pink silks.
marvel Matt Murdock + female ballet dancer reader
author’s note: you ever wanted to be a ballerina so badly, you pretend to be a classically trained ballet dancer in your room??? no? just me? okay cool xxx ALSO I had to write this in 3rd person POV, makes it less personal to any readers out there who don’t enjoy the warnings mentioned below.
summary: a disgraced 17 year old ballerina who had a bright future in NYC takes a chance on a new law firm who just might be able to get her justice.
warnings: alludes to SA, depressed character :( please only read if u think u can enjoy it past the sad bits, and take care my lovelies <3
⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰
she was sad. don’t be surprised at that either, she had very few reasons to be happy, at least that’s what she thought in that moment. she danced every night on the open rooftop of her shoddy apartment building that she used to share with that boy. he was a man now, technically. his birthday was a few weeks back. she didn’t send him a card, or a text, he didn’t deserve it. he deserved punishment, to be humiliated in a court of law before his peers and family.
but, that took money, the ballerina thought with a sigh, relacing her slippers for the tenth time since stepping onto the roof. she wore only her threadbare pyjamas and an oversized cardigan that was her mother’s. the one thing she took from home when he said to her, “come with me to New York, we’ll be stars. I promise.” and she had followed him with love in her heart and stars in her eyes.
now, she was struggling to pay for a barely liveable apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, blacklisted from every ballet company in NYC and alone. so horribly alone. and it was all because of him, that monster, that liar, that cheat. he was living his best life, dancing for a decent company and going out with pretty girls every weekend. and here she was, dancing alone on a broken rooftop with no intention of making it to tomorrow.
each day, she woke up, alone, cold, afraid. the neighbours weren’t kind, they argued every single night, throwing objects and slamming doors until the early hours. why they didn’t just split up, the ballerina couldn’t comprehend. yet, here she was, unable to fight back against her enemy, who’d stolen her life and dreams and she was doing nothing about it. one night, when her neighbours had finally ceased arguing, the ballerina grabbed her coat and shoes, and made her way to the rooftop. she’d had enough, and was sick of life.
tonight was the night.
she danced like her life depended on it, the only music being the final words spoken between her and her tormentor after an audition that they’d passed together, as a team, as a pair, a partnership. it was an endless loop of screaming, crying and... other things. things the ballerina couldn’t quite comprehend. she didn’t fully understand the things that he’d done. she didn’t know how to feel about them. she didn’t know what to think about them.
she didn’t care much anymore. he’d done that to her, and here she was, ready to dance right off of the rooftop and into the stars. she was just about ready, having danced herself to breathlessness and utmost dizziness, when a voice spoke to her from across the rooftop. it made her heart drop. “beautiful dancing.” she froze, steps away from the edge of the rooftop. a man, clothed in all black with a black mask covering his eyes, was stood by the door to the staircase. was he here to kill her? was this the end? she didn’t know what to do, or think, or feel. she had been moments away from– “thank you.” she said, with a heavy swallow. “why do you dance alone where no one can see you?” the masked man asked. “because I have no one to dance for.” the ballerina replied, heart still pumping vigourously. “look, I’m not here to hurt you, if that’s what you think.” the masked man spoke evenly, stepping forward as he did. the ballerina watched on, unsure of how to handle this situation. “then why are you here, dressed in all black, a mask hiding your face?” the ballerina questioned, shaking slightly. “I have a friend, he’s a lawyer, he sent me to ask you some questions, nothing more.” the ballerina sat down on the edge of the roof, pondering the masked man’s intentions. she’d been stupid enough before to let one boy ruin her life, was she going to do the same with a fully grown man dressed like an assassin? “okay, but you stay there, no sudden movements.” the ballerina conceded. the masked man did as he was asked. in fact, he knelt down, his head facing the floor. “you dance professionally?” the masked man asked, his voice softer as he spoke. “I want to.” the ballerina replied, shaking against the blistering winds of NYC. “so, you never auditioned for a ballet company?” the masked man asked, head tilting towards the ballerina. he sensed the change in her heartbeat, her breathing. she was exhausted from dancing, sure, but now she was on edge, ready to flee. no wonder, the masked man thought, after what he’d found out. “I did, with someone from my hometown. he got in, I didn’t.” the ballerina finally answered, her voice small, fingers pulling on the cardigan relentlessly. the masked man felt his fists clench in response, that feeling of anger pooling in his head. he needed to be calm, get the answers he needed, without scaring her off. she needed to come to him of her own accord. “who’s this someone?” the ballerina’s head dropped and she closed her eyes, fighting off something dark. “is his name...” the masked man uttered the whole government name of the person, and the ballerina looked up at him with wide eyes. scared eyes. she nodded, wordlessly. “he’s done some horrible things to other people, and he’s being taken to court. my friend would like you to be a witness.”
silence, only blanketed by the wind, fell between the two on the roof. inside, the ballerina was screaming, begging to be made free of her tormentor, her monster. outside, she remained shocked, unsure. the masked man felt sad on the inside for the ballerina, only 17, alone in Hell’s Kitchen. outside, he was patiently waiting for her response. finally, the ballerina stood up, wrapping the cardigan around herself as a comfort.
“before I agree to anything I want to meet this friend, the lawyer. where do they work?” the masked man held out a business card, still kneeling down, still entirely passive. cautiously, the ballerina made her way over, and paused before she became within arm’s reach of the masked man. he outstretched his fingers and she took the card from his gloved hands. with that, the masked man stood up to his full height, and backed away from the door.
“I’ll let my friend know you’re eager to see him.” he said before vaulting over the roof and climbing down the various ladders and balconies to reach the street level. the ballerina turned the business card over in her hands, running her fingers over it with curiosity. it wasn’t like she had anything better to do tomorrow, why not pay this lawyer a visit and see if they’re all she expects them to be?
the business card found a home in her cardigan pocket for the rest of the night.
⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰
as NYC came back to life, so did the ballerina. she had a real chance here, and she was grabbing it with both hands, tightly. dressed in her best clothes, with freshly washed hair and a spritz of tester perfume, the ballerina took that business card and left her apartment with what felt like determination. for the first time in weeks, she felt alive, present in the world. she was no longer just a ghost following herself around aimlessly. she had a purpose. little old ballerina in NYC was about to do something seriously big, and she felt good about it.
she hadn’t felt good about many things recently, so this was exciting. a trip across Hell’s Kitchen to a lawyer who could get her justice, or was going to try to at the very least. and the masked man! he hadn’t left her mind since last night, she couldn’t sleep properly after that encounter. he was so mysterious, elusive, strange. she hoped she could thank him one day if this all went according to plan, if there was a God up there, somewhere.
when the ballerina arrived at the office, she was doubtful. it looked to be the same quality as her own dwellings across Hell’s Kitchen. before she could knock, the door opened, and there stood a man with tinted glasses and a walking stick. “oh, she’s here.” he held out his hand, and the ballerina hastily shook it. “I’m Matt Murdock, come on in.” the ballerina followed the blind man, still holding the business card in her hands. she was nervous now, they’d been expecting her. oh dear. had she made the wrong choice? was this the right thing to do? what if she got into trouble? “Karen will get you something to drink, if you want.” a well dressed woman with gorgeously shiny hair entered the room. “hi, I’m Karen, do you want a hot drink?” she put down a tray and started pouring herself and Matt a drink. the ballerina opted for tea, something she’d relished at home, but rarely indulged in since coming to NYC. once everyone was settled, Murdock started asking questions. “I’m assuming you got our message?” he began, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. Karen had a pen and notepad at hand. this was going to get uncomfortable if the wrong questions started being asked, the ballerina thought with a hot flush of embarrassment. how did she explain what had happened to her? even she didn’t understand it. oh dear. she was panicking, bad.
“I did.” the ballerina heard herself say. it was as if she was in another dimension, just watching herself on autopilot. this happened often. especially when she danced. she didn’t know how to stop it. still, she persisted. “what is it you’re planning to do about…” she couldn’t even finish her sentence she felt so sick.
“we’re going to take him to court with several other victims and get him put into prison, for a long time.” Karen answered softly, a kind smile on her face. her cheeks were rosy from the cold weather, the same as the ballerina’s. was Karen’s apartment as cold as the ballerina’s..? “does that sound like something you want to help us with?” Karen asked, the pen balanced between her fingers.
“I think so.” the ballerina answered with a shaking voice. Karen felt like dying inside at the sight of a girl so young being so frightened and hurt. Matt just wanted night to fall so he could don the mask and serve his own form of justice to this monster that tormented the ballerina day and night.
he’d never tell Karen or the ballerina this, but he had heard the ballerina’s nightmares through her rapid heartbeats for a few nights now. he’d been watching over her in the run-up to taking this case, and knew how badly she hurt inside. he just wanted to tell her that she’d get her justice, no doubts about it, but he had to go about this the right way.
Karen did most of the talking, she had a way with younger clients, Matt only interjected when there was a legal technicality that needed clarifying. it had been a nerve racking few hours for the ballerina when Karen suggested a break. the ballerina couldn’t get out of that room quick enough. Karen made the ballerina promise to come back after an hour to continue the meeting. the ballerina did as she was asked, only because she had a need to see this through.
⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰
the ballerina followed a routine of the same thing for many weeks. meeting with Karen and Matt, occasionally a man called Foggy was there too, and discuss the case and write down everything she could remember about her time with the monster. Karen was always the saving grace when things got too embarrassing or upsetting for the ballerina, and because Matt couldn’t see the ballerina’s expressions all of the time, he relied on Karen to keep an eye on their client.
it wasn’t until the ballerina had finished giving her information over that she was allowed to just stay at home and wait. it killed her inside to wait. she received frequent phone calls from Karen with updates on the case, and finally there was a court date. there were several other victims, witnesses and people willing to testify. it was the day before the first court date, and the ballerina found herself crumbling at the thought of facing him, his slimy character, false words. she found herself phoning Karen in the middle of the night, and leaving a voice message. “Karen, I can’t testify. I’m sorry.” that was all the ballerina said, before hanging up in a pool of tears and racing to the rooftop. her ballet shoes were wrecked and her feet permanently injured beyond belief, but she needed to dance. maybe tonight she would dance off of the rooftop at last, straight into the stars, and home. wherever home seemed to be these days.
the ballerina played the music, and she had no routine to follow. her feet took her as fast and far as they could in their state of injury, and she felt a bit lighter as she danced. no one but the stars and the moon were watching, and she was so close to dropping with exhaustion, that she finally got close enough to the edge. she was dancing dangerously on the edge, spinning and spinning. maybe she’d just spin off, fall, fly. she got closer to the dark drop, with every move. she was so calculated and precise when dancing, but she got messier and sloppier with each breath.
just as she was about to free fall, fly off the edge, she was caught by an arm around her back that lifted her back onto the rooftop. she pulled her headphones out of her ears, and was met with the howling wind of NYC. it was so cold that she could see her breath now she’d opened her eyes for the first time since stepping onto the edge of the rooftop. the masked man had made a return. “what were you doing?” he asked, keeping a hold of her in case she tried something stupid. “don’t tell me you were going to dance into oblivion.” he walked her to the door, but she slipped out from his grasp. “I don’t care what your lawyer friends have said,” she had tears sliding down her face, “I can’t testify.” she shook her head as the masked man turned to face her. “why not?” he asked. “he’ll see me, he knows who I am, he’ll come for me if we lose.” the ballerina said, her flushed face wet with tears that hadn’t been cried in a long time. “they won’t lose.” the masked man came back with, “I can promise. you that.” he added on, with a strong posture. “you don’t know that.” the ballerina whispered, wiping her tears away with her sleeve. the masked man knelt down before the ballerina as he had before, when they first met, and held out a hand to her. “what are you doing?” the ballerina asked, stepping towards him. “take my hand.” he said, softly. she did. “I have every bit of faith in those guys, otherwise I wouldn’t have found you. you know that, don’t you?” the ballerina didn’t know what to say. “come here, it’s too cold to be up here so late.” he stood up and she accepted his hug. it reminded her of when her dad would hug her after a scary audition in her hometown. they stood there for a while, against the wind, the two of them. when a gusty breeze passed them by, the masked man told her to go back inside, sleep and be ready for Karen to collect her in the morning.
the ballerina listened, and slept, although she had nightmares too.
⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰
the next few weeks were a horrid storm of interrogations and raised voices. whenever the ballerina was on the witness stand, the lawyers that were representing him came at her with hard to understand questions and nonsense accusations. Matt and Foggy could see that the ballerina was struggling, and even though they’d showed her what to do, it rarely made her feel better.
on the verdict day, the ballerina could take it no longer. she was exhausted, and wanted to sink through the ground. eyes had been on her the entire trial. she’d been called a liar and a whore. she’d also been called a victim, a defenseless girl, a poor thing. none of it was helping her cope. she found herself crying into a pool of tears most nights, if it wasn’t that then she was dancing all over the rooftop. the masked man visited every single night, whether she was dancing or crying.
the jury returned, the ballerina held tightly onto her own hands, until Matt’s hand found hers. he enclosed them in his, Foggy had a hand on her shoulders, his eyes laser focused on the jury. Karen was sat just behind them, still as a statue. the ballerina was sure she’d be sick if the wrong words were spoken by the juror. if this was all for nothing then she had nothing left to live on for. this case, as harrowing as it had been, had given her a reason or two to get out of bed. her dancing was beginning to lose its feel the longer the case went on, so the ballerina had fought to make it to verdict day.
time slowed as the juror announced the verdict. Matt was looking at the table, Foggy staring at the jury. the ballerina closed her eyes, and just waited in limbo.
the verdict was guilty.
Karen held the ballerina in comfort as he was dragged out of court kicking and screaming at his innocence, hurling disgusting verbal abuse at the ballerina, who was the main victim. everything had involved the ballerina, it was all stemming from her. she’d been the first witness to give evidence, she was sat beside Matt and Foggy every day, the newspapers begged her for interviews whenever she left court. her face was plastered all over the internet with fake, ludicrous stories of her childhood and career as a ballerina. all she could think was that, firstly, she’d enjoyed a wonderful childhood, and secondly, she never had the chance to have a career as a ballerina before this. it was all lies for clicks and views.
the most surprising part of the case was that the ballerina was to be awarded money for damages. specifically, emotional damages, according to Karen. as the ballerina wasn’t a legal adult yet, it had to go to her parents or guardians, so she nominated Karen and Matt. they agreed and opened an account in the ballerina’s name to give her access to the money. she moved into a better apartment with Karen’s help, and set up auditions at ballerina companies all over NYC. if there was one thing the ballerina was determined to do, it was dance for a living, while she still could.
⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰
Matt received a text message inviting him to the first performance of the dance season. Karen and Foggy were invited too, of course. the ballerina appreciated that Matt wouldn’t be able to see the performance, but maybe he’d feel it. she invited him first nonetheless. they all turned up, on time, and in their private box that had been arranged by the ballerina. she was the best ballerina in the company, her fellow dancers adored her, yet she did not dance for their adoration. she danced to live.
Karen kept remarking on how incredible the ballerina was for so young a person. Matt could just imagine how she danced on a proper stage after using a shoddy rooftop for so long. Foggy was enjoying the private box too much, gloating about it even after the show had ended hours later. Matt was the first person down to the stage to see the ballerina. she was dressed elegantly and still looked immaculate despite having danced for her life minutes earlier.
Karen congratulated the ballerina a thousand times over, complimenting her performance over and over again. Matt could feel the heartbeat of the ballerina soaring when she was praised for her performance. it made him smile, made him warm inside. Karen and Foggy then left the two alone for a while to talk. “I wish your friend could’ve been here tonight.” the ballerina said gently, gazing out at the crowd. “what friend?” Matt asked, genuinely confused. “the man in the mask.” the ballerina filled in, tilting her head. as if Matt could forget his friend. “ah, I see,” Matt leaned into the ballerina’s side, “he was here, I made sure of it.” the ballerina glanced at Matt and then back out at the theatre. “where was he sat?” she asked, on her toes to try and peek above the many heads of the crowd. “in the private box, with us, but he had to make a hasty exit. he’s not liked by many people, you see.” Matt straightened his back and had two hands on his walking stick. the ballerina nodded and sighed, sad to have missed him. “when you see him again, will you tell him thank you?” the ballerina said after a while. the theatre was now almost empty, save for a few stragglers. “what for?” Matt asked, leading the ballerina down the stage and into the seats so they could go home. or out for drinks. “oh, I don’t know. for saving me, I suppose.” the ballerina smirked at how strange she sounded, before opening the doors to the foyer. it was bustling with people trying to get taxis home or arrange plans for after the show. Matt steered the two of them to the doors and they stepped out into the NYC nighttime air. “will you tell him?” the ballerina asked, not comforted by Matt’s lack of reply. “I think he already knows, but the next time I see him I’ll be sure to let him know.” with that, the ballerina smiled gratefully before hugging Matt tight. he hugged her back, his head resting atop hers. Karen and Foggy came out behind them and said they were off for drinks, if they wanted to come along. the ballerina agreed and Matt did too, but he said he wouldn’t stay long.
as the four of them sat in a bar not far from the theatre, all the ballerina could think about was the masked man, how he’d been there every single night through the court process. how he’d stopped her from dancing off the edge. had he really been at the theatre tonight, or was Matt just saying that to be kind? the ballerina sipped her soft drink and pondered the situation as the others drank and joked. if the ballerina knew any better, it was probably best to leave the masked man alone. he had very clearly done his part now, whatever that was. as the night crawled on, the ballerina excused herself, called a taxi and went home to her new apartment.
she hung up her heavy winter coat, threw her nice shoes aside, and went straight to the rooftop. she put on her at home ballet slippers, and slipped new headphones into her ears. she was still dressed in her evening gown and still donned her classy jewellery, her face was still well painted with expensive makeup and her hair had kept its style. still, she danced. it was as if she couldn’t get enough of it, despite doing it all night and all day. it was her very life blood, her oxygen, her energy.
as she danced, she smiled, which she rarely did. she never smiled when dancing, it wasn’t something she was used to doing. it felt good to smile, she realised, as she went across the smooth rooftop in a well practiced routine to the music. when she thought she’d danced herself to exhaustion, she looked out over the rooftop to the sight of NYC. it could be beautiful, sometimes. she turned around to go back inside, and found the masked man standing there.
“your show was certainly something.” he said, as she removed her headphones. “thank you. Matt said you attended, although I didn’t see you.” the ballerina replied, looking at him with sad eyes. “oh, I think you did see me. you probably didn’t recognise me without the mask.” he replied with a smile. “why did you stop dancing?” “I sensed you were around, you know, thought it would be polite to stop and talk.” the ballerina sat on the rooftop, braving the wind as she always had. “dance with me?” the masked man asked, offering her his hand. “can you even dance ballet?” the ballerina asked with a true laugh. “I have many hidden talents.” he informed her, as she took up her position. she asked if he needed music, and he said only if she wanted. so, she let her phone play the next track without her headphones plugged in, and they started dancing. she was surprised by his fluidity, his ability to lift her. he kept up perfectly, always in sync with her next move. had he learned this from watching her all those nights? did he dance as a younger man? the questions flew around her head, but most importantly, she was memorising every moment of this night so she could recall it perfectly. no longer was she only accompanied by the stars and the moon, but now the masked man.
when the music stopped, she looked at the masked man and smiled. “you were perfect, sir, thank you.” she did a low curtsey with a mockingly posh voice, and he bowed back. “I learned from only the very best ballerina in all of New York.” with that, he had to leave, probably off to see other ballerinas dancing on their rooftops. but, he said if she ever needed him, all she had to do was tell Matt and he’d contact him. the ballerina hugged him goodbye, thanking him for his presence, and watched him scale down the building and disappear into the alleyways of NYC. she returned to her apartment to find a vase of flowers on her table, with a handwritten card that read: the world is your stage, ballerina, dance on it as you please.
the ballerina smiled, feeling whole again, and finally let herself rest. the noise of NYC never ceased, but she found that it was difficult to sleep without it. not once did she have another nightmare about him or the things that had happened between them, instead she dreamed of performing on stage again in a few nights time, and then learning a new routine for the next ballet season. oh, the excitement she felt. the way her heart jumped for joy when she saw auditions being posted by the dressing rooms. how she revelled in dancing away to a world of her own. all of the things she’d loved about dancing before meeting him had returned in full force.
her love for life had grown, and she felt happy. don’t be surprised at that either, she had a lot of things to be happy about.
⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰
messyyythoughts © 2022 do not translate without my permission, give credit if you repost, support always welcomed <3