometimes I go on a date but its always casual. Then I burn all my bridges and leave for somewhere else. Become someone else and do it again."

For fourteen years went unspoken. There were no words. Nothing he could say or do that would make that travesty less awful. That could take all that pain away. All he could do was offer comfort. And try to keep the snarling Devil inside him chained. This wasn't a problem he could punch.

He wished that it was. He'd gladly split his knuckles open, break the bones in his hands if you never sounded so defeated again.

"What makes you decide to leave?"

You shrugged. "Lots of things. It's been over a year. I find out He's getting close. Neighbor tells me that sketchy guys with guns were asking questions about me."

"Sketchy guys?"

"Mercenaries." Your fingers drummed against his chest. He didn't think you noticed that you were doing it. "Don't know where He gets the money."

"You ever look?"

"A few times. Don't always have the time. And He prepares paper records over digital."

"That makes things difficult."

"Tell me about it." You laughed. It wasn't a happy laugh. Bitter. "Drain the fucker's accounts dry whenever I find them."

"Good."

It wasn't enough. Losing some money was nowhere near what that monster deserved. But for now, he'd take it. And right now, he had a bigger concern. "Humans aren't meant to be isolated like that."

"You think I don't know that?" You snapped, pulling away to sit up. Angry. Good. He could work with angry. Anger meant there was still fight in you. "Think I like having no real friends? No family? No special someone? Living off just enough bare fucking crumbs of affection to avoid going completely mad?!"

"So don't." Matt reached out and took your hand. You didn't try to stop him. You didn't pull away. You let him take your hand. Hands that he could feel trembling. You were so afraid. He squeezed your hand. "Stay here. Make real friends. Make your own family. Find that special someone."

Maybe he's in front of you right now. But Matt pushed down that thought. This wasn't about him. It was about you. What you needed. If someone else made you happy…

It was the sweetest, most painful temptation. Everything you wanted if you just said yes. Even knowing that it would fail, knowing the result would be fire and pain, it still took everything you had to shake your head and tell the truth. "I can't."

Matt's jaw tightened. "Why not?"

"Remember how I said threads represent connections? Connections that I can use to track someone or something?" You asked. Matt nodded. "Well, Twenty and I aren't the only ones who can do that. Form a thread with someone, he just needs to follow it from that person to me. A weak connection can track me across a city? A connection as strong as a red thread? Anywhere in the world."

Matt started to open his mouth but you squeezed his hand back. He took the hint to close his mouth. "And that's not considering what else he could do with someone I loved that strongly. They'd be the perfect bait for a trap. The perfect hostage…"

You took a deep breath. It was shakier than you'd like. "Someone he can hurt to punish me for daring to run in the first place."

Or to break you. So you'd be like his pets. The ones with the empty eyes, the silent ones…you shuddered. "He has no lines, Matt. No one is safe from him. He'll hurt anyone. Kill anyone to get what he wants."

You closed your eyes again, pushing down blood-soaked memories. Don't think about it. Don't remember. "I can't do that to someone. I'm not that much of a monster."

"You aren't a monster."

It was sweet of him to say so but you knew better. You knew what you had done. You knew what ruin you brought to whoever dared to get close to you. "Trust me. It's best for everyone if I remain nobody from nowhere going wherever the wind takes me."

Matt looked ready to argue so you changed the subject. "What time is it?"

Half past ten declared the talking clock. You should get up and do stuff. Like get the props for this identity. Check in with Father Lantom and Sister Maggie, they were probably worried since you didn't come back last night. The problem was that you didn't entirely feel like doing either. You couldn't pretend to be normal right. Your head still hurts. Your wrist hurts. Your side hurts. And you felt drained like you had just run a marathon.

Then you were reminded that you hadn't eaten dinner last night. Now that you weren't nauseous….your stomach growled. Loudly. You sighed.

Matt chuckled. "Hungry?"

"Starving."

"I'll make breakfast. Any requests?"

"Something light, bready…" Your stomach tended to be tetchy after a migraine. First meal afterward it was best to stick to plain, simple foods. Nothing spicy or fatty.

"Coming right up," Matt said, flashing you a grin as he slid out of bed. This required letting go of your hand. You told yourself that you didn't instinctively tighten your grip before forcing your fingers to relax. You didn't sense the same reluctance to let go from Matt.

Matt rolled his neck with a soft groan before lacing his fingers together and stretching his arms high over his head. It was difficult not to stare. He wasn't wearing a shirt so the play of hard muscle under his skin, the strength in every inch of his torso, was on full display. Your eyes followed the line of hard, lean muscle of his forearms down to those broad pecs and the defined abs. The kind of muscle that you had only ever seen on a Greek statute. It would be fun, your mind speculated, to trace all that muscle with my fingertips.

Or with my tongue.

You couldn't stop yourself from picturing it. Hearing that soft groan as you tasted those pretty nipples before working your way down with hands and mouth…those gray sweatpants were so low on hips. One little tug…

Feeling your body tighten at the thought, you had to force your eyes away. Stop that. Fixing your eyes on the opposite wall, you slide out of bed and fled to the bathroom. There, you splashed your face with cold water. You seriously considered turning on the shower. Standing under the icy spray ought to cool this heat between your legs before Matt noticed.

Assuming he hadn't already, you admitted, feeling your face burn. He hadn't said anything about being able to smell pheromones or stuff like that but if he could…it wouldn't exactly surprise you. You buried your face in your hands and suppressed the urge to groan. No need to confirm any suspicions he might have. It didn't matter.

It didn't matter that Matt was stupidly pretty. It didn't matter that he was so kind. It couldn't happen. Giving into your lust would just make leaving even harder.

You sighed, then dried your face. Looking at your reflection, your eyes were still red from crying…man, you were all over the place today. Crying and trauma-dropping all over Matt one minute, fantasizing about sucking him off the next. Maybe your mind simply preferred to think about sex over the past and the future. Or maybe your period was returning.

It had been AWOL since you left Tampa. You weren't worried about it. That wasn't unusual. Stress was supposed to throw off one's cycle and if there was one thing that you were seldom short on, it was stress. You'd pick up some supplies later today.

You went out to the kitchen to find Matt mixing up what looked like pancake batter. Coffee was nearly done brewing. As you collected mugs for yourself and Matt, something occurred to you. it. After all, it was a Thursday.

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"I am," Matt said. "But Foggy's letting me work from today. Said he hopes you'll feel better."

It was a kind sentiment, even if it was simple social niceties. You poured coffee. Since you wanted to keep the conversation away from your past (or staying here), you asked, "Where did you meet Foggy?"

Matt clearly knows what you are doing but he goes along with it. "Dorm at Columbia, during our freshmen year. We had been assigned as roommates. Came in while he was cussing out the university's registration portal for being slow."

"You don't sign up for classes until you move into the dorm?" You asked, curious about how school worked for normal students. Ones who hadn't been a lab rat, home-schooled, or attended remotely.

"No," Matt shook his head. "Not unless you wanted all eight am classes or miss getting to take a class until next term…Foggy was just trying to drop Spanish for a different foreign language class."

"Which language?"

"Punjabi."

"Punjabi," You repeated slowly, not sure if you had heard correctly. Nothing wrong with Punjabi. Just that it was quite the change from Spanish. "He wanted to take Punjabi? Why?"

"There was a girl."

Ah. You rolled your eyes. Of course. "Did he get in?"

"Yes." Matt added another pancake to the growing stack. "We introduced ourselves. Foggy's also from Hell's Kitchen and recognized my name. Called me a hero for, quote, 'getting my peepers knocked out saving that old guy'."

"They didn't get knocked out," you said. "They just don't work."

Matt laughed. Not a little chuckle but a fully delighted peel of laughter. Why? It wasn't that funny…"That's what I said."

Oh. You felt your face flush. "Great minds."

"Indeed." He gave you a soft, little smile that made your heart flutter. Focus on something else. "Did you also take Punjabi?"

"No, español."

"How'd you do?"

"I'm passable," he answered, in Spanish. "How many pancakes do you want?"

"Two. Do you have any syrup?" You answered in the same language.

That surprised him. "You speak Spanish."

"Some," you said. "Lived in the Southwest a few times over the years. And Mexico."

"So no making fun of you in Spanish?"

"Not unless you can take it as well as dish it out."

"I always give as good as I get, sweetheart."

The way his voice dipped low and smokey, the implication….you shivered. The ache between your thighs flared back to life, your mind attempting to conquer the image of that voice whispering across your skin as he..Nope, nope, not now…

"You never answered my question," you said, proud of how normal you managed to keep your voice. "Syrup?"

"My apologies," Matt said, the faintest smirk on his lips as he stacked two pancakes on your plate. "There's maple. Or honey if you prefer."

You considered that. It had been a while since you had had real maple syrup. Your last identity had preferred honey. The one before that blackberry jam. And the one before that ate hers plain. Mary Smith was used to the cheap bottle of dark-colored corn syrup but she was curious. She'd try real maple syrup. You knew Matt had gotten the real stuff. He had been very specific about it during the grocery run.

"Maple," you said.

"Refrigerator door, second self, third bottle."

You followed the directions and sure enough, the maple syrup was exactly where it was supposed to be. Well, it would be, you reminded yourself. Superhuman senses or not, Matt was still blind. Keeping things organized would only help make his day easier. It had certainly helped you to keep your things organized. No wasting precious time hunting for essentials. Just grab the go-bag and disappear.

You poured the syrup on your pancakes. "And from that day forward, you two were best buddies?"

"Not quite," Matt said, a rueful little smile. "I think Foggy quickly decided that I needed a friend. I wasn't so sure. People always leave so it just seemed easier to remain alone. But Foggy is so kind, just such a genuinely good person that it's difficult not to like him."

Matt chuckled. "One of Foggy's exes said that, if you gave him enough time, Foggy could befriend anyone. I believe it."

Once again, you felt that uncomfortable blend of jealousy and happiness. You knew it was too dangerous but damn, you wished that someone would look that fond when they spoke about you. You wished that you had someone — anyone — who would speak of you with such love and respect. You wish…

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

"Does Foggy know about your enhancement?" You knew that he didn't know about the vigilante thing but maybe…

The smile disappeared from Matt's face. "No."

You blinked. That was surprising. "Why? Don't you trust Foggy?"

"I trust Foggy with my life," Matt said, his voice firm before his shoulders slumped. "I've tried to tell him…many times. I just…can't ever seem to get the words out."

"I get it."

"You do?"

As much as you didn't want to talk about your past, you just couldn't ignore the little hope in his voice. The hope that someone else might understand. That he wasn't alone.

"After we escaped, the friend I mentioned before? He found somewhere for me to stay. Somewhere safe. With good people." you said. "Next door was a girl about my age. We became friends."

"Good friends?" Matt asked, his voice soft and oh so gentle. Perhaps he heard the sadness in your voice.

"The best," you said and had to swallow. "She was a lot like your Foggy. A kind, generous person who could be friends with anyone but chose the weirdo. She noticed…my scars. The nightmares. But accepted that I didn't want to talk about it. Just said that if I ever wanted to talk…

You closed your eyes. "I thought about it. At least warning her that someone might be after me. Someone very dangerous…but I thought she was better off not knowing. She believed in the good in people. I didn't…." You had to swallow again. "Want to take that away from her. I didn't want to scare her. It had been over a year since we escaped. I thought I was safe."

You took a deep breath, fighting tears. It still hurt. Oh God, it still hurt so damn bad. "I was wrong. He—"

You couldn't say it. You didn't want to describe what had happened to your friend. To her family. You didn't want to remember it. You didn't want to see it in your nightmares tonight. You didn't —

You didn't deserve the strong arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you against a warm body. Nor the hand stroking down your back and murmuring soothing nonsense as you once again lost the fight with tears but you were too weak-willed to reject the comfort. You buried your face against his chest.

"It was my fault. All my fault." You confessed. Your voice was barely audible and chocked with tears. Anyone else wouldn't have caught your mutterings.

But Matt wasn't anyone. His arm around your waist tightened. "No, sweetheart, it wasn't."

You shook your head. "Yes, it was."

"It wasn't your fault," Matt repeated. Soft but unyielding. "It was his."

"But—"

"It was him," Matt interrupted. "He was the one who hurt your friend. He chose to be cruel. It's his fault. You did nothing wrong."

Pretty to think so but you knew the truth. If Esperanza had just ignored you…walked away before a thread formed…she'd still be alive. Her family would still be alive. They were only dead because of you. To punish you for daring to think you could escape. That you had any right to be a person.

Matt could somehow sense your doubts. "I'm serious. You did nothing wrong."

He really believes that, you realized. He wasn't just saying that to make you feel better. He really believed that it wasn't your fault…You wished you could absorb the confidence in his voice into yourself. If wishes were horses…

Continuing to argue would get you nowhere. Matt would never accept your guilt. So you took a deep breath. Then another and another until you felt calm. Or perhaps just numb. It was enough to stuff all that pain back into the box where it belonged. Once that was done, you pulled back from Matt. It hurt to do it but you had to step away from the comfort. Before it broke you again.

He didn't fight you. You could tell that he wanted to. But outside of the tightening of his arms, no longer than a heartbeat, he let you go. You avoided looking at his face. You didn't want to see any pity. You also didn't want to talk anymore. You had already cried on Matt twice today. That was your quota for the day.

Or for the year. A year sounded good. You'd be gone in a year, most likely.

With that goal in mind, you grabbed your fork and stuffed a piece of pancake in your mouth. You weren't hungry anymore but it was a good excuse. An excuse that Matt didn't contest, just sat down in his chair and ate his own share of the pancakes in awkward silence.

You ate mechanically, long practiced at continuing to eat even when guilt twisted your stomach into knots. Even when your mouth insisted that everything tasted like ash. Your body needed fuel to keep going and food was fuel.

Shame. These had been good pancakes, nice and fluffy. Arguably they still were. It was just those memories ruining everything.

It wasn't until you started washing the dishes that you felt like you could speak without falling apart again. "So what's on your agenda today?"

"Contracts, a few motions to draft…" Matt said after a moment. "Mostly the former. Foggy's going to bring me some more to work on."

You nodded. "Not sure what I'm gonna do…"

"Rest."

"What?" You looked over in his direction. He was setting up a laptop on the kitchen table, a neat stack of papers already waiting for his perusal.

"Rest," Matt repeated. "You know — sleeping? Laying around not doing anything?"

You rolled your eyes. "I'm not good at doing nothing."

"I get that," he said. "But rest after a head injury is important. Light activity, no screen time."

"Does parkour count as light activity?" You asked. You'd bet good money that he hadn't followed any of that advice after a concussion. Just a hunch.

"It does not," He replied without a hint of irony. "Rest is also recommended for your ribs, sweetheart."

You wanted to argue but your ribs decided at that moment to remind you just how much they hurt. And therefore how much your entire chest hurts. They were very much in favor of laying down on the couch that lay just a few feet away.

You could power through. You had to before. You would have to again someday.

But not today. Today you didn't have to power through. You could lay on the couch and do nothing if you wanted. Your will teetered between the two choices…

"Lay down for a while, sweetheart. Please."

Damnit. Those big hazel eyes looking mournfully at you should be illegal. "Fine."

You went to the couch and sat down. It felt better than it should. While not as comfortable as his bed, it was comfortable. There was a blanket in a heap at the end and some pillows, the remnants of Matt's attempt to sleep here last night…you stretched yourself out and pulled the blanket across yourself…it smelled like Matt. Cinnamon, leather, paper…faint but strong enough to make you feel safe and drowsy.

But you hadn't been lying when you said you weren't good at doing nothing. Despite how tired you were, your brain just couldn't seem to settle. Even when you closed your eyes, it just kept listing off all the things you needed to get done. Apartments to apply for, cheap furniture to source, props for your apartment and office…Not to mention, the supplies for your possibly soon-to arrive period…

You sighed, then sat back up.

"Can't sleep?" Matt asked, turning away from his computer and lifting one earbud away from his ear.

"Yes," you said. "Thoughts are racing too much."

"Been there." Matt hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

You appreciated him giving you an easy out if you wanted to avoid another emotional conversation. "Nothing major. Just things I need to get done."

You started listing them but Matt interrupted you with "Props?"

"Knickknacks, books, artwork, fake framed photographs…," You said. "People don't live in apartments with nothing but the bare essentials."

Matt's apartment was more minimalist than most but he still had those things. Little splashes of himself that marked it as his space and not a hotel room. The nice rug here in the living room. Braille labels everywhere. Books that had clearly been read several times. You bet if you went to his office, you'd see the same things.

"And everyone in Accounting has something on their desk," You said. "I can't be the only one who doesn't."

Everyone had been too busy to notice before now but soon it would stick out. You couldn't stick out.

Matt nodded. "I might be able to help you for the furniture."

"You can?"

Matt smiled. "Foggy has a big family. There is almost always someone with a dresser or a bed frame or something they are trying to get rid of. Most of my furniture is from the Nelson Network. If they don't have something you want…Foggy and I hit every secondhand shop between here and Morningside Heights to furnish our office."

That was a weight off your shoulders. You had the money to buy everything you needed new but dumping large amounts of cash carried its own risks. People noticed that kind of spending. It stood out. It was more in character for frugal Mary Smith to accept otherwise perfectly good castoffs from a friend of a friend than purchase new.

"That's one problem solved," you said with a smile. "Still need to go to the store sometime today."

"Why?"

"I need supplies for my period," You said, watching for Matt's reaction curiously. Men could be so weird about menstruation. But Matt just nodded like you had commented on the weather. "Do you think you'll start today?"

"Maybe," You said. "Could be tomorrow or the next day. It's hard to tell with return periods."

"Return period?"

"Haven't had it in two months."

This earned you a confused frown, Matt's head tilting to one side. "You aren't…"

He didn't say it but you knew what he was asking. "No. Not unless there's a star in the east."

"Oh?" Matt's face split into a teasing grin. "You're a virgin?"

"No." You felt your cheeks burn. "I've had sex. It's just….been a while."

"Dry spell?"

Dry spell. You hadn't met anyone who seemed worth the effort. Tomato. Te-mat-toe.

"Something like that. But thanks for reminding me that I also need to get a vibrator."

Matt coughed, almost laughed. There was pink dusting his cheeks. Which was just ridiculously adorable. "Your welcome. I…er…need to get back to work. An FYI, I'll be using speech to text for the next part."

You nodded your understanding. "Go ahead, Devil Man. I can entertain myself."

He smiled, then turned back to his computer. You yawned and decided to try resting one more time. If it didn't work this time, you'd see if Matt had anything to read that wasn't in Braille. Or maybe you'd practice reading those little bumps. It was unlikely that Matt's books were at your Braille reading level but it might be fun….

A few feet away, Matt had begun speaking into his computer. You didn't really understand what he was saying — it sounded very legal with the "Rule 20 in accordance with New York Stature…" — but his deep voice, soft and confident, was oddly soothing. You felt your eyes getting heavier and heavier…

You opened your eyes. Judging from the light, it was late afternoon. The blanket you didn't remember pulling back up was covering you. You couldn't see Matt from where you lay on the couch but you can hear him, speaking quietly to someone. The other voice sounds male and is speaking in equally hushed tones. "Matt?"

You heard footsteps then Matt's face appeared over the back of the couch. He was accompanied by a blonde man with kind blue eyes, dressed in a suit. You had the feeling you knew who this was. A guess confirmed when Matt said, "Mary, this is my best friend Foggy Nelson. Foggy, this is Mary Smith."

"Nice to meet ya," Foggy said, offering you a handshake and a smile. It's a little awkward since you haven't sat up yet but you don't let that stop you. "Likewise," you said and smiled back. You couldn't help it. There was something about this man's smile. Something you couldn't describe except there was a warmth that you couldn't help but respond to.

Esperanza smiled like that. You pushed away that thought as you sat up. You didn't want to cry again.

The warm smile couldn't hide the intelligence in those eyes. He was studying you as much as you were studying him. He didn't miss the bruising decorating your face, the swelling around your eye. "Matt, you got an ice pack? I've got marshmallows less puffy than her face."

"No but I've got something better," Matt said before moving out of sight. He returned a few moments later with something wrapped in a towel. That something, you discovered when handed in the package. It was frozen peas. A bit weird but the cold did feel really nice on the swollen tissue.

"Peas?" You heard Foggy ask.

"They conform better to the contures of the eye socket or other parts of the face than an ice pack. It's something my dad did."

"Ahh…he'd have been the expert….hey, Mary, did you report this encounter to the police?"

"No," you lifted the corner of your frozen peas to peer at him. "Since nothing was stolen, they wouldn't care."

To be honest, you doubted they'd care even if your things had been stolen. Nothing you were carrying was worth much. You weren't anyone important. And given the connections you knew existed between this particular NYPD precinct and the mysterious crime lord, they'd probably be more interested in the vigilante who saved you than finding your wallet. Or finding the men who had wanted to…you shoved away that thought. Almost didn't matter. It hadn't happened.

"Not this detective," said Foggy. "Mahoney will take it seriously."

Mahoney again. Matt had also spoken well of him. "I'll think about it."

Clearly realizing that the avenue of conversation was closed, Foggy said, "Hope your run-in with the local riff-raff hasn't soured you on the Big Apple."

"No," You moved your frozen peas back down on your face. It still felt wonderful on your bruises, the cool easing discomfort that you hadn't entirely registered until it eased. "Crime happens everywhere. Even in East Jesus Nowhere."

"Never heard of it." Foggy sounded curious. "Is that it's actual name?"

"No one has. And no. I just call it that because it's holier than thou and super convinced that anyone not following their specific form of Christianity was super going to Hell."

"Sounds charming." You didn't know him well enough to know but you pictured him wrinkling his nose. The mental image made you smile.

You hadn't lived there as long as your fake biography suggested. You seldom lived in small towns longer than necessary to pick up a little local color that you could pull out later if asked and leave a vague impression in the minds of the residents. People in small towns asked too many questions. They were too wary of strangers, especially if those strangers were peculiar in some way.

"How did you meet Matt?"

"Well, technically before this year, we hadn't actually met…" You started, pulling out the story you had worked out with Matt. That, way back in second grade, your respective schools had participated in a pen pal program. Matt was yours. You managed to keep up the correspondence until you were both about eleven. When the challenges that came from both of you being in the foster care system resulted in losing contact despite both of your best efforts.

It was believable story. Matt really had had a pen pal named Mary in second grade. Matt had really lost contact with a lot of people he had known before the age of eleven. It was a combination of attending a new school after the accident and the foster care system. While Matt had spent most of those years at St. Agnes, there had been placement attempts. Some of those places had restricted his ability to communicate with people they didn't approve of.

"And they didn't approve of you?"

"Apparently."

But, when you were deciding where to go when you needed a big change, you suddenly remembered your old pen pal. The stories of living in the big city he had shared. And thought why not? Never expected to actually run into said old pen pal in the store. What are the odds?

"Ah but you forgot the Murdock Effect."

"The Murdock Effect?"

"Matt always finds the prettiest girl in the room."

"How would I know if a girl is pretty or not?"

You had the feeling that Matt was rolling his eyes.

"I don't know but somehow you do. It's spooky."

You had the distinct impression that this was an old argument. One that your stomach decided to interrupt by growling. You sighed and pulled away the frozen peas. Despite your body's demand for food, odds were that your stomach was still gonna be techy about it. Always was when bad memories wouldn't stay in their damn box but knew you needed to eat.

You weren't the only one. Matt's stomach chose that moment to sound off. Foggy wagged a mock-scolding finger at his friend. "Tsk, tsk, Murdock, skipping both breakfast and lunch today?"

"I didn't skip breakfast."

"Just coffee doesn't count as breakfast, buddy."

"For your information, I had pancakes."

"Fancy," Foggy teased, then gestured toward the bag sitting on the table that you only just realized was there. "Fortunately for you two, Mama Nelson was cooking today. And once she heard that Matt's girlfriend was hurt…"

"Not his girlfriend," you said at the same moment as Matt said, "I'm not her boyfriend."

"The lady and the lad doth protest too much, methinks."

Matt rolled his eyes. "You'll have to forgive Foggy. You can take the kid out of the theater but you can't take the theater out of the kid."

"Hey, a little theater is handy for lawyering! What is a trial, if not a performance?"

You ignored the debate in favor of seeing what was in the bag. The answer was repurposed plastic takeout containers filled with chicken noodle soup, tomato soup, shepherd's pie, scalloped potatoes, and…"Is that a brisket?"

Your mouth watered at the thought. You haven't had a good brisket in ages…

"That is, indeed, a brisket," Foggy said. "My Nana's recipe, so tender you could eat it with a spoon."

"That sounds like the voice of experience," you said.

"It is," Matt said. "We were drunk and couldn't find any forks."

You giggled as you pulled out a plate. "I'm sold. Are you joining us, Foggy?"

"Naw, I've got a date," Foggy said. "Just came here to drop this stuff off…Oh! Almost forgot!" Foggy picks up a cloth grocery bag from beside the couch. "Karen put this together for you."

Curious, you took the bag and looked inside. There was a package of women's panties, travel-sized toiletries, tampons, pads, Midol, and chocolate…

"I asked Karen if she minded picking a few things up for you," Matt said, fidgeting with the food bag. "I hope that's okay."

"It's more than okay," You said, then looked over at Foggy. "Give Karen my thanks?"

"No problem," Foggy said, flashing you a grin before leaving.

Even from such the short meeting, you think you understand why Matt loves Foggy. How he had been drawn outside of his walls toward that warmth and genuine kindness. It also helped that he's funny. And obviously smart as a whip.

Esperanza would have loved him.

You shook your head, annoyed that such thoughts wouldn't stay down. You made yourself a plate of food along with one for Matt. At first both of you ate in silence, giving the food the due reverence it deserved. Then, with a soft question about your nap, conversation returned.

To avoid a repeat of breakfast — you didn't need Esperanza haunting you more than she already was — you kept the conversation strictly on food. Food was a safe topic. It never took much prompting to get people talking about food. Matt was no exception, needing very little encouragement to brag about Mrs. Nelson's cooking. It was easy to see that he was just as fond of Anna Nelson as he was her son.

Given that she had sent over a week's worth of dinner, all for someone she didn't even know, it wasn't hard to see why.

Even better, they were all things that Mary Smith would prefer.

"What Mary Smith would prefer?" Matt repeated. Trust the lawyer to notice the third person wording. "What about what you'd prefer?"

You sighed. "They don't matter. I can't have them."

He frowned. "Why not?"

"My favorites are part of my dossier, Matt," You said. "They will be looking for them. It doesn't matter if I change my name and location if I'm always buying the same kinds of foods, clothing — all they have to do is look for that pattern. So the pattern cannot appear. Ever. So every identity I take on has their preferences chosen at random. And I stick to those assigned favorites to the letter."

"That sounds unpleasant."

"It can be," you admitted, then made a face. "The person I was a few years ago liked lima beans."

"Guessing from that tone that you don't like them?"

"Hate them."

"But you ate them away."

"Yes."

With every sign of enjoyment because Betsy liked them. Betsy wouldn't gag at the chalky texture. Betsy wouldn't complain about how bitter they tasted. Betsy would take a big serving…

"And you can never have your favorites?" Matt looked oddly upset about that. Why? It wasn't that big of a deal. Yes, you missed your favorite foods. Or getting to read books that you actually enjoyed. But it wouldn't kill you not to have those things.

"Only if the wheel happens to land on them," you said. "Sometimes it does. It's a mixed blessing when it does. While it's nice to have something I don't have to pretend to like but…"

"But sometimes it's easier to go without anything than get a taste of what you can't have," Matt said.

"Exactly," You said, then silently reminded yourself that giving up your favorites was a small sacrifice to make in order to remain free. That if you were captured, you'd never even get those brief tastes ever again…

"The wheel land on any of your favorites this time?" Matt asked, almost casual as he collected the empty plates. Like the answer didn't matter one way or another to him.

You weren't fooled but you answered his question anyway. "Yes."

"What is it?"

"Jasmine for my perfume and body products," you said, with a little smile. Not always an easy scent to find in the cheaper toiletries so getting it from Bath & Body Works or a similar store might be Mary's sole extravagance.

"Much better than the eucalyptus that my last identity had," you joked. "Her preferred brand smelled like medicine."

"I think Sister Theresa got the same brand once," Matt said with a wrinkled nose. "I could smell her from three blocks out but even the other kids could smell it from the next room."

"Scary. Did the kids start wearing clothespins on their noses?"

Matt chuckled. "They didn't have to. The soap disappeared a week after it arrived."

"Disappeared?" You said. "Did you have anything to do with that disappearance, Mr. Murdock?"

"I do not recall and I want to speak to my attorney."

You laughed.

"Was Mary Smith raised Catholic?"

"No," you said, thinking. The wheel had landed on Calvinism but you had been seen 'volunteering' with a Catholic church, you had to pivot. "But she's converting or considering it."

"Hence why she's spending so much time with Father Lantom."

"Exactly," you said.

Matt nodded, then asked, "Do you have a cross to wear?"

"No," you said. "I'll add it to my list."

Because someone devout enough to be a recent convert and volunteering with the clergy of that faith would be wearing a cross. They'd likely be carrying a rosary…

"Hold that thought," Matt said, then headed into his bedroom. A minute later, he returned with a necklace in his hand. He held it out to you. "Here, no need for you to buy one when I have plenty that you can borrow."

There was an odd note in his voice…it was too tightly controlled. But you didn't feel like examining why too closely. Instead you focused your attention on studying the cross he dropped in your hands.

It was a plain gold number suspended on a simple gold chain. Hanging by the cross were two little oval charms. Each charm had the figure of a person stamped into them and lettering around the rim. Or at least you assumed they both had lettering. One had been worn almost entirely smooth from handling. The second was newer and its letters were still legible. "Lu—Lucia?"

"Yes," Matt nodded, then licked his lips. He almost seemed…nervous? Why? "Lucia of Syracuse, patron saint of the blind. The other one is St. Sebastian. He's a patron of the disabled, among other things."

The chain wasn't long enough to slip over your head so you undid the clasp and tried to put it on the other way. Emphasis on tried. The clasp was fiddly, especially behind my neck where I couldn't see what I was doing….

"May I help?" Matt said.

"Please," you said. You were getting frustrated and didn't want to break the chain. After all, you were just borrowing it.It wasn't yours…

What you hadn't counted on was how it'd feel to have Matt's fingertips brush against your fingers as he took the chain…his breath stirred the little hairs at the nape of your neck. Both sent tingles straight down your spine to…other places. It didn't help that your nose was filled with Matt's good smell. That you could feel the warmth of his body behind you..almost but not quite touching…

"Done." Was it your imagination or had his voice gotten husky again…

"Thank you."

Ending Notes:

St. Lucia of Syracuse aka St. Lucy is Catholic patron saint of the blind, martyrs, epidemics, salesmen, throat infections, writers along with some locations. Namesake for several places, including an island nation in the Caribbean.

St. Sebastian is the Catholic patron saint of soldiers, plague-stricken, archers, disabled peoples, athletes, and cyclists along with a lot of places. The directors for the Netflix series seem to have taken some inspiration from paintings of St. Sebastian for how they posed and shot Matt when he was injured.

Matt is trying to be casual but in case you were wondering, no, that cross isn't any cross. The saints medals are a clue.

#daredevil #fan fiction #fan fic #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #ch 9