#daredevil mcu

[avyc02]

Daredevil and Jessica Jones trying to figure out where the other NYC superheroes are…

https://open.spotify.com/track/4mXdThZ9JooNvF4vztdLtN

[peter-parking-lot]

My favorite thing in Daredevil is when Matt is always saying how they have to handle everything the legal way, immediately followed up by a scene of him in costume beating up a dude for information.

[margottenenbaum222]

im in heat

[scarlet48]

Me and My Headphones

AGAINST THE FUCKING WORLD

[tears-of-acid-and-sluts]

[yunyuu]

✶ PINK BRACELET! pt.6

synopsis ⠀:: ⠀ a quiet evening with you unravels when dex realizes he can’t stand the softness in your voice every time matt’s name comes up. what starts as ordinary conversation turns sharp and ugly under the weight of his jealousy, until one careless question ruin everything.

including ⠀! ⠀ benjamin poindexter. ✶

contents ⠀! ⠀ fem reader. obsession. jealous dex. dex is mentally unstable as usual. angst. part 1 + part 2 + part 3 + part 4 + part 5. masterlist. gifs by @.novagif. english is not my first language. ✶

The conversation is fine.

That's the worst part.

Nothing is wrong.

You're sitting across from him in the little café you dragged him to after work. Your hot chocolate has gone half cold because you keep forgetting to drink it. The whipped cream collapsed into a soft white puddle twenty minutes ago.

You're talking.

Smiling.

Laughing.

The city glows beyond the window behind you. Rainwater still clings to the glass in thin silver veins.

Everything is fine.

Everything should be fine.

"—and then Foggy told him that was literally illegal—"

You laugh.

Dex smiles automatically.

The right response.

Smile.

Nod.

Listen.

You're telling a story.

This is normal.

This is what friends do.

You keep talking.

"And Matt—"

There he is.

Again.

Dex stares down at his coffee.

Don't.

Leave it alone.

He can feel it starting.

That awful pressure.

Like a bruise being pressed repeatedly.

Not enough to injure.

Just enough to remind you it's there.

You keep talking.

Something about Matt helping somebody.

Something about Matt saying something funny.

Something about Matt being stubborn.

Something about Matt smiling.

Something about Matt.

Matt.

Matt.

Matt.

The name keeps appearing.

Again.

Again.

Again.

And every single time your face softens.

Every single time.

His stomach tightens.

Stop it.

Leave it alone.

It's none of your business.

She can have friends.

People are allowed to have friends.

Normal people talk about their friends.

Normal people don't sit there dissecting every smile and every word and every blush.

Stop.

You keep talking.

Dex takes a drink of coffee.

Bitter.

Cold now.

He barely tastes it.

"...and then Karen said—"

Good.

Karen.

Talk about Karen.

Karen is safe.

Karen doesn't make his chest hurt.

"But Matt—"

Fuck.

His jaw tightens.

You don't notice.

You never notice things like that.

Lucky.

He notices everything.

You keep talking.

"...and Matt went to—"

Buzz.

The sound appears suddenly.

Faint.

Electric.

Somewhere deep inside his skull.

Buzz.

His fingers tighten around the coffee cup.

No.

Not now.

Buzz.

The conversation keeps going.

Your mouth keeps moving.

But the words start slipping apart strangely.

Like they're underwater.

Like they're being pulled away from him.

Buzz.

Leave it alone.

Leave it alone.

Leave it alone.

You don't need to know.

You don't want to know.

If she likes him then she likes him.

What difference does it make?

Buzz.

Your smile widens again.

There.

That smile.

That fucking smile.

The one you only seem to get when you're talking about him.

Buzz.

His chest feels tight.

Too tight.

The café suddenly feels warmer.

Smaller.

The sounds around him begin stretching strangely.

Silverware.

Voices.

Traffic.

Buzz.

Stop.

You don't need to ask.

You absolutely should not ask.

None of this is your business.

You're being weird.

You're being obsessive.

Stop.

You keep talking.

He can't hear any of it anymore.

Just pieces.

Fragments.

"...Matt..."

Buzz.

"...he said..."

Buzz.

"...brown eyes..."

Buzz.

"...Matt..."

The name keeps hitting him.

Over and over.

Like something tapping directly against a cracked tooth.

Buzz.

His pulse is loud now.

His thoughts are louder.

Don't.

Don't.

DON'T—

"Do you like him?"

Silence.

The words leave his mouth before he can stop them.

The second they're out, his stomach drops.

Fuck.

Your smile disappears.

"Huh?"

Dex can hears his own heartbeat.

Too fast.

Way too fast.

You blink at him.

Confused.

Then uncertain.

"Matt," he says.

His voice sounds strange.

Too sharp.

Too direct.

"Do you like him?"

Fuck.

Stop.

Stop talking.

You glance away immediately.

And that alone feels like an answer.

"I-I don't understand what you're talking about."

You're lying.

Or maybe you're not.

Maybe you're confused.

Maybe you're uncomfortable.

Maybe—

Stop.

Your fingers tighten around your cup.

You still won't look at him.

See?

See that?

She knows.

She knows exactly what you're asking.

She just doesn't want to answer.

Because the answer is obvious.

Because you're making things weird.

Because you always make things weird.

"Dex—"

Don't.

Don't interrupt her.

Let it go.

Let it go right now.

"I think you know what I'm talking about."

The second he says it, he hates himself.

Your shoulders tense.

Slightly.

Just slightly.

But he sees it.

Of course he sees it.

"Dex—"

"Oh, come on."

No.

Stop.

His own voice sounds wrong now.

Like somebody else talking through his mouth.

"Matt this."

You flinch.

"Matt that."

Stop.

"It's always Matt."

Stop.

"You can't go five minutes without talking about him, can you?"

He wants the words back.

Instantly.

Immediately.

Like reaching for a knife after it's already been thrown.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Your face changes.

Not dramatically.

Not loudly.

Just—

small.

You look smaller somehow.

Your eyes drop toward the table.

Your voice comes out quieter.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

The guilt hits him so hard it almost makes him dizzy.

No.

No.

That's not—

That's not what he meant.

He didn't mean—

His eyes lift.

And then he sees it.

Your eyes.

Glassy.

Not crying yet.

But close.

That horrible shine sitting there.

The shine people get when they're trying very hard not to cry.

And suddenly every angry thought evaporates.

Gone.

Instantly.

Leaving only horror behind.

No.

No no no.

Fuck.

What have you done?

His stomach drops straight through the floor.

You weren't arguing.

You weren't getting defensive.

You were apologizing.

Apologizing.

Because you think you upset him.

Jesus Christ.

"Dex."

Your voice is small now.

Small enough to break him.

"No."

The word leaves him immediately.

Too fast.

"I—I didn't mean—"

But you stand up.

The movement is quiet.

Gentle.

Somehow that makes it worse.

You don't look angry.

You don't yell.

You don't tell him he's an asshole.

You just stand.

And suddenly he realizes what's happening.

You're leaving.

No.

Please don't.

His chest tightens violently.

"I think I should go."

The words hit harder than they should.

Because they're calm.

Because they're final.

Because you won't look at him.

And for one horrible second, Dex doesn't move.

His brain simply refuses to understand what's happening.

You're leaving.

The words don't fit together properly.

People leave all the time.

He knows that.

People walk away from conversations every day.

But something about watching you stand there, avoiding his eyes, gathering your bag with shaking hands—

it feels different.

Wrong.

Like watching a door close while he's still standing in the doorway.

No.

The word explodes inside his skull.

No no no no.

Not like this.

Not after—

Not after everything.

Not after the bracelet.

Not after your everyday coffee.

Not after all those walks home.

Not after you smiled every time you saw him walk through the door.

Not after you said you were friends.

You turn slightly.

And panic hits him.

Real panic.

The kind that feels like drowning.

Like suddenly realizing the ground underneath you isn't there anymore.

His chair scrapes violently against the floor.

"Wha—"

He stands too fast.

People glance over.

He doesn't care.

You take a small step backward.

And somehow that hurts more than anything.

"No."

The word comes out rough.

Desperate.

"I didn't mean—"

His hand closes around your wrist.

Instantly.

Without thinking.

Just instinct.

Just panic.

Just don't leave.

Your entire body freezes.

And the second he feels you freeze—

the horror starts.

Because your skin is warm beneath his hand.

Because he can feel how hard he's holding you.

Because your eyes immediately drop to his grip.

Fuck.

Let go.

Let go right now.

"Dex."

Your voice sounds smaller now.

Please don't leave.

The thought is screaming so loudly he can barely hear anything else.

"I'm sorry."

The words start falling out.

Fast.

Messy.

"I didn't mean it like that, I swear, I wasn't—I wasn't trying to—"

His grip tightens unconsciously.

Not because he's angry.

Because he's terrified.

The difference doesn't matter.

Your face tightens slightly.

Pain.

He caused that.

He's hurting you.

The realization arrives and somehow still isn't enough to make him let go immediately.

Because the fear is bigger.

The fear of you leaving.

The fear of losing this.

Losing you.

"I'm sorry."

Again.

Again.

Again.

The words keep coming.

His thoughts are tripping over each other.

Fix it.

Fix it.

Fix it.

"I just—"

God.

How does he explain this?

How does he explain the feeling of listening to you talk about Matt and feeling something inside him tear itself open?

How does he explain the jealousy?

The loneliness?

The ugly selfish part of him that wanted your attention and hated sharing it with a man he'd never even met?

How does he explain any of that without sounding insane?

He can't.

Because it is insane.

"I'm sorry," he says again.

His voice cracks.

"I didn't mean to upset you."

Your eyes close briefly.

And that's somehow worse.

You finally pull your arm.

Not violently.

Not angrily.

Just firmly.

Trying to get free.

Dex immediately realizes how hard he's holding you.

Too hard.

Way too hard.

His fingers release instantly.

Like he's been burned.

"Oh God."

The words leave him automatically.

Your wrist is red.

His stomach drops.

Your wrist is red.

You rub it instinctively.

And the shame that follows is so intense he almost feels sick.

Of course.

Of course this happened.

You give him kindness.

You give him friendship.

And he responds by grabbing you hard enough to leave marks.

Good job.

Fantastic.

You finally look at him.

Actually look at him.

And somehow that hurts more than if you'd been angry.

Because you look sad.

Not scared.

Not angry.

Sad.

"Dex."

His throat closes.

"I think..."

You hesitate.

Choosing your words carefully.

And that terrifies him.

Because people only choose words carefully when they're afraid of what happens if they don't.

"I think maybe it would be better if you didn't come by the café for a little while."

The room goes silent.

At least to him.

Everything else disappears.

The words just keep echoing.

Don't come by.

Don't come by.

Don't come by.

You continue quietly.

"And maybe don't call me."

Each sentence feels like another door closing.

"Or text me."

Another one.

"Just for a little while."

Another.

Until there's almost nothing left.

You swallow.

"I think we both need some space."

Space.

The word feels enormous.

Cold.

Permanent.

Even though you didn't mean it that way.

Dex knows you didn't mean it that way.

But his brain doesn't care.

Because all it hears is:

Go away.

Go away.

Go away.

His chest hurts.

Actually hurts.

Like something sharp lodged itself between his ribs.

You look exhausted.

Heartbroken, almost.

Like this isn't easy for you either.

And somehow that's the final thing that breaks him.

The realization settles heavily inside him.

Just heavy.

Like wet concrete slowly filling his lungs.

You adjust your bag on your shoulder.

Neither of you speak.

Then finally—

"I'll see you around, okay?"

Your voice sounds fragile.

Dex opens his mouth.

Nothing comes out.

Because every apology feels useless now.

Every explanation feels selfish.

So all he manages is a small nod.

You give him one last sad smile.

Then turn.

And walk away.

This time he doesn't stop you.

He just stands there.

Watching.

Until the door closes behind you.

And for the first time since he met you—

he has no idea what to do next.

If you want to be in my "pink bracelet" taglist let me know :)

© yunyuu 2026 : do not plagiarize, repost, or translate works without the knowledge or consent of the creator in other platforms or websites.

[hyperfixationsgobrr]

Matthew Murdock aka Daredevil, who hears that there's a little bookshop in a softer part of town that has a very extensive braille collection, including books of law. The only one Matt had ever found were hundreds of dollars. 

Matt got Foggy to drive him with the promise of getting lunch on the way back. The shop was warm, with creaky wood floors and a cat that purred lazily at the door. There was a shelf directly next to the door, which Foggy informed him was filled with supplies for homeless people. 

Someone came around the corner, they had bells on them, maybe attached to a sweater. 

"Hello! Is there something I can help you find?"

It was a kind voice. You seemed happy to be there. 

"I belive so, I heard there was a braille section here."

"Oh yes! Is there anything in particular that youre looking for?"

"Religion, and law, if you have any."

You walked over and took his held out arm and guided him like you had done it a thousand times.

"Step up" 

Matt took the steo that he had already sensed, it was nice that you warned him, most people forgot to. After a few more paces, you guided his hand to the bookshelf.

"They should all be translated, just give me a shout if you need help."

Foggy approaches Matt as he was reading the spines. Matt could smell lemon on his hands and Foggy seemed a bit warm.

"Matt, this place is great, they got tea and cookies!"

"Yeah grab me one. But hey, does this have a price on it?" 

Matt held the book out to Foggy,after listening to Foggy turn it a few times, Foggy handed it back.

"Nope, I'll go ask...that person said that its 'Pay What You Think is Fair' policy."

Matt gave a slight hum of satisfaction, after he gathered 3 more books, he handed you 100 dollars, and walked out holding a cookie.

Foggy turned to him,

"Think we're gonna come back?"

"Definitely"

[madgodpie]