Warnings : SPICE. WHOLE LOT OF SPICE. Sub/dom, Sub!matt , Dom!reader, afab! Reader, shibari/Kinbaku/restraint, Oral (M Recieving), Edging, overstimulation, Nipple play ( Briefly mentioned) INHALER WARNING for my best avocado.
Based on a tiny “incoherent blurb” I stumbled upon from @pleasedin Please enjoy. @matt-erialgirl and @loki-silver-tongued-god
I think that is everyone who asked to be tagged. It has been proof read, so if you see a mistake, no you didn't. I’ll be rereading it a thousand times and editing it throughout the day anyway because I'm a perfectionist.
You had dabbled in shibari in its traditional sense, for…art purposes. It had never crossed over into Kinbaku until now- at least not in the sense of you being the rigger. You were surprised at Matt’s request to be restrained. The first time he had asked you to be in control, you had decided that rope or other bonds were not required. You had always known Matthew to have great discipline- and you had decided to test just how far that control went. You had not allowed him to touch you the entire time, save for the last ten seconds, and he had been absolutely wrecked afterwards. Matt had suggested physical bondage this time around.
“I hope you don’t mean handcuffs. I know you. You will absolutely hurt yourself straining. I don’t have any leather ones right now...” You trailed off, grinning wickedly as a solution came to you.
“Oh no, you’ve stopped talking. I take it you thought of something.” Matt grinned, a very light flush settling across his face.
“You would be correct counselor.” You had whispered, taking your time to run your fingers through his waves. All it took for this man to bend to you was playing with his hair.
“I’ve got just the thing to help you get away from yourself.”
You had walked in the door, the very specific rope retrieved from your home, and immediately instructed Matt to remove his clothes. He had moved quickly to carry out your command.
“Stop.” Your voice cut through the haze of exhilaration, and Matthews hands came to a halt.
Matt was going too quickly, and you knew exactly what the thrill of waiting did for you both. He licked his lips, yearning for instruction. This is what he wanted; to simply dismiss every other thought and obey. Matthew let out a shuddered breath as you circled him, nails gliding across his body. His eyes traveled toward the ceiling, tongue sliding out once again as they closed. You stood on your toes, using his shoulders as an anchor.
“Slower,” your lips brushed his neck just below his ear as you purred. “I want to watch.”
You stepped away, taking a seat in one of the armchairs of his living room. Matt’s hands resumed, making sure to take his time in removing his belt, his dress pants, and then his briefs. Matt’s arousal was evident, even before the silk fabric was separated from his flesh. His fingers moved excruciatingly slow to undo the buttons of his shirt. Matt knew exactly what he was doing, his compliance malicious. You decided to answer this with a small retaliation as he started to slide the shirt from his body. He froze as he heard you stand.
“Leave it on.” You were enthralled at idea of Matt being able to feel the silk of the rope only across his chest.
His signature smirk appeared, unsure of your motivation, but amused by it nonetheless. You took his hand and led him to the bedroom, asking him to sit down on the edge of the bed. Matt’s anticipation grew as he heard your clothes being removed, and he drew in a quiet breath as he heard the rope hit the floor. You almost didn’t hear it. You were unwinding it, running it through your fingers, making sure everything was smooth and the fibers were intact and unfrayed. You knew better than to use unsafe rope, even if it was not for suspension purposes. After the rope passed your examination, you got on your knees in front of him, reaching for his hands once again. You gazed up at Matt, always in awe of how beautiful he truly was. You tapped your fingers in his palm; this was the code you had made for scenes like this, among others, to ensure that he was okay-that he wanted to continue.
He nodded, tapping back in your palm with the opposite hand. You moved upward, your bare chest making contact with him as you did so. You placed your hand gently on the side of his face, and he leaned into it, lips traveling to kiss your palm. You smiled, reaching for his glasses. This was the last step before he was truly ready. The last piece of vulnerability before he was laid bare before you, the only thing he could hide behind. The light of the billboard coming in from the frosted glass of the window cast a red shadow across his cheekbones. You had opened the curtains, loving the way the light and shadows played along the lines of his body.
“Ready?” you asked gently, breaking the illusion for only a moment. Matt’s consent was the most important thing to you, and he extended the same courtesy to you when the roles were reversed.
“Yes.” Matt breathed, his voice low and ragged.
“Safe word?”
“I know it.” He replied, impatient.
“I need to hear you say it, or this stops.”
You already knew he was aware of the safe word. It was the same as yours, but you would not proceed until you heard it.
“Red.”
You moved even higher, placing a kiss upon his brow.
“Good boy.” You murmured, slipping back into your role.
You had taken your time, making sure each twist and knot of the rope was perfect and secure. Matt was already dying of anticipation, his senses heightening at the feeling of the rope sliding against his body and biting into his skin gently as you tightened it. When you had finally finished, you sat back on your heels to admire your work. You had made a simple box tie across his chest, anchored to his upper arms. He could move his hands, but his arms remained firmly at his sides.
“Just when I thought you could not get more attractive.” You remarked, running your hands over his chest to admire the harness you had made.
Matt let out a deep groan as your hands grazed his nipples.
“Already so sensitive. And I barely touched you.”
You made a point to linger with your hands a little longer, brushing against the sensitive flesh. This man was tied up at your mercy, ready to take anything you would give him. Your hands gripped the rope that expanded across the front of him, pulling him forward. You swept your lips across his, barely touching them at all. The lack of sensation was the worst form of torture you could inflict upon Matt. He let out a frustrated breath, leaning in further to try and feel you. Using the leverage of the harness, you pushed Matt away gently.
“Lay down.” You instructed, trailing your mouth down his neck, his chest, his hips.
Matthew did as he was asked, chest fighting against the bite of the rope as his breathing increased. And then your mouth was on his cock. Matt gasped as your tongue flicked up the underside of him, his fingers splaying out across his sheets. The sensations your mouth alone brought him should be a sin in and of itself, but you felt so good wrapped around him. His thighs trembled as he felt himself slide deeper into your throat. Your pace was painstakingly slow, and Matt could barely stand it.
“Fuck. God.” He groaned, feeling himself getting closer to the edge after what felt like hours.
“Language, Matthew. The only god here is me.” You chastised, granting him respite from your lips and tongue for only a moment.
Matt only whined in response to this as he slid back into your mouth once again. From that point forward, the only name he called out was yours.
He was close, so close. Matt’s spine arched upward, arms straining against his bonds as heat surged through his body. More, just a little more.
Your hand joining in with your mouth was the added friction he needed. You heard the choked sound he made right before he was about to tumble over the edge leave his lips. You pulled away, removing all sensation of your touch just before he would have finished.
“Wha- why?” he gasped, confusion spreading across his face as the pleasure receded.
“Did you really think I would let you finish that easily? You know me better than that, Matthew. I want to hear you beg for it.”
Matt nodded, understanding. He hissed between gritted teeth as your nails dug into his thighs, cock twitching. You were going to leave him in ruins by the time this was over, and he reveled in the thought.
You pulled every beautiful moan, whine, and ragged breath from him that you could. Matt had still not begged by the third time you had edged him. His groans bordered on sobs as you took your mouth away again. You stood, walking around the other side of the bed to caress his face.
“Poor sweet boy, you’re doing so good. This can all be over if you want. All you have to do is say the word.” You teased, running your fingers through his damp hair.
It had been almost forty minutes since you had tied Matt up, the rope a deeper, darker red than it had been when you began. The color was still bright and brilliant against his chest and white dress shirt. It was soaked through with sweat; Matt was covered in it. His hair was so disheveled from struggling, falling beautifully in his glazed eyes. You were thrilled by the visual he gifted you every time you looked up; Matt’s chest rising and falling frantically, hands gripping the sheets as though they would save him from the punishment he craved.
He tilted his head upwards, toward you as he shook it. He did not want you to stop.
“Alright.” You whispered, smoothing the sweat from his forehead. You slid your hand down his arm, over the rope and eventually down to his hand, tapping once again. Matt tapped up into your palm.
“Please.”
You took your place on your knees before him once again. Matt would have to beg harder than that.
You grinned wickedly, placing your lips around him once again. A deep whine filled the room the moment the sensation of your touch resumed. Matt was already hypersensitive, and he felt like he would implode if you edged him again. Within minutes, his hands were clawing the sheets, chest rising and falling rapidly. It was almost painful how desperately he needed to come. Everything was too much, too intense.
Your eyes drifted upward as you worked. Matt was so divine to look at, especially like this. Between his hair in his eyes, the stark contrast of the rope against him, and his tongue flicking out to wet his lips between the desperate, needy pants that spilled from his mouth? Matt was breathtaking in any state he was in, and you often thought about how that was possible. His lips parted, drawing in the oxygen he needed as he fought against the lines that bound him. Matt could taste you in the air and it was going to be his undoing. Hearing him moan and cry out just did something to you. Listening to Matt utterly lose control did something to you.
A hoarse plea rose above his ragged breaths.
A myriad of please, begging you not to stop, and your name left Matt’s mouth.
You decided that Matt had suffered enough, giving him the release he pleaded for. His spine lifted off the bed, head thrown back, as you tasted him on your tongue. You devoured all of him as he emptied himself into your mouth. Matt finished with a deep moan and your name on his lips, said with all the deference of a desperate prayer. Unfortunately for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, you were not finished. You kept your mouth on him, even after Matt had reached his peak, cruelly wrapping your arms around his thighs to keep him still as he thrashed. He was so sensitive, and you knew it had to be agonizing. For just a little longer, you would drag out his torment. He had begged for you not to stop, so you weren’t going to. Not until a strangled whimper left him, tears brimmed his eyes and all he could say was please.
You finally, finally released him and he gasped, falling back against the bed. Matt’s head fell slack, cheek pressed against the soaked sheets. He was breathing hard, gradually coming back down. You rushed to the opposite side of the bed, kissing his forehead while you raked your fingers through his hair. His eyes slid closed, savoring the feeling.
“You did so good. I’m right here. Tell me what you need.”
“Off. Please.” He mumbled, flexing his arm against the rope.
“Do you want me to untie it or cut it off?”
You didn’t care about the rope; you cared that matt was comfortable.
“You can untie it.” He whispered, almost asleep.
“You’re going to have to sit up for me Matt. Can you do that?”
He nodded, using his hands to push himself up. You worked quickly, fingers working across the knots in perfect form. You had practiced so it would be flawless, you never wanted to put Matt in danger or be unable to free him. The last stretch of rope was removed and you took his shirt off for him, discarding it across the room. The impressions the rope had left behind were beautiful across his chest and arms; you wanted to reach over and touch them. Perhaps after you had gotten him water and cleaned him up, he was most likely too sensitive still. You had attempted to stand, but Matts arms had wrapped around you, holding you there. He pulled you closer so he could rest his head on your thigh, just craving your proximity and scent.
“Okay.” You conceded, petting him while you spoke softly.
“Was that okay? Did you enjoy yourself?”
Matt nodded, his stubble scraping against the skin of your thigh.
“What about you? Do you need…” he mumbled, ever the giver.
You shook your head.
“No, don’t worry about me. You can return the favor another time. You need water, a shower, clean sheets, and I think me petting your hair until you fall asleep have been more than earned.”
Matt smiled widely, whispering that he loved you as he snuggled closer to you.
Warnings : Sleep Paralysis, minor smut, Matt being horny, afab!reader, ANGST, oral (Female anatomy receiving/ mention), one bad blind joke.
Based on this ask for @matt-erialgirll : "How long did you think you could hide this from me? " & "You're a terrible liar.'
As always, I will be editing even after posting because I am a humane being and I will probably still have missed something. So if you see a mistake; no you didn't.
Matt awoke beside you, a strange noise filling the room. It didn't immediately register that it was you, nor that it was coming through closed teeth. You were screaming. Your eyes were wide, set on the furthest corner of the room and your fingers were twitching as you desperately attempted to get your body to move. Matt rolled over, hovering above you, cradling your face in one hand and smoothing his fingers in your hair with the other.
"Sweetheart look at me. Look at me. It's not real."
This wasn't the first time this had happened.
It had been a late night of research and piecing things together. The pair of you were trying to find something that connected the dots. It was around 12 am when you had decided to head to your room for a few hours of rest.
"You sure you don't want to sleep for a little bit? I'll wake you up, I promise." You had said, seeing how weary Matt was as his hands glided over the pages. How weary you both were.
"No, I want to keep working. You go rest for awhile. I'm on the verge of something. I can feel it." He had declined, promising that he would rest when you awakened.
"That's because it's in braille, good sir. See you in a while."
You turned toward the hall, walking past the canvases and photos that hung there. Your fingers grazed your favorite portrait of your mother before entering your room. You stripped off your clothes , tossing them across the room to the laundry pile. You searched in your blankets for your sleep shirt and shorts, and slid them on. Matt had asked you why you never made up your bed. Your answer had been simple :
"Only a fool makes his bed just to ruin it again in sixteen hours."
He had simply shaken his head, mouth tilting into his lopsided smirk.
You could hear Matt still rifling through the piles of documents , searching for one in particular as you climbed into the cold sheets. Snuggling down into the blankets, you drifted off to sleep, the tiredness of the day taking you over
Only twenty minutes had passed when Matt finally heard your heart rate slow, and your breathing became more shallow. He smiled to himself, relieved that you were getting some rest. He was concerned that you were pushing yourself too hard, even though he had no room to talk on the subject. Matthew continued to sift through the mountains of papers of information you had collected. You had been kind enough to run it through the braille embosser, making it accessible to him. Matt was always astonished at how considerate you were, and grateful that you never treated him like he wasn't capable. You had simply handed him the documents like you would anyone else.
Matt's eyes felt heavy, drifting closed periodically as he ran his fingers over the pages. Setting his glasses aside, he ran his hand down his face, trying to refocus.He chuckled to himself, finding it rather amusing that his eyes grew tired when he didn't even use them to read. Within the hour, Matt had fallen asleep at the table, breathing softly against the dark cedar.
Matt was in awe of you, even if he could not see you in the traditional sense. You looked truly ethereal in his mind, and that was all that mattered.You were above him, the sunlight streaming in from the window illuminating your body. Your hands were roaming across his chest, gently gliding over every scar. Your thighs wrapped around his hips were warm and soft against him, feeling almost as if they belonged there. Your hand reached for his face, cradling his jaw. His eyes closed as your thumb trailed down across his lips, descending down his neck to reunite with the rest of your fingers as your hand came to rest at the base of his throat.
“You are beautiful Matt, for everything that you are.”
He shook his head. He lost his composure, for only a moment, every time you called him beautiful.
“You always catch me off guard when you do that.”
You let out your breathy, genuine laugh that made all the air in his lungs leave.
“When I do what? Tell the truth? When I tell you that you are beautiful and I mean it?”
Matt's hands slid up your thighs and onto your hips, holding you steady as he sat up. You let out a small noise of surprise as the motion shifted the two of you, hands grasping at his shoulders to keep you upright. You were closer now, chest to chest.
“Don’t do that! I thought I was going to fall off the bed.” you protested, hand sliding up the back of his neck and into his hair.
“I would never let you fall. ” he whispered, touching his forehead to yours.
Matt felt your heart rate increase as his lips brushed yours, a ghost of a kiss. He was waiting for you to advance the movement.
“Matt…” you breathed, your voice gentle, “I’ve fought like hell, and fighting like hell has made me what I am. And what I am… is that what you want?”
He could hear the doubt in your voice, the fear.
“Say it again.”
Your head tilted, lips touching again as he spoke.
“Say my name again.”
“Matthew.”
Hearing his name like this, it was enough to make him unhinged.
“You are what I want, sweetheart. I will take all of you, whatever that entails. But only if you want me.”
He had his answer as you closed the distance between you. Your mouth was as soft as he had imagined. As the intensity grew, you did not yield completely to him, seemingly fighting back for control of the kiss. It only made him want you more. His hand came to rest on the back of your neck, fingers reaching into your hair. Matthew pulled gently, and your head followed the motion, exhaling in pleasure. His mouth traveled down your neck, biting lightly and drawing blood beneath the surface of your skin as he breathed you in. A soft moan escaped your mouth in response. Matt wanted nothing more than to hear that sound again and again.
His opposite hand grasped the back of your thigh, and he overturned you. Your hands reached for him, framing his face as you leaned upwards to kiss him. He felt your hand move down his spine, nails digging into his hip as he ground against you.
“Can I show you how beautiful you are?” Matt gasped against your lips.
He was practically begging. He wanted to map every inch of your body, wanted to chart every star that made up the constellation of you. You nodded against his cheek as he moved downward again, his mouth and hands touching every curve, every scar that was you. He paused at your stomach, taking extra care to linger longer at the soft flesh that covered the hard muscle beneath it. He knew how much you hated it sometimes, even though you were mostly at peace with your body. Matt hooked his fingers in the waistband of your underwear, looking to you for confirmation. You nodded again, smoothing your hand through his hair. He tried, and failed to not rip them off too fast. The fabric tore and you laughed, shaking your head. Your laughing morphed into a sharp inhale as you felt Matt’s lips graze over your lower abdomen, just above the apex of your body. You arched upward, shoulder blades leaving the mattress for a moment.
“Matt, please.” you whimpered, desperate for him to stop teasing you.
He laughed, smirk already climbing up his face. Matt wrapped one arm around your thigh, resting his hand in the same location where his lips had just been.
“Anything you want, as long as you ask like that.”
Before you could even voice the contemptuous comment he knew was on your tongue, his fingers slid inside you, stealing your breath and your words. Your hands grasped at the silk sheets of his bed as he began to move, and he smirked again. Matt kissed up the inside of your thigh, slowly moving towards your center. A beautiful symphony of sounds spilled from your lips and Matt reveled in it, the noises you made were burned into his memory now. You cried out as his tongue found your clit, making small,languid circles that he knew would drive you out of your mind. Your hand found his, interlacing your fingers as you writhed beneath him. You got louder as you grew closer to the edge, and Matt chased after it, moving with purpose. Your cries grew strangled, almost as if you were gritting your teeth. You called out his name, but that too sounded hushed. You were screaming now, the noise deafened by the tightness of your mouth. Matt ceased, moving up to find the cause of your distress. You were screaming still.
Matt awoke, startled and confused by his dream, among other feelings. Why had you started screaming? And why had it sounded like that?
He heard it again, but this was not in his dream. You were screaming, and your heart pounded like it was going to rupture through your chest. Matt leapt up from the table, tearing down the hall to your bedroom. Listening hard, he only heard your heart and your cat’s- you were alone. He felt like he couldn’t get the door open fast enough. Your mouth was closed, and you were crying out through your teeth. Your eyes were full of terror as you stared across the room, focused on the corner opposite of him. Matt moved, kneeling down beside you.
“What’s going on? Are you hurt?”
Whatever was happening, that this was a monster he couldn't fight. A villain he could not protect you from. He started to panic; he did not know what to do or how to help you.
Your eyes flicked towards him and the screaming stopped, but your whimpering did not. Eventually, your fingers twitched, and soon your hand followed. The weight on your chest lifted; you could breathe again. The thing in the corner disappeared, and you felt relieved.
Matt was taken aback when you shot up, arms reaching for him and holding onto him for dear life. You were gasping like there was no air in the room, tears streaming down your face.
“I’m going to go get you some water, okay?” he said, unsure of what else to do for you.
Matt moved to leave, placing his hands gently on your own to remove them. You only grasped at his shirt tighter.
“No, please don’t leave.” you pleaded, vulnerable.
You released your hold on his shirt, but his hands remained on yours. Asking for help was difficult for you, and Matt knew that.
“Okay”, he whispered, coming back down to his knees, “I’ll stay until you tell me to go.”
You nodded, shaking.
“You can come up here if you want. I just don’t want to be alone. ”
Under different circumstances, Matt would have been all too eager at the invitation. He stood, climbing into the other side of your bed, setting his back against the headboard. You curled up beside him, seeking comfort as he wrapped an arm around you.
“What was that? What was happening?”
You let out a shuddered breath, heart still racing.
“I have something called sleep paralysis. It doesn’t happen all the time, only when I’m extremely stressed and it’s worse when I drink. That’s why I never do when we go out with Karen and Foggy.”
Matt was stunned. He had noticed that you did not partake, but never asked why.
“How long did you think you could hide this from me?”
You shook your head.
“I wasn’t trying to hide it. It just hasn’t happened in months so I forgot about it to be honest.”
Truth.
“So what exactly happens? Can you explain it to me? I want to understand.”
“When you go to sleep, your body undergoes a form of paralysis to keep you safe. So if you're dreaming that you’re running, you don’t actually start running in your sheets and fall out of bed. When an episode of sleep paralysis happens, your brain is awake but your body isn’t yet, I guess is the best way to describe it.”
“I see. What does that feel like? It sounds terrifying.”
“It is. I feel like there’s an enormous weight on my chest and I feel like I can't breathe. I can’t move,and my head is racing so fast I can’t even think through it. Sometimes the part of your brain that creates dreams is still active. You can see and hear things that aren’t there.”
Matt swallowed.
“So, is that why you were screaming? What did you see?”
Your head lowered, looking down at the bed.
“You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to. I just want to be prepared for when and if this happens again.”
You took a deep breath.
“It’s different every time, but usually it’s some physical manifestation of a mistake I’ve made. Sometimes it’s my mom, but she looks how she did right before she died. She looks gaunt, and too thin, and tired. Sometimes it’s some person I couldn’t stop from doing an evil thing. Sometimes it's… anyway, it’s never good. ”
You didn't dare tell him what you had just seen. It had been a twisted version of Matt himself, beaten, bloodied, and dying. The thought of Matthew dying was so terrifying to you, and your stress filled mind had taken that fear and made it almost real.
Matt nodded, now having some clarity.
“I used to have night terrors as a kid. It was right after I lost my Dad, and I would see some pretty awful things. I can’t imagine what it would be like if I was awake and saw it in the corner of the room. I’m sorry this happened tonight. ”
“Thank you.” you whispered, eyes closing as you felt Matt run his finger in your hair.
He heard your pulse slow down, and your breathing returned to normal after several minutes. You had truly been terrified of whatever you had seen.
“Matt?” you mumbled, half asleep.
“Hmm?” he answered, nearly asleep himself.
“Will you… will you stay with me? To sleep, I mean. ”
“I don’t think that’s unreasonable. I would be a horrible person if i didn’t.”
The pair of you had snuggled down, your head resting on Matthew’s chest. His arms were around you, keeping you warm, and making you feel safe. He had stayed with you all night, just to ensure you were alright.
Now it was happening again.
“I know you’re scared, but it’s not real. You haven’t had one of these in a while. Try to breathe. Focus on moving your fingers, one at a time.”
Matt would walk you through it, step by step. You panicked less, and would hallucinate for a shorter period of time when he did this. You still had a difficult time breathing, and being unable to move was still horrifying, but Matt had you. He was right there, and he wasn’t going anywhere. Your hand eventually twitched, followed by the other. Soon, you could move again, breathe again. You gasped, straining for air like you always did when you had an episode.
Matt touched his forehead to yours as soon as he realized it was over.
“There you are. I thought I lost you for a second.” he smiled, kissing you gently.
“Thank you.” you whimpered, tears brimming your eyes.
Matt had done this on multiple occasions, but you were always ashamed and embarrassed every time.
“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” he soothed, rolling over and pulling you into him.
“I know, Matty. You can go back to sleep, I’ll be okay if you don’t want to baby me.”
Lie.
Typically , an episode of sleep paralysis was followed by Matt playing with your hair and him placing kisses on your forehead, paired with words of reassurance that nothing was your fault and that he was not upset with you for waking him.
“You are a terrible liar, you know that?”
He wouldn’t hear of it, of not taking care of you when you needed him. Not when you were there for him every time he had a moment of self loathing, or a lapse in his faith, even if it was not a faith you followed.
He felt you smile against his chest, and set to work on comforting you.
“Yeah, I am.” you agreed, already feeling your heart rate ease.
If you could lay there forever and let Matt touch you like this, you would. But you would settle for however long it took you both to go back to sleep, and that was enough for you.
"‘Til We’re Saints just Swimming in our sins again."
Pairing: Matt Murdock X GN!Reader
18+ MINORS DNI
Warnings: SPICE. WHOLE LOT OF SPICE. sub/dom. sub!matt, afab! Reader, choking, mild sensory deprivation, teasing, cockwarming, unprotected sex (dont be a fool, wrap your tool)
A/N: If you see any mistakes....no you didn't. @matt-erialgirl this ones for you, my best avocado.
Tonight was different. You and Matt had discussed this previously, after you had both had an…enlightening evening. Matt had been holding back, and you had given him permission to do whatever he wanted, whatever he needed. A safe word had been established, clothes forgotten, and the flames had ignited. You reached up and touched the bruises and marks on your shoulder, dragging your lip between your teeth just thinking about that night. You shivered at the memory of how you got them as well as the ones on your hips and thighs. The dull ache a reminder that he had marked you, that you were his. You thought of the lines you had left along his spine; you had claimed him as yours in return.
A strong arm that felt like home wrapped around your waist, pulling you from your reverie. You came back to reality as Matt nuzzled his face into you from behind. You would normally feel his teeth nipping at your soft skin by now, but all you felt were gentle lips and the friction of his stubble along your neck. It was as though he couldn’t get close enough to you. You, Matt, Karen and Foggy had gone to Josie’s to celebrate winning their latest case. Matt was utterly exhausted. He had not had a single drink of anything, not a drop, even though that was precisely what you were all here for. You did not drink for personal reasons, and none of them pushed as to why. You were always grateful that Karen and Foggy were great people. Of course they were, they were friends with Matt Murdock. They were your friends too, and it was nice to have that.
“Is something wrong? You won today. You deserve to celebrate Matty.” You asked quietly, reaching up to rake your hands through his hair. Matt let out a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a purr. You knew how much he loved it when you played with his hair. You had figured out very quickly that one of Matt’s love languages was physical touch- both giving and receiving. It wasn’t until you had that conversation that you realized how deep that duality ran.
“I swear you were a cat in your past life. Talk to me. What’s going on in your head?” you nudged, ceasing the movement of your hand.
You could feel this beautiful man pouting at the loss of sensation without looking. He wrapped his other arm around you, holding you tighter.
“I don’t feel like drinking tonight. I…want you to take me home.”
You twisted around in his arms to look at him, placing your hand along his check.
“Matty are you not feeling well? I will take you home if you’re not feeling alright or if you just want to leave, that’s fine too.”
You witnessed something you never thought you would see. A light flush spread across Matthew’s face.
You lowered your voice even further.
“Matty, are you blushing?”
Matt placed his forehead against yours, his lips brushing against your own as he spoke, even more softly than normal.
“I feel fine. I want you to take me home.” He explained, putting more emphasis on the phrase you had both agreed upon. This is how he told you needed it, needed you. He just needed enough of you to dull the pain.
“Oh.”
It finally clicked. The soft behavior, the lack of drinking, how defeated he seemed, regardless of the win. He no longer wanted to be in control; Matt wanted you to take the lead tonight- to be in control of the scene. Matt had not blushed when he had expressed his occasional need to submit after you both absolutely destroyed each other. Maybe it was the dopamine high, the fact that he was so comfortable with you, or maybe it was because it was dark, and you couldn’t even see him well enough to notice. Maybe it was all three. You had laid there, head on his chest as he ran his fingers gently across the marks he had made. Matt had told you everything he liked, and you had done the same. There was nothing embarrassing or secret between you two now, at least in that aspect. Usually, you liked to discuss what was and was not on the table before being physically intimate with a partner, but you and Matt read each other so well during intimate moments, it was like you were torn from the same book.
Matt was almost always in control, in life, at work, behind closed doors. He just wanted to shut off his brain and be consumed by nothing else but you. He had admitted that he had never told anyone else this certain need. Not even Elektra. She had met him halfway without prompt, and that was good enough at the time. With you, he knew with certainty that you would not judge him for it, and that was why he told you. You had always been submissive- you liked the abdication of control. You liked the feeling of not having to think- just feel- even if it was only for an hour or so. You could understand why it appealed to him perfectly. You had never thought of yourself as dominant, even though it often surprised your partners that you were not. Your personality and your sexual preferences did not have to match. To you, it made sense and it had also made sense to Matt. But as of late, you had been thinking about it more and more.
The other night Matt had stumbled in the door, bloodied and beaten. You had stayed behind only because you were sick. Matt had fallen to his knees at the bottom of the stairs, unable to make it any further. You had rushed to him, pulling his mask away and searching his face. He had braced himself against you, his hands on your thighs. You had reached down to caress his face, tilting it upward until your eyes found his. The blood. The kneeling. The desperate reach for you.
You don't know if it was the fever you had coursing through you, or the way the light settled on the angles of his face, but something inside you awakened, like a switch had been flipped. Just like it had now.
Matt detected the shift in your demeanor immediately. Your hand slid from his cheek to the back of his head, giving a light, slow tug.
“You want me to take you home, counselor?” you breathed, sliding your lips up to his ear.
You felt matt nod, a tremble moving through him.
“You’ll have to get on your knees and prove it when we get home then. I know you would look so pretty on your knees. I can’t wait to make you beg.”
This renaissance painting of a man released a soft moan against you at the thought.
“Let’s go say goodbye, we wouldn’t want to be rude.”
Matt had never excused himself from a situation faster.
…………………………………………………………………………………................
The cab ride home had been agonizing. Matt had opened the door for you, ever the gentlemen. You had slid into the seat and had gotten in beside you- but not into his seat. He was so close to you, craving the slightest amount of contact. You smiled lasciviously; why should the fun have to wait until you got back to his apartment?
“Move over. You’re too close. You’ll have to be patient, Matthew.”
You rarely used his full name unless you were being serious. The first time you were going to be in control was serious, at least to you. You had already planned most of it out, putting your knowledge and your psych degree to good use. He removed all points of contact quickly but reluctantly. You told your driver your destination, and the ride home began. You took Matt’s hand, giving it two quick taps to his palm.
It was code for “Is this okay? Are you okay?” .
Matt swallowed and nodded, tapping back. The anticipation was going to make him combust.
“I’m glad. Put your hand on my leg, you can touch me.”
He complied, quickly. But that didn’t matter. Matt chose the top of your knee, right at the bottom of your thigh. It was a safe place to start, a smart choice. You raised a brow, your head tilting.
“You can go a little higher than that. Keep going until I tell you to stop.”
His hand slid up, slowly, not wanting to seem too eager. His hand continued until it was nearly at the intersection between your thigh and your core.
“Stop. Don’t move your hand from that spot until we get home. If you move even a centimeter, I will drag this out far longer than I need to, understood?”
You watched the gears turn wildly in Matt’s head. He liked the sound of it being dragged out for as long as possible. He tightened his grip on your thigh, just a little. He could smell you, taste how excited you were in the air, even through the denim of your jeans. You smirked; he had played right into your hand.
“You’re lucky you weren’t paying attention to the wording. I thought you would be better at exploiting a loophole than that, counselor. I told you not to move from that spot, which you haven’t. Unless you did catch it and are trying to take advantage of that. Consider this your last warning.” You whispered harshly, digging your nails into the flesh of his shoulder as you leaned over.
“Could be both, truthfully. It sounds like something I might try in either case.” Matt remarked, testing to see how far he could go and what you would let him get away with. His hand slid upward, just a bit until his little finger met your center. He could feel the heat rolling off you, grateful that you seemed to be enjoying this as much as he was. The straining of his length against the fabric of his pants was a testament to that.
Matthew heard you sigh and click your tongue in disapproval as you grabbed his wrist, moving his hand back to its originally intended resting place.
“Guess I’ll have to hold it here myself, since you can’t control your hands.”
“Such a shame.” He agreed, satisfied with your reaction.
The cab pulled up to your building, and you paid him, tipping a little extra. You both exited the cab and Matt reached for your hand to help you out after walking to your side. You took it, letting go the minute you were on your feet and upright. You continued to evade his touch at every attempt to make contact. You had asked one thing of Matt and he had already disobeyed. You both finally made it in the door.
“Sweetheart why-”
You whirled, grabbing his tie firmly, looping it around your hand and using it to push gently against his chest, his back pressed flush against the door. Matt’s breathing became heavier, and you had barely touched him. You let out a breathy laugh, the one you knew drove him wild, pushing him even further into the door with your body. He sighed as you ran your free hand down his hair, his face, and finally coming to rest on his chest.
“You disobeyed me, Matt. I gave you a simple task and you already overstepped.” You explained, unwrapping your hand from his tie and placing it on the side of his face. You stood on your tip toes to kiss him, gently at first, the contact quickly spiraling into fervent motions. Matts groaned under you as you nipped his lip, his tongue sliding into your mouth. Your hand found its way under his jaw, and you used that leverage to pull him away from you. Matt was panting now, his already perfect lips reddened and swollen.
“Do you know what happens to submissives that don’t listen?”
Silence.
“They get punished, Matthew. I’m going to take away the one thing you truly want from this.” You purred, removing all physical contact from him.
Matt swallowed, hard.
Good. He was taking you seriously now.
“We’re just getting started.”
You took hold of his tie once more, leading him to the living area. You stopped, placing a pillow on the floor for his knees. You were cunning, not cruel. You relinquished your grip on his tie, trading it for his hand, tapping twice once more. Matt nodded once again and you let it go reluctantly, knowing that that was the last contact with his hands you would have until you felt the need to check on him again.
“You will not touch me again with your hands until I explicitly ask you to do so, understood?” you instructed, taking his red sunglasses off and placing them safely on the bookshelf near the fridge. You walked back, still not having received a reply.
“I need an answer, Matthew.” You demanded, trailing your fingers across the back of his shoulders as you circled him. You took pleasure in seeing his hands ball into fists, contract, and then release. He was fighting with himself, fighting for his willingness to let go completely. Matt closed his eyes, sighing.
“Yes, I understand.” He breathed finally.
“Good boy.” You praised him, dropping to your knees where the pillow lay waiting.
The commendation made him blush lightly, sending electricity straight between his legs. Someone telling him he was good was normal, but coming from you? It felt incredible, like every nerve ending in his body was aflame.
You connected your phone to the blue tooth speaker in the kitchen, setting it down on the coffee table. You did not want to deprive him of his hearing, remembering how terrifying that was for him. You did want to make it harder for him to ‘see’ you though. The heavy bass was low, steady- it would be enough to distract him. You looked up to see his brow furrowed, and then relax as he realized what you were doing. You smiled to yourself as you began to untie his shoes, asking for him to lift his feet so you could remove each of them, as well as his socks. You sat up, gliding your hands up each of his legs as you rose, purposely running your hand up the prominent ridge that was caged beneath the fabric. Still his hands remained at his sides, even if they did twitch at the contact. You undid his belt, pulling it out of the loops so slowly Matt felt like screaming. He felt you unfasten his dress pants and stepped out of them when you asked.
You stood, folding them carefully and placing them on top of his shoes that you had set to the side of the coffee table. You freed him from his tie even more slowly than his belt, if that was possible, and started on the buttons of his white shirt. He shuddered as you moved behind him, removing the fabric from his body and leaving him in only the silk of his black briefs. The air of the apartment felt almost frigid on his heated skin. Matts entire body looked like it was vibrating with anticipation. He was unsure if it was in his head or if it was truly happening. He gasped as he felt your nails graze along the skin of his hips, you pulling him closer so you were chest to chest. When had you moved from behind him? His hands shot out into the air, seeking to steady himself, not to touch you.
You laughed again and it was the only noise you had made in the past minute. You had been right – the music was distracting enough that it was harder for him to know where you were. Your hands were all over him, moving so achingly slow. Matt let out a low sound, almost like a whine as your hand slithered up the side of his neck, coming to rest on the back of his jaw. Matt leaned into your hand, pliant and desperate already. You withdrew your hand, much to Matt’s dismay. You began to take off your clothes, still so close to him that he could feel the fabric slide against him as you removed them. His hands remained still, though not without struggle. Unlike the care you had shown his belongings, you tossed yours into one of the armchairs, leaving you in only your underclothes. You had bought them specifically for Matt and felt extremely fortunate that this was the day you had decided to wear them. Any other day, by the time he was this riled up? They would have been torn to shreds. You pressed yourself back against him, making sure that he felt what they were made of.
“Are these…” he trailed off, but you knew the end of the question. Silk
“Yes, your favorite. Such a shame you aren’t allowed to touch them yourself.” You teased emphasizing your point by brushing the side of your chest against his as you turned away from him.
“What color?” he murmured, sounding like he was about to break already.
Matt let out a shuddered gasp or a groan every time you touched him, continuing your painfully unhurried ministrations. There were light touches, some scratching, digging your nails in, and soft hands over his skin to soothe it once again. You had threatened to drag it out, and you kept your word. You gently instructed him to kneel, making sure he had the pillow beneath him. You placed his hands on his thighs, palms upward and told him to keep them that way.
After what felt like hours, you answered. “What color do you think they are?”
Matt knew you were right in front of him, your scent even stronger than it was before. Mixed with the perfumed oil you wore? He was going to lose his mind. Matt tilted his head upward towards the sound of your voice.
“Black?”
“That’s my favorite color. They’re your favorite color. They’re a deep burgundy, the same color as the other Daredevil suit.” You described, leaning down so your lips were next to his ear. He felt the feather light touch of your hair on his shoulder. You began to sweep kisses down Matt’s neck, his head dropping back even further at the feeling. Your arms wrapped around him, clawing lightly across his shoulder blades. Matt inhaled sharply as he felt you apply pressure to the curve of his shoulder with your teeth.
You hesitated, waiting for an objection. You received none, so you continued. The sound that came out of Matt Murdock was so beautiful and you loved every second of it. You proceeded to leave marks all over the front of him, your hands running over his body softly in contrast. Satisfied with your work, you brought your lips back to his. Matt kissed you like you were the only source of air in the room; this was the only way you were allowing him to touch you of his own volition, and he took advantage of it. Through all of this, Matt had kept his hands to himself, and you knew that had taken great restraint. You decided to reward his good behavior. You slid off your underclothes, placing them in his hands as you praised him once again. You wore nothing but the blue goldstone crystal that hung around your neck. You never took it off, and Matt had never asked why. You would tell him, when you were ready.
“You’re doing so good for me Matty. You can feel them if you want to.”
His hands immediately grasped the fabric, fingers flying over the soft silk. Some of it was darkened and wet from you. Matt’s tongue flicked out between his lips, salivating at the thought of how wet you were right now. He heard the leather of the couch shift as you sat down and leaned forward, extending out your hand.
“Give them back now. Please.”
He did not want to. He wasn’t sure when or if you were going to let him touch you again. If these strips of silk and thread were as close as he got, he wanted to keep them. Begrudgingly, Matthew did as he was asked, handing them over to you. Matt was so frustrated and over stimulated he almost wanted to cry. You could see the distressed look on his face. You had tortured him quite a bit, without even touching the most rigid part of him. He had not touched you or tried to. Not once. But you could not give in this soon.
“What do you want?”
“I want to taste you, please.”
Matt’s response was quick, eager. He needed something, anything that you would give him.
You tilted your head considering, twisting the cord around your neck between your fingers. Matt would normally wrap his arms under your thighs and hold onto your hips when he used his tongue on you, that way his hands were always close when he needed them. This beautifully desperate man was literally begging to taste you at your feet. How could you deny him?
“You did keep your hands to yourself, and you have been good. You have my permission to do so. Mouth only. Keep your hands on your knees or the floor.”
You gasped at how swiftly his mouth was on you. Matt kissed the inside of your thigh, up to your hip, and back down again. You were his God tonight, and he was already on his knees- he may as well show his reverence at the altar of your hips. Matt descended on your core like a man starved. You were so drenched, and it was all for him. If heaven did not exist after this life, at least he found it between your thighs.
You reached down and buried your hands in his hair. Matt groaned underneath you, silently begging for you to pull his waves. You obliged, and he thanked you by working his tongue in circles against the most sensitive part of you. Within minutes, you were close to the edge. You felt it building, heat rushing up your legs. Matt was vicious and determined, not easing up for even a second. Your entire lower body began to tremble, and you swore you could feel him smirking between your legs. You only got vocal when you were close, and the symphony breathy, almost whispery moans spilling from your throat were Matt’s indication. He could hear your heart rate increasing wildly- any second now. Your thighs closed around his shoulders, and you finished with his name on your lips. Matt continued to lick languidly at your core- you hadn’t told him to stop, so he wouldn’t. Suddenly you were moving, kissing him roughly, tasting yourself on his tongue and reaching down to tug at the only article of clothing that separated you.
“Off.” You growled against his mouth, standing with him as he rose to obey your command. You broke away to look at him, now free of any barrier between you.
“Sit down, now.”
Matt hurriedly followed your order, aching for you to touch him.
“Put your hands behind your back, you’re still not allowed to touch me.”
He unwillingly did so. Matt wanted to touch you so much, the frustration that nearly brought him to tears earlier returning. He stopped breathing as he felt your legs straddle him, staying just high enough that you wouldn’t touch his cock.
“Please.” He begged, writhing his hips beneath you, hopelessly searching for friction.
Hearing Matt beg was threatening to drive you completely insane, just like hearing him moan did. You smiled wickedly as you ripped a guttural noise from him, just from running your center over the length of him. His head fell against the back of the couch as you reached between your bodies to line yourself up with him. You were wet enough that he was fully sheathed within you in one motion. Matt’s hips moved upward instinctively, but you made him stop, regardless of how good it felt for you. Oh, gods did he feel good. You had no intention of moving- not yet anyway. Matt was breaking apart underneath you as you just sat there, tracing your hands along his chest. You would rock your hips occasionally, just to keep him on his toes. You wanted to test a theory, so you slipped your hand around Matt's throat. You felt him tense up. That was a dangerous and vulnerable place for him, and you wanted to make sure that his love of choking went both ways. Matt’s eyes brimmed with tears that threatened to spill over. He was so frustrated.
“Please.” He begged once more, as though it was the only word he knew anymore.
You applied pressure to the sides, only obstructing his blood flow. The sound that Matt made was unholy as you began to ride him, on hand on his throat, and one on the back of the couch for balance.
He was more vocal than you were normally, but he had never made this much noise. The amount of over stimulation he felt was beyond anything he had ever had. Matt was so sensitive to begin with, and the amount of hell you had just put him through was astronomical. You felt so good, and that was all that mattered in this moment. He knew he was not going to last long, and neither were you.
You felt the muscles that wrapped around him start to contract, and so did he. Your hand was still around his throat, loosened to give him a break. He stayed still, letting you do all the work just like you wanted. You were so close, and the small hitch in Matts breathing told you he was too. His breathing became more ragged, mixed in with groans and pleas of your name.
“You can touch me, take what you need.” You granted him permission, knowing he would finish any moment.
Matthews arms shot out from behind him, wrapping around your back and clawing at your spine like it would anchor him there. He sank his teeth into your neck, leaving marks to match his own. Matt tumbled over the edge with a cry that resembled a sob and he continued to thrust into you, burying his face into your throat. That was all you needed to follow him. Your second orgasm hit you in waves, hard and fast.
It was your turn to say please, to beg.
“Matty stop, please.” You whispered.
Matt ceased the movement of his hips, the tears that you had seen in his eyes had fallen. You wiped them away as his hands roamed over you. You touched your forehead to his and held him.
“You did so well. You’re here, you’re safe. I love you.” You breathed between giving him gentle kisses and running your fingers through his hair again.
Matt’s breathing soon returned to normal, and he rested his head against your chest.
“Did you get what you needed, my love?”
He nodded, exhausted.
“Im glad. We should get you cleaned up and into something soft, don’t you think?”
His arms wrapped tighter around you in protest.
“Matty.”
“Just a couple more minutes.” He mumbled, looking like he would pass out any second.
“No, sweet boy. Now. If we wait any longer, you’re going to fall asleep. Ill wash you and your hair. You won’t have to do a thing.”
He groaned but concluded that you were right. His body jerked as you untangled yourself from him. You went to start the water in the shower, gathering up grey sweats and a hoodie for him and one of his bigger shirts and a pair of shorts for you. You helped him up from the couch and into the tub, watching the relaxation set in as the hot water ran in cascades down his body.
“Why didn’t you physically restrain me? Why did you only tell me to keep my hands to myself?” he asked , some of the high wearing off.
“Because I knew I didn’t need it. Your primary love languages are touch and acts of service Matt. I used that to my advantage. Not touching me was agonizing, but your need to please me kept your hands away. I also don’t have proper rope right now and restraining someone with anything but that is a good way to hurt yourself.”
“Huh.” He nodded as you washed his hair.
“You could absolutely be a villain with the way your brain works sometimes you know.” He concluded after some time. Matt was now washing your hair for you, even though you wanted to spoil him.
“You deserve aftercare too.”
Thank the gods for this man.
After toweling off, you both dressed, got water and got into bed. You curled around him, nuzzling into his chest and leaving kisses on all the marks you made. The sound of his breathing steadied and slowed within five minutes. You looked up at him, asking silently how you ever deserved him, drifting to sleep at the thought of all the things you would do for him tomorrow. Matt Murdock deserved the world, and you would give it to him in whatever way you could
Warnings: SPICE. WHOLE LOTTA SPICE. Dom/Sub, Dom! Matt, sub! Reader,afab!reader, primal kink, SLOW BURN, fingering, unprotected sex, public sex, light degradation, allusion to female anatomy, angst, violence, INHALER WARNING FOR MY BEST AVOCADO.
Word count: 5,774
A/N: Custom fic request for @lexlovescoffee . This was a long one to write because my brain would not stop thinking of things to add to it. I hope its everything you wanted.
This was proof read and edited, so if you find a mistake; no you didn't. I will be re-reading it a thousand time to continue to edit because I am a perfectionist.
@matt-erialgirl @loki-silver-tongued-god and @freshabogados enjoy.
1:00 AM: The Docks
“You ready?” Matt whispered, flashing his teeth in an overconfident grin. The grin itself was a lie.
“Almost, just a minute. Are you still sure this is a good idea?” you replied, pulling your short waves back and out of the way. The breeze off the water was cold against the shorter sides of your head.
“Of course. If you can evade me, you can evade anyone. Don’t tell me you’re getting nervous sweetheart.” Matt uttering the half-truth. The reality was that he was the anxious one.
You rolled your eyes, a smile parting your lips as you scoffed.
“Nervous? Never. Excited maybe, but not nervous.”
Matt stepped closer to you, the half foot of difference in height between you seeming more considerable than normal. Something about how Matt carried himself as Daredevil made him seem taller. Maybe it was how straight he stood, or perhaps it was because you could see how heavily built he truly was, even through the black fabric of his clothes. You were always in awe of just how distracted Matt could make you in just pants and a shirt, but that shirt? Those pants?
You found yourself pulling your lip between your teeth thinking about what was beneath them.
“Are you sure?” he smirked, dropping his voice low as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.
“If you don’t behave yourself, I’m going to be a different kind of excited, and that would be cheating, counselor.”
Matthew let out a soft laugh, stepping back.
“I suppose you would be correct. Let’s go over it again.”
“I’m going to try and escape you, whatever that takes. If that means hiding, I hide. If that means fighting you to get away, I must do so. If that means running, I must do so. I have to evade you by any means necessary, but I cannot leave the docks or the shipyard.” You ran though it for what felt like the hundredth time.
“And?”
“And don’t hold back because you won’t either.”
“And if at any point you feel unsafe, you-” he continued, wanting to make sure that you knew.
“Will call out the safe word. Matt, I know were only fighting defensively, not to hurt each other. Not unless I have to.” You finished for him, crossing your arms to pull your hoodie in tighter. Correction; Matt’s hoodie. You had grabbed it, hoping it would be enough to confuse his sense of smell.
“Swear to me. Promise me that you will say it if you need to.” He licked his lips, growing more apprehensive by the second.
You paused, stunned at his sudden urgency. Concerned, you stepped forward, closing the distance between the two of you once again. Matt let out a deep breath as you reached forward, placing your hand at the back of his head to play with the small amount of hair that was exposed beneath the mask to soothe him.
“What’s on your mind. Talk to me.”
Matt Murdock was at a loss. Initially, he had thought your idea to be a brilliant one. You wanted to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that you could keep up with him. He had laughed, telling you that you didn’t need to prove anything.
“If I can fight and get away from the Devil, I can fight and get away from anyone.” You had countered, standing your ground.
You had talked for hours about ground rules, what was allowed and what was not. When to do this exercise and where. You had both decided that late night at the shipyard, on the one day of the week where no dock workers would be there, was the best time and place. You had set a time limit of two hours. Matt had argued that you would need to be offensive in order to get him off you if he were to catch you, and you had compromised; both of you would only fight defensively, with you being able to switch if the need arose.
“Only with enough force as is needed, not excessive.”
“No, you will get away by whatever means necessary.”
“Fine.”
Now? Now he was nervous. What if this made you afraid of… him? The fight between the two of you in the parking structure upon your first- well, second meeting-had been more of a dance. A battle of wills rather than strength. The struggle between the two of you had been exhilarating, fun even. But this? This was entirely different. He knew how stubborn you were- in that you were both evenly matched. Matt was afraid of going too dark, of hurting you. The creature inside him, the one that would not allow him to quit, stirred and clawed at its cage. He swallowed hard, a tense smile forming across his face.
“It’s nothing. I just…”
The Beast inside of me is going to get you.
The thought echoed within the confines of his mind.
“You’re afraid you’re going to hurt me, aren’t you?” you concluded, wrapping your arms around him.
This man was a saint, always putting others before himself. Sometimes he cared too much.
“I told you before, when we had that conversation about activities, that I trust you. I know you won’t hurt me on purpose. I absolve you of any accidental wrongdoing.”
Oh, he remembered. The conversation where you were against the brick wall in his apartment …with his hand wrapped around your throat. That conversation that had escalated into the two of you devouring each other, in every sense of the word.
“This…isn’t the same thing. I am different when I’m chasing someone.”
“I know. I’ve seen it. That’s why this is important to me. Your prey drive is insane- you don’t quit Matt. If I can get away from you, then you can worry for me less when were out. In this instance, I am the prey, and you are the hunter. It’s not complicated. Just pretend that I’m some attractive assassin that killed a man because he looked at me the wrong way. I am not afraid of you Matthew; I never have been, never will be.”
That would help him be less anxious about you being with him in the night, that was true. But the drive that you were talking about is what was making him fearful. It was a drive in him that was almost… primal. Matt reached down and tilted your face up to his, placing his lips on yours. He heard your heart rate increase, felt the pounding of your blood against his hand. You were here, you were whole. Matt conceded to continue. He broke away from you, just as a small moan escaped your mouth. Making you excited would, in fact, give him an advantage. Matthew Murdock was not one for cheating. He touched his forehead to yours, breathing you in one last time.
“Alright. You have a ten-minute head start, then the devil is coming for you.”
1:32 AM
You had taken off like a shot, a thrill rushing through you. Your many plans and ideas surfaced in your mind. Just because there were no dock workers, didn’t mean there couldn’t be noise. You aimed to find the loudest place in the shipyard, the edge closest to the city. Hell’s Kitchen was still buzzing and very much alive, even in the late hours of the night. Along the way, throughout the hundreds and hundreds of shipping crates and trailers, you had rubbed your perfume and a shirt you had brought with you to throw off Matt’s sense of smell. You even went as far as to cut your hand open to smear blood in various places. You focused on regulating your breathing, trying not to be too loud, attempting to keep your heart rate as even as you could. You picked up some gravel along the way, something to throw-to make noise with. After you felt satisfied with your diversions, you centered your attention on finding a spot to hide. One where Matt could not sneak up on you, one with multiple exit points. Anything confined would not work, if Matt could trap you in a small space, you were done for.
1:45 AM
Matthew had given you three extra minutes; you were going to need them. He started walking, feeling the stress of the day fall away and the focus of the hunt sink in. Matt drew in a deep breath, the fuel of the machinery, the salt of the water, and the steel of the shipping containers assaulting him first. Then, you. The scented oil you wore, the natural chemistry of your body, and your blood. He smirked to himself. Smart, you were so smart. The amount of perfume and blood was vaguely overwhelming. It was achieving what you had intended, but blood dried and scents on cold surfaces would fade eventually. Matt listened for your breathing, your pulse, both of which were hard to discern with the rest of the hearts beating throughout the city. As he got closer, it would become easier for him to hear it. He felt himself getting riled up at the thought of chasing you and eventually seizing you. Hunter and prey indeed.
2:06 AM
On top of a shipping container, in the space between the two that rested atop it, you waited. There were three exit points, one up and one to either side. You had wrapped your hand to staunch the bleeding, not wanting the origin of the scent to give away your position. You sat in your hiding spot, checking your watch to see how much time had passed. You knew Matt would find you, that much was inevitable, it was simply a question of when. You could not let your guard down for even a moment. It was not Matt you would be facing off with, it was the Devil. When Matt was in full focus mode, he was damn near impossible to get away from. You couldn’t deny that it sent a bolt of excitement through your body, the thought of the devil being set free to chase you.
“I can smell how excited you are. Did you really think you would get away?”
You heard his voice ring out, taunting you. He sounded distant, still far enough away for you to run and choose a different spot to hide if you wanted to.
“Does the thought of the devil catching you make you wet?” he continued, closer still. You heard the distinct sound of a piece of metal being run against the corrugation of the steel containers. He was closer than you thought, and he wanted you to know it.
“Someone’s having too much fun.” You thought, shaking your head.
Carefully, you got to your feet, ready to fight or flee; whichever came first. You felt your heart rate increase, anxious at the silence. Everything else fell away, you were breathing too loud, your pulse pounding in your temples. Then you heard it, the smallest shift of a boot. Your head snapped to the side, seeing the top of Matt’s head rising from the end of the container. He was climbing up, and you needed to move.
2:07 AM
Matt felt your foot connect with his chest as it came into view. His grip on the shipping container was almost lost. Almost. You were holding back, which was a mistake. The Devil couldn’t wait to have his hands on you, to bite into your skin, bruise your thighs…he might even make you scream.
“No, not that. That’s not what were trying to do here.”
Matt shook his head, nearly imperceptibly.
“Oh, sweetheart you’ll have to hit harder than that.” Matt teased, pulling himself upward and reaching to grab you.
You had jumped up between the two adjacent containers to avoid him, your feet anchoring your body weight. You jumped up again, climbing onto the top of the steel box and sprinting down the row of them. Matt was gaining ground behind you; gods damn he was fast. You dropped into a space similar to your original hiding spot, waiting for him to drop in after you. Matt did so, wrapping his arms around you as soon as he could. Just like you had planned.
“I’ve got you.” He growled in your ear, voice low and hoarse.
“Do you? Or do I have you?” you smirked.
Matt’s head tilted to the side, amused.
You slammed your head backwards into his throat, shoving his body into the wall of the container and knocking the wind out of him. He did not release you, but his grip loosened enough for you to break his hold and slip out of his grasp. You rolled off the side of the box, landing on your feet and running yet again.
2:10 AM
Matt’s throat burned from where your head had struck him. This only made the beast claw harder, yearning to get out. His legs moved quickly, closing the distance between you. His arm shot out and you caught it, blocking him. He took each blow he received with grace, knowing that you would feel guilty about it later. Matt tasted blood on his lips, and quickly wiped it away. He trapped you again, this time with you facing him. He felt your heart beating wildly against your ribcage, your chest heaving as you struggled against him. Your scent was thick with arousal and anxiety, merging into something all too intoxicating. After several attempts to break free, you were successful, sweeping his feet from beneath him for good measure after you escaped. Off you went again, but not for long.
2:16 AM
You threw the rocks from your pocket to make it seem like you were going in a different direction than you were. It had worked the first two times, but you were certain Matt had purposely made it appear that he fell for it. He wanted to drag this out. You felt a small, light impact on your face. Then another. Rain. It was raining now, gradually turning into a downpour. This could work to your advantage. The incessant pattering of the water as it beat against the containers, the ground, and the metal fence that surrounded the expensive machinery would hopefully be enough to distract Matt from finding you again too quickly. You picked up your pace, betting on that to help you hide.
2:20 AM
He had lost you; the weather had made sure of that. Your natural scent drowned out with the torrential rain that fell hard against the concrete. That was alright, he would find you again soon enough. The thrill of this chase- this hunt- was driving him insane. He wanted nothing more than to catch you. You had to be getting tired by now, all this running. All Matt had to do was focus and listen. He closed his eyes, carefully separating the sounds in his environment. He was searching for your pulse, hearing the metal being assaulted by the rain first and foremost. Matt set that aside, letting that distraction fall away. With each noise he did this, until there was nothing left but-
"There."
The leash on Matt’s self-control was fleeting, and he felt himself growing more feral. The longer this continued, the more difficult it would be to command it.
He would have to move more cautiously; you would be expecting him.
2:48 AM
"I can hear you heart thrashing in your chest, sweetheart. I will find you, and when I do, well, maybe I’ll have to tear it out, with my teeth."
You weren’t sure if you liked the sound of that. At this point you weren’t even sure if Matt was just playing with you or if he was taking his role too seriously. You knew he was close as he began to throw his fist against the boxes as he walked, in rhythm with your heart rate. A decision had to be made, and quickly. You chose the element of surprise, even though the chances of Matt not detecting you were very slim. In the shadows, you waited until he was in finally in sight…and you leapt.
He was harder to hang onto than you expected with the water that soaked through his clothes and skin. Matt flipped you off him, easier than he would a have been able to if you had both been dry. You rolled quickly, moving into a half kneeling position. Staying low would be your best option, it was louder closer to the ground. You saw that charming, arrogant smile spread across his face. Your leg struck out again, attempting to separate his feet from the ground. Matt avoided it easily, predicting your movements. He heard you breath out hard in frustration. He did not, however, expect the thing you did next. You threw yourself at his legs, dragging him down to the concrete. You got what you wanted; Matt tumbled to the ground. You rushed to untangle yourself from him, but he was faster. As soon as you found your feet, Matt’s hand had taken a hold of your leg, pulling you back down. You twisted to break his hold, kicking at his arms as he dragged you backwards. You swore you heard him growl as both hands reached for you this time, before you could even stand. You flailed in his grasp, trying so hard to escape. You could not let him win. You tried to pry his hands away with your own, but your left hand was slick with blood; the wound had reopened when he dragged you across the concrete. It felt like you blinked and suddenly he was on top of you, hovering above you with your hands pinned above your head, with only one of his. You wriggled beneath him, groaning in frustration.
Matt laughed, even as the feeling of you writhing and whimpering underneath him threatened to be his undoing. He felt the smartwatch you wore on your left wrist, counting down how much time was left and felt something else on the other. The leather band you had both chosen. Not a collar, but something similar. You had both agreed that if you were wearing it, consent was freely given- he didn’t need to ask. With his free hand, he unzipped the jacket you wore, placing his hand on your now bare throat. You froze, ceasing all movement entirely.
Your heart was pounding, mind racing. What was he doing? Was he trying to distract you? It was effective, but only for a moment. You managed to free your blood-soaked hand from his grip, clawing Matt across his face and jaw. You drew your feet up and onto is hips in the seconds that he recoiled, shoving upward with all your might. Matt flew backwards, unsurprised at the force you exerted. He knew just how strong your legs were. Now you weren’t holding back, and that would make your capture more rewarding. He recovered quickly, reaching out for your again, only to seize hold of the hoodie, now loose around your form. You twisted, wrapping the material around his hands, dancing out of the damp fabric. You did not hesitate, tearing down the path and disappearing once again into the dark.
2:56 AM
You felt like you had never run this much your life. You had not run this fast since that day. You shook your head- now was not the time. You shivered, wishing you had worn more layers. You had only put on a pair of leggings and a tight crop top over your binder to keep you colder, hoping you would sweat less. You had not prepared for rain. While the noise it created made it easier to avoid Matt for longer periods of time, it was severely unhelpful in terms of keeping you warm. You neared the edge of the shipyard, where the roar of the city was the loudest. You scaled the metal bars of the fence that kept the shipyard equipment safe, or at least the city thought it did. Having horizontal support bars every few feet enabled you the climb up and over quickly. The fence would only be an obstacle for Matt for a few minutes, but it was a few precious minutes that could give you an advantage.
3:05 AM
You waited for what felt like an hour. Even with the cacophony of sounds from Hell’s Kitchen bleeding over into the shipyard, it seemed too quiet. Twenty- five more minutes. That’s all it would take, and you would be victorious.
3:15 AM
The creature that lurked within Matt had been let out, and he had almost fully surrendered himself over to it. It would only be a matter of time before he had you between his teeth.
3:25 AM
Your head snapped up as you heard the clang of metal as Matt climbed the fence, sliding down the bars to the ground on the opposite side. The Devil was here, and he was coming for you.
3:28 AM
He could hear you, taste you- your scent was everywhere, driving him completely insane. Your eyes found him, and you ran. Matt was going to ensure that this was the last time he would have to chase you.
3:30 AM
Your watch went off, signifying that the time was up as you sprinted. You had already won by default, but you weren’t going to stop running, not until you made it to the other side of the fence. Then you would well and truly have escaped the devil. You needed this, you had to do this for yourself. Matt was coming closer, still pursuing you. He didn’t want to give up either then. Good. That would make all this running worth it, just to hear him admit defeat. You slid to a stop at the fence at the opposite side of the enclosure. You just had to bet on you being able to climb faster than Matt. You started to ascend, only to be wrenched back down by him. He pinned you against the bars with his body. You let out a soft laugh, breathing hard.
“I win.” You panted, grinning from ear to ear.
“Oh, we’re so far past that sweetheart.”
Matt grabbed you, spinning you around to face him.
“What are you even-” your words were cut short as Matt captured both your wrists against, bracing them above your head.
The Devil decided your throat was too far out of his reach. You gasped as you felt Matt’s hand reach through to the bar between your legs and lift you upwards with his arm. You were now eye level with him, the lights from the city painting the planes of his face in various colors. The hue that stuck out the most was the smear of your blood across his face. Matt moved his arm against your center, a small noise escaping you.
Matt only laughed, bringing his mouth to your throat, kissing more gently than you had anticipated. He reveled in the feeling of your heart racing beneath his lips as he moved to the side of your neck, biting down. The sound you made was borderline sinful, and exactly was he wanted. Your legs lifted instinctively, wrapping around Matt’s body, your hips shifting against his arm, craving friction.
“You’re so desperate already, is this is all it takes?” Matt grinned wickedly against your skin, biting down even harder. You screamed, unable to contain it. The sound was going to push him to insanity. Your skin was burning, his touch only stoking the flames. Matt pulled his arm from between you, releasing your arms as well. He didn’t need to restrain you anymore- you were all his. Your arms encircle him, holding onto him. Matt leans down, and your arms stay locked around him as he pushes your legs off his hips. His hand reaches upward, touching yours. Turning your hand over, he taps your palm, making sure you’re alright. He may not need to ask for consent, but he also knew that you sometimes went non-verbal if “you went too far down the rabbit hole” as you put it. He feels you nod against him and you tap back into his hand, already unable to form words.
The taps were code; I’m alright, I’m here, I’m safe.
He wasted no time, the beast ravenous and begging to be satiated. His hand wrapped around your throat, applying pressure in all the right places. Your hands reach back to touch him, one seeking purchase on his forearm, the other interlacing your fingers with his. Your soft inhale echoes in his ears as he reaches beneath your leggings, his fingers finding exactly what he thought. You were completely drenched, all for him. Your legs threatened to collapse beneath you as he finally, finally touched you. Matts fingers made small, tight circles that were achingly slow. After a few minutes, he pressed harder, ever so slightly. A low whine greeted him, your knees yielding beneath you. Matt stops immediately, pulling his hand away from the apex of your thighs and your throat.
“Poor sweet thing, can’t even stand on your own, can you? Reach up and hold the bars.”
You did as you were told, completely at his mercy. He brought his mouth back down on your pulse point, traveling downward with his lips and teeth, hands firmly gripping your hips ensuring that you didn’t move. Matt was eventually on his knees, pulling off your boots and tossing them aside. His hands moved back up your legs as he rose, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your pants, dragging them down and leaving the lower half of you bare.
Matt runs his hands down your arms, over your tattoos. One hand takes its place back around your throat, the other sliding down further. A temperate moan slips from you, and he hasn’t even touched you again yet. Your desperation urges him on, two fingers diving between you and sliding in with ease.
“Mine.” Matt growls, claiming your mouth as he curves his fingers upward, thumb resuming the precise circles he knew drove you mad.
You groan against his mouth, lost entirely. You didn’t care that you were technically in public. You didn’t care that it was raining. You weren’t cold anymore, and you could swear you saw steam rolling off Matt’s shoulders. He released your throat, his hand traveling to your thigh, digging in so hard it would leave bruises in the shape of his fingerprints. You felt the heat coiling within you, the flames traveling up your legs. Your breathing became more erratic under Matt’s mouth, quiet moans signifying that you were at the precipice.
“Cum for me.” He whispered, his tongue sweeping across your lower lip before entering your mouth to swallow every delicious noise you would give him.
You needed little instruction after that. Your back arched away from the fence, and you came apart around Matt’s fingers. Your rocked against him as his fingers steadied, slipping out of you and moving up to replace his thumb. One of your hands came down to rest on the back of his neck, trying to get his attention. You were so sensitive, still shaking from the aftershock; it was too much.
“Did I say you could let go of the bar?” he snapped, moving his fingers even faster.
You reluctantly put your hand back, legs shaking from the overstimulation. You could hardly breathe as you felt yourself rushing toward the edge again.
“Are you going to cum for me again? Already? Such a whore for me.”
Tears stung your eyes, your moans fringing on sobs as you felt yourself falling to pieces once again. You screamed, helpless against Matt’s continued touch.
“Go right ahead and scream, no one is going to hear you. And if they do, I will hear them before they get anywhere near us.”
Matt tasted salt against your mouth; you were crying. Matt groaned against you, pulling his hands away from you. He could imagine how you looked, soaking wet in more ways than one, hands above your head, flushed, tear streaks down your face, and ruined. Your chest heaved, releasing the bar once again to give your arms a break. He knew you were tired, but he wasn’t quite through with you yet.
“Oh, sweetheart we’re not done. You have one minute to put your arms back up.”
You counted the seconds, wishing they would go by faster. You ached for him, and you knew he knew it. Matt’s lascivious smile returned as he heard your hands return to the fence. He freed himself from his pants, not bothering to take them off. Matt reached down, placing his hands behind your thighs and lifting you, lining himself up. He pulled you down onto his length, burying himself in you. He loved hearing the little gasp you always made when he entered you. Matthew set a relentless pace, vicious and unyielding. Your head rested against the metal bars, the symphony of pleasure spilling from you echoed through his body. He gripped your hips so tightly, the bruises he would leave would match the ones on your thighs. He snapped his hips upward, hard, being given a sharp whine in response. One hand cracked across the outside of your thigh, gripping it harshly afterwards.
“Mine.” He repeated, kissing the base of your throat. Your pulse was wild, and he took pride in the fact that he was the cause.
“Yours.” You had managed to reply, the word barely coming out.
He felt himself growing closer, but he needed something.
“Put your hands on me, now.”
Your hands came away from the metal of the fence, wrapping around his back. Your nails dug into his skin, even through the fabric. Between that, the whispery, almost breath like noises you were making, and the way you felt wrapped around him? It was enough. You cried out louder as he went harder, deeper, chasing his end.
“Look at me.” He demanded, voice low and graveled.
You obeyed, gazing down at the Devil, who loved you so much and fucked you like he loathed you. You never knew how he would know if you looked at him or not, but he always did. Your stare his undoing. Matt let out a hushed, choked noise-the same noise he made right as he was about to come apart.
“Please.” You begged, needing him to claim you in every definition of the word.
Matthew came undone, moaning against your neck. Your body was trembling, trapped between Matt and the bars. He was breathing hard against you, cock still twitching as he slid out, dripping with you. The fog lifted from his brain, and he was just Matthew again.
“Can you stand if I put you down?” he murmured against your skin. He felt you nod against his shoulder and he placed you gently on your feet, not releasing his hold on you until he was sure you could keep yourself up. You were a bit unsteady, but ultimately stayed upright. Matt tore off his mask, shoving it into his pocket and righting himself. His hands were on you immediately, their movements careful and soft. Matt caressed your face, listening to your heart rate decrease and stabilize.
“Sweetheart are you okay?” he whispered, brushing the wet strands of hair from your eyes. The rain had stopped at some point but had gone unnoticed. You were shivering, no longer warmed by the shared body heat.
You nodded, tapping into his palm. You still couldn’t speak; coming back down to earth took you longer than it did him.
Matt gathered your clothes and boots, helping you put them back on. He hated that they were wet and would make you colder, but he resigned himself to carrying you all the way back to the apartment as a compromise.
………………………………………………………………………………………………….
“I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t know what that was.”
You looked up from you spot on his couch, a warm mug of chai tea in your hands. Matt had immediately stripped you upon your return to his place, shoving a pair of sweats and a fresh, warm hoodie into your hands. While you changed, he made your tea to warm you, two spoons of sugar and a splash of cream, exactly how you liked it. You had settled on the couch, wrapped in one of Matt’s soft blankets. Matt had changed out of his clothes as well, a pair of black sweatpants low on his hips.
“For what?”
He cocked his head, confused.
“I…took advantage. I don’t know what came over me. It’s like I couldn’t stop myself.”
You shook your head.
“You did nothing of the sort. See this? Well, you can’t see it, but you know what I mean.” You reassured him, offering him the wrist that the red and black leather strap was wrapped around.
“You and I both know what this means. I hardly ever take it off because I trust you, completely. Honestly I’m blushing because you want me that much.”
Matt made his way to the couch, snuggling in behind you so he could play with your hair for a change. You hummed in satisfaction as his fingers tracked through your loose curls. You took a sip of your tea, sighing with contentment.
“Primal play. It’s called primal play.”
“What is?”
“What happened tonight, you have a primal kink Matt. Truthfully, I’m not shocked by that. That’s why I wore the bracelet, in case that happened.”
Now Matthew felt a flush spread across his face.
“That’s a thing?” he asked, some clarity gained from it simply having a name.
“That is in fact, a thing counselor.”
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
You smiled, turning your head to touch your lips to his.
“I ask myself the same thing about you all the time, Matthew.”
Matt brought his mouth to your temple, placing a kiss there. You loved moments like this, pieces of intimacy that were more than just physical. You moved again to kiss him, savoring the taste of him against your mouth.
Matt felt you smile, and then let out a small laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
You smirked, the corner of your mouth lifting as you whispered.
Pairing; Matt MurdockX ReaderOC (nonbinary reader, uses she/they pronouns)
Warnings; Ahem, TWO IDIOTS PINING AFTER EACH OTHER. Afab!reader, Hurt/comfort, heavy angst, poorly timed blind jokes. FLUFF.
Y'all know the drill; if you see a mistake- no you didn't.
Based on this Ask combination from @freshabogados ; this ones for you babes.
*A quick guide for this fic. Anything in blue and italicized is dialogue from the movie. Anything in blue and in standard font is being spoken along with the dialogue.*
The fall breeze swept softly over you as you leaned your head back, sighing as your eyes closed. Matt had agreed to come out to your other property after quite a bit of convincing. The pair of you sat on the carved plane on the east side of the hill. The barn that layatop it cast a shadow that narrowly covered him and entirely evaded you. You had gathered up components from your fridge to create a makeshift charcuterie board as you and Matt looked down into the pastures, watching the horses graze and play with each other.
Matt had been extremely hesitant to meet your horses, even though he adored how passionate you were for the misfit ones you had taken in. You had only made a point to introduce Matt to your four personal equine companions. Upon meeting Tristan, Matt had taken an entire step back.
“He’s uh..wow. He is really, really big.” He chuckled, tongue sliding out from his nerves.
“He’s only 18.2 hands, Matt.” You had replied, scratching the large black horse’s forehead as he licked at your hand.
Matt had given you one of his signature head tilts, unsure of what exactly that meant. You often forgot that most people did not have an equestrian centered vocabulary.
“From the ground to the top of his shoulders, he’s about six feet tall. That’s what 18.2 means.”
Matt had been floored, eyebrows raising.
“That doesn’t include his head? That’s insane.”
You had shaken your head and asked for his hand, and Matthew gave it over reluctantly. You had placed it in front of Tristan’s muzzle but did not make contact. You waited for Tristan to come the rest of the way. Matt had felt the breath come from his nostrils and nearly pulled away. He trusted you, and resigned to stand his ground. The giant beast of a horse touched his nose to Matt’s palm, breathing lightly and smoothing his nose against his skin.
“See? He’s just a big baby. All he wants is scratches and treats. Gets that from his mom.” You teased, moving his hand higher to Tristan’s forehead.
“Something is different about him.” Matt commented, raking through the waves of his mane. He could now picture the horse’s face more clearly.
“Different how? Different from my other three?”
Matt had nodded, feeling over Tristan’s face to confirm what he had realized.
“He doesn’t have eyes. At all. He’s blind.” He concluded, feeling over the concave flesh where his eyes should have been.
“I told you, we take in horse’s people just throw away. He was born with a condition called moon blindness, so the owners removed them instead of treating it constantly, and then sold him for next to nothing. His breeding is impeccable, but cosmetically he’s ruined to most people. Tristan is worth far more than what Da- we paid for him. He’s worth more than any price tag.”
Matt had not missed the abrupt correction in your sentence but felt it wise to not press the issue. You would talk about it when you were ready.
“I’d ask if you want to get on him, but you wore your nice pants like I asked you not to.”
You had both laughed and agreed that next time, he would get on with you.
Now you were eating cheese and drinking blood orange soda in the grass with your best friend.
“Thank you.” Matt said suddenly, pulling you from your sun basking.
“Hmm? For what Matty?”
You turned to him, shifting on the blanket you had laid down to protect his clothes.
“Sharing this part of you with me. It’s personal to you and… for people like us being vulnerable is difficult.”
You smiled at his words, knowing, with or without heightened hearing, that he was being honest with you.
“You’re welcome…” your words trailed off as you felt it.
The creak of the aluminum gate was so much sharper than normal as a stable hand closed it behind them. The sun that you had been enjoying only moments before was far too bright.
“No. Not here, not now.” You pleaded silently, willing it to stop.
Matt heard your pulse increase, almost as if you were panicking.
“Are you feeling alright?” he asked, brushing the back of his hand against your arm.
You had begun to shake your head and regretted the decision immediately. It felt like someone was pounding on the inside of your skull. Your eyes screwed shut and you inhaled through your teeth.
“I um… I have a migraine coming on.” You whispered, attempting to stand. You swayed, becoming dizzy as your vision tunneled. You just needed to get to your house on the property before you passed out.
Matt was up almost instantly, reaching to steady you as you stumbled. You felt his arms encircle you.
“Let me help you, what do you need?” Matt asked, trying to be even more soft spoken than usual.
“T-t-t-to ge-et to m-m-my ho-use.” You stuttered out, beginning to shake.
Matt supported you as you walked toward the ranch house at the edge of the property. The world began to spin violently, and you felt the wave of nausea roll over you.
“S-s-slow d-d-down. I t-t-think I’m going to be s-s-sick.” You murmured, trying desperately to not throw up on the grass.
You felt Matt’s hand slide down behind your knees, waiting for confirmation before moving you so suddenly.
“Let me carry you. You can close your eyes, so you won’t have to worry about staying upright and I’ll get there faster.”
You shakily agreed, crying out as he lifted you. Matt apologized, picking up his pace as he made his way to the house. You reached a quivering hand down to punch in the code to unlock the door. Matt nudged the it open with his foot, carefully moving sideways to get the both of you through the entryway. Your tongue felt heavy, and your words slurred slightly as you stuttered the directions to the bathroom for your Excedrin. You took the two Matt gave you with a handful of tap water, uncaring and in too much pain to bother with a glass. You felt cold, so very cold and you were shivering so badly that changing into warmer clothes proved to be a difficult task.
“Should I call an ambulance? Because we both know I can’t drive.” Matt suggested, just outside your door in case you needed him. You fell into the door frame, using the black painted trim to keep you upright.
“Easy, easy.” Matt whispered, reaching to steady you again.
“N-n-n-no. They’ll j-just s-s-s-send me h-home.”
You explained to Matt that the last time this had happened to this degree was several years ago, and that the hospital had run dozens of tests and found no reason for it at all.
“A-a-a-ll t-t-that and the b-b-bullshit b-b-efore it j-j-just t-t-to be to-old to g-g-go h-home.” You grumbled, making your way to the long side of the sectional to sit down. All this stuttering and shaking; you were embarrassed to show any sign of weakness in front of Matt.
“What happened before you went to the E.R?”
“M-my s-s-tupid boyfriend at t-t-the t-time w-w-w-wouldn’t t-t-ake me. I c-called the am-ambulance myself. H-he was t-t-too b-b-busy trying to f-f-fuck me.”
Matt was beyond words for a moment.
“While you were like this? Are you serious?” he asked, appalled.
“I b-begged h-h-him for t-t-two d-days.”
Matt sat down beside you, and you moved closer to him, trying to soak up some of his body heat.
“He let you suffer like this for that long?”
You saw Matt’s fists clench and then release in irritation.
“T-t-three days t-t-t-total. I t-t-thought I w-was d-dying.”
“What a dick. What’s going on right now, what can I do?”
Matt’s tone was soft, gentle even. He hated seeing you this way, and knew that you hated him seeing you like this even more.
“B-blankets. I can’t s-seem to g-get w-warm when this h-h-happens.”
Matt stood, going to your bedroom to retrieve every blanket he could get his hands on. He set them down on the back of the couch and began to take off his belt, tie, and button-down shirt.
“w-w-why are y-you und-dressing in m-my living r-room?”
He had left his white t-shirt that he wore underneath on, to your relief and simultaneous disappointment. You tried to smile, attempting to ease Matt’s concern but could not manage to make any movement without a sharp, blinding pain behind your temples.
“Because you always comment that I’m a furnace, so I intend to put it to good use.”
Matt arranged the multitude of pillows at the corner of the sectional for his back, sitting down on the couch. The long part of the sectional was wide enough to open his legs and spread out.
“Come here, sweetheart.”
You did not have the will to even argue; you laid down between Matt’s legs as you had many times when you would read aloud to him with whatever book you had in hand. You curled up against his chest, exerting so much effort into not making noise as you moved that your breathing grew heavier. Matt could taste the salt from the tears in your eyes as he draped the blankets over you.
“You can cry if you need to. I swear I won’t tell a soul.”
“And have y-y-you think that I’m m-m-more of a baby than you p-p-probably already do? I think n-n-not.” You scoffed, lips turning upward for just a moment.
“I don’t think you’re a baby at all. You’re in pain, and it’s okay. You don’t have to be strong all the time, not in front of me.”
Gods, he was so warm, and breathing in the oak and amber scent of him was soothing. The sound of his heart beating against his chest was somehow not loud to you, even in your current state. It was…comforting. You moved your head to face the couch, turning away from the light of the window, and finally let yourself cry. You would not wish this pain on your worst enemy; between the thrashing in your head, the tunnel vision, and the uncontrollable shaking you would rather die than endure it for any length of time. Unfortunately, you did not have a choice in the matter. You were slowly, slowly warming up. Being this close to Matt was a place of solace for you, but very rarely did you allow yourself to be this…intimate with him. You could not let it go too far-Matt was one of the few good things in your life, and you’d be more damned than you already were if you ruined it. The two of you understood each other, this life, your mutual struggles- and that had to be enough.
Matt held you to his chest, running his finger through your hair and shushing you gently as you whimpered when each new wave of pain coursed through your head. Eventually, you had fallen asleep, and Matt had dared not move for the sake of you getting the rest you clearly needed and the fact that your cat, Thor, had taken residence upon you as well. Matt had thought it amusing that you traveled with him depending on which house you stayed at, but it was clear to him now that the cat knew you needed him. You had one hand on top of the feline, and the other lightly grasping Matt’s free hand beneath the covers. He breathed you in and felt more at home than he had in recent months. Soon enough, he drifted off to sleep himself, thinking that this was wonderful, but that it was something he could not have, nor deserved. You were worthy of so much more than he could give you.
A few hours later, Matt felt you shift above him as you awakened. Your shaking had ceased for the most part, a light intermittent tremble had replaced it. Your head still did not feel great, but it was certainly better than what it had been. You were now too hot, and you pulled all the blankets off you, save for the softest one that Matt had placed on you first.
“Feeling better?” Matt mumbled, voice deep with sleep.
You nodded, rolling over and reaching into your coffee table for a bottle of water for each of you.
“There’s a refrigerated drawer in your coffee table?” Matt mused, cracking the lid and drinking the water down.
“I’m just,” you gasped, downing your own bottle in between words, “full of surprises.”
“I’m glad that your migraine is gone.” Matt said, running his fingers through your hair again.
“Not quite. We’ve downgraded to a normal headache, but I can live with that.”
Matt frowned, his full lips tilting into a full on pout.
“Well that simply won’t do.” He teased, holding you tighter to him. “What can I do to help you feel better?”
Comfortable with each other. That’s all this was.
A smile spread across your face and then faltered.
“What is it?”
You shook your head, signing simultaneously.
“Nevermind, it was a dumb idea.” You sounded defeated, sad.
“Just tell me, I’m positive it wasn’t dumb.” Matt encouraged, his crooked half smirk returning.
“I wanted to watch my comfort film but you can’t even actually watch it. That would be two hours and seven minutes of your time that I would waste.”
“You even know the run time for it? Must be good if you know exactly how long it is.”
“I could probably recite the entire thing from memory if I’m honest. My mom put it on when I was sick in seventh grade one day and I’ve watched it when I’m sad or sick ever since.”
Matt grinned once again, an idea forming in his brain.
“Well, since you’ve seen it so much, why don’t you tell me what’s happening while you watch it?”
“Are you sure that won’t be irritating?” you whispered, unsure.
Matt gave you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder.
"I promise it won't be. It'll be like you're reading to me, with ambient noise."
You could not hold back the wide smile that formed on your lips. Matt was such a good friend.
Friend…
You used your phone to turn on the TV and open Netflix. You had no idea where the remote was, and you were comfortable, having no intention of getting up any time soon. You shifted so your back was against Matt's chest and his arms settled around you. Scrolling through Netflix, you found your favorite comfort film.
The opening music of Stardust filled the living room, and Ian McKellen's narration began.
“A philosopher once asked, "Are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at them because we are human?" Pointless, really..."Do the stars gaze back?" Now, that's a question.”
“I don't need to tell you what is happening yet, the narrator will explain the backstory and set up.” you whispered to Matt, who smiled down at you.
He continued to smile every time you spoke, whether it was explaining that “Victoria is the girl that Tristan likes, but he deserves better than that.” or that the star had just fallen out of the sky and Tristan had promised to go over the wall and bring it back for her.
An ethereal song began when the scene transitioned to the star.
“That’s Yvaine, she’s the star. She made this huge crater and is in a very pretty light blue satin dress with blonde hair. She sat up and looks confused, but she sees the necklace the king threw into the sky that knocked her down. She’s reaching for it and she put it on.”
“Wait, Tristan? Yvaine? Like your horses? Is this what you named them after?” Matt mused, adoring the thought.
“Yes, now shh. So Tristan’s Father just gave him a parchment letter from his mother that is trapped over the wall, and inside is a Babylon candle. You light it, and think of where you want to go and it takes you there. That’s important later. ”
“I have a mother. I mean, I have a mother. She could still be alive.”
Matt couldn’t help the twist in his chest at the words. He still didn’t know his own mother, wasn’t sure if he ever would, or even wanted to sometimes. You felt the grip of his hand on your waist tighten, just for a moment. You reached down and squeezed it back gently. Your mom had been your anchor, and you couldn’t imagine not ever having known her, even though she was gone now.
“He lit it and crashed right into Yvaine. Poor thing, she’s having a rough night. Knocked out of the sky, confused, hurt her ankle, ya know, just star things.”
Matt chuckled at your description, and then again at Yvaine’s boldness. It reminded him of you.
“And right here, this is where it got hit by a magical, flying moron!”
He heard you give a small giggle at Tristans realization that Yvaine was in fact the star. Then heard the rustling sound of metal as Tristan apologized.
“What just happened?”
“He put the piece of enchanted chain around her wrist that he got from his father.”
The film continued with you occasionally narrating what was happening during scenes with no dialogue, and sometimes even saying the dialogue yourself as it went on.
“Shining has been suspended until further notice.”
“Yvaine, hold me tight and think of home.”
“If there's one thing I’ve learned in all my years watching earth, it’s that people aren’t what they may seem. There are shop boys, and there are boys who just happen to work in shops for the time being. And trust me, Tristan, you’re no shop boy. You saved my life, thank you.”
Were among Matt’s favorites that you had quoted thus far.
“Oh, he jumped a little bit because she grabbed his hand. They’re in love counselor.”
Captain Shakespeare began his interrogation, and you were practically radiating with delight.
“He just threw Tristan out of the window of the sky vessel.” you said casually, as though the main character being tossed to his death was unimportant.
Matt did not quite believe you and a few moments later, he was proven right.
“So right now he’s disguising Tristan so he doesn’t look the same. Longer hair, better clothes. Yvaine just picked out a navy blue dress.”
“Surely it would make you happier just to be yourself. Why fight to be accepted by people you don't actually want to be like?
“Yeah. Why would anyone do that to himself? That sounds familiar. Gods, he’s so dumb. Obviously Yvaine is better than Victoria. Least she treats him like a person.” you grumbled, snuggling down further into the couch.
“She reminds me of you.” Matt said before he could stop himself.
Your eyebrows raised, and you shook your head.
“Nah, I’m not that beautiful. She’s a whole star, she's an ethereal being and I’m just…me.”
Your answer back was deflective out of reflex. Taking compliments was still hard for you, even after all this time.
"I disagree." Matt countered, unable to listen to you talk about yourself that way.
"And how exactly would you know, Mr. Justice is blind and so am i?"
You tilted your head upward to look at him, smirking at your own wit. Matt was staring back down at you in his own way, glasses gone and set aside on the couch.
"I know that your nose scrunches up when you're annoyed.And that your mouth twists back and forth when something is bothering you and you think too hard about it. You have this glint in your eyes when you're determined. I can't see it, but I can feel it. I know that you are fiercely loyal to the people you care about. And that is more divine than any star. That's an entire universe of beauty."
You felt a light heat spread across your face.
"I see why you win your court cases, Matt. You just bewitch the jury with your words."
He laughed, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.
"No, I just tell the truth."
You shook your head once more, turning back to the movie.
"They just spent the week learning to dance and sword fight. They're about to drop Tristan and Yvaine off on land. Captain Shakespeare just whispered something in Tristan's ear."
"What did he say? I didn't hear it."
"You're not supposed to. No spoilers Matt. Now they're walking…and now he's on top of her in a bush to hide her."
"Really now?" Matt whispered, brow raising.
"Aren't you tempted?"
For a moment, Matt thought you were talking to him. But he was indeed. Having you this near was dangerous, but he would not dare take advantage of that. That's not what you wanted, not what you needed. You needed a friend-someone who understood you. That was all this could be, and that would have to suffice.
"Tempted? By what?"
"Immortality. Let's say it wasn't my heart. Not me. Just a star you didn't know."
"You seriously think I could kill anybody? Even if I could, I mean, everlasting life? I imagine it would be kind of lonely. Well, maybe if you had someone to share it with. Someone you loved. Then it might be different."
“Speaking of people being reminiscent of other people, the actor that plays Tristan kind of looks like you. Not exactly like you, but maybe you when you were younger? A college era Matt if you will.”
Matt tsked his tongue against his teeth.
“I don’t see it.”
He swore he could feel your eyes roll as you groaned at the joke.
“You don't say? That’s three bad blind jokes between us in less than twelve hours. New record I think. You would know if I’m lying, so why don't you just take my word for it, Matt?” you replied, turning your head upward once again.
“While that sounds enticing, truly, I think I need more evidence to be convinced. Could you describe him for me?”
You turned your body completely to face him, your face hovering above his own, burying your hand in his hair. It took every ounce of will Matt had to not let his head fall back and moan aloud.
“You have the same colored fluffy hair. It's a warm brown with an auburn undertone.” you began moving down his face.
“Fluffy? I don’t know if I would describe it as fluffy.” he protested lightly, grinning wide.
“Good thing it's not your description that you asked for then. He gets these charming little crinkles next to his eyes just like you do when you smile, like right now. And the dimple that surfaces when you smile as well.”
“lAnything else?”
“He has these kind brown eyes, much like yours. His jawline is not as strong as yours, but that’s why I said perhaps college age you. I would love to see a picture of that by the way.”
He reveled in your touch, and prayed you would never stop. It felt right, it felt like home, even though he knew that it was something that could never happen. This was as far as anything between you two ever went; only light touches of reassurance or description. You confided in each other and felt safe in each other’s spaces.
“You would have to ask Foggy to dig them up. Is… that all?” Matt’s words faded as he felt your thumb brush across the lower line of his bottom lip.
“You have the same mouth shape as well.”
You were so close to him and the thought that all it would take was mere centimeters more for the two of you to make contact crossed your minds.
You swallowed quickly, recapping what you had both missed of the film. You settled back down between his thighs once again, but ventured to place your hand on the side of Matt’s neck, as he often did to you. It was a strange, but comforting habit; it seemed to ground you both to feel each other's pulse, to convince you both that you were here, you were alive, and that this was real. You felt his hand rest upon yours too, and smiled at the reciprocation.
“Tristan just got turned into a mouse by the witch who cannot see Yvaine. Their trip has been expedited and now it won't take two days to get back to Wall.”
Your favorite monologue was coming, and Matt heard your heart rate increase. He was about to ask what was happening when you began to recite it alongside Yvaine.
“You know when I said I knew little about love? That wasn't true. I know a lot about love. I've seen it, centuries and centuries of it, and it was the only thing that made watching your world bearable. All those wars. Pain, lies, hate... It made me want to turn away and never look down again. But to see the way that mankind loves... I mean, you could search to the furthest reaches of the universe and never find anything more beautiful.”
Matt listened intently on the sound of your voice, not daring to interrupt you.
“So yes, I know that love is unconditional. But I also know that it can be unpredictable, unexpected, uncontrollable, unbearable and strangely easy to mistake for loathing, and... What I'm trying to say, Tristan is... I think I love you. My heart... It feels like my chest can barely contain it. Like it doesn't belong to me any more. It belongs to you. And if you wanted it, I'd wish for nothing in exchange - no gifts. No goods. No demonstrations of devotion. Nothing but knowing you loved me too. Just your heart, in exchange for mine.”
You shifted once again, looking back up at Matt, only to find that his head was tilted downward and he was already facing you.
“You really love this movie, huh?”
You nodded in response, turning back to the screen.
“ I have a stardust tattoo in my mom's handwriting, too. Now they’re at an inn, Tristan is no longer a mouse and Yvaine is taking a bath. ”
“Did you really mean what you said in the caravan?”
“What I...? But... You were a mouse! You were a mouse... you wanted cheese! You didn't... I asked you to give me a sign!”
“And risk you being too embarrassed to keep saying such lovely things?”
“He just kissed her forehead.”
“You want to know what the Captain really whispered to me that day?
“She started glowing.”
"He told me that my true love...was right in front of my eyes. And he was right.”
“Oh, that’s what he said to him. I figured it was something like that.”
“Told you it was important later. ”
Matt heard the distinct sound of a knife.
“What happened?”
“He cut a lock of her hair and is going to take it to Victoria. He is a man of his word so he has to bring her something.”
Matt listened to Tristan convey a message to the innkeeper to give to Yvaine and immediately tilted his head.
“I have a feeling that isn’t going to translate the same to her when she wakes up.”
“That is an understatement. Now she’s walking towards Wall and she’s sad because she thinks he doesn’t love her, and that it was a lie.”
Tristan made it to Victoria’s home, and she met him at the door.
“He’s dipped her down, and is very close to her face and….”
“You want to grow up and get over yourself.”
“He dropped her. And now Humphrey is here. Tristan has brandished his sword and Humphrey backed down. Victoria has opened the piece of cloth Tristan wrapped Yvaine’s hair in and it's turned to dust.”
“She can’t cross the wall.”
“Like the witches said earlier.” Matt remembered.
“Exactly, now Tristan is running as fast as he can and then the montage of Septimus, Lamia, and Tristan’s mom trying to stop Yvaine from crossing the wall starts. Tristan’s Mom got there first. Now Lamia has Yvaine and his mother.”
“You mean to tell me that Tristan didn’t run fast enough? I don’t like that outcome.”
“Yeah, I didn’t either the first time I watched it.” You agreed, mind wandering to the one and only time you needed to run like that. The time that you were not fast enough.
“Tristan stole the caravan horse and is now hauling ass to the witches castle. Septimus is there. They go in to fight and it doesn't go well. Septimus almost killed his mother, who, surprise, is their lost sister Una, which makes Septimus his uncle. Septimus is killed fairly quickly and Tristan has to fight the reanimated corpse of him and her sisters to get to Yvaine after some encouragement from his mom. ”
“That sounds so fun.”
“Tristan's sword is shaking in his hand, and I can’t really blame him. Lamia is terrifying. But that’s what courage is, I guess. It's being afraid and doing it anyway. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? You’re not scared of anything Matt. ”
“I’m scared of a lot of things, actually.”
“Oh, yeah? Like what?”
“The people that I love getting hurt. Losing this city to Fisk. Large horses, apparently.”
Matt heard Lamia tell the lovers to go, and then heard laughter and glass shattering.
“Oh, She lied? Shocking.”
“Yvaine’s going to save them both.”
“How?”
“Just listen.”
“Hold me tight and close your eyes.”
“What? Why?”
“What do stars do?”
“Shine.” You breathed in unison.
“You came back.”
“Of course I came back, I love you.”
“Oh, now the ruby has returned to red because Tristan is the last surviving male heir of stormhold.”
“That’s convenient.” Matt concluded, nodding his head.
“Now they’re all together again, and his mom has just given them a Babylon candle.”
The voice of Ian Mckellen began again;
“But no man can live forever, except he who possesses the heart of a star.”
“So they both became stars at the end?”
“Mhmm. This movie is why I love space, and stars and fantasy. And also why I took sword fighting classes.” you admitted.
"Somehow that doesn't surprise me. "
"Yeah just tally it up with the rest of the nerdy things that I do. Sword fighting is how I got into participating at the Renn Faire. I've got two swords, two practice swords, and a couple of lightsabers."
"You own physical swords?" He queried. Matt never ceased to be amazes when he learned something new about you.
You began to move to get up, but Matt's hand touched your hip, and you paused.
"You can show me tomorrow. Stay."
You lowered back down, burrowing into the warmth of the blankets and Matt once more. You rested your head against his chest, already tired again from the stress of the migraine.His hands found your hair, stroking and running his fingers through the dark waves.
"Okay, I'll stay." you whispered, feeling safe with Matt near you.
You were asleep shortly thereafter, and Matt was not far behind.
I HAVE A THOUGHT, YALL KNOW THAT'S DANGEROUS FOR ME🤣
Anyway, I have a thought that Matt loves hearing you describe what color things are. He loves the sound of your voice and how you describe things in an atypical way. Matt compares how you describe things to how people speak in novels. He can't see the colors anymore, but he can still imagine them.
He'll ask you what color something is and he will just smile hearing how you verbally illustrate it.
One day, he asks you what color his eyes are, even though he knows what color they are. He claims that he cannot remember their color because it has been so many years since he has seen them. You know that he just wants to hear you talk; its comforting to him.
You sit on his lap, legs bracketing either side of him on the couch. Gently, you remove his red glasses and set them aside. The blank stare often makes others uncomfortable, but not you. You love looking at Matt’s eyes, even though they do not look at you in return. Matt may be blind, but he still sees you in finer detail than anyone else ever has. The golden hour was upon you, light streaming into the living room, catching the deep brown of his irises.
“Your eyes are a deep beautiful brown. Like the color the light makes my tea when it passes through my glass mug in the morning. Brown like Cedar trees in the early hours when the light illuminates the forest, just as the sun is rising. Brown like the worn leather of the books in my library, loved and smooth. Brown like a warm evening in the fall, like crystalized amber reflecting the flames of a fire, like home. “
Matt touched his forehead to yours, brushing his lips lightly against your mouth; a ghost of a kiss. He started to trace your face, fingers drifting over your nose, your lips, and your eyes. Matt pauses, thinking for a moment while he caresses the edge of your cheek bone.
“What color are your eyes? Your hair? I’m realizing now that I have never asked you.” He concludes, smiling as you let out a light hum at his continued touch.
“It doesn’t really matter, does it?“ you replied. You knew what he was trying to do. He wanted you to describe yourself the way you described him.
“My hair is dark brown, and I have a deep red streak in the front. My eyes are a light blue, almost grey.”
Matt frowned, clearly not satisfied with your answer.
“You can paint an entire picture for me with your words when you tell me what color something is or what someone looks like, but you can’t do that for yourself? I don't buy it. ”
“I don’t find myself half as aesthetically interesting as you or other people, Matt. “
He stood, carrying you with him. Matt walked to the bathroom, setting you down in front of the mirror. You were surprised he even had one, but Matt had merely stated that it had come with the place when you had asked about it. He set you down, facing the mirror. Matt wrapped his arms around your waist, settling his face in your neck.
“Now, I want you to tell me what color your eyes are, but I want you to describe them as if they were my eye color.” He whispered, his stubble grazing your skin.
This is where you froze. You had never really, truly liked yourself. You were confident, sure. You had made peace with the fact that your body was not, nor ever would be, perfect. Being kind to others came naturally to you, even after everything you had gone through. Being Kind to yourself was still a struggle.
“Its just me sweetheart.“ Matt reassured you, moving up to kiss your temple.
“My eyes are...“ you trailed off, unsure of how to continue.
You had never really taken a look at your eyes, save to check for makeup or debris. You had never taken the time to examine their color, you had just always known they were blue-grey. You could not deny Matt anything he wanted; you didn’t have it in you, so you tried again, imagining them as if they were Matt’s eyes.
“The grey mist across the sea after its stormed heavily. The blue refraction on ice when the light scatters through it. The blue of the furthest mountain in the distance. The blue grey of the lightest part of the sky at dusk, just before the sun descends behind the horizon.”
Pairing: Matt Murdock X NB!reader (reader uses she/they pronouns)
18+ Minors DNI!
Word count: 8861
Warnings: angst, violence, high sexual tension fight scenes, afab! reader, blood, sarcasm, catholic guilt™… I think that’s it.
AN: this takes place directly after “I should be in church but I’m raging on a Sunday”, and this is the instance that is mentioned in “Would you pray before you twist the knife?”.
I also advise you to start listening to “Teeth” by 5SOS when the ⚸ appears above the paragraph that proceeds it.
@matt-erialgirl @freshabogadoss @loki-silver-tongued-goder-tongued-god @e-dubbc11bbc11 @candyellondyello @pleasedin @lexlovescoffee @carisi-sonnynny ... I think that's it, if you want to be added to the tag list let me know!
Matt kept his head turned toward the street as you drove away. He held onto the sound of your heartbeat until it was too far away for him to discern from anyone else. You were…astonishing to say the least. No one had captured and held his attention since Elektra; not like this.Matt was still miles away when Foggy waved his hand in front of his face. To anyone else, he wouldn't have even reacted, but Foggy was well aware of how his abilities worked.
"Earth to Matt? Are you okay?"
He blinked, shaking his head lightly.
"Yeah, Foggy I'm fine. More than fine."
"I can see that. I let you go to church one Sunday by yourself and you come back with a very interesting, albeit attractive, woman.”
Matt felt mildly affronted on your behalf.
"What does that even mean?"
"I didn't mean anything bad by it, I swear. She's just not your typical…aesthetic of choice."
Foggy had taken in the tattoos, the nose piercing, colored hair,the sharp black nails, and wide set of your hips and was stunned. You were gorgeous, but you weren't at all what Matt normally went for.
"And how would I know what that even is?" He grumbled, annoyed.
Foggy gave him an incredulous look.
"All I'm saying is that your go to isn't normally… what do the kids say now "thick emo girls"? "
Matt let out a breath, tongue flicking out to lick his lips.
"First of all, don't ever say that again. Second, I believe they prefer the term 'refined goth adult'. Final, They're non-binary, but she or they is fine." He explained, firm.
"Alright, alright. Don't get all bent out of shape. I have a cousin that's non-binary, so that won’t be a hard adjustment. I guess they're sticking around for a while if you're already getting defensive about them. " Foggy conceded, a small, devious smile across his lips.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. Let's go over those files."
Matt smiled, patting his friend on the shoulder.
"Hey Matt?"
"Hmm?"
"I will never say "thick emo girl" again if you never say "refined goth adult" again."
"Deal."
The pair headed upstairs, the qualm already forgotten.
The wind blew right through you, wildly playing at your hair as you walked toward the columbarium at the back of the cemetery. You felt like the wind itself was pushing you faster toward the edge of the property, as it was always gusting hard when you came to visit.
“You’re going to ruin your flowers if you don’t relax. I’m almost there.” you said, holding the red carnations tighter to your chest. They had been her favorite, and you had several of them tattooed on your left forearm, for her.
The wind died down, either by coincidence or your belief that your mother was listening. You smiled at either prospect, and would not be surprised at the latter. Your mother had been a force to be reckoned with, so it followed that her presence would not fade simply because her body did. The thought brought you comfort, whether it was real or not.
Today had been, in a word, wonderful. You wanted to tell her everything. You settled in the small enclosure, the light of the afternoon sun cascading through the open end of the structure. You had made sure that the slot where your mothers ashes were placed had been one that would have plenty of sunlight. She used to say that humans were just more complicated plants; that they needed light to thrive. You placed the flowers in the vase that never moved from the marble floor, and took a seat on the bench that faced the wall of ashes.
Normally, you spoke to your mother in your thoughts only, but today speaking aloud felt right.
“Hey, mom. I… don’t really know where to start to be quite honest.”
The wind picked up, swirling around your shoulders, urging you on.
“I went to mass today to draw the cathedral and I met someone. His name is Matthew. That means “gift of God” if I remember correctly. We used to teach each other about our chosen mythologies, remember? I don’t know if he’s a gift from your God, but he certainly is a light. He is incredibly kind, and funny and he gets my sense of humor-our sense of humor. You and I both know that's hard to find. He makes me feel good, mom. Like I’m not broken or damaged and I haven’t felt that way since… ” You trailed off, unable to even say the name, but you knew your mom knew.
“I thought coming here to talk would be a nice present, for your birthday. I still miss you, everyday. I still don’t know how I am supposed to do this without you, and it's been five years.”
You felt like you were a child again, even at twenty-seven years old. You were almost the same age as your Mother when she brought you into this world, but you felt smaller than ever.
“Here I am, complaining about you being dead and gone when Matt doesn’t even have a mom.” you laughed bitterly.
“No amount of time with you would have been enough, but it’s more than what Matt was given and I am both grateful and sad for that. I wish you were still here, you’d love him instantly.”
You sat back for a moment, soaking in the little bit of sunlight that remained.
“I am terrified, Mom. I can’t lose anyone else; I don’t think I could survive it again. I’ve done it twice and it nearly destroyed me. He’s so good and full of light and I am just… not.”
The air was harsh, whipping against your body.
“I am trying to be better, I am.” you whispered, standing. The sun was sinking behind the horizon, and it was almost dark.
You ghosted your hand across the engraved stone that held your mothers name, placing a kiss upon your fingers before you did so.
“I’m still sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I love you, mom, so much.”
You stood, the graveyard on the edge of night now. It was time to go home, and time to get to work. Your walk back to your car seemed shorter than normal, even though you weren't in a hurry. You glanced back toward the cemetery one more time before you got in the driver's seat. You were not looking forward to tonight, but you were so close. You couldn't afford to take the night off. The ride back to your home took about fifteen minutes, if you hurried, and you never went anywhere slow.
Upon your arrival, you were greeted by your cat. The white and blonde piebald feline twisted between your legs, purring like an engine. He eventually stopped, choosing to flop down in your path instead, begging for belly rubs. He was the only cat you had ever had that liked them. You reached down to oblige him, not wanting to be rude to the hard working guardian of your household.
"You are a mess, you know that?" You chuckled.
You recieved an enthusiastic chirp in reply.
"You must have had quite the day of protecting Catsguard, huh Thor?"
The cat stood, rubbing his head against your hand. You rose to retrieve his dinner, and then headed for your room. You opened the trunk at the foot of your bed, digging through the stack of blankets until you found what you were looking for.
You laid it out on the bed, piece by piece.
Sighing, you sat on your comforter to take off your boots. Your clothes followed shortly thereafter as you headed for the shower. Who knows how long this would take and you loathed the feeling of the oil buildup in your hair. You let your head fall back as the hot water poured over your shoulders, bruised and aching from the night before. Quickly, you washed your hair, then the rest of you. It always felt over too quickly, but you didn’t have the time to spare. Thor had moved from his favorite chair to your bed, next to your clothes.
“You’re lucky you didn’t lay on them, good sir.” you scolded jokingly, toweling off your short hair.
You started to get dressed, sliding on your undergarments first and then reaching for your binder. You were…well endowed in the chest area, and it helped keep you flat and in place. You bonded the clasps on the side, feeling the compression against your chest. You sighed as you settled into the feeling, reaching for your pants. The tapered cargo pants slid over your legs, buckling snugly against your waist. You sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on your boots , reaching for your hand wraps next. This set was a deep red, high in contrast to your black pair you had worn the night before. The feel of the fabric was comforting as you wrapped the cloth around your wrists, your hands, and in between your fingers. Satisfied with the final product, you slid your sweatshirt over your head and pulled up the built-in face shield,covering your nose and mouth.
Walking over to your dresser, you caught your reflection in the mirror on the back of your bathroom door. You didn’t look like yourself; you looked strong, intimidating. You felt powerful, and it was a feeling you didn't have often when you were simply you. Two steps remained before you were ready to run off into the night. Reaching for your smallest brush, you drew three symbols upon your brow; twofor protection on either side of the black moon lilith. The black paint you wore to hide your face would cover them, but you would know they were there. You primed your lids and began to smoke them out, taking your hand and smearing it across your eyes until it made you nearly unrecognizable. You slicked back your hair to keep it out of the way, spraying it down...or at least you had meant to. The bottle just hissed- empty.
“Fuck. ” You grumbled, combing your hair back anyway and hoping it would stay put once your hood was up at least. It would have to do for now. You procured your karambits from their hiding place, sliding one into each boot. The knives were always a last resort, and never your first choice. You kissed the top of Thor’s head once more before leaving, locking the back door behind you and moving into the shadows.
Across the city, Matt was also getting ready. His process was in high contrast to your own; a specific order, practiced, precise, ritualistic even. He had spent thirty minutes mediating, and another thirty stretching and warming up.
Satisfied with the extension of his body and mind, Matt made his way to the closet. He let out a sigh as he opened the double doors. On the bottom, lay his trunk where his deepest secret was kept. Matthew knelt, pulling the lid open and moving the false top that held his fathers boxing mementos aside. He brushed his fingers against the embroidered letters of the robe his father had once worn. Matt often wondered if he was doing the right thing, right by his father, by God. His conclusion was always the same; it felt right in his bones, in his very soul, so it must be the correct path.
Gathering his suit, he stood and began to undress. The red suit offered far more protection than his previous one had. The mask of this suit had saved his life from a bullet, courtesy of Frank Castle. He had lived but being temporarily deaf had terrified him. You were partially deaf and had explained to him on the ride home that the other reason you signed was because you could potentially become permanently deaf in that ear. Matt shuddered at the thought; being deaf for an hour or so was horrifying enough, but without him being able to hear? He would truly be blind. He found himself smiling, what a pair the two of you made. Between you there was nearly a whole working human. He shook his head; he could think about you later, he needed to focus now. Matt slid the suit on, securing the various straps and armor pieces, and finally lacing up his shoes. Fixing his nightsticks to his thighs, Matt moved toward the stairs, slipping on his mask and running into the darkness.
Matt made his way to the parking garage that faced a warehouse near the edge of Hell’s Kitchen. A week ago, he had discovered a drug operation running out of the building. Simple cocaine, nothing fancy, nothing designer- still, it had no place in his city. He crouched down, taking his place on the roof and listening to the sounds of the night air. Seven people- no, eight in the warehouse. It was fortunate that most people were in the inner city tonight and that no one was parked in the garage, save for the vehicles of the dealers. Things were going to get loud, and volume attracted attention. Matt could hear the footsteps of each person in the warehouse, the drop of heavy steel toed boots making contact with the concrete floor. He was waiting, hearing the change in rotations of guards, hearing the scrape of powder from table to plastic. Once he had the positions and timing in his mind, Matt would make his move.
He waited, and almost thirty minutes had passed. The steady, rhythmic sound of a bass guitar made its way to him. It was faint, almost as though it was coming out of a muffled speaker. Matt heard fingers tapping along to the melody in time with the notes against the concrete wall. The shift of leather boots and cotton fabric as they moved. There was another heartbeat, much closer to him than those in his target. Someone else was here, three floors below. Taking a deep breath, Matt moved quietly down to the fifth floor of the garage. As he approached, he could make out the words of the song more clearly.
“Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet
Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth
Late night devil, put your hands on me”
Matt found them, casually leaning against the same support their fingers drummed away at. They had their back to him, gazing intently on the same warehouse. Their features were too obscured by their clothing for Matt to make out who it was, and their scent was neutral, clean, and hard to pinpoint if he had ever met them. Matt was unsure if this figure was a friend or an enemy, but they were a liability either way; They had to leave.
“You shouldn’t be here.” Matt called out, his voice low.
They did not turn, did not stir, but simply ignored him. Perhaps they had not heard him, so Matt moved closer.
A smirk crept up your face; of all things you had expected tonight, meeting the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was not on the list. It was possible that you could work in tandem- you both had the same goal it seemed. That thought went right out the window when his hand grabbed your shoulder, attempting to gently turn you around. You whirled, your opposite hand clawing outward in reflex, it connected in part with his cheek, and part of his helmet. You found yourself smiling at the tiny horns that adorned the top of it. The last time you had seen the devil, he was in a simple shirt and pants, face half covered with a piece of black fabric.
“I’m not going to hurt you; I just need you to leave.”
I’m not going to hurt you; I was just curious as to why you’re up here instead of down lower with everyone else.
The way he said he wasn’t going to hurt you, sounded very similar to how Matt had said it to you earlier that morning in the Cathedral. There was no way. Matt Murdock could not be Daredevil- it didn’t make any sense. You decided to keep quiet, not give yourself away. You needed to see what the Devil was made of before you made an accusation.
Their nails had raked across his face, and Matt hadn’t had the chance to dodge the blow. They were fast, much faster than Matt had anticipated. He had stated that he did not want to hurt them, only that he needed them to leave the garage. Matt heard their heart rate jump as he spoke- but why? They struck out again, but this time he was ready, leaning out of their range and grasping their forearm. Matt pulled them into his chest, their head resting lightly against his throat. He heard them laugh as his arms wrapped around their chest, trapping their body against his. It sounded familiar, like he had heard it before. Their heart rate was even higher now, rapidly increasing.
You laughed against the Devil, amused at his unwillingness to hurt you. That was a mistake on his part, because you wouldn’t hesitate to do the opposite if you had to. You dropped your position, hooking your left leg behind the devils, reaching your hands out , gripping his thighs on either side. You dropped him, breaking his hold. Your hands remained on his legs, hovering above him, and the Devil swung on you. You scoffed, rolling away from his countermeasures. He got to his feet quickly, closing ground between you. You shifted into a defensive stance- you were enjoying yourself too much to flee. You had also spent too much time tracking down this drug operation to let it go. As pretty as the smile across his lips was, you felt compelled to wipe it off his face.
The Devil wasn’t sure if they were trying to fight him, or whether they were playing with him. They danced and evaded, only ever making contact when they felt necessary. It felt more like a battle of wills than a fight to Matt. They matched him, blow for blow, be it a block or a strike in retaliation. Excitement rolled off his opponent- he knew now that the accelerated heart rate was not nervous energy, but exhilaration. He couldn’t help but feel the same, seeing as it was now established that he was fairly matched. Matt made contact, striking them across the face- hard. Their hair fell in a curtain from their hood; they lowered their mask just enough to spit blood and returned it, grinning as their head tilted. That motion seemed familiar as well, but with the way Matt’s mind was racing, he could not place it. The figure reached out, nailing him square in the jaw, and Matt found himself tilting his own head. He went for them, and they avoided him once again, ricocheting off the wall and landing behind him.
“Fine.” He thought, “We’ll play this game.”
“So, when are we going to really start fighting? You’re just messing with me.” He challenged, turning quickly to block their fist, reaching around their throat and pushing forward.
Your hands clawed upward, gripping Matt’s arm to take the pressure off your neck as he lowered you towards the ground. The smile, the lips that were full and begging to be kissed, the jawline, the cockiness- it had to be Matt. You just needed to hear his voice again to be absolutely sure. His face was inches from yours, and you were caught off guard- but only for a moment. Your chest heaved, working through how to escape this hold. In this situation you decided that the best route of escape was up. You started to pull yourself up his arms until you were upright again, rotating your own around his and flexing your elbows inward, breaking his grip. In the same breath, you twisted his arms behind him, pinning them to his back. You predicted exactly what the Devil would do next.
Matt pulled with all his strength, flipping his adversary over his head. What he did not expect was for them to land on their feet, knees bent, with their back parallel to the ground. They had not released his arms as he had intended, but rather used them as anchor- and leverage. The wind ripped through the parking garage and Matt gasped in recognition. It was faint, almost completely absent, but the scent of sandalwood, orchid petals, and patchouli swept across his senses. Your hood had fallen, revealing your hair and eyes, and he swore he felt a grin spreading across your face as though he had played right into your hands.
You.
You twisted your body, flipping Matt onto his side. He had barely rolled over onto his back to find his feet when your boot connected with his chest, shoving him back down. You straddled his waist, hooking your ankles over his to keep him locked in place. Your fist rose, ready to strike. At the last moment, Matt bucked his hips upward to unbalance you, catching your hands that had moved to break your fall.
“Stop, I don’t want to fight you!” Matt exclaimed, fighting to keep hold of you as you resisted him.
There was no mistake now. Matt felt you relax, your movement stilling.
“Matt?”
He breathed your name in response, still stunned at what had transpired in the past five minutes. You yanked your face shield down, staring down at him incredulously. Daredevil was Matt Murdock; they were one in the same.You were sitting on top of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen- you were sitting on top of Matt. You felt heat creep across your face as you moved to stand, offering your hand.
“I thought that was you.” you said, taking your singular headphone out of your right ear.
Matt tilted his head, nose crinkling in frustration. He pulled off his helmet, hair tousled and wild.
“You knew it was me the entire time? Why didn’t you say something?” he demanded, equally curious and exasperated.
You shrugged. “Well no, not the entire time. I had to hear you talk more than once. But with the smug smile, pretty mouth, and jawline that could cut glass? Yeah, it wasn’t hard to figure out it was you. This,” You made a circular gesture with your hands, towards his entire being, “Is a lot. What happened to the black suit?”
“You’ve seen me before?”
“Only once, as you jumped from the roof of my office building to the next. You definitely were not wearing that..”
"I upgraded. This thing has saved my ass more than once." He shot back, raking his hands through his sweat soaked hair.
"Upgraded the suit but the disguise is still lacking. I would have been able to tell it was you immediately if you had kept talking. You didn't even lower your voice enough to be unrecognizable. C'mon Matt. Anyone who is listening and paying attention could tell it was you. People like me who listen harder because they have to. "
Matt scoffed, mildly amused at your deduction.
"Yeah, well most people don't pay enough attention. Nor would they think a blind man is capable of what I'm capable of."
"Relying on that may fool most people- but I'm not most people. Hang on. Are you even blind? Or is it a cover so no one- well, almost no one, connects the dots on the conspiracy board?"
Matt shifted in his boots. It was already out in the open, but explaining his "sight" was always difficult.
"That's…complicated."
You crossed your arms, leaning against a pillar.
"Congratulations, I have a master's degree in complicated."
"I can't see- not in the traditional sense. I can sense where things are, when they move. Everything is sort of on fire in a way. I hear much better than the average person, smell and taste too. For example, I can hear your heart stabilizing in your chest. I can taste the chai tea from earlier on your lips."
You took a step forward, in awe.
"From all the way over there? So it's sort of like infrared? Almost like a three- sixty radar sense?"
Matt chuckled- you were almost right.
"Yes from here, kind of like infrared but everything is a shade of red, with no cold spots. And I think a radar is a pretty close equivalent."
"Anything else really cryptic that you can do?"
"I know when people lie."
"Because you can hear their heart rate?"
"Exactly."
Your head tilted again, curious.
"Did I lie to you at all today?" You wanted to test him, unsure why.
"You did, but I don't think you meant to. " Matt replied, moving closer to you.
"I don't remember lying, you'll have to fill me in, mystical walking lie detector."
"When you promised Rhiannon that you would be happy again one day. You lied- but only because you truly believe that you won't be."
You turned away, ashamed.
"I didn't…I didn't mean to lie."
Your mother had ingrained in you that being honest was the best policy. That didn't mean you never lied, you just didn't lie to anyone you respected or called a friend.
Matt's hand came to rest on your shoulder.
"You didn't purposely deceive me or Rhiannon. It's okay. I technically lied to you all day, and for that I'm sorry."
Matt's touch was warm, and comforting. It was something you didn't feel you deserved, but you hoped that he wouldn't take his hand away.
"So earlier, when I nodded, you knew?"
"Yes."
"And when you asked to touch my face, to see me, you didn't need to do that at all?"
Matt frowned, thinking.
"Well, yes and no. I can see you to a certain extent, but touching a person's features helps the image become more clear."
You nodded, understanding.
"So it's like when I paint, and I have the image in my head but I need to use a brush to fully form what I'm seeing."
Matt smiled at the analogy.
"I think that's the best way to describe it, yeah. My hands are the brush and your face is the canvas."
"I've always wanted to be a piece of art."
Matt already thought you were a masterpiece. He didn't know you thought the same about him.
"My turn for questions. Why are you out here? "
You turned, looking up at him.
"I'm assuming for the same reason you are. To bust the cocaine operation in that warehouse."
"Yes, that is why I'm out here. But why are you out here? Why are you also doing vigilante work? Which is illegal, I might add."
"Are you leading the witness counselor? I plead the fifth. You are also breaking the law, Matthew."
The Devil let out a laugh.
"Really? We're going to use courtroom banter?" He smirked, tongue flicking out to lick his lips.
"I'm not making you uncomfortable, am I counselor?"
Something about the way you said it made Matt's hair stand on end.
"Not at all. You still didn't answer me- you're not trying to deflect my line of questioning are you?" Matt rerouted.
"I wouldn't dream of it, I'm simply cross examining the witness. I'm out here for the same reason I told you earlier. I need somewhere to put all this anger. I might as well be constructive with my rage."
Matt couldn't argue with that logic- he was no better.
"When did you learn to fight like that?" He mused, intrigued that you had almost been evenly matched.
You shrugged once again.
"I took some self defense classes after I got attacked a few years ago and I wanted more. It never felt like enough. So I took up quite a few things. Krav Maga, Muay Thai, Jiu jitsu, threw in glass blowing for fun. I didn't want anyone to ever touch me without my permission again."
"I see."
"Do you? " You quipped, shifting positions. You swung, not to do damage, but to see if he could avoid it. Matt was successful, moving out the way with ease.
"Really?" he teased, shaking his head.
"I'm fascinated. I knew you were more capable than you let on. " You admitted, repositioning your hands.
You moved, striking out again and again.
Matt evaded each assault, smiling all the while.
"Now you're holding back, give me a challenge sweetheart."
"Oh, so I wasn't holding back when I was, what was it you said "messing with you"? Which is it, Matt? And don't talk to me about holding back- you've been holding back since before you even knew it was me."
The pair of you sparred for several minutes, captivated by each other. This felt more like a dance than a fight to the both of you. The way you pushed and pulled perfectly in time with each other, reminiscent of the moon and the ocean, a tidal force.
You started to move towards the upper level, wanting to see what the Devil could do with a moving target.
“You’ll have to do better than that, now come and get me.”
Get me.
Elektra’s voice echoed in Matthew’s head. He hesitated, only for a moment. You didn’t miss his expression fall momentarily or the small, almost imperceptible shake of his head.
Matt advanced, coiled and ready. He was truly remarkable, and you found yourself worked into a corner. You went on the offensive, but Matthew had caught your arm, your fist inches from his face. He pushed your arm back, bending you at the elbow, continuing his grip on your wrist. Matt’s hold was like iron this time, and harder to break out of. You swung with your opposite arm in hopes of pulling his attention away just enough to break free. Instead, both arms were now confined, and then he hauled you forward.
He had trapped you, and now you were chest to chest with the devil.
Matt smirked, hearing your heart beating violently against him. He chuckled as he felt the flush creep across your cheekbones.
"Do I make you nervous?" he simpered, grip loosening ever so slightly.
That was all you needed. You twisted out of his grip, shoving him against the concrete wall. You slid your knife from your boot, pressing the curved back edge against his throat. You stood on your toes, invading his space.
"I'm the one who should be making you nervous." You whispered back, lips brushing his ear.
"Knives? Interesting."
"They're a last resort, and I'd never use them on you. I hope you know that."
"I don't know, I've only known you for 16 hours. "
You pressed even closer, and Matt shifted.
"Why don't you tell me whether or not I'm lying then?"
“If you were going to use them, you would have done so well before now. And you aren’t lying.”
You withdrew, sinking the blade back into its sheath.
“So, how did you know it was me?” you asked, morbid curiosity getting the better of you.
“Your scent, I could smell you.”
Your mouth twisted, uncomfortable at the implication of the sentence.
“Well, I guess I should have scrubbed harder in the shower.”
Matt chuckled.
“No, you don't smell. Your perfume is distinct, that's how I know.”
“I make it myself, but like I said, I showered. I didn’t put any more oil on.”
“Ah, perfumed oil lingers on your skin longer. It’s very faint, I almost didn’t detect it. You still have some on you, right, ” Matt leaned down, brushing his fingers along your pulse point, “here.”
“Good to know. Guess I’ll wear it more often so you always know it’s me.” you replied, swatting his hand away gently.
“That might be helpful. Sorry about your mouth by the way. That might scar.” he apologized, gesturing to the hit you’d taken across the face. The armor plating on his knuckles had busted your lip open.
“I’ve got plenty of scars to go around, what’s one more?”
That was all too accurate. You had plenty of scars, and you were sure Matt did as well. This path had many injuries, broken bones, and near death experiences, but it was one of the few things you did that made you feel truly alive. Matt moved to the edge of the level, focusing on the warehouse once more.
“They rotate guards every fifteen minutes. I should go between the next change.”
You shook your head.
“Do you have a better plan?”
“No, but I have better information. They have a visitor coming tonight in the next twenty minutes. We should wait until they arrive and get settled in. That's what the guards are waiting for in the first place, once their guest is here, they’ll be less attentive. They aren't paying nearly the same amount of attention the rest of the week. He only comes on Sunday.”
"And how have you come by this better information?"
"I have my sources. A witch never reveals their secrets. And I ? I believe you mean we. I did not spend a week gathering intel to let you take this bust for yourself." You asserted, straightening your hood.
"I appreciate the offer, but I have this."
"It wasn't a request."
You stood firm, and Matt took the hint that you wouldn't back down.
He sighed, and conceded.
“Alright, what’s your plan?”
A victorious smile spread across your lips.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Matt could hardly think with you so close. The two of you had snuck onto the roof of the warehouse, waiting for the opportune time to enter. You had revealed more information- that the roof had several skylights, one of which lay directly over an upper walkway that was high enough that you would not be heard dropping onto, in theory.
“How did you even know these were up here?”
“Records of blueprints and layouts are available to the public for buildings that used to belong to the city. You just need to know where to look. This is the one.”
You paused, peering down through the glass. You saw the mountains of powder, tables and packaging. More importantly, you could see that the majority of the assembly line had left and all that remained were the people running the operation, as well as three guards- six people in total.
You turned the lever that raised the skylight, moving quickly.
“There’s six people in total. Guns are definitely in the equation.” you informed Matt, finally finished with the large window.
“I’m going to go in first, then you can come down after me.”
You rolled your eyes, tightening your wraps around your wrist for the hundredth time.
Matt moved quietly, landing with ease onto the platform, boots barely making a sound when they made contact with the steel. You were more focused on being careful-or at least that was your intention. You had gotten both legs through the window, lowering yourself down until your hands were your only contact with the frame of the skylight. The frame gave way in the middle of you swaying your legs to propel you forward. And then you were falling; it took everything in you not to scream and give yourself away. You were still heading towards the platform, just not in the muted arrival you had imagined. At the last moment, Matt’s hands shot out, catching you inches from you crashing into the metal passageway. Your throat was directly in front of him, and all he could smell was that damned perfumed oil on your skin. All he could hear was your heart racing in your chest, and the blood rushing through your veins. Matt fought desperately to regain his ability to focus. You were so close, and all he could think about was feeling your skin between his teeth. He lowered you gently until your feet were solidly on the floor, before he did something incredibly foolish.
“Thanks.” you whispered, taking a shuddered breath.
“Maybe try and be more careful next time, huh?”
You began to protest that it had broken and wasn’t intentional when you realized he was only taunting you. Matt flustered you, and he knew it- reveled in the feeling, even.
“C’mon let's move. ” you mumbled softly, shaking your head and re-covering your face.
You went in the opposite direction of Matt, having decided that the best tactic was to come from both sides. The walkway went down a few levels and wrapped around the entirety of the warehouse. Once you were both positioned, you awaited Matt’s signal. After a few minutes, Matt signed “go”, exactly as you had taught him in the parking garage. The plan was in motion and it was time to run with it.
You were fierce and unyielding in your onslaught, and if Matt could have simply listened to it he would have. Unfortunately, he was preoccupied; the first two had been easy enough to deal with, but the third was more skilled, determined to not stay down. You leapt up, bracketing your thighs around one of the guards heads, punching downward with all your strength. After about four hits to the temple, he toppled and you found your feet on the floor again. Matt was unbelievable to watch, and even more wondrous to fight alongside. You moved in sync with him, two halves of the same sword; a dyad. You rolled to escape gunfire, charging the assailant and disarming him shortly thereafter. You tossed the gun several yards away, but failed to dodge the blow to your chest. It knocked the wind right out of you and you bent slightly, trying to maintain eye contact with your attacker. Another fist sailed your way, and another. You blocked both of them effectively, diving onto his back and wrapping your arms around his neck. He began to thrash about, knocking into things as the oxygen was cut off from his brain. He slammed you into a metal support and you felt your head make contact with the beam, as well as your shoulder. You let out a scream, feeling your shoulder displace. You dropped to the floor, deadweight. Content with his work, the man made his way to the gun to retrieve it. Then he went for the devil.
Matt heard the outcry of the man before he had time to turn around. You had your knife in his shoulder blade, his blood spilling down your hand, right arm limp at your side. He turned, backhanding you across your face but you did not fall, did not let go. Your vision was blurring, but you could not let him get to Matt. You ripped the knife from him, using the end of the hilt to jab into his throat. He folded over, gasping for breath. You took the opportunity to knee him directly in the face, feeling bones crunch under you. The man dropped, now unconscious. You looked at Matt and he was the last thing you saw before the lights in your eyes went out.
You remembered the sensation of being lifted, the searing pain in your right arm making you grit your teeth. You remembered looking up at Matt from where your head rested against his shoulder, your vision coming and going.
Matt had let your injured arm hang loose in an attempt to keep from hurting you more, hoping the pendulation would move your shoulder back in place while you were unconscious. It was dislocated- Matt could hear the bones grind against each other every time your arm swayed. You were mumbling softly against his neck, the blood from your busted lip warm against his skin. You were both banged up, and Matt decided the next logical step was to take you somewhere safe.
You jolted upward, a cold sweat covering you. Immediately, you regretted the motion. You cried out; your arm still hurt like hell. You knew just from the level of pain you were in that it had dislocated…again. The neon lights outside the window spilled across the floor and you. You had no idea where you were, but you remembered being with Matt so you assumed you were at his place. Turning your head, you found Matt sitting in an armchair across from you, already cleaned and changed into a hoodie and a pair of sweats.
"Welcome back to the land of the living." he joked, leaning forward.
You were still somewhat disoriented, unsure of the time.
"How long?"
"About thirty minutes. I didn't clean you up because I wasn't sure you would be okay with it. You don't have anything life threatening, or I would have anyway."
A man that respected your boundaries. Matt was truly a fallen star. You nodded, hissing in pain as you accidentally moved your arm. You felt awful, almost like you had been dragged by a horse. Your head was throbbing and blood had dried to your face. Your chest was tight and your binder felt like it was strangling you.
"What time is it?" You groaned, shifting to try and take the pressure off your right side.
"Around 5 am."
"Shit. Can you help me take my binder off? I'm having a hard time breathing."
Matt was taken aback.
"Your…what?"
Matt could practically feel your eyes roll.
"It's like a compression shirt, but it's under my jacket. I need help getting it off. I can't fix my arm until I do. I need it removed; It's been more than eight hours. "
"Wouldn't it make more sense to fix your arm first? It's dis-"
"Dislocated? I know. It's not the first time it's happened. But I won't be able to relax enough to put it back in place until I can breathe properly. It compresses my chest to keep me flatter but the longer it's on the harder it is to breathe."
Matt couldn't argue with that line of reasoning. Putting your shoulder back in the socket without you being relaxed could cause more damage. He helped you maneuver out of your hoodie, leaving you in only the binder.
Matt was hesitant, not wanting to touch you. It's not that he didn't want to, he just didn't want to do so without your permission.
"It's kind of like a bra, there's clasps to undo."
Matt nodded, hand sliding around the back of you and finding nothing but smooth fabric.
"Where…are they in the front?" he asked, mouth twisting.
You let out a soft laugh, amused at his confusion.
You answered by lifting your good arm so he could get to them. You needed two hands to undo them.
"They're on the side. There's a Velcro strap that covers them."
Matt hesitantly felt for the band of fabric, pulling it away and beginning to undo the line of twelve clasps.
You felt the pressure on your ribs lessen, sighing quietly as it was finally released from your body. Matt stepped away, turning to face away from you as you carefully and painfully pulled the binder over your head, leaving your chest exposed to the cool air of his apartment.
“You don’t have to look away, I don’t care. But I appreciate the thought, Matt. Do you know how to put a shoulder back in? I can walk you through it if you don’t.”
Matt was ambivalent about this situation to say the least. His head was still filled with your scent and how unfocused it made him, and now you were sitting half-naked on his couch. He had let his mind wander, coming back to you asking if he was alright.
“Yeah,” he began, gliding his tongue over his lips, “I’m fine. I do know how to reset a shoulder. You said this isn’t the first time you’ve dislocated it, so you already know it’s going to hurt to put it back in place?”
You nodded, trying to regulate your breathing and relax. Matt slid his hand along your forearm, trying to be as gentle as possible. He didn’t miss the jolt in your chest as his fingers made contact with your skin. You brought your elbow into your side as close as possible, knowing he would need it there. Matt positioned his hands like Claire had done for him so many times, gently guiding your arm forward and then to the side, hoping to let gravity and the motion itself do the work. He heard several significant cracks, and to your credit, you did not scream. You did something even worse.You made a noise that was rooted half in pain, and half in relief. It sounded almost as if you moaned, breathy and deep. Matt swallowed; distracted by the sound you had just made in his ear and the heavy breathing and sighing you were currently emitting, trying to ease back down from the sudden rush of pain. He tasted salt in the air; a tear had escaped you in relief. He could not help but wonder what other sounds he could coax out of you, in the right circumstances.
You reached for your hoodie, pulling it back on and settling in the soft warmth of the fabric.
“Thank you, Matt.” you said, brushing the tear from your face.
You moved over to one side of the couch, allowing space for him to sit if he so chose. Matt stood, leaving the room. You bent down carefully, attempting to take your boots off while you waited. He returned with a dark gray scarf in one hand and a warm washcloth in the other, kneeling back down in front of you.
“Here, let me help. Please”
Matt felt you tense; you weren’t used to this.
“I won’t tell anyone you needed help, I promise.” he chuckled, trying to ease your anxiety.
You let out a deep breath, relaxing your jaw.
“You swear? ” you replied, smiling.
Matt promised again, reaching for your boot and feeling for the zipper on the inside of your leg. He took them off gently, setting them on the floor on the end of the couch. He could still hear how fast your heart was beating, and all he wanted was for you to feel safe. Matt gently began to touch your face, feeling the blood that had caked to your temple and jaw. Your eyes slid closed, savoring the physical touch that you craved, but never allowed yourself to have. You winced as he got to your eyebrow, a shallow cut across it that disappeared into your hairline.
“Sorry.” he whispered, trying to soften his ministrations.
“It’s fine. I’ve had worse, and I’m sure you have too.”
“You could definitely say that. And sometimes I still go to work the next day. I don’t think you'll be going to work today , I’m afraid.”
You smirked, entertained by his statement.
“Well, it’s a good thing it’s Monday and all my clients are virtual on Monday, and in the afternoon.”
“How are you going to explain how banged up you are?You don’t exactly have the excuse of being blind. Let me see your arm.” he urged, reaching for the scarf he had brought.
You offered it, face scrunching up at the motion. It felt a thousand times better, but it was still sore and unpleasant to move. Matt carefully tied a makeshift sling for your arm, taking great initiative to not move you around as much as possible. He felt a sense of satisfaction wash over him. It was…nice to take care of someone else for a change, instead of the other way around.
“I’ll just tell them the new horse I’m working with threw me off if they ask. No big deal.” You breathed, barely paying attention to the question.
Matt was so very close to you, and when you inhaled you could take in his scent. Black oak and amber, a slight tinge of leather, undoubtedly from the daredevil suit filled your senses. It was soothing, and Matt finally heard your heart rate slow and even out.
“You have horses? Here?” he asked in disbelief.
“No, about forty-five minutes from here. I train in the evenings and on Saturdays at a barn. I am the owner of a rescue and rehab facility. We take in all the horses no one wants. The ones that are broken, or useless, or dangerous.” You said each word with disdain.
“Sounds like you’re passionate about them. Do you keep any of them?”
“I have four, but one is retired and living her life out in the field and eating as much grass as she can.”
You grew quiet, looking at Matt’s eyes. They were uncovered now, like they had been earlier in the afternoon.You took this as a sign that Matt was comfortable with you, and you couldn’t help but feel warm at the thought.
“You’re staring. What at?”
You blinked, coming back from your reverie.
“Your eyes. Rhiannon was right, they are very pretty.”
You saw no sense in lying, seeing as he would be able to tell if you were regardless.
“I can’t say that I have ever been called pretty, but I can’t say that I hate it. I can hear the gears turning in your head from down here, so just ask what you need to ask.”
“Does…do Foggy and Karen know? About the devil, I mean?”
“Ah, that. Yeah, Foggy didn’t take it well. Karen took it better, but not by much.” he admitted, moving to sit on the couch with you.
“Well, to be fair I don’t think I would have either if I was Foggy. You guys have been friends for a long time and that’s a huge secret to keep from someone you care for.”
Matt hung his head, ashamed. The fact that he had hurt Foggy still haunted him to this day, even if he had forgiven him. You reached for him, fingers brushing against his cheek and gliding under his jaw until he turned back to face you.
“It’s also a heavy burden to carry, Matt. I don’t blame you for trying to keep him safe by withholding that secret.”
Matt found his hand reaching up and covering yours, flickers of electricity running through the both of you. You had no idea how long you both stayed like that until Matt finally spoke, dropping his hand; you did the same.
“Thank you for understanding. It’s nice to know that someone does.” he whispered, relieved.
Hearing you say that, having someone know and accept this part of him was freeing. He felt like he could breathe, like he could simply be both halves of himself.
“So does this mean that I can expect to see you more, now that we’re literally partners in crime?”
Matt tilted his head, considering.
“I think I can agree to that. You are really… vicious when you fight, but you can keep pace with me and that's impressive.”
“And here I was, thinking your ego couldn’t be your entire personality.” you teased, secretly full of pride at the compliment.
“Sorry to disappoint you. I have to cover up the self-loathing somehow. You wouldn’t know anything about that, now would you?”
You shook your head, feigning ignorance.
“Nope, couldn’t be me. You should go get some rest, Matt.”
“I will, as soon as you move to the bed. I’ll stay out here.”
“Negative, I am very comfortable and I am not taking your bed.”
“But the billboard outside is so bright, and the sun will be up soon.” he protested out of politeness. He was hoping you would decline, barely able to stand the thought of your scent being in his bed.
You shook your head once more.
“I’ll sleep with my head to the window. I have slept in worse conditions, Matt. I can sleep almost anywhere as long as I can get comfortable. I would love a blanket though. ”
“I think I can arrange that.” he smiled, standing to retrieve one of his softer ones. Matt re-entered the room and you were already laying down, head on the throw pillow. He draped the blanket over you, feeling how incredibly tired you were. Within minutes, you had halfway drifted off to sleep. Matt made his way to his bedroom, hoping he could do the same, at least for a few hours before he went into Nelson and Murdock for the day. He swore he heard you whisper goodnight to him as he slid the door closed, leaving it cracked, just in case. For the first time in months, Matthew Murdock slept well.
