Discover Top Posts Tagged with #mattilyn

In A Heartbeat (M.M)

"I loved her, father, and her heartbeat was all it took for me to fall in love with her."

Taglist: @mindidjarin @acharliecoxedfan @v4leoftears @galaxies-and-moons-and-cox @itwasthereaminuteago @chronicoverachiever @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @chvoswxtch @bellaxgiornata @bunmurdock @bunmurdock-main @shouldbestudying41 @1988-fiend @xxdrixx @munsonownsmyass @shiorimakibawrites @devilsmurdock @saltedlays @babygirlmurdock @starxlightm

[series masterlist / main masterlist]

[Chapter Two: Fixing Ties]

Word count: 6.8k!

Warnings/tags for this chapter: typical show violence, use of guns, blood, the black suit is wet TWO TIMES (first one is implied, second is direct), "The Devil" grins a lot which fucks me up every time I picture him, big doses of fluff.

A/N: the long-waited chapter is finally up! Damn, it's been almost a year since I last updated this wth (literally July 12th of 2023)!!! It really took me a while to fill in the plot holes (aka sit my ass and think). I hope you all enjoy it, feedback is always appreciated! <333

There stood by the window frame, a male figure, one that this city has marked to be its savior, the masked vigilante that kept the evil hiding in its den. The man in black. The man without fear.

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

“This is bigger than you, kid,” the man had his gun imprinted in Madilyn's head. She closed her eyes, prayed for her death to be merciful.

“How about you let her go and fight me like a man?” The Devil walked slowly towards them. “And that's the only option you have.”

“You know she has nothing to do with this, McCarthy. Let her go, now.” Oh, Hell, Devil Boy, he was sure-footed. Although he got beaten to death the last time they crossed roads. But The Devil was certain of how things ought to end this time.

One minute he was here, the next he's gone. The large man looked around, loosened his grip on Madilyn, who took advantage to set herself free and take shelter behind the counter.

Her heart raced out of her chest—though she was safer now, she couldn’t help the anxiety that's crushing her pumper.

BANG!

The man hits the wall. But he's much stronger than The Devil. He pushes him aside, The Devil crashes into the bookshelf. But he gets back up quickly from under the piles of books and uses his weight to ram into the brick wall of a man and takes him to the ground, flipping the couch underneath them.

She rises a little to spy on the scene. A wooden baton shoots and flies over her head, smacking into the kitchen wall. She must stay down, and this is her warning.

“Stay down!” he shouts, confirming her suppositions. She's already a distraction with her racing heartbeat. It's crazy—but he wanted to let all this fight be damned, run up to her and hold her tight. He fears for her, he doesn’t want to witness her going through another episode and not being able to comfort her. But, he knows he is nothing more than a stranger —yes, he’s a savior, her savior, but he’s just... a stranger, and he knows it.

The adrenaline rushed back and forth in her veins like raging fire, almost bursting out of her skin. Her teeth grind, she’s shivering. Her heart raced, and the anxiety crawled all over her like ants running up the hill, numbing her limbs, freezing her body.

The Devil receives a good punch, throwing him off to the wall. He recalls her giggling and laughing in the rain. He smiles. She truly is a distraction. His jaw is slack. He spits blood. “You really wanna do this the hard way, don't you?” The Devil asked with his gravelly voice, gutting a giggle.

The man gets up and walks towards his bag, but The Devil takes him by surprise, strangling him with his wooden batons. The man overpowers him once again, breaking the hold he had on his neck and smacking The Devil to the wall.

The Devil wouldn't stop, he can't. If he was anything, he's a menace, a troublesome, a real pain in the ass—and he has to prove it tonight. He gets back on his feet, his boots thudding on the wooden floor. “I can do this all night...” he chuckles.

BANG!

The room bursted with the loud thuds of the men's conflicted fists, noises of clouts and punches whooshing in the air, combined with agonized grunts and groans—aside from the words they spat over each other.

She trembles. Sweat is running down her skin. Her teeth are grinding and clacking. Her body temperature isn't acting right. Her skin was hot, but her limbs were cold. It was distracting, once again. He listened, almost taking a punch when he did. He dodged it, aiming a blow in the direction of the intruder. He was larger than him, but that wouldn't stop The Devil from taking him down—he had to take him down.

She was scared. No, she was terrified. But what took over her mind was the thoughts of why is this man here, and what is it that she has and he's searching for? She's not registered as an official detective for that case yet, how did he know that she's the one working on it? How could he come after her?

Or that's what she thought it was.

She realized how quiet the atmosphere has gotten to be. She peeked her head over the marble counter, stood off her squat slowly. “It's okay... It's over.” The Devil was the last man standing, he assured her with a warm tone, trying to regulate his breath. His gloved fingers shake, and his eyes water beneath the dark fabric.

“You're okay?” she gently asked, the blood on his face glistened in the dim lights. He sighed, thanking God for not testing his limits tonight. He would've killed that man if she got hurt tonight.

“Yeah, don't bother. You just call the cops in.” he demanded, turning his back to her and taking whatever the man was carrying.

“But what are you gonna do with him?” she turned around the counter, arms crossed upon her chest, supporting her towel around her torso.

“I'll take care of him.” he answered, carrying the guy over his shoulder like a camping blanket, “secure your windows better next time.” He left through the window and down the fire escape. She stood still at her place, processing the latter events. She snapped back to reality and walked to her bedroom, got dressed, and immediately called the cops.

Somewhere along the Hudson River shore side of Hell's Kitchen, and in an old, abandoned warehouse at the port, one of the light sources flickered as The Devil of Hell's Kitchen brought the so-called McCarthy in, still unconscious from the beating he took.

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen placed him on a wooden chair and waited for him to regain consciousness, one hand cuffed to a pipe.

McCarthy slowly came back to his senses. With still dim and blurry vision, he turns to look at his cuffed hand and tests it, pulling his fist towards himself. It's locked. There's no escape anytime soon. He looks upwards the light source in the room, only making out something of a shadowy black figure looming from above him.

“Who the hell are you?” he speaks in a fearless deep voice.

“I'm the one asking questions.” The Devil throws a handful of folders on the wooden surface causing a loud and heavy thud. He settles down on a chair on the opposite side of the table. McCarthy recognizes these folders; they were the ones he dropped on his way out of Mr. Lloyd's house.

“I know what happened.” The Devil interrupts the silence as McCarthy stared at the folders stacked under his eyes. “I can help you find whoever is responsible for their deaths and put them behind bars.” The Devil offers.

McCarthy stayed silent for a bit before raising his head with a smirk on his face, “go to hell, kid.” his tone remained sarcastic.

“Well, I might not know exactly what you went through, but I know a friend who did, and I know how hard it is.” The Devil leans forward in his seat.

“You think I'm stupid enough to fall for this sweet talk, kid?” McCarthy shrugs, his voice laced with sarcasm.

The Devil shifts in his seat a little, placing his forearms over the wooden surface. “What do you have to lose anyway, sergeant Nicholas McCarthy?”

He looks up at him. “You think some kid in black pajamas that knows who I am is gonna scare me away? Stop me from taking them down for good?” The Devil chuckles.

“I'm just trying to help you, you're the one serving a couple sentences in jail anyway,” The Devil follows calmly with an even calmer smile, “and for the record, they are a lot, in case you want to know.” McCarthy rolls his eyes and turns his face away. “I have all night long, and I'm not going anywhere,” The Devil leans in closer, his tone turns darker, “and they're already looking for you.”

Meanwhile, sirens were heard racing across the streets, back at the heart of Hell's Kitchen, as Mahoney's team arrived at the scene. He made it straight to Madilyn's apartment where she waited for him at the door, her cat held in her hand and her old Italian neighbor on her side, he embraces her lightly. “Mayfield, you’re okay?” He asks, freeing her.

“Yeah, I am… I assume,” she shrugs, hugging herself, “at least not dead...” she steps aside to allow the cops to start their work. She observes the scene for a moment, recalling the latter events. “You know, I just-- I have this gut feeling that this is the same guy we're after in Mr. Lloyd's case,” Madilyn says, and Brett pulls a face, a little puzzled. “The exact same physical description, same ways of menace, even the way he holds a gun and his choice of words, it's all just so symmetrical that he can't be another person,” she explained thoroughly, “I can't shake that feeling off me, you know me, Brett.”

Brett sighs. “You didn't know what he was here for, did you?”

She shakes her head in complete denial. “I’m telling you. At first, I thought he was here because I'm working on his case, though I was supposed to be officially registered in the morning, and it's impossible that he knew I was applying for this case— it was just assigned to me this morning. Rethinking it now, he could've just threatened me and told me to stop coming after him— but he didn't, he told me he wasn't here for me anyway.”

Brett nods slowly, “and Daredevil?” he asks, he knows that the masked vigilante would never let that slide.

She shrugged, curled her lip. “He took him away, I don't know where— but I assume he's searching him up,” she huffed.

Brett sighs and pats her back. “I'm glad you're okay, Mayfield, and that you’re back.”

“First day on the comeback—” She chuckled, “I suppose we're used to this kinda shit. Thanks, though. I missed this.”

“You think I really care about the sentence? I don't care if they behead me or burn me alive,” McCarthy chuckled.

“I appreciate your high spirits, sergeant, but— unfortunately you won't be able to take one step if you're arrested. As I told you before— they're already looking for you.” The Devil keeps his calm but sarcastic tone. “I help you avenge your friends; you help me put the ones responsible behind bars, we'll be even,” The Devil offered.

“These people deserve to be dead.” McCarthy corrects him.

“Well, death is not always the best option. But rotting in prison is a better one,” The Devil shrugs, “these people don't deserve death, death is merciful.” The Devil stressed.

Silence falls over the atmosphere before a question breaks through the air. “Why should I trust you?” McCarthy asks.

The Devil smirks and leans forward in his seat. “Because I got something you really need.”

The Devil places a file on the tabletop, slides it towards the man on the other side of the table. “This is what you broke into Detective Mayfield's house for—but you were never gonna find there.”

With his free hand, McCarthy reached out to the file cover, eyes going back and forth between the file and what he could make out of The Devil’s face as he unfolded it. Walking his eyes across the page, McCarthy skimmed snippets of some corporations from the paper. “What is this?” he asks.

The Devil smirks, “these are some of the corporations linked to a guy I think you might want to know more about.”

“What does this have to do with it?” McCarthy asked.

The Devil shifts in his seat, “meet Mr. Winston Bennett, one of the funding pillars of the war. He's involved in corruption cases, money laundering, and bribing military officials, for instance. A year ago, he transferred a couple of his main companies’ assets, one of which was to Porter Lewis, his former secretary, he's our key to get to Bennett.”

McCarthy's eyes fall onto his lap, “fuck,” he muttered between his teeth. The Devil could sense the disappointment in his voice, but a man of war like him had seen so much it shouldn’t surprise him anymore.

“I'm gonna make each one of those fuckers pay...” he mumbled.

And that was an oath The Devil took upon himself.

Sounds of evidence bags crunching in the investigators' hands filled the room as they gathered bits and pieces of anything that could be a lead. Flashing lights flickered around the room. Madilyn sat at the dining table and watched as the team took pictures of the scene. A light switched on in her head. “McCarthy...” Madilyn says, “his name is McCarthy.”

Brett turned to look at her, a little puzzle, “McCarthy?” he asked, to confirm.

She nodded, “Daredevil said a name. This name, McCarthy,” she shifts in her seat a little, now completely facing Brett, “now I don't think that's a guess because Daredevil talked as if they met before, and I think they did. Daredevil definitely knows who that guy is.”

“Tech units, file a 6'2" white male dressed in all black with experience in military combat, he goes by the name McCarthy. All operating units, if spotted the suspect with previously mentioned description, arrest immediately.”

“Seriously, Mahoney?!” she exclaimed, angrily standing off of her seat at Brett Mahoney's office, “what do you mean I can't investigate this?—it's my job! You can't force me to stay out of it!” she followed up, almost stuttering for how outlandish this situation sounded to her.

“Mayfield,” Brett responds, pinching the bridge of his nose, too bothered to keep it together anymore, “for the last goddamn time, you can't investigate a case you're involved in and you're fully aware of this. Your testimony may not be valid and even if it is, his attorneys will make sure to use it against you just like what they did with Davis!” he shouted back as he turned to look at her, after trying to keep calm for the last thirty minutes. She remembers this trial very well; it was the downfall of her colleague years ago.

She huffed, sitting back on the chair, “well, I never said I was gonna testify against him in court...” she mumbled, crossing her arms.

“Now you're just being childish, Mayfield! If I don't stop you, the court will! And they might as well take back your license, so don't go reckless, I already have plenty of idiots up to my ears!”

“Brett, please,” she pleaded, her eyes blurred with the tears she fought to keep, “this is my chance to come back. You didn't just call me out of my shift to stop me from doing it—” her voice cracked, “you know I've always wanted to come back.”

“And you know you've already been causing trouble all around while working with the Bulletin. And you also know that you were always a second away from arrest for obstruction of justice—multiple times!”

“Well, that means I'm smart and I can get away with it—”

“That means you never pull your head out of your ass and see that you're a bull in a China shop!”

“For the love of God—”

“I'm not gonna say this again, Mayfield. If I ever find out you got involved in the matter, I'm gonna be the one to arrest you, and that's my final word.” he towered over her as he leant over his desk.

“Fine!” She stood off her seat and walked towards the door.

“I don't wanna hear you talking about this case again, Mayfield!” Brett said before she slammed the door behind her. Turning around with a sigh, she saw her three colleagues standing in the narrow hallway right in front of the door, they're concerned, deeply.

“So?” Foggy started.

“I can't investigate the case,” she shook her head, “but you guys can still take his case! Not Mr. Lloyd's. His.”

“Why take his case? He tried to kill you last night!” Matt countered, scrunching his face.

“He threatened to, he didn't want to kill me, I was never his target and I already told you that!” Madilyn countered back.

Matt sighs, running his hand across his face. “You can't risk it,” he calmly says, “what if he comes after you again?” Matt doesn't want her to get caught up in the mess. She's not made for such things. The things he knows about the case might crush her.

Madilyn shook her head, “he won't, I'm not even his target, trust me,” she stopped. “Look, you just--... you're gonna investigate him, just in case, because I don't think that's a normal case, and I think it's going to have a great impact on the firm. I have this gut feeling and it never disappointed me.”

Her eyes darted back and forth between the three of them. “Karen, say something?” She knows Karen will always have her back.

Karen nodded, “I say we give it a shot?” she stated, looking at both Matt and Foggy next to her. Madilyn sighed with a smile. “I mean she's right, there's nothing we could lose.”

Matt clenched his jaw, “you don't have to support her just because she's your friend.” Matt was worried, and he couldn't hide it anymore.

“But Matt,” Karen countered, “she's right, there's something off about this case, and I trust her guts.” she explained, tucking her blonde strands behind her ear, “a guy she never knew broke into her house, saying she had nothing to do with what he’s doing, yet proceeds to break into her house and takes something she never knew it existed in her home. Something is off.”

“Foggy?” Madilyn called, asking for his opinion as he stood silently watching the conversation going back and forth.

“Well,” Foggy slowly shrugged, “I can't say I wasn't intrigued by what they're saying...”

Matt rolled his eyes behind his tinted glasses, “I can't believe you're agreeing with them on this, it's dangerous.”

Foggy glanced at him with a knowing look, “it's not our first time involved with such things, buddy.”

They all stared at Matt, waiting for his final answer. He huffed, unclenching his jaw, “we're gonna do it, but...”

“But what?” Madilyn whined, almost comically.

“But none of you put yourselves in trouble. That means no going on investigation night shifts, no playing undercover cop and surely, no participating in dangerous political positions or situations.” he pointed a finger at each one of them. “And because I don't have experience on such acts from you yet, please don't do any of these, it's dangerous and ridiculous and I don't want a third troublemaker on the team.” he directed his speech to Madilyn. It was really funny coming out of his mouth; it was like he was talking to himself. Foggy stared at his feet to distract himself from laughing at what Matt said.

Matt tilts his head, waiting for her answer. She huffed, rolling her honey eyes, “fine.” They all suspire.

“Let's go pick up some coffee and see what we've got for starters, shall we?” Foggy suggested. The girls agreed by taking the lead on the way out. “A fourth you meant,” Foggy corrected in a whisper as he let Matt hold his arm. Matt chuckled. “You should really take your own advice sometimes, buddy. Let's go.”

“I'll meet you downstairs tomorrow, alright?” she asked him, standing at her building entrance, tugging on her purse strap.

“Alright,” he smiled. “Goodnight, Madilyn, take care of yourself,” he fixed the red blinds barely hanging on the bridge of his nose.

“You too.” she smiled back, “Goodnight, Matt.” She said, before turning around and walking towards the stairs.

She took the stairs to her apartment. As she unlocked her door, her cat purred and scratched the wooden surface, eager to reunite with her. “Hello, little one!” she carried her in her arms the moment she walked into her apartment, “did you miss mommy? Oh, did you miss mommy? Mommy missed you too, baby!” she playfully nuzzled her cat's head. Ivy trilled. “Well, I'm hungry too, I'm gonna make us something.” she headed to the kitchen as she cradled her cat. Searching in the pantry, she found a can of soft food. She emptied the can in a bowl and walked across the room to place it at her cat's area.

Once she made sure her cat was indulged in feeding, she headed to her room to change her clothes. In all black outfit and a zip-up hoodie, she sat on the edge of her bed with her phone in her hand, waiting for her call to be answered.

“Madilyn?...”

“Hey, dad. How's it going?” she fiddled with the drawstring of her hoodie.

“I'm doing great, angel... Your mom told me you got that job at the... Nicholson and Madock, I guess?...”

“It's Nelson and Murdock, and Page,” she corrected, “it's a law firm, and recently they got into private investigation,” she recalls the latter events, “so I applied for the job, and I got accepted. Mom probably told you all of that.”

“Oh, yeah, these fellas… I heard they had a questionable reputation...” she huffed a chuckle at his comment.

“Yeah, they did get involved in a couple of things lately, but I assure you, they're squeaky clean.” Her father chuckled at her response. It's been almost six months since she last heard his laughter echoing on the walls of her place. “However, that's not why I called.” her chuckles subsided, she had to be straightforward.

“What is it then, angel?” her father asked, he's probably flipping through one of his newspapers, she knows the way he speaks when he's wrapped up in reading.

“There's a guy I met last night, he said his name was McCarthy and that he knows you very well and wanted to make sure if you're okay,” she stared out of her window as the dim moonlight casted upon the floor of her room. Her father went silent for a moment. She mentally made a note of that. He definitely knows him; he was an admiral; he knows all the people he worked with.

“I don't think I recall this name...” he slowly answered, “no... I don't think I know a guy with this name...”

“Yeah, I thought so…” she clenched her jaw, already calculated her next move.

“Alright, angel... Gotta go now... Your mom is struggling with the blender again...” he chuckled.

“Alright, dad. Tell her I said hi. Talk to you later,” she said and hung up, grabbing her boots off the floor to wear them.

Another rainy night, she walks over the forming water puddles, splashing her heavy feet into the spills. Her journey doesn't take long, her destination is only a twenty-minutes-away walk. She took the elevator of a building and rang a bell.

Once. Twice. Three times.

“Who is it?” a guy calls from inside, his voice approaching the other side of the door.

“It's me, Alan. Madilyn.” she answers, “I'm freezing here.”

“Alright, alright, I'm coming...” she heard a noise before he reached the door, “shit...” he cussed under his breath. He opens the door. “Hey, Maddie-- whoa, no hugs,” he raised his hands, “you're soaked, and I might catch a cold.”

“Yeah, you could've answered earlier...” she responded, passing him and into the house, “why is this place so messy?” she grimaced, taking her hoodie off.

“Had a really shitty week at work,” he rubbed his face, his eyes are surrounded with dark circles, “there's a money-laundering scandal going around and it's affecting everyone.”

“Money-laundering? How's that?” she asked, squeezing the water out of her hair.

“The head of the company is suspected to have been laundering money through one of his oil companies,” Alan explained. She hummed. “We still don't know much details about the case, they're keeping it under wraps. It doesn't matter really. What brought you here in this weather, though?”

“Oh, ummm... A guy broke into my house last night,” she started, “and I'm suspecting he's from the military.”

“How can you be so chill about it?” his brows knitted with confusion, “you're talking like you got a gift card from Walmart or something...”

“It was already dealt with,” she shrugged, “not by the cops of course.” she mumbled the latter part.

“Who dealt with it then?”

“Daredevil.”

“There are guards on this floor,” The Devil whispered, hiding behind one of the pillars at the parking lot, next to him was McCarthy, who was visibly confused. “Four.” The Devil confirmed.

“There's two more, they're taking the elevator with him,” he tilted his head to the side a little, “and there's a driver, he's in the car. It's a few minutes away from the elevator, that’s enough time for us.”

“How do you know all of that?” The Devil smirked at McCarthy’s question before rolling to hide behind a car. The man is out of the elevator. He's moving closer with his guards. But The Devil must clear his way first. His dark silhouette moves from one pillar to another. He throws one of his wooden batons at a guard. He's down, and luckily, no one noticed, not yet.

He smells sulfur, McCarthy has taken his gun out of its holster. The Devil shoots his other baton, but it aims for McCarthy's hand, throwing the gun out of his grip, sending it clattering across the floor. “No guns,” he whispers.

“Come on...” McCarthy rolls his eyes.

“There’s noise on the floor, 10 o’clock…” one of the bodyguards talks through the handheld transceiver as he walks towards the source of the latter sounds. The Devil takes advantage of the situation, silently attacking the man from behind, sending him into a short sleep. Meanwhile, McCarthy has taken another one down with the back of his gun. The last one was an easy target, The Devil smacked him with a baton, knocking him unconscious. As he drags the man away, he hears a click behind his back.

BANG!

He dodges the bullet and turns, knocking the gun out of the bodyguard’s hand and blowing him with a punch in his chin. The man falters in his steps but manages to aim a punch in The Devil’s face, The Devil strikes him before he could react further, knocking him to the ground, as McCarthy attacks the other bodyguard with a blow to his head.

The man freezes for a moment before bolting towards his car, but to no avail, The Devil corners him against the car before he could reach the rear door’s handle as his driver escapes the scene.

“You’re not gonna hurt me,” arrogantly, he speaks, “I’m too influential, I can destroy you—” but before he could finish his sentence, he was blown with a fist to the face, McCarthy’s fist, sending his rectangular glasses shattering across the concrete flooring.

“Not as influential as you may think,” McCarthy comments.

“Don’t you know who I am?!” he shouts. They did not flinch.

“We’re not the kind of guys who’d bully a random rich business man,” The Devil smugly smiles and answers after swallowing his desire to punch him in the face, “but I appreciate the effort you put on a show.”

“We believe you have some information that we need…” The Devil starts.

“Winston Bennett,” McCarthy cuts him off offensively, “does that ring any bells for you, prick?” The Devil sighs, rolls his eyes behind his mask.

“You were his secretary, more like his right-hand man,” The Devil continues.

“Then why are you coming after me, bastards? Why not go after him?”

“Where does he keep his files?” The Devil ignores his rude response, still holding him by the collar of his swanky gray dress suit.

“Why the hell would I tell you—” The Devil slams him against the car, his head hits the metallic body.

“Answer the question.” His voice is coarse and dull, “where does Winston Bennett keeps his files?” McCarthy pulls his gun out of its holster and points it Lewis’ head, the muzzle is almost carving a circle in his skull. The Devil tightens his grip on Lewis’ necktie. His neck turns red and swollen with the obstructed air and blood.

“A safe…” he groans.

“Where the fuck is that safe?!” McCarthy snaps, imprinting his gun further into Lewis’ head.

“Diesel…” he chokes, “Diesel Gush… the executive office… a painting…” he coughs and wheezes, “please…” he pants as he pleads. The Devil lets go of his collar enough to breathe before aiming a punch straight to his nose, knocking Lewis down with a bloody nose on the gray concrete floor. As he tries to regain composure, he looks up, but no one is there anymore.

“Did you find anything?” Madilyn sleepily asked, resting her head on the couch arm and her eyes are half opened.

“There are hundreds of thousands of people in the navy under the name McCarthy,” Alan answered, still staring at his screen, “of course I'm not gonna find him, I'm not a digital magician.” Madilyn stood off the couch. “Wait, where are you going?” he asked, turning to look at her walking to the door.

“Calling it a night,” she answered, putting on her boots, “call me if you find anything, alright?”

“You're sure you could go home like that?” he took his headphones off, resting it on his neck, “you can stay the night here if you want to.”

“Nah, I'm good.” she shook her head, already opened the front door, “I can walk home... Or take a cab... Or whatever...” she mumbled, “I'll text you if I find any new info on him, alright? Alright.” she says, closing the door right after.

She walked down the stairs and out of the building. The rain stopped, that was one good thing, at least she wouldn't have to fight both the water and sleep.

“You know you can't walk home looking like that, detective.” a familiar voice says, before coming out of the dark and revealing himself.

She gasped, pulling her gun out, aiming it at the shadow man. “Jesus!” she clutched her chest, “I almost shot you!”

The Devil grinned as he approached her, “it's too late to walk home alone,” she lowers the gun, “and you're a detective, you should be on alert. Not sleepy.”

“I was sleepy until you showed up and scared the shit outta me,” she mumbled. He barks laughing. “You enjoyed it that much?” she asked, she couldn't hide the smile on her face.

He shook his head in denial, “I never meant to do that…” he chuckled, his gravelly voice is amusing, “I wanted to be gentler.”

She looks down, biting back the smile on her lip; his figure is already distracting more than the sleepy bees buzzing in her head. “So, I guess you're here to walk me home, Mr. Devil. Right?”

He shrugged with a smirk, “you can say that.” she nodded to his response.

“Guess I don't need to show you the way,” she says, “unless you insist,” he chuckled. She made The Devil laugh three times, in contrast to the bluntness he was known for, he sounds gentler. His laughter sounded pretty amusing, too. It’s not like she’d feel the butterflies crowding her stomach whenever she hears it, or is it?

As they started to walk, the sky steadily dimmed, the moonlight softly hid behind the clouds, and the rain droplets bounced off their shoulders once again. She hugged herself tight to keep her body heat, yet the goosebumps rose on her forearms beneath her dark soaked hoodie. She looks at his toned muscles peeking from beneath the wet and stretchy fabric, she’s glad he couldn’t see the red flush on her face, she hoped.

“How did you know I was there?” she broke the quiet pitter-patters of the rain, “I mean…” she trailed off for a moment, shrugging and looking down at her boots as they gently broke the surfaces of the puddles.

“I was overlooking the area when I found you walking out of the building…” he wasn’t lying though, he knew she wasn’t home so he had to watch over her.

“That makes sense…” she shrugged.

The rain continues to softly drop, showering the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. It's warm, it’s calm, it’s safe. She glances at her side, he’s quietly walking, quieter than the rain. The pitter-patters fade into the background, her heart steadily beats in her chest. The anxiety enzyme in her blood is lower than the night before, almost no longer exists. She suspires, calmly, she feels alright. It warms his heart.

“So…” she speaks again, breaking the silence for the second time, “about last night…” he huffs with a smile, “what did you do to him?”

“Well, we’ve come to an agreement…”

“What was he doing in my house? Then he said it doesn’t have anything to do with me?” she speaks her thoughts, “doesn’t make sense to me…”

“That, um…” he sighs, he knows why McCarthy was there, he just couldn’t tell her. “Couldn’t really get it out of him…”

“Yikes…” she muttered, “but thanks anyway, if it wasn’t for you I would’ve been dead… I guess.” He smiles.

“Guess you’re home now.” The Devil speaks.

“I’ll see you around?” She looks at her building’s entrance and then back at him, but he was gone, like he was never there. “Oh…” She sighs and walks into the building, closing the door behind her and taking the stairs afterwards. She unlocks her apartment door and places the keys on the console table.

Kicking off her wet and muddy boots, she takes off her dampened zip-up hoodie and t-shirt, and walks in the direction of the kitchen. She opens the fridge, retrieving a cold bottle of water.

“You keep forgetting to close your windows, detective,” she heard a voice from behind her. She gasped and turned, she finds The Devil standing at her window with a grin. It was so hard for her not to smile back, or, at the very least, not fall for it. She raked her fingers through her dampened hair, biting her lip to hide her grin. “Goodnight, detective.” he says with a smile.

“Goodnight, Devil.”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He walks to his door as he buttons up his white dress shirt. It's her. She's pulling onto the strap of her purse. She wore a dress today; it's softly brushing again her skin. Her hair is tied in a low bun, and it's a little messy; her dark bangs are straying out of it. But her fragrance was as lovely as always, floral, and sweet like vanilla. His heart smiled behind his ribcage as he prepared himself to open the door.

“Good morning, Matt-- whoa, God! Are you okay?” she exclaimed, her smile disappeared, and her eyes are gone wide, “what's that big bruise next to your eye?” she's hesitant to check it.

“Slipped in the shower last night...” he says, smiling apologetically, “good morning, Madilyn.” He opens the door for her to come in. She walks down the hallway and stands by the end of it. “Please take a seat,” he says as he walks to the kitchen. She sat on his couch as he started the coffeemaker up.

“I called you, but you didn't answer, so... I thought I should check on you,” she said, placing her purse next to her on the leather couch.

“Sorry, It's my fault... I probably left it on silent.” she nodded to his answer.

“Did you apply any ice to it-- I mean the bruise?” she asked, staring at his muscles moving beneath the white dress shirt as he prepared the coffee. He was impressive, she didn't have to think about it twice.

“Not sure if I did..” he answered, too carried away in his search for an extra mug in his cupboard, “I can do it later at the office.” He found one and placed it next to his.

Her eyes darted around the room, “this looks cozy, the place,” she stated, “did anyone help you with the decor? I mean—”

Matt chuckled; her question warmed his heart. He shook his head, “no, I was told it was like this when I first rented it.” she nodded and hummed to his answer. Her eyes fell to the coffee table, it was neatly arranged, his mail was sorted, his phone was aligned with his folded cane and briefcase. It was a pleasing scenery to see.

“Creamer or no creamer?” he asked, her head flies to look his way, he's turning her way with a warm smile.

She knows he couldn't see it, but she smiles back, “creamer,” she says, “two spoons of sugar.” He nods and continues his work.

She picks up his folded cane to inspect it, she's never seen one this close, and it looked interesting. She doesn't notice him placing the mug on the table in front of her. He cleared his throat, “your coffee,” he says as he straightens his back and heads to his room.

“Thanks,” she says, taking the mug off the table and drawing it to her mouth to take a sip. It's sweet, with a hint of vanilla. She hummed contentedly as the dulcet taste swirled in her mouth.

She stood off her seat and walked to the window, the foggy but slightly different in color tiles were beaming with light. She leant onto it, looking outside to make out a mirage of the neighborhood. She could see the windows of her own apartment on the other side of the the street, her cat was standing by the living room window, biting the green leaves off the branches of the plant she left on the windowsill—but Ivy couldn't see her.

In the other room, the heat was rising up his neck, he was nervous, his hands were shaking. The sound of her heels softly clicking on the wooden floor makes his heart tick faster with each step she takes. She takes a sip of her coffee, her heart beats faster and she's smiling. He's jittering with each breath she takes, she's looking outside the window and tucking her stray bangs behind her ear, her earring swings to the movement of her hand, and his heart sways with it.

He regrets not answering the phone, he wouldn't have to shake like a broken blender despite her standing in a completely different room—yet he couldn't leave her waiting downstairs.

He couldn't tie his necktie, no matter how hard he tried, his hands kept trembling and his mind kept straying. “Damn it...” he cursed under his breath, but it was loud enough for her to hear it.

“Are you okay, Matt?” she asked, still giving him privacy. He walked out of his room, necktie in his hand and his face is flustered.

“Couldn't tie it,” he sighed. She approaches, his heart is burning, and the blood is pumping wild in his ears.

“Can I help you with it?” she asks, her fingertips are softly touching his. He nods. She feels his hands shaking beneath her touch. “Are you alright?” she asks with a smile, her voice is warm with worry, “you're shaking...”

He knows, oh Hell—he knows. “I... I don't-- I don't know...” he blurts, “maybe I'm just... Tired... Yeah.”

She takes the black tie and starts wrapping it around her arm. “Learned this trick a while ago,” she says, “you spread the thick part along your arm and wrap the thin part three times around your wrist,” she explains, “then you pull the second loop through the first loop... And we're done. You're just gonna have to put it on.”

She smiled proudly at herself. “I'm just gonna adjust it a bit...” she fixes the length of each end and widens the loop. “Can I help you put it on-- unless you want to--do it yourself—”

He shook his head, “of course—you can... Thank you.” he smiles with his red face as she passes his head through the noose.

“You're welcome,” she responded with a grin, fixing his collar around the noose before fitting it around his neck. “It looks good,” she addressed, smiling, “not because I tied it, of course…” she mutters, he giggles. The sunlight beamed upon his smiling face so gently, the tint of the glass softly shaded his skin with colorful auras. “Is there anything else that I can help you with?” she offered.

He shook his head, “thank you,” he gestured a thumb to his bedroom, “I'm just gonna get my suit jacket.” She nodded and hummed, watched him make his way back to his room and put on his suit jacket. He walks back into the living room and picks up his briefcase, phone, keys and cane— off the table. And without saying another word, they leave the apartment, hands tangled, hearts tied.

[previous / next]

#mattilyn

Trending Tags

Recently Viewed Tags

#mattilyn