“Do you trust me?” (Matt ofc)
He had brought down the smell of sweat and the heartbeat of prey with his wrath, shattering bones and bruising others on their shared hunting ground to come to what Yumie would reluctantly call a rescue.
She clutched her bleeding arm and screamed bloody murder, executing the cult member in front of her with bare hands. What would Matt think as she held the head of a panting man in her grasp, thumbs neatly tacked within gushing eyesockets? Monster, less of a woman than any, probably.
But Matt had morals, and Matt had a soul she couldn't quite grasp the concept of, one she hesitantly would admit to praying for.
When all was said and done, when rain poured like entrails from heaping clouds and pounded against them both in the walls of a now corpse littered alleyway, she wondered why he'd ask.
What did her trust do for him?
Lurching across the space that separated them, she envied Matthew Murdock. She envied his heaving breath and heightened senses, she envied his ability to have a steadily dysfunctional daytime life when she knew nothing but night. Yumie Takagi wanted to devour what he had-she'd always been the jealous type.
Despite grievous injury, her arm was shot to shit and her right leg still had a knife in it, naked hands shook in their pursuit of his face. At first, her grip was a bit too strong, but she forced it to soften- he couldn't become one of her many casualties.
"I want to," she cried, "I want to!"
