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rae-gar-targaryen · 1 year

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only smile in the dark [matt murdock x fem!reader]

A/N: Written for my darling Pheebs for our Discord’s Dicked-Down-December event.

Summary: You and your sometimes-antagonist, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, are snowed in together – in his apartment of all places – after he gets you out of a jam. Will the two of you survive the night? Or will you find some common ground?

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!black cat!reader (reader is a cat burglar and a minor antagonist to Matt Murdock, based on Felicia Hardy)

Word Count: 5.9k of the warm blanket of being snowed-in with your vigilante nemesis, of traded quips and loose lips.

Warnings: p-in-v sex, so 18+ ONLY, unprotected sex, sensory overload, dirty talk, oral (fem!receiving) not-so-hateful hatefucking, mild enemies to lovers, mild bondage, sacrilegious dialogue.

“We have got to stop meeting like this.”

You rolled your eyes beneath your Domino mask as you braced yourself for the approaching footsteps that carried the object of your annoyance from behind you and into your view, bent over the safe as you were, hand poised to deliver the final crack.

Sure enough, onto your field of view came the crimson boots (and everything else attached to them) of your – was arch-nemesis too dramatic? – your whatever he was… Erstwhile annoyance. Masked menace. Devastating devil. – No, not devastating. Stop it.

You spun on your heel, flipping the long hair of the silver wig over your shoulder.

“Hi, Devil-Boy,” you curled your fingers in a flirtatious little wave. “Fancy seeing you here.”

He scoffed, stopping in front of you and crossing his arms over his chest. You could just imagine the disapproval in his eyes behind the foggy cherry glass of the mask.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he gestured to the grandiose room. Here. The study in Fisk’s Hell’s Kitchen-based secondary office. Where you had made your mark to pick up some valuable information for a client (and maybe some valuable stones in the safe – call it a finder’s fee – for yourself). You'd certainly made a name for yourself as one of the most proficient cat burglars – ugh, you'd hated that phrase … try proficient diamond thief – in the city.

You prided yourself on remaining undetected. On the quick inside time for your deliverables. But, well, sometimes… unfortunate incidents occurred.

“And you should?” you raised an eyebrow at your current unfortunate incident, replete with horned mask. You propped a hip against the desk of this ostentatious office, pretending to examine your manicured nails through the black leather of your gloves. “Tell me, Red-Dead, what’s the going rate for your oh-so-noble vigilantism? I guarantee it isn't as high as for my services. So let's not waste my time. Is this the part where you ask me, ‘What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?’”

The devil from your dreams, whom you'd had the unfortunate misfortune to run into on several nights just like this one stepped toward you. Head slightly inclined, as though he were a bull gearing up to charge. And if you had been one of those arms-dealing goons he beat up on the regular, or perhaps a Russian mobster, or a Fisk goon, you might have felt intimidated.

No. Your run-ins with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had been much more – could you call them pleasant? He had broken up a few of your smaller-time heists, letting you off with a slap on the wrist after a tussle that had left you weak in the knees. And who wouldn’t be? After trading quips and blows – don’t think about ‘blows’ – with a man whose firm thighs between your own felt as though they could crack walnuts when you had rolled on top of him during a prior fight. Whose suit made his chest look that much more expansive.

No, your exchanges were coy and cloying. And they ended much the same: in a half-hearted tease of a fight that left you with an ache between your legs and his sinful, syrupy voice warning you that he "wouldn't let you off so easy next time" reverberating through your ears for the rest of the night. That left you with the lingering temptation to slide your hands beneath your expensive covers when you were safely back in your lush apartment, imagining his hands instead of yours gliding through your glistening folds. Imagining his voice, still in your ear.

Wondering if he was imagining you. If he dreamt of the way you teasingly left a trail of crimson lipstick smeared up the cheek of his mask as you dragged your lips there, murmuring that this was no way to treat a lady. If he imagined the way you flexed your fingers, like a cat's claws, up the expanse of his chest when you bested him in a fight, wishing you could feel the drag of your nails along his skin instead of his armoured suit. If the click of your heeled boots as you sauntered through an open window – tossing him a wink before slipping away into the night – reverberated in his mind.

You supposed you would never know.

The energy between the two of you had always been thick, like dusky clouds impregnated with rain in a summer storm – waiting to fall, waiting to devastate. Stuffed with the smell of sagebrush and cleansing promise.

And if you’d managed a successful little robbery? Well, were you disappointed if he didn’t show up to chase you off with pulled punches and heaving chest? –

“Oh no, sweetheart,” He smiled, snapping you from your risqué reveries with a sardonic grin of bared teeth beneath his mask. “I know what kind of girl you are. And I know what you’re doing in a place like this. No need to ask.”

“That's disappointing. Of all the so-called heroes running around this city in Spandex, like a bunch of moral high ground losers, I don't know why I ended up with you. And I don’t know why you insist on trying to get in my way,” you hissed through the bared teeth of a forced grin. “I’m a perfectly reasonable girl, Devil. I don’t get in your way. You shouldn’t get in mine.”

“Honey, this isn’t Spandex.” He half-heartedly made to reach for you with an outstretched hand – which you swatted in kind, procuring a small blade with your other hand and bringing it to his throat.

He swallowed, the edge of your blade snicking against the skin of his throat as he swallowed.

“I can’t just,” he began, swallowing once more before swatting at your wrist with a gloved hand, knocking the blade away from his throat, and boxing you into the desk, “I can’t just let you take shit that doesn’t belong to you. And girls like you don’t play nice.”

“You could, Devil. And so could I,” you shrugged, meeting the glass eyepieces of his mask with wide, doe eyes of your own, fluttering your lashes. “I’d be ever-so-grateful if you just let this one slide?” You glanced out the window, inclining your head at the thick, fluttering flakes that were starting to fall in the New York chill. “I’ve gotta get home, and, baby, it’s cold outside.”

"You –" the Devil stopped himself, tilting his head like a dog listening to a whistle only he could hear, full lips parting as he took in whatever it was he was hearing.

"D-" you began, curious about his sudden pause, trying not to prickle like a skittish cat.

"Shut. Up.," he hissed, snatching your wrist and tugging you from your spot by the desk, marching you past the exposed face of the safe you had been stopped from cracking, and toward the wide window of the office. "They're here."

"Who's here?" You questioned, attempting to tug your wrist free from his tightening hold, to no avail.

The Daredevil appraised you, the tilt of his mask indicating a sweeping survey of your person before continuing,

"Fisk's men. All of them. And they're looking for you. I think you've been set up, sweetheart… Yeah, that's," he swallowed. "That's a lot of heartbeats downstairs. And outside." More to himself than you.

You raised a brow at him again, sardonic. Heartbeats? Doing your best to bite down the panic currently climbing within you with the thin veneer of a sneering grin.

"Then let go of me and let me get out of here," you tugged at your wrist in his grip.

"That's not gonna work, kitten," he responded, wryly. "We've only got a few seconds. I can get you outta here, but you've gotta trust me."

"Trust you?" You hissed, "The guy who tries to turn me in after every little tango? How about …" you tapped a spare finger to your chin, as though deep in thought, "hell no."

"We don't have time for this," he pleaded. "I'm not gonna sell you out to Fisk," he sneered the name through a curled lip. "I'd rather rot."

You studied him for the barest moment, the tenseness in his shoulders at the approaching threat. The warmth of his grip around you, even though the gloves. The clear, demonstrable distaste for Fisk evident in his voice, in the exposed lower-half of his face, the set of his jaw. How he’d always let you go before.

"Fine," you whispered. "I'm trusting you. On a probationary basis. Get me somewhere safe."

Which was how you found yourself stealing away on snow-covered rooftops, the packed powder muffling your steps, and all traces of your journey wiped away in the weather. As you shivered in your bodysuit behind the man leading you through a rooftop window and into an expansive loft space. An apartment.

You strode into the open space of a living room, eyeing the wide windows and exposed brick.

“Nice digs, Devil,” you whistled. “This, like, your safe-house?”

“No,” his voice echoed not-so-distantly behind you as he also made his way down the stairs and into the common area. “Though that would have been much smarter.”

“Don’t tell me you live here?” You whirled around as you watched the Devil remove his gloves, tossing them into a trunk and exposing fine-boned, long-fingered hands, shrugging his shoulders at you, turning his head as if to gesture to the now-storm outside.

“Not up to your standards?” He mocked. “Sorry. It’s not exactly the Plaza. But it was close by. And no one will know you’re here.”

You perched yourself on the edge of his couch, feeling distinctly out of place in a lived-in place with your catsuit, wig, and mask. A clash of ideals. Not unlike you and the man before you.

“Is it wise,” you arched your brow at him, voice acerbic, “to bring someone like me into your home …?”

You leaned forward on the couch, eyeing a stack of mail and papers on the coffee table. And though the Devil seemed to be observing your plain-sight snooping, he made no move to stop you. You leaned forward,

“Matt Murdock,” you finished, reading the name off of the envelopes. Why was that name familiar to you?

The Devil – Matt Murdock – removed his helmet, allowing you to take in the man behind the mask. Pretty dark hair, matted by the helmet, a strong jaw, full lips. Fringed lashes framing hazel eyes that seemed to … look right past you.

Oh.

“Well I suppose my identity remains intact,” you tried to gently tease, removing your Domino mask and your wig, settling yourself into his couch, as he made to remove the rest of his stiff armour.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, kitten,” he turned to face you again, breezing past you through the space and clattering with a tea kettle, of all things.

While the kettle brewed, he scooped a Braille paper from the countertop, slapping it down in front of you, and reading your father’s last name from the headline.

“And here you are,” he finished, “the daughter of a tycoon who likes to get her rocks off stealing Upper East Siders’ jewelry. Moonlighting as a cat burglar. I’ve known since we met.”

Your breath hitched, your eyes trailing over Matt’s form. The evenness of his voice. He was confident, assured. No question in his assessment of you. You’d balk at it, at the fear that should prickle through you at knowing who you were. But… he hadn’t done anything with that information til now, had he?

“In that alleyway behind that stuffy old coot’s apartment?” You queried.

“Oh, sure,” he eased. “Girl like you doesn’t often go to that part of town. I recognized your perfume. And the way you sound walking in heels. Like I said, we’ve met before.”

You lifted yourself from the couch easily, swooping past Matt to kick off your heeled boots by the door. You may as well make yourself comfortable, follow his lead, if he wasn’t going to kick you out into the snow or otherwise turn you in. Easing into his kitchen to remove the now-whistling kettle from the heat, processing where you might know Matt Murdock from.

“We didn’t go on a date, surely? I might have remembered. You’re certainly handsome, though I’m sure you hear that all the time.”

Matt chuckled at that, a dry, wry rumble from his throat, as he scruffed the back of his sweaty neck with his palm, using his other hand to unstick the clinging fabric of his undersuit from his skin.

“No,” he snorted. “We didn’t go out. I’d definitely remember if we had,” he accepted the cup of tea you now passed him.

“Then …” you eyed him over the rim of your own mug, which boasted, in loud text “World’s Best Lawyer.”

It clicked.

“Matt Murdock,” you breathed, “the attorney with a hard-on for bringing down Wilson Fisk. Yeah, you were –”

“At the gala. That political event for bigwigs who wanted to raise money for their campaigns to sweep crime out of Hell’s Kitchen. We met,” his sentences were punctuated. “Briefly. Your dress was killer, by the way.”

“How…?” You made to ask just how the blind, humble pro bono lawyer from the nighttime news could exactly tell that you looked killer in your Yves Saint Laurent gown. Or how he could pull off that ninja shit night after night.

“Devil’s gotta have his secrets, sweetheart,” he eased, fixing you with a cheeky wink.

Trying to figure the Devil – Matt Murdock – was like trying to catch light in your fingertips as though it were a tangible thing. Toying with dust motes that appeared when you opened the blinds in a dark room. Impossible, devastating, however pretty it may be. And Matt was a do-gooder. Trying to make the city better.

Whereas, you…

A bored little rich girl whose job wasn’t exactly above-board. No, the light seemed to be ever out of your reach – dooming you to a life of shadow. Of secrecy. So, you could respect that he wanted to keep his.

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes. “Don’t tell me. I can take the couch, then. I’ll be outta your hair by morning”

You made to settle yourself into the cushions, as though you were queuing him to leave.

“Please, sweetheart,” Matt urged, coming to stand before you now, his hands making their way to your hips.

And it was different from the ways in which he had touched you before – different from your traded blows and quips. Different from the way he would swat at your ass playfully during a fight. Different from the playful tension laden in his voice when he encountered you before. And yet – it was the same. As though all of those run-ins were building to something.

And yeah, it was no secret you enjoyed teasing the Devil. Enjoyed taunting him, toying with him, allowing your touch to linger too long when you departed from him on any given evening. But Matt?

You eyed the crucifix peeking its way from his tight undershirt.

What an altar boy, you thought. No way he would actually want someone like you. Someone who toyed with people with bored, careless fingertips. Someone who broke things because she wanted to.

You allowed yourself to be brought into Matt’s arms,

“At least take the bed,” he urged, finally. “I’ll find you some sweats.”

You snorted at that.

“You just wanna get me out of my suit,” you teased. Eager to restore the balance to what you knew – the quipping banter of antagonists, and not this … blooming flush between the two of you, reflected on the apples of his cheeks at your quip. At the thought of getting you naked.

“I mean,” he recovered. “You say that like it’d be a bad thing.”

“I suspect,” you murmured, trailing your fingers over the peaks of Matt’s face, while his hands tightened on your waist, “that you’re smoother than you let on, Matthew Murdock.”

Matt’s lips met yours then, causing your eyes to flutter shut and snatching the breath from your lungs. He kissed you as though you were sacrosanct. As though the movement of his lips over yours was a prayer he had recited hundreds of times, and would recite hundreds more. At your gasp, he slid his tongue into your mouth, his hands coming to cup your face as he kissed you.

You allowed your hands to roam his body, to feel the firmness of his chest unencumbered by the Devil suit, to appreciate the warmth, the realness of his beating heart beneath the skin of your palms through his thin shirt.

You could barely contain yourself, as the storm raged outside, it building inside of you with every pass of Matt’s hands along your form, with every press of his lips to yours. And it seemed the same was true for Matt.

His hands found his way to the front of your catsuit, easing the zipper down with a smooth, zinging slide, allowing his fingertips to ease in to trail along the skin as it became exposed.

Oh. And if the heat of the room hadn’t been building before, you could certainly feel it now, as you allowed yourself to explore Matt in kind, whimpering at the touch of his hands along the curves of your breasts, the ridges of your ribs. Pulling your lips from his and allowing your eyes to wander as your hands trailed to his waist and to the front of his pants, stroking the outline of his hardness there with tentative touch.

"Not here," Matt's lips left your skin from where they had since been working on your neck, murmuring into your throat. At your quizzical groan, he continued. "Don't be petulant, sweetheart. I'm going to fuck you. Just not here."

In a flurry of feverish movement and stripped layers, Matt had ushered you into his bedroom, urging you down onto his mattress, his lips never leaving yours as he guided you on top of him, with nothing but your panties and a feverish grin as you rolled your hips over Matt’s, relishing in the feel of him, as you knew he was doing to you.

You scratched along his skin with your nails, kissing and sucking his neck as you continued to grind yourself on Matt’s clothed cock.

Quick as a flash, Matt flipped the two of you, a groan catching in his throat at the feel of the weight of you beneath him now, pulling your lips from him and allowing himself to appreciate you, in his bed, in his home …

Matt's fingers stroke along the peak of your cheekbone in a reverent way, a way befitting of a devout man. But the silken touch is also wrong -- it doesn't bely that he's not the sort of man who wraps a hand around your throat when he fucks you (he would), or like he's not the sort of man who gets down on his knees to unravel you with his clever, silver tongue (he is).

But the clean baritone of his voice an ever- pleasant rumble that caressed and ensnared you. Every time you meet. But especially now.

“I’m going to fuck you, sweetheart.”

You could melt. That's the Devil you were expecting.

Matt had removed his shirt, arms crossed as he lifted the fabric from his delightfully muscled torso. Your fingers keen to follow as you trace the planes of his chest.

Your nails caught along the edge of his nipples as your palms skated their way upward, reveling in the choked gasp that ripped its way through his throat at the feeling.

Matt cupped your face with firm hands, guiding you down into his plush, satin-y comforter as his mouth devoured yours. The fabric sang along your skin as you allowed yourself to sink beneath his spell – a servant to the Devil’s whims, as Matt’s hands trailed along your body.With clever tongue – which really could only benefit him as an attorney, right? – and teasing touch, he seemed intent on unraveling you without so much as posing a question. Matt’s heated fingers made their way along your own bare chest, exposed to the wintery-coolness of the room, your nipples pebbling.

You choked on gasps as he made his way down your body, his mouth trailing from yours, to your neck, pressing kisses to your breasts and laving his tongue around your nipple before rendering one with a particularly cruel suck, departing with lips more swollen than before, the popping noise echoing in both of your ears.

And you wondered if the heaving of your chest, the headiness of your breath, was overwhelming to him. In the way that he was overwhelming to you.

Overwhelming was a good word for it. As thick fingers drew their way across the seam of lace adorning your clothed slit, causing you to wriggle in his grasp, the reciprocal shudder from Matt’s body was all the confirmation you needed. He was just as turned on as you.

Turned on by the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips. Wrecked by the sound of your gasps in his ears. Besotted with the taste of you beneath his tongue. Intoxicated by the feeling of your mouth on his.

He had been afraid this would happen with you. Had he learned nothing from before? With Ele– not the time.

And Matt felt everything to an impossible degree, he knew. But if only he knew how it was almost flattering to have it confirmed for you ... if the way he was now slowly bucking his hips into the bedspread when you threaded your fingers through his hair and tugged was any indication. Seeking friction that would feel far rougher, far better, than it had any business feeling, thanks to his heightened senses.

“I’ll give you what you want,” he murmured, keening into your tugging touch while he worked his way down the planes and curves of your body.

Grinding himself into the bed as he went, as he buried himself in the cleft of your thighs, the flash of his hot tongue like cracking summer lightning, jolting through you from the very center as he licked a long, sweet stripe along the seam of your clothed cunt.

And it seemed reciprocal, you noted, as he rolled his hips into his bedspread in kind – taking in the feel of you beneath his fingertips as your hips and thighs rolled and writhed beneath his attentions as he continued to lick you. The song of your whimpers sweetly ringing through your ears as he felt himself harden in his boxers.

Thick fingers traced the slick, heated flesh of your center as you felt Matt draw the lace away from you, your arousal clinging to your panties in glistening strands as he pulled them to the side with something like reverence. Fully baring you to him.

And if you’d thought the first hinting taste of his mouth on you, your clothed cunt, was heavenly – saintlike and sweet, you had never imagined he could make you feel like this – The lavish, attention with which he was now devouring you, your bared slit. Matt's mouth worked your pussy, like singing a hymn, like an apostle breaking his fast – a man of singular focus. Possessed by the scent of your arousal, the taste of your slick on his tongue as he continued to work you.

It was enough to make you infatuated. Obsessed with the devil you longed to know.

The feel of him was like the slow drip and drizzle of honey, the snap of cinnamon – warm, sweet, and tingling. Swirling tongue and sickly heat.

"Come on, devil, give it to me bad," you purred, teasing the man beneath you with a buck of your hips, reveling in the sensation and rolling them up, seeking the friction you craved, your hands still in his hair. Losing yourself in the repetitive feel of heady, sweet attentions of his tongue.

A particularly clever lick-and-suck tore a moan from your throat, prompting Matt to part from you, to pause the moment to allow himself to savor all of his senses – his own chest heaving and cheeks flushed with the attention he had wrought on you.

“I’ll give it to you, sweetheart,” he pressed a kiss to your thigh, chasing it with a nip of teeth. “Only if you’ll be sweet.”

You rolled your eyes, head lolling against the feathery plush of the Devil – Matthew’s – pillow, “I said I would, didn’t I?” You puffed, exasperation coloring your voice, rolling your hips again.

You made to tug Matthew up to you, urging his hips with the legs you had wrapped around him, trying to tug him with willing arms and wanton fingertips.

It punched the air from your lungs when Matthew struck – like a coiled viper wrapping its body around its prey – warm, dangerously snug, as he rolled his body up and over yours, gripping your wrists in one of his firm hands, bringing them up and over your head, rendering you helpless to him.

And the feel of him above you, heated and firm, a wall of muscle leaving you immobile beneath him – reciprocal to him, as he relished in your softness, your pliance. Like a curving crescent moon bends for the sky.

“Close your eyes, kitten,” he purred, his lips gracing the shell of your ear, a tempest rumbling in his chest, urging its way through his voice.

And you had no choice to obey.

Allowing your eyelids to flutter shut as you acquiesced to your other senses overtaking you, the silken feel of one of Matthew’s – was it a tie? Something he’d wear to court? – traipsing over the bare skin of your arms. Up, up, up as it closed around the wrists still held over your head. Matthew was tying you to his headboard. And you were letting him.

You were sure Matt didn't mind. You could just imagine the sharp half-grin that quirked onto his face at the feel of you tied to his bed, his skin beneath yours. His smile was cold, quick, assured. Devilish.

You had accepted earlier in the night that you would never truly know all of Matt Murdock. Whether he was the Devil, or not. That there were parts of his personhood he wouldn't deign to share. Those things weren't for you, after all. But you couldn't quite bring yourself to care at this moment, when he shared what was simultaneously everything and enough, as he held you on the edge after licking your pussy like a man starved, his hardness pressing to your center through his boxers as he loomed over you now.

The rasp of his hands trailing up the smooth skin of your torso sang beneath his palms; the faintest of whispers to you, but a chorus of amorous intention to Matt Murdock's perfect ears.

"Tell me everything you feel," Matt whispered, snugly affixing the knot to your wrists, pressing a kiss to the tender skin there and affirming they weren’t bound too tightly.

“And what do you feel Matt?" you couldn't resist the urge to sass back as you indulged in the sight of your now-paramour peeling his boxers from his body, taking his length into his own hand and stroking himself to the sight of you tied to his bed.

"I feel … Everything. But I wanna hear it from you,” Matt took your sass as acquiescence, allowing his free hand to rove the planes and curves of your stomach and waist, to drag themselves through the wetness gathered at your center –retreating with your slick on his fingers. “I won't give you what you want until you tell me what I want to know," he paused, allowing your eyes to linger on him before he sucked his own finger into his full lips to taste you once more.

“You’re like honey, honey.”

Your residual whimper at the sinful sight before you was something Matt was sure he would re-play in his mind over and over on the nights he had trouble sleeping – he had a lot of those.

“I’ll tell you, baby,” you assured. “Please, just fuck me.”

And who was Matt to refuse such a polite request? Your legs spread for him, the crotch of your panties tugged to the side, the sound of your heaving chest, your blood thrumming beneath your veins, heated and singing for him. Of your wrists straining against his necktie – how much more could a man take?

Matt took himself into his hand once more, spreading the glistening lips of your pussy and guiding himself into your heat, rolling his hips to allow himself to be seated fully inside of your tightness – a broken groan shattering its way through his throat, his lashes fluttering.

You whimpered at the fullness of him inside of you.

“You feel…,” Matt trailed off, his breath hitching, as you rolled your hips to meet his, cunning and keyed.

“Like heaven?” You teased, voice full of mirth, and perhaps a bit of pride at rendering the man above you speechless.

“That’s sacrilegious,” Matt breathed, as he began to thrust into you in earnest.

“What’s a little light sacrilege between sinners, Devil?” You hiccupped, your wrists straining as you urged to grasp any part of the man above you, the drag of him inside of you more than you could bear, the heat between the two of you, the tingling pleasure inside of you, building – ever-building…

“Yeah?” Matt breathed, “You want me to make you see God?”

“Forget it.” You would have been embarrassed at the keening whine that Matt’s attentions were wringing from you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to give any semblance of a damn, so long as he kept doing that. “Fuuuuuck,” you whined, “who wants that when I have the devil in my bed?"

"You like that," Matt murmured in your ear, as he thrummed at your clit in time with his trusts.

It wasn't a question.

Mesmerized, stupefied, you stuttered a cracked, “Y-yes.” You tugged your wrists against where they’re tied to the bed, your senses leaving you as you longed to touch him, to push, to give back to him as good as you were getting. You weren’t used to being in the passenger seat.

"You like that I'm bad, as long as I'm good to you, that how it works?" Matt crooned.

“Fuck, Matt,” you whined, “stop toying with me and make me come,” you pleaded.

“Yeah?” he parroted, “You mean like you toy with me? Can you be a good girl? You're supposed to tell me what you feel." Clearly referencing the way you were still straining your wrists at your bonds, raising an eyebrow at your defiance. Nevertheless, he would acquiesce.

Matt’s thumb was circling your clit in time with his thrusts before breaking from you, skating his heated palm up your body to your heaving tits, pinching your nipple as he continued to fuck you toward your peak.

“Mhmm,” you whined, your head tilting back, pressed into Matt’s pillows. Pressed into his sheets – the scent of you, the essence of you, embedding itself there – certain, Matt thought, to haunt him for many nights after this one.

"You feel …" your breath hitched at the ferocity of his thrusts, doing your best to keep your voice even, the edge of a whine skirting it. Though you were sure Matt could tell. "You feel so good, baby. You're so good. I l-love the way your cock feels inside of me. M-make me come, Matty, please?"

And who was he to refuse such a request? Your praises flooded Matt's ears, prickling in his blood, as he turned his attention back to your clit then, reveling in the feel of you tightening around him as he fucked you to your approaching climax.

“C’mon, kitten,” he urged, “c’mon then,” relinquishing your hip from his bruising grip, he brought his hand up, gripping your throat to feel the reverberation of your release through the song of your skin, melting into his. The clever fingers of his other hand stroking your clit as you shattered beneath him, your release soaking his cock, your pussy like a vice around him as you worked your way through the blinding heat of your orgasm. Matthew’s release following at the overwhelming sensation of you, the wet heat of constricting his every sense as he allowed himself to let go. Discipline melding to desire as he filled you. Fucking himself into you through his own orgasm.

“Whoa,” you exhaled, as Matthew allowed himself to slump over you as his pulsing release gently subsided, the flutter of your lashes along his skin as he shuffled his now heavy and tired arms up to release you from his headboard.

He rolled to the side of you, skin sliding against satin sheets as he pulled you to him.

“And to think,” you murmured, massaging the skin of your wrists and pressing a kiss to Matthew’s temple, settling in beside him, “we could have been doing that the entire time.

He hmm’d into your skin in agreement, nuzzling your neck with his nose, pressing a kiss to the tender skin beneath your ear.

“Getting here was fun,” he acquiesced, allowing you to feel the curve of his smiling lips against the skin of your neck. "There's a fine line between –"

"Don't you dare say 'love and hate,'" you groaned.

Matthew smiled again, rolling to press his lips to yours in a teasing kiss.

"I was going to say 'between fucking and fighting,' but if you love me…"

"Shut up," you shoved his shoulder, knowing he could appreciate a little extra force behind your touch. "I hate you, Matthew."

He stilled, and you worried for the briefest moment that you had gone too far. You didn't actually hate him, after all. Surely, he had to know that…

"Say it again," his hands cupped your face gently as his mossy eyes glimmered in the low light of his room. "My name, sweetheart. Say it again?"

"Matthew," you sighed, trailing your hands through his hair, pleased with the silken feel of his strands between delicate fingers, as though he was always meant to be touched by you. You eased up to press a kiss to his lips. "Mystifying, magnificent, magnanimous Matthew."

He sighed in contentment, before quirking his lips at you, tilting his head into your touch, "And what does that make you?"

"Murderous," you quipped, flashing a toothy grin that he could hear through the falling darkness in his bedroom, through the heated drip in your voice. "And what'll you do about it, devil-boy?"

“You know I’ll catch you,” he breathed, allowing himself to ease beside you, the heavy weight of his limbs, of the feeling of you, soothing him. Your collective easy breathing allowing him to begin to lull…

The last thing Matthew heard was your sardonic singsong, “Promises, promises…” toying in his ears as he drifted off to sleep, the weighted heat of you in his arms – real, full, and flush.

And when Matt awoke, in the early hours of the morning, to the frigid, crisp smell of fresh-fallen snow, he felt it, singing in his nose through the glass of the windows in his apartment. Untouched, unblemished. And he felt – emptiness. His apartment was devoid of heat, of pulse – other than his own. As Matt realized that you had gone sometime in the night. The fresh-fallen snow covering your tracks from the fire escape as you had slipped away. Through his fingers, yet again.

He scrubbed his face with his hand, his phone pinging with a notification as he urged his software to read the text,

“See you real soon, Devil. Next time I tie you up.”

Oh, Foggy was never going to believe this.

tagging: @withahappyrefrain @drew-garfi @p3mybeloved @spidervee @maxmayfield @xbamboowishesx @wicked-blathers @jadore-andor @mrshipsmcgee @abibliophobiaa @friendly-neighborhood-blondie @mortwig @squiddtheekidd @lilacvine @liz-allyn @renaroo123 @blooming-violets @inklore @clints-lucky-arrow @lucy-sky @flightlessangelwings @vaxxildan @ouralcohol @thatredheadwriter @moonlight-prose @zombieaurora @andrewrussgarfield @aphrogeneias @luxuryberzatto @ifimayhaveaword @phoenixhalliwell @wvndasmaximoff @deskofninak @levylovegood @holyheadharpies99 @papaya-047 @alexxavicry

#matt murdock x reader #my writing #only smile in the dark #matt murdock #charlie cox #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil smut #matt murdock smut #marvel fic #daredevil fic #matt murdock x fem!reader

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1rsoldiersince2012 · 3 months

Text

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Words: 3512 (chapter 47)

actually just got the best idea of posting next chapter on valentines day for all the singles here (myself including) ♥

also - minors do not interact !

47. All 'thanks' to the Devil

"So, what has Matt Murdock planned for the upcoming weekend?" You ask, leaving the office at almost 7 PM. The cases had you worked up until the late evening, with a shit ton of paperwork to sign and send back. The last few weeks had been hectic with courtrooms, new clients and trying not to go out of business with almost no income. All because Matt didn't want to take money from you. Or from his actual clients. You've tried to talking some sense into him, even getting Karen to help change Matt's mind, but he refused to listen. Eventually you just gave up and tried to ignore all the food that clients began bringing to the office, instead of paying with actual money. The food was good, yet it doesn't pay the electricity bills.

Matt lazily walks down the stairs after you, one hand holding onto the railling, the other carelessly swinging his briefcase. "What's happening this weekend?"

"You really don't know?" You stop on the last step and turn back to look at him, perplexed.

"No, what is it?" He stops one step above you, towering like a statue in the late evening.

"It's Thanksgiving." You lean on the railing with your elbow, just an arm's reach from Matt.

"Oh, that." He laughs, "I don't really celebrate."

"You're just weird, and not in a good way, you know that?" You huff, still looking at him from below. If Matt could see, he'd be met with your lovely doe eyes.

"Awh, you broke my heart, y/n." He teases. Those few weeks after sending Fisk to prison were almost like honeymoon - fewer criminals and more time to spend with you. Yes, he has been sneaking out at night when he heard screaming and fighting, but he always returned to you sleeping soundly in his bed. It was hard to keep up with this, the guilt Matt felt when he kissed your forehead and left the warmth of your body to put on the suit has been collecting in his heart the same way dirt collects in the bottom of a river.

"Not the first time, if I remember correctly." You say, cheekily placing your hand on his waist, just above the end of his shirt. Matt feels his breath hitch somewhere in his lungs, but the warmth from your touch calms him. "Listen, Murdock, I thought that if you're not busy, maybe you'd like to go to my parents' house for the weekend?" Your fingers hook on the loops of his trousers and tug him forward.

"To your parents' house?" There's a note of fear and doubt in his voice. He's never been away from Hell's Kitchen for long and the thought of leaving people in need alone was almost crushing.

"Yeah, you know, to celebrate Thanksgiving."

"Really? I thought you were finally going to introduce me to your parents." He smirks, hand resting on your shoulder for support. You both agreed to keep whatever was going on between you two a secret for as long as possible. Not only because of the way Karen was constantly sending Matt heart eyes, but you also didn't want to make things in the office weird, especially after Matt and Foggy called truce. And, secret romance was as exciting as winning a case. Meeting your parents would mean a new step in your relationship; one he was willing to take.

"Well that comes with the whole dinner for free package." You lean forward on your tippity toes, "and maybe breakfast, if you're good."

"I'm always good." His smile becomes even bigger when you tug at his pants again.

"One might argue." You laugh, still keeping your hand firmly on Matt's body, feeling the muscles move when he leans forward to kiss your forehead.

"Well, if one might argue, then one might decline the delicious dinner offer." He says after pulling back and feeling your hand drop. Like an animal close to catching his prey, he comes around in half-circle to stand next to you.

"Don't be a dick now." Your hands find his body again, slowly pulling him closer to you by his tie. "Let's leave this place and just forget everything. At least for a day." His face is just inches away from yours and you whisper, "I'll make sure my dad doesn't kick your ass."

"Oh, that's awesome." He huffs before you place a chaste kiss on his lips. "I might think about it." He murmurs before your lips connect again, this time more demanding. "I think I need a little more convincing." Matt smiles, playing the game with you, before you roll your eyes and kiss him again, tongue teasingly touching his lips and you pull away before he could breach his way into your mouth.

"I'll leave you to make the decision, handsome." You pull away, leaving him needy and in thought. "You better hurry, I might just leave you here."

As Matt closes the doors of your car, you lock them from the inside, much to his surprise and rising suspicion. Your hand rests on his body again, slowly getting under his jacket through the coat and stops on his chest, feeling the heartbeat speeding up. "What are you doing?" Matt asks, feeling cornered in the passenger seat.

"So, what is your answer?" You ask near his face, breathing hot air on his cheek. The air in the car was cold and the contrast made him shiver.

"You really didn't give me much time to think." He smiles, hearing you pout.

"I need to know tonight, my dad is going to the grocery store tomorrow." You kiss his cheek, dragging your lips along his jawline and stop when you reach his chin.

"That's very little time for such tough decision, y/n." He can't hide his smile when you squeeze his shoulder under all the layers and kiss him on the lips.

"I can be very convincing." Your hand drops from his shoulder and slides all the way down until you reach his crotch and can't believe that he's already half hard. "Very, very convincing." You rub your palm on him, intently watching him suck a breath through his teeth.

"Y/n, we shouldn't be doing this here." He mumbles before your tongue makes its way into his mouth, demanding and hungry. He gives into it, tasting your lips again like for the first time, finding it hard to focus on one thing with the way your hands are on him, pulling at his belt, trying to touch him as roughly as possible.

"We're alone, relax." You pull away, breathless from the kiss and using both hands, although, quite uncomfortably in this position, unzip his pants and Matt lifts up his butt so you could push his underwear almost to his mid-thighs. Your hand immediately wraps around his hard cock. He gasps instantly, feeling both relaxed and tense. "I could watch you all day." You whisper sultry in his ear and almost hypnotized look at the way your hand comes up and down, and the sight makes your stomach flip. Matt can't say a word, mainly because there isn't a single coherent thought in his head, just your hot breath fanning against his cheek, and your hand tightly stroking his dick. You kiss the corner of his lips before your hand leaves his erection and the instant coldness makes him shiver. He almost protests, wanting you to finish what you've started but then he hears shifting on the driver's seat and slight huffing as you struggle to make yourself comfortable with those suit pants. "What are you doing?" He asks again, the same question, yet different meaning, expectations high for a different answer.

You say nothing, finally comfortable on the seat, kneeling on the left side of Matt, heels pushed against the door. You lean forward, taking Matt's cock in your hand again and licking the tip. He almost cums on the spot, hands desperately searching for something to grasp and fingers finally tighten on the door handle. "Y/n..." he mouths without sound, eyebrows tightly knitted together, his left hand slipping into your hair and subconsciously pulling at the roots. You roll your eyes and refrain from making a sound at his action and start sucking him. At first, slowly, setting a pace and he pulls your head up for a moment. The hand holding the door handle comes off and he swiftly collects all your hair and one place, making a ponytail. You appreciate the action and continue your previously interrupted activity, hot tongue moving along his veiny dick faster and faster.

The gear shift is uncomfortably pressing into your breast, creating a strange friction; a grunt leaves Matt's mouth, so filthy and so desperate, his hands starts unconsciously pressing your head further on his dick, but he's not harsh. He doesn't want you to do things that you're not comfortable with. He's not one of those guys who needs to hear women choke and gag on their dicks, what difference it would make, if your hand, playing with his balls and the base of his cock that your mouth doesn't reach, does a perfect job? Of course, if you did, he wouldn't mind, but he certainly wasn't going to make you do it.

Lost in the rhythm of your mouth, he felt himself getting closer. Light shaking in his hips told you that he didn't have long left and you pull away, licking your lips. Breath knocked out of your lungs, breasts aching with desire and need to be touched, panties most certainly wet and knees hurting - you were a mess, just as Matt was a complete mess under your touch. You glance at his lower lip, tightly trapped behind his teeth, almost to the point of being bloody and flushed face and almost stop your hand from touching yourself. Awarding him with a kiss, you push your tongue into his mouth, wanting him to taste himself on your tongue, to feel the saltiness of the precum and the absolute desire that was possessing you. Matt groans, hands not letting go of your hair and your cheek; he inhales the air of the car, everything making him even hornier, if that was possible. He knew that your wet panties were sticking to your tight suit pants and if you wiggled your butt enough, you'd most certainly would've created some friction. He felt that in the air, you wanted to ease the tension, wanted to slip your fingers and rub your clit, yet you were almost punishing yourself with the way you solely focused on pleasuring him. He knew that even if his hand slightly brushed over your breast, you'd come undone.

"So," you say, hand slowly going up and down on his dick, calmer than before, but enough to drive him over the edge. "You've thought enough now?" You kiss his cheek, over and over again, purposely avoiding his lips, waiting for his answer. Matt laughs but doesn't say a word. "Are you coming, Matt?" You ask, holding him tigher and he sucks a breath in, "are you coming over, honey?" You ask again, your head against his, Matt's fingers tightening around your hair and you suddenly pick up a harsh, almost punishing rhythm and try to get him off quicker, mouth watering at the sight of your hand on his big veiny dick.

Matt grunts again, this time it comes out so dirty that you roll your eyes to the back of your head but manage to keep him on the edge, so close, but not close enough. "Are you coming?" You repeat your question, this time louder, still keeping the pace, he's almost there, you know from the way he takes short breaths and furrows his eyebrows. "Answer me." You demand into his ear and he finally nods, desperate for this to end. "I want you to say it. Say it Matt, are you coming?" He knows that this question is laced with double meaning, one obvious for this current situation down his pants, and the other - the unanswered question about the dinner.

It takes approximately 5 seconds for him to finally answer, the dominance of your actions and that tone - he was a gone man. "I am, I'm coming-" words get stuck in his throat when you, finally satisfied with the answer, wrap your mouth around his cock again, taking it all in and swallowing. He lets out a guttural moan, hips rising to meet your mouth, head thrown back and chest rising with every breath that he takes.

A moment later, you finally rise up and breathe heavily, a smile dancing on your lips. "Told you that I am good at convincing."

He feels weak, tired and satisfied at the same time. Matt's hand, stretched out, looks for your face and when he finally hooks his fingers behind your ear, you are pulled into a breathless, dirty kiss. He tastes himself again, but this makes the kiss even hotter. "Too good." He whispers when you pull away, knees already tired from this position and you slide down your seat, making yourself comfortable.

The windows of your car are fogged from the inside, hot air inside contrasting with the cold wind outside. Even if someone was passing, surely nothing could've been seen. Matt shivers, remembering that he's exposed at the moment, but doesn't hurry to pull his pants up. You open your eyes that you closed just a second ago and when his hand comes to squeeze your thigh, almost touching your core. You wanted him now - either his dick or his fingers inside you, but much to your own surprise, you push his hand away. "Don't get too greedy." He smiles, and reluctantly, pulls his hand away, finally pulling his pants up. You turn on the ignition, waiting for the windows to cool, "you'll get your piece when the time comes."

"Oh, is that soon?"

"Very soon." You say and touch his cheek with the back of hand before driving out of the parking lot.

*** Apparently 'soon' wasn't the next day. And not the day of your trip to your parents house. Matt felt slightly betrayed by the way you were giving him blue balls for two days in a row. But something told him that just the night after you dropped him off at his place and returned to yours, you definitely stuck your fingers inside of you and came, probably more than once to the fresh memory of him coming in your mouth in the front seat of your car. Just the thought of it made him feel a tingle down there and he shifted in his seat.

"Is it still cold?" You ask, noticing the slight movement in the corner of your eye and shift gears, "I'll have my dad to look over it, I swear something's wrong with the heating." He was right. You did masturbate when you returned to your apartment, almost immediately when you dropped all your clothes on the bathroom floor and turned on the shower. He was right, you came twice.

"No." Matt answers immediately, but then thinks again. "Maybe a bit."

"I knew I wasn't imagining it." You smile briefly when you hear one of your favorite bands on the radio. Muse. Their music had you in a chokehold throughout your entire highschool and it wasn't better when Twilight came out. Although it was a bit crappy movie, the scene with Muse's song made you close your eyes at the imperfection.

"So..." Matt turns to face you, the seatbelt digging into his shoulder, "what's your dad like?"

"Are you scared?" You smirk, adjusting your hands on the wheel.

"Should I be?"

"A bit, yeah." You sigh, "everyone keeps saying that I'm a lot like him."

"So we're going to get along just fine."

You can't help but laugh, glad to stop by the red light. "Your humor is admirable, Matt, truly."

"What? Is he really that bad?" Matt smiles, slightly confused.

"If you're a man, yes. Especially if you're my man." You tap your fingers on the wheel, letting the words sink in. My man. Matt felt his heart flutter. "My ex has him wrapped around his finger. I curse the day I agreed to go to prom with him."

"Wow, then I'm up against a tough opponent."

"Yeah, believe me. What makes it worse is that Robert's a nice guy. Dealing with exes is not easy, right?" You briefly turn to look at him when the light changes to green. "What about you? Any woman I should worry about?"

"Uh... It's all in the past, so no." But Matt's words are not reassuring. Elektra. He hasn't heard from her since college, when she almost screwed up his graduation. But right now, he didn't miss Elektra at all. In fact, he didn't even think about her, when he had you, sitting by his side all the time, full of joy and life. So beautiful like a gust of wind on a hot summer's day.

"Hm." You only hum, not really feeling the need to discuss past lovers. What truly matters is the present. He's glad you're not asking questions and you fall into a comfortable silence.

***

Forty minutes later, you're already parking your car in front of your parents' house. The late November wasn't particularly grateful with daylight, and by the time you drove here, it was almost dusk. You get out of the car, inhaling full lungs of fresh air. Home. The house was still the same as you remembered, no different from the other brick houses on the street, but still so dear to you.

"Can I carry something?" Matt's soft tone brings you back from your thoughts, and you turn around to look at him.

"Only the flowers." Of course, Matt insisted on buying your mother a nice bouquet of flowers on their first meeting. A true gentleman. You grab the apple pie you baked before leaving and with one final look at the last light of the sunset, you place your hand on Matt's elbow. His grip on the flowers tightens, the swing of his white cane is quick and almost enthralling.

"Should we knock?" He asks, when his cane hits a hard wall of the house.

"I'll do it." You knock gently, but loud enough for people inside to hear. Matt hears how the TV gets muted and a shuffling of slippers comes closer and closer to them. It felt like it was just the two of you against the whole world. Both holding onto each other tightly, afraid that if someone comes in between, you both might just fall apart like ancient heroes and their lovers, destined only to suffer. The doors open just a second later-

"I can't believe my eyes." A rough voice reaches Matt's ears, and his best guess is that your dad was looking at you as if he saw a ghost. "Y/n?" He steps through the threshold, embracing you in a tight hug.

"Hi, dad." You whisper into his broad shoulder, inhaling the smell of home. He pulls away and looks at Matt in question. Your mother appears, and her smile is brighter than the whole sky. You push the pie in your dad's hands and hug her with both of your hands. The faint smell of turkey and spices reminds you of all the times you celebrated Thanksgiving with your parents... And all the times you did not.

"So glad to see my beautiful daughter, just look how she glows, look Harold, isn't she just like an angel?" You mother's fingers gently pinch your cheeks, just like they did when you were little. Her eyes dart to Matt, standing just a bit behind you, small smile on his lips. "And who's this handsome?"

"Mom, dad, this is Matt. We wanted to make a surprise, so that's why I didn't tell you about us coming here." You say, and Matt quickly understands that you lied before when you said that your dad needs to know about this before his trip to the supermarked. Clever little fox you were.

Matt extends his hand, quickly folding the white cane and pushing it under his elbow. Your father is the first one to shake hands with him, one firm grip meeting another. Harold's eyebrows shoot up a bit, from the unexpected strength from a blind man. "I'm Harold Y/l/n."

"Matt Murdock. Nice to meet you, Sir. I've heard a lot about your work in the force." Matt smiles, and your father's hand is quickly replaced by your mother's. "Mrs Y/l/n, pleasure to meet you. Y/n said that you might like these," Matt gives your mother the flowers and she sighs, delighted, "something smells very good."

"Fantastic sense of smell! I'm Camilla, and oh, the flowers are just beautiful."

You watch their interraction, somewhere deep inside afraid that this bubble of a perfect world might collapse soon. Your mother takes the flowers and turns back, urging you to go inside. "Murdock you say? I heard a thing or two about your father. One hell of a man he was." You faintly hear your dad's voice, before every bit of happiness washes away from your body when you see him standing in the kitchen, a stupid grin on his face.

"Hello, y/n."

#matt murdock #marvel daredevil #foggy nelson #matt murdock x reader #bound by law #netflix daredevil #marvel #daredevil #matts superhearing complicates things for you #lawyers #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock #matt murdock x you #human disaster matt murdock #matt murdock smut

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chvoswxtch · 8 months

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I feel like Foggy doesn't get enough love. I would like to request a vault track from Speak Now for him, please!

you know what, you're absolutely right. foggy nelson doesn't get enough love and i'm tired of y'all acting like he's not a babe so let's get into it

as a reminder, from the vault means it's spicy! (minors dni)

headcannon below the cut

innocent (foggy's version) (from the vault)*

he is anything BUT

now don't get me wrong, foggy definitely strikes me as the hopeless romantic type

I can see him enjoying some sweet, slow, passionate love making- wanting to make sure his partner feels loved and desired, that they feel every ounce of pleasure he can possibly offer (he's definitely a giver), and he always puts his partner's needs before his own

I see him being more of the submissive type in a typical setting

but do not let that sweet smile fool you

bc underneath that physical embodiment of sunshine in human form is a FREAK

alexa play freak nasty by megan thee stallion

now, while foggy is usually all sweet smiles and friendly behavior, he can get aggressive and be dominant if need be

exhibit a: beating the shit out of those guys with a bat to protect karen in s1

exhibit b: calling reyes' bluff in the precinct in s2 (basically all of s2 foggy, mans was done with everyone's shit)

exhibit c: running for district attorney in s3, publicly calling out tower and fisk despite the negative consequences, standing in bullseye's way just to protect karen even though he had no weapon or way out (he's been hanging around matty too long) and just all around being a bad bitch the whole time (he had big dick energy all season)

honorable mention: that haircut in s3, you can't tell me that man doesn't fuck

exhibit d: (pun intended) dicking marci down after the bulletin incident right there on the couch leaving her at a loss for words (i'm pretty sure she just says "wow")

it seems like when he gets pushed too hard, or when he's completely done with everyone's shit, he basically snaps and stops playing nice

I personally find this hot and I think his partner would too and would absolutely volunteer to let foggy take out his frustration on them

maybe he's having a bad day, his current case is a shitshow, matt is being a human disaster like usual, karen is out doing something that's sure to spike his blood pressure, and the only relief he can find is fucking you over his desk hard (we're talking the desk gets moved to the other side of the room, hard)

but it's not all stress related fucking

foggy is extremely playful and flirty, and I think that translates into the bedroom, or wherever the two of you find yourselves (again, I see him as normally submissive, so if you tell him to do something, he's gonna do it)

maybe you get really excited watching him win a case in the courtroom, and you decide he deserves a little reward for working so hard lately, so you shove him into an empty supply closet and blow him right there in the court house. but foggy, being the man he is, insists on returning the favor, leaving matt to rush out of that court house in horror

and don't even get me started on drunk foggy

he's definitely gotten a little handsy and fucked you in the bathroom at josie's, or out in the alley against the wall, bc neither one of you could wait until you got home

in conclusion your honor, this man fucks, I rest my case

#court's 3k followers celebration #court's 3k friends celebration #the eras tour (court's version)#foggy nelson #foggy nelson x you #foggy nelson x reader #foggy nelson headcannon #foggy nelson request #foggy nelson smut

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wonderlandmind4 · 2 years

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I was rewatching Daredevil season 2 and while, yes, I’ll fully admit Matt had many issues going on and was trying to do everything and please everyone and be everything at the same time that he overwhelmed his own plate, that he was a bit asshole-ish in a way BECAUSE of those reason, that his communication skills fell through the cracks, and yeah maaayybbbeee he didn’t handle the whole Karen/Elektra thing well at all- HOWEVER

It always bothered me that he never did get to explain to Karen why there was another woman in his bed. And idk what it really looked liked from Karen’s point of view, but that was clearly a woman who’s not well/has been hurt. He just never got the chance to say “oh, welp, she was nearly sliced in half, poisoned and nearly died” which, granted he couldn’t tell her all of that but a quick “she was attacked” mmmmaaayyybbbeee would have helped like a smidge?

And, I always see people call Matt an asshole during that season but again, I never truly thought he was straight up a dick. Ya know? He wasn’t, he tried to handle everything at once and he couldn’t. He went from almost having a relationship with Karen, going good with Foggy and the firm and then Frank shows up, nearly shoots his head in, gets Frank captured, thinks things are going good again, chaos and pain he never dealt with shows up in the form of Elektra, is kinda sorta manipulated into helping her and she bribes the firm with money, tries to be Daredevil and Lawyer for the biggest case of the decade with Frank, fights ninja’s he can’t sense with his abilities, accidentally almost gets Elektra killed, nearly misses the cases.

Asshole Stick shows up, Matt realizes Elektra and Stick know each other, Karen walks in, Foggy is mad. Karen wants nothing to do with Matt, Foggy tries to get him back on track and Matt (because he’s Matt and has guilt and thinks his friends are better off without him) pushes Foggy away. Thinks he has Elektra who chooses him and to “be better” when he thinks he’s lost everything, only for him to be shot with an arrow, had a kid killed by Elektra moments after the “be better”, realizes he was just a mission, again has no one. Finds out that all he did putting Fisk away was help him get control of the prisons and now he’s feeling like all their hard work was for nothing. Pushes Claire away- the last person who really is still trying to be on his side and give him tough love- like…

This poor man. This poor, guilt ridden, martyr masochist of a man tried to do everything at once, be a good friend, boyfriend, lawyer, hero, and it all just falls through his fingers no matter how much he did or tried. And it continued to fall to shit afterwards…which lead to him in the Defenders trying not to be apart of anything, to having and still wanting and needing to- to Season 3 Matt.

And that’s where his development continues and it’s beautifully heartbreaking to watch that man fall apart and push people away to finally realizing pushing the people who truly love him away and just being Daredevil was not the right move and yeah, maybe accepting some help and being honest is what’s best, and truly accepts himself as both Matt and Daredevil, asshole or not. And that when it comes down to it, Foggy is the purest heart of gold best friend Matt could ever have because he recognized all of that in Matt and refused to abandon him even after everything.

This got away from me….I shouldn’t write things while sick and on cold meds 😅

#Matt Murdock #daredevil #daredevil season 2 #karen page #foggy nelson #daredevil season 3

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zeawesomeness · 3 months

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her dad's a dick stick with fisk

I MEANT FISH BUT TYPO FUNNI

Okay, that's completely fair, but he does love his daughter and treats her kindly. I just haven't been able to show it yet 😭

#I really gotta give Jake more screen time omg #answered asks #kendratello childhood au

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rewritethisstxry · 9 months

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Hello and welcome to my mixed mosh little corner of tumblr. Here I write for a variety of fandoms and characters. Primarily will be featuring drabbles with the occasional longer piece. Headcanons will feature from time to time.

At the time I do NOT consent for my work to be translated or posted anywhere else.

Below you will find some more information on who and what I write.

MINORS DNI. Due to the nature of potential content, only 18 and older are allowed.

Characters || Rules || Masterlist || Slasher/horror writing blog : @slxsherwriter

What I will write:

Angst

Fluff

Smut

Platonic relationships

Alpha/Omega dynamics

What I won’t write:

Snuff

Rape, rape play, non con

Underage

Inc*st

Real person fic

Marvel: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Alexei Shostakov, Peter Parker, Victor Creed, Deacon Frost, Peter Quinn, Frank Castle, Matt Murdock, Foggy Nelson, Bruce Banner, Brock Rumlow, Nathan Summers, Eddie Brock, Cletus Kasady, Otto Octavius

DC Universe: Bruce Wayne, Harvey Bullock, Jim Gordon, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Jonathan Crane, Clark Kent, Arthur Curry

Stranger Things: James Hopper, Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers

Stargate Atlantis: Rodney McKay, John Sheppard, Ronan Dex, Carson Beckett

Sons of Anarchy: Jackson “Jax” Teller, Harry “Opie” Winston, Filip “Chibs” Telford, Juan Carlos “Juice” Ortiz, Lincoln Potter, Galen O'Shay

The Walking Dead: Rick Grimes, Shane Walsh, Negan Smith

What We Do in the Shadows: Nandor the Relentless, Guillermo de la Cruz, Laszlo Cravensworth

Resident Evil: Karl Heisenberg, Albert Wesker, Chris Redfield

Ted Lasso: Ted Lasso, Coach Beard, Jamie Tartt, Roy Kent

Good Omens: Gabriel, Aziraphale, Crowley

Video Games: Connor RK800, CaptainJonathan Price, Simon Ghost Riley, Sniper

Movies: Finn Brody (Godzilla), Raleigh Becket (Pacific Rim), Terry Malone (Black and Blue), Abe Guevara (Point Blank), Bobby O’Neill (The Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard), Guy Clifton (The Crash), Roy Pulver (Boss Level), Sloan (Into the Ashes) Braxton Wolff (The Accountant), Ethan Sawyer (Those Who Wish Me Dead), Bradley James (Grudge Match), Sam Rossi (Sweet Virginia), Mr. McCarthy (Me, Earl, and the Dying Girl), Grady Travis (Fury), Griff (Baby Driver), Adam Frawley (The Town), Buddy (Baby Driver), Clyde Brenek (The Posession), Patrick Sullivan (The Accidental Husband), Harvey Russell (Rampage), Jude Fisher (Peace, Love, and Misunderstanding), Luke Vaughn (Heist), Franklin Clay (The Losers), Max (The Resident), Nicomund the Red/Santa Claus (Violent Night), Doug Dennison (Sleepless), Frank Masters (The Equalizer), Hellboy (2019), Alex Baldr (Max Payne), Matt Graver (Sicario), Douglas Hunsiker (The Rise of the Planet of the Apes), Steve Emmett (Boa vs Python), Joe Braven (Braven), Lee Christmas (The Expendables), Deckard Shaw (Fast & Furious)

Musicals: Jack Kelly (Newsies), Dewey Finn (School of Rock), Hades (Hadestown)

Tv shows: Ike Evans (Magic City), Jason Crouse (The Good Wife), John Winchester (Supernatural), Mason Baldwin (Elementary), Colton Fisk (The Equalizer), Kevin Tidwell (Life), Declan Murphy (Law & Order: SVU), Eugene McGillicutty (Royal Pains), Chuck Martin (ER), Dickie Flood (Th Practice), Malcolm Bright (Prodigal Son)

Tolkien: Boromir, Faramir, Eomer

#fandom imagines #fandom writing #dc comics #marvel #sons of anarchy #lord of the rings #what we do in the shadows #pacific rim #resident evil #Ted lasso #walking dead #stranger things #good omens #obscure characters #obscure writings

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maturemenoftvandfilms · 11 months

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Battlestar Galactica (TV Series) S2/E10 ’Pegasus’ (2005), Graham Beckel as Colonel Jack Fisk

Not intentionally, but Graham is just calling out to my dick.

On A Side Note: Watching this has reawakened my lust for Michael Hogan.

#Graham Beckel #Battlestar Galactica #tv series #Pegasus #american actor #Michael Hogan #handsome daddy #husky daddy #daddy #screenshots #CILF #celebrities #dsls

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skalidra · 8 months

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Fic Writers Showcase Game

@there-must-be-a-lock tagged me!

Rules: Go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason.

First fic published on Ao3: That would be The Other Side of the Mirror, an Earth-3 continuity mess with a JayDick main pair, featuring Roy as a 3rd PoV. First chapter was posted in September, 2014, currently 200k, 20 chapters , and as of yet unfinished, though I think as it stands it ends on a decently hopeful note. I do still recall the main plot points of where it goes, and would like to finish it someday.

Last fic published: I posted the first chapter of Five Finger Discount just yesterday, which is the 5th piece in my Worth Counting series, an alpha!Slade/alpha!Jason series exploring a variety of kinks but with a focus on non-formal dom/sub vibes, competence/strength kink, and mostly-play fighting. (The last finished story was Shifting Into Fourth which is the 4th piece of that same series, so, I'm a little bit on a theme here.)

Fandom/ship I only wrote once: I uh. I wrote Hamilton/Jefferson/Madison room-where-it-happens porn. For the Hamilton musical. It's called Do Whatever It Takes and I think it is still the thing that makes me feel the most sinfully dirty of all the things I've ever written. So there's that.

I also have Let's Be Clear, which is my only fic set anywhere in the MCU, and is a Daredevil oneshot of an asexual!Wesley being invited to join a Fisk/Vanessa relationship, as I vibed real hard with Wesley as a character and never really got over his unfortunate demise.

(Honorable mention to my four stories that are technically fandoms of their own, but all fall under the 'DCU' umbrella, being for the Arkham games, two shows in the CW Arrowverse, and the Teen Titans cartoon.)

Favorite fic in most popular fandom/ship: This is a little hard to quantify. Technically 'DCU (Comics)' comes in at 93k in stories, which would make JayDick the most popular pairing, which makes my favorite story Captain's Privileges. It's a Star Trek mirror!verse fusion with Captain!Dick and Engineer!Jason and so many unhealthy relationships everywhere, and I love it.

However! 'DCU (Comics)' is a very broad umbrella and it's not really fair to say it's my biggest fandom, since the slice I belong to is much smaller. Which means the more accurate winner is Voltron, at 85k stories. I technically have a Klance story but given that it is a big poly clusterfuck dark!fic I really have to actually give this to the second most popular pairing by stat, Sheith. Out of those, I think my favorite is I'm Not That Man, which was an early false-memories/brainwashed!Shiro fic set just before the wormhole split them all up.

Fic I wish more people read: An Extra Shot, hands down. Come read my gen, Wilson-family-focused exploration of what happens if Adeline dies during the attack on Joey! Come read Slade Wilson being forced into confronting the fact that he is a terrible dad and also now a widowed dad of three kids! Come read Billy trying his best to bludgeon all the terrible communicators of this family into actually working things out! READ THIS. THERE'S A SEQUEL IN PROGRESS. IT'S GOOD I SWEAR.

Fic that was hardest to write: I think the award for this has to go to Me, Not Her, a CaptainPan/CaptainSwan piece which I was apparently so frustrated with at some point that I straight up deleted the file. Four years later (no I am not kidding) I had the vague memory of it. Some sketchy thing I could maybe expand, now that I was having thoughts about OUaT again. I pull it out of the (then eternal) trash of Google Drive. It is five thousand words long and needs no more than pretty basic editing and a little padding at the end to round it off. I don't know what the hell was happening with me when I deleted it, but wow, lesson learned.

Fic that popped out fully-formed: I don't recall any that were explicitly like this, but I also don't tend to write like, neat little packaged stories all that often. If I'm writing oneshots they're usually for events. So my best answer to this is probably Fucking Androids? It's a Reed900 relationship origin story that blazed its way out of me during NaNoWriMo one year, named entirely for the sex pun and then in the end absolutely refusing to have any sex in it, so it won that fight. I remember at least most of it coming really, really easy.

Fic I'm proud of: Pulling out a weird little one, here. I'm going to say Take a Ride. It's a JayDick, Gotham City Garage story that I wrote for Firefright's birthday one year, and on reread I actually still really, really like it? It's just a neat apocalyptic-desert vibe relationship building thing, set in the criminally under-explored and rushed GCG world, and I really like how I put Dick together in this one. I recommend it.

Not tagging anyone specific, but if anyone would like to do this as well, feel free!

#Tag Games #Writing #Fanfiction

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hoard-apothecary · 2 years

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current name hoard

bolded - italics - tiny favoured - if close - trying out/uncertain

deet, ryn, tai, yuze, yufei, xiyang

ahsoka, alice, alison, abi, babs, bloom, beau, bunnie, bee/bea, chel, cassandra, ciel, corrin, claire, coraline, crybaby, donnie/donatello, el/ellie/eleven, emily, jess, jane, keyleth, katie, kim, kris, kiri, london, layla, lena, maine, mae, matthew, mono, poppy, powder, rene, stolas, soundwave, serene, serena, serenity, sol, tracer, tex, valkyrie, 479er

astre, aether, arsenic, astronaut/astro, crescent, cel, crypt, curse, crux, conjure, catra, callum, domino, douxie, draculin, dixie, diem, dusk, dawn, day, dray, deco, emika, edmund, eos, estes, fleece, gwen, gallery, harley, hiccup, haze, jinx, katniss, kori/koriand'r, katze, koi, korra, klause, kinley/kinley, kikimora, killian, luka, luz, lux, lamb, lune, link, lou, lev, len, mishka, milan, meg/megaera, marceline, marshall lee, mori, melanie, noctum, omen, pour, prismane, porter, pidge, river styx, ryot/riot, robin, rachel, rune, spyro, sunny, stray, sigrune, teth/tethlani, tanya, vida, verta, vapour, wilt,

arseni, aarik, alita, askell, arice, amlet, artourious, bridges/bridger, bailey, caprice, dema, dragomir, deimos, die, dice, deming, daoming emmet, eon, era, eiri, eira, fion/fione, faolan, folke, fiske, fai, ilya, juncai, jiayi, kol, kole, kallen, kestrel, keir, kreed, kyre, kyne, kynar, luca, lane/lain, lei, liang, liu, lan, ming, max, mischa/misha, merrik, malik, phaelyn, parker, peller, riff, runa, rory, runar, royko/rojko, rhys/reece, ru, shen sokka/sokah, sakki, stas, velik, valen, vedun, wren, ye,

for certain people only:

bf/raf: oliver, pixie

atari/wonder: fishy, feifei, vapoureon, yuyu,

molly: kitcat/kitkat

vax: (little) dove, butterfly

yasha: petals

wire: panty

apollo: sho (shoto)

crow: little light

joker: sugar

dick: baby bat

asra: little apprentice

#name hoard #to be updated #for pinned

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skyfallslayer · 2 years

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The Daughter of The (Dare)Devil - Story 3

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: A Series of stories revolving around the MCU timeline of Matt Murdock and his Daughter, Kaila. Being the child of a vigilante can be hard and scary at times, but it doesn’t mean she ain’t going to enjoy the most of it.

(Can be read as Y/N if you’d like).

Story Summary: While Foggy and Kaila make it a mission to find out what’s going on with Karen, Matt is dealing with a person from his past who dared disrespect his daughter in his own home (Set during S1E7, “Stick”).

Read the previous stories to get a better understanding.

Date: 5/24

Rating: Teen/Borderline of Mature

Word Count: 7,227

Warning: Hints of Foggy’s Crush on Karen; Changing POVs (?); Possible OOC; Mature Language; Angst/Lots of angst; Talks of Abandonment; Minor Blood; Brief talk of disability; Brief mention of sex; Fighting; Stick being a dick; Protective!Matt, who deserves his own warning; So should Foggy; READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

(Let me know if I missed anything)

A/N: This was an interesting (and sort of hard) one to write, but I really wanted to write about Stick and Matt; And some quality Uncle-Niece time between Kaila and Foggy. So hopefully I delivered okay 😄. And once again, I kind suck at writing fighting scenes so hopefully those are good too.

Also, Kudos to anyone who can figure out what 2015 Movie I'm hinting at.

Wilson Fisk has entered the ring, causing a stir inside the masked vigilante.

Between that, the run in with the police, and an accident resolving one of Nelson & Murdock’s clients (Which ended with Foggy in the hospital) things were getting tense with him, and surely these late night conversations he kept overhearing about it all wasn’t helping him either.

It was late in the office, everyone was doing a last bit of work before calling it a day. Kaila was sitting at the end of the office’s table, pretending to be occupied by something on her phone while the adults talked amongst themselves. She would occasionally spare a few glances at her dad since this talking hit close to home (And, oh boy, she could see the threads pulling apart with every word said).

“Devil, my shapely Irish ass.” Foggy said, staring at the front of today’s newspaper.

It showed off the face of a masked man dressed in black caught by surveillance cameras, and had bold lettering stretched across the top saying, ‘THE DEVIL OF HELL’S KITCHEN’. Kaila frowns, not exactly excited by the nickname that wasn’t self given by the vigilante. She just still wonders how he feels about it.

“Guy’s a coward.” Foggy continues, standing in the doorway. “Would I wouldn’t give for the chance to rip that corny mask off and…”

He struggles with the right words as Karen gave him a look.

“And what?” She asks, eyebrow slightly raised as she pauses her work.

“Punch him… in the face with my…” He almost cringed at himself when he held his hands up. “Fisticuffs.”

Kaila snorts.

If only you knew. She thought, ignoring the now strange -Almost betrayed- look Foggy was giving her.

Karen seemed to almost laugh, and shook her head, looking back at her notes. “I don’t know, he seems, uh… pretty fisticuffy.”

“Uh, yeah.” Kaila pushes in, hopefully maybe her comments will shut this down. “I’m with Miss Page, I mean have you seen this guy’s physique, Foggy?”

Foggy looks between the two, almost surprised (Almost). “Please tell me I don’t detect a hint of admiration for that terrorist.” He says, pointing to the news article.

Karen jolts up at that defensively. “This is all speculation. Nobody knows if he’s a terrorist or what.”

He nods. “You’re absolutely right. Terrorists have causes. They claim responsibility. They want to show the world that they’re assholes. This guy? Not a peep.” He says, spinning the baseball he snagged in his hands. “You know what they call that? Nut job.”

Karen frowns a little thinking. “Hmm… maybe.” She says, and notices her friend wincing after he threw the ball in the air. “How’s your side?”

“Downgraded to agony.” He replies, touching the spot.

“Alright, what do you think, Matt?”

Matt sucks in a small puff of air, and sarcastically says, “I think Foggy will be pitching for the Mets by mid-season.”

That got everyone to chuckle and smile. Kaila even went as far as rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

Still trying to dodge it, I see.

“I’m being serious.” Karen says, her smile still lingering.

Matt chuckles now. “So am I. Have you seen their bullpen?” He asks, grinning.

“Come on, you’re telling me this dickhead blowing up our backyard doesn’t piss you off?” Foggy asked, watching his friend stop reading and gather his thoughts.

“What happened to Hell’s Kitchen, to you and to Elena, and to all the people that were hurt…” He begins, sensing his daughter biting the inside of her cheek nervously. “Yeah, it pisses me off. But this man, whoever he is, whatever his motive, he shouldn’t be tried and convicted in the press. We’re lawyers, we know that’s not how it’s supposed to work.”

“So, uh, hypothetically–” Karen says, intrigued by his opinion. “If this guy got caught, needed counsel, Nelson and Murdock would offer to defend him?”

“Hell no.” Foggy immediately says, but Matt just shakes it off and continues with,

“It would be his right.”

“What about my right to punch him in the melon?” The other lawyer adds, a bit irritated. “They pulled a piece of glass out my side. Elena needed 12 stitches.” He scoffs. “And you want to Perry Mason the guy responsible?”

“I-I wanna make sure the right person pays for what happened.” Matt throws back, hoping this would end already (He hates lying like this for a long period of time).

“Well this whole thing’s moot.” Foggy gestures to open air with his hand. “After shooting those cops, police are probably looking to settle things the old-fashioned way if they catch up to him.”

Matt heard his child’s heart start pounding at that, and can only imagine how pale she must look right now, or whatever horrible thoughts plagued her mind.

He hated that.

His jaw clenched a little, fighting the urge to dig his fingernails into the table, before finishing with, “Yeah, it’s more than likely.”

God, why did he say that? He heard Kaila grip her phone tighter and swallow, her pulse still pounding slowly. He could practically feel the concern and genuine fear radiating off of her. It was like a knife to his bleeding heart.

“Well…” Foggy begins and faces the child. “What about you, Kai?”

Her name catches her off guard. “H-Huh?”

“What about you? I mean I get Karen because this guy did save her, but why you? How come you’re defending him?”

“Uh… well…” She sets the phone on her lap, mind racing for a good answer. “Um… I’m not necessarily defending him, I’m just going off facts, or really evidence here.”

“So you’re just going off of things you’ve seen or heard?” Karen asked, curious as well.

“Well…” Kaila shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah. I mean, I like to hear both sides of the story until I make a final decision. Even though there’s a possible chance this guy really did shoot those cops, I'm going off Karen’s story right now because I trust her enough to know she’s not lying.”

“Huh.” The blonde woman says, impressed.

“I guess that makes sense.” Foggy agrees. “But I’m still not backing down on my opinion.”

“And you don’t.” Kaila said, swiping her water bottle off the table, opening it up. “I’m just saying, I’m standing by what I know, and until new evidence comes to light that he’s… a baby eater or something, I’m still sticking with my opinion.”

She brings the water to her lips, whispering ‘Sorry’ that she knows her father heard because his eyebrows shot up for a millisecond.

Karen clears her throat. “Just a thought, but we may wanna go a bit peppier at the end of the day. Leave on a note slightly higher than deeply depressing.”

The three of them bow their heads in shame, but a split second later Foggy turns it around.

“She’s right. You’re bringing us down, Murdocks.” He said, getting a chuckle from the blonde.

“Excuse me?” Kaila scoffs, going along with it.

“Us?” Matt says in fake disbelief.

“I thought we were family, Uncle Foggy.”

Foggy snorts. “You wish.” He says with a wink. “Now-” He grabs his aluminum bat. “High note! Softball. When are we getting a company team together?”

“We have three employees.” Karen says, while finishing packing her stuff.

The young Murdock threw her hands up. “What? Do I not count?”

“At Least two of them aren’t blind.” Matt adds while fixing his shades, before roasting with, “Or that three of us are actually employed.”

She gasps silently, taken back. “Wow…”

“Naysayers, each and every one of you.” Foggy retorts, pointing between the three. “Karen, come on! Batting practice, you, me and Kai. What do you say?”

Karen’s posture changed. “Um… I…”

“Or not. Totally cool.”

“Hey, I thought you were taking me to the movies tonight?” Kaila asks, confusedly. It’s the reason she even tagged along with her dad to the office today instead of staying home waiting alone.

“No we are.” Foggy reassures. “I just thought we could hit a few balls before that.” He watches her scrunch up her nose, which makes him roll his eyes. “You know what-” He throws an empty plastic bottle at her legs, making her snort. “Stop being a teenager.”

“Ow.” She whines fakely. “I call child abuse.”

Kaila rubs the spot she was hit at as Foggy rolls his eyes.

“No, no, I would love to join the two of you, It’s just that I, um…” Karen stutters while sliding her jacket on. “I have this, uh, thing.”

“Well, go. Go do that thing. Not a problem.” He says, a sadness in his undertone.

“Okay, so um… See you tomorrow.”

“We’ll be here, ready to high note and stuff.”

“Good.” She flashes a quick smile and leaves.

Once the door was closed, He sighs heavily before imitating the sound of the bat against his forehead. His face held a line of defeat that Murdocks could see (or sense).

Matt nods his head, with a humorous smirk on his face. “Smooth.”

“Admittedly, I’m a work in progress.” Foggy admits, coming from the doorframe to the desk again. “Did you know she has mace on her keychain?”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“You ever worry about her?” He slides his suit jacket back on after setting his bat down. “Worry like something she’s not telling us?”

Matt’s heart skipped a beat (and he picked up his daughter pretending to be preoccupied again). “Everyone has secrets, Foggy.”

“I don’t. I’d like some. Your kind… like with Hottie McBurner-Phone.” He said, grinning like a huge idiot as he sat down in a chair. “I mean, I assume she’s hot. Is she hot?”

Kaila visibly cringed. “Ew. Okay-” She stands up quickly, brushing by them. “I ain’t listening to this ‘boy talk’ or whatever. I’ll go grab the drinks out of the fridge.”

“Oh… how would I know?” Matt says loudly and flirtatiously, making his daughter groan in frustration.

He whispers an apology once she leaves, a bit of payback for her comment earlier, before Foggy sighs and shakes his head.

“This again. You always know!” Foggy replies, using his hands to emphasize his words. “I mean, you guys getting serious? Should I dust off the tux I’ll need to rent?”

Matt chuckles, a bit sadly. “No, uh… it didn’t work out.”

“Oh…” He frowns. “I’m… I’m sorry, man.”

“Yeah, me too.”

He takes a moment to pause, to listen. He heard his daughter putting the drinks in her bag, taking note of her movement. It was slow, almost sad. He’s had this conversation before, whether or not that she’ll be okay if he ever dated. She said she’s fine with it, Saying something along the lines of: ‘As long as you're happy and she treats you right, then I’m fine with it.’ Which she seems to be taking her statement to heart.

Matt sucks in a breath, needing a distraction disparately. “Hey, look, I’m gonna order in tonight, get a jump on this tenement case.”

“You sure?” Foggy asked.

“Yeah. I’ll be alright. Thanks, Buddy.”

“No problem.” He stands up. “Do you want me to bring Kai here or back at your place in the morning?”

“I’ll leave it up to her.”

“I’ll play it by ear.” Kaila announced upon returning. Her backpack slung over her shoulder casting a worried glance to her father. “You’ll be okay, Dad?”

“Yes.” He flashes her a quick smile. “I will be. Don’t worry about me.”

“Okay.” She skips over towards him, giving him a bear hug. “Love you, Dad. Don’t let those things bother you.”

She whispers that last part real quietly, tugging on his heart.

He smiles. “Love you too.” Matt says, kissing her forehead. “Have fun with Foggy.”

“I will. See you tomorrow.”

“Alright, K-Pop. Let’s go.” Foggy said, patting her on the back as she passed him. “Hey, Matt?”

“Yeah?” He said.

“Her loss, man. Seriously.”

That gets him to smile, which was good enough for his friend and daughter to leave knowing he was alright. But once they were gone, Matt flipped open his own set of work, his own little investigation involving whatever Wilson Fisk is in; All while his hatred for a man he hasn’t even met yet grew more and more.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

An hour, maybe more had passed, and Matt was found laying on the ground almost in a dead like state. He got tased by Fisk’s pawns, Leland Owlsley, after getting distracted by an eerily familiar noise. His mind raced because–

No.

Just no.

It couldn’t be him. Just…

Absolutely not.

He sensed the cane by his head, the disrespecting look penetrating his bruised skin.

No. It can’t be. He told himself, and prays to God that this is just a dream.

“You just gonna lie there all night?”

Matt felt his stomach tie into knots, his skin going cold. The hairs on the back of his neck stuck up too. “Stick.” His name was haunting for him to say.

“Are you gonna lie there all night or get up off your ass?” The older man asked again, making Matt want to take a stand. “Jesus kid–” He keeps egging. “I’m gone five minutes, you turn this place into a shit show.”

“You’ve been gone 20 years.” Matt says, sternly. His body stays stiff as he stares in Stick’s direction. “What are you doing back in my city?”

He almost scoffs at that. “Your city? Hell’s Kitchen hates your guts. They have you pegged as a cop killer and some kind of mad bomber.”

It took a lot of strength not to deflate on those words, but he managed. “Yeah, I’m taking care of it.”

“An old guy just lit you up. You ain’t taking care of shit.”

“Why are you here?”

“To save you, and everyone in the Kitchen from a horrible death.” Stick scoffs. “More or less.”

Matt tightens his jaw. This was the last person, thing, he wanted to deal with.

Well, Fuck.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Foggy’s mind was somewhere else, and Kaila knew him long enough to tell. She could tell he’s been distant while they took a few practice swings at the park, and on the walk to the theater. He always gets…

How should she put this?

Quiet. He always grows quieter. For being an extrovert, being silent isn’t something he’s known for, so when Foggy’s quiet there’s usually something up. Not to mention his brows will be pushed together constantly, his eyes going distant or towards the floor. His shoulders would sometimes tenses up a smidge too.

So yeah, something was up, and the young Murdock had a feeling she knew why. They were half way through the long line to the ticket counter, a curse they were given since going on opening night, which gave her a chance to express her concerns.

“You’re worried about Karen, aren’t you?” Kaila asked, knocking him out of his trance. He almost fell back by the shock that she knew what was on his mind.

“What gave you that idea?” He tries laughing it off, but her stoic face and a slight raise of her eyebrow shut his reaction down quickly. He frowns, eyes on the floor again. “Was I really that obvious?”

“Foggy I’ve known you since I was born. I know when something’s up. So what’s going on?” She replies, worriedly.

“I just… I feel like…” He groans, frustrated. “I don’t know. I feel like something’s wrong. It’s a… gut feel.”

“And this is with Karen, right?”

“Yeah. But-” He shakes his head, straightening up. “It doesn’t matter. This is movie night! I’m ready to see how this quadrilogy ends!”

Even though he sounded genuine, she could tell that the other feeling was eating away at him. She sighs, grabbing his bicep and pulling them both out of line.

“Hey, what are you doing? We were almost there.” Foggy asked, confused.

“Let’s go find Karen.” Kaila replies.

“What?”

“Let’s go find Karen, make sure she’s okay.” She watches her Uncle smile proudly, sadly, but still proudly. He was about to open his mouth to speak, but she pointed at him. “However, You owe me another movie night. Okay?”

He nods. “Okay. Okay! Yes! Of course! You’re the best, Kai. I promise to buy you all the candy you want next movie night.”

She smirks, mischievously. “I’m going to hold you to it then, Mr. Nelson.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Matt really wasn’t looking forward to this. But what other choice did he have? Or did he even have a choice? His old mentor walked in like he owned the place, checking it out, judging it right on the spot.

Stick sets his things down, including sliding off his glasses. He scoffs snobbishly. “What a shithole.” He says, setting the object down on the coffee table.

“You have any idea what I pay in rent?” Matt asked, clearly annoyed with his arms crossed.

“Expensive shithole.” He takes a whiff of the air. “You had a woman in here.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“When is she coming back?”

“Never.”

“Good.” Another whiff. Stick tilts his head at it. “I smell something else…”

“You got a warped perspective on the whole good/bad thing, you know that?” Matt replies, hoping that his skipped heart beat wasn’t heard. He knows what Stick was getting at, and desperately wants to steer him away.

Stick sighs heavily. “Women are a distraction. Just like–” He takes a small step to the right, sending a tiny kick to his table. “Furniture, apartments…” He perks up at another sensation, holding his hand out to ‘feel’ the air. “Whoa. Silk sheets.”

“Cotton feels like sandpaper on my skin.”

“You’d be better off sleeping on real sandpaper than surrounding yourself with all this bullshit–”

“This is my life and I made something of it, without you. That’s…” Matt places his hands on hips sternly. “That’s the part that really pisses you off, isn’t it?”

“No, Matty.” He shakes his head. “No, I’m proud of you, I really am. The things you’ve done, what you’ve made of yourself, but…” He gestures to the room with his arms. “This is… Surrounding yourself with soft stuff isn’t life, it’s death.”

Stick continues even when Matt starts pacing around him, “-Someday those silk sheets are gonna crawl up behind you, wrap themselves around your throat and choke you to death. You’re a warrior.”

Matt drops his head, whispering, “Yeah…” But then there's that spark again. “That’s not all I am.”

“A warrior, heir to the Spartans, Baddest of the bad-asses. They knew what they had to do and they did it.”

“And what was that?”

“Cut it loose. All of it. Cut yourself free… from the women, the comforts, the fancy job.”

Matt chuckles dryly, eye nearly twitching. “The job’s not that fancy.”

“Do you have friends? People you care about?”

“Yeah.” Three. He wanted to stay three, but he wanted to keep her especially out of this. “Two.”

Stick steps closer, almost like he was trying to be intimidating. “Then cut ‘em loose, for their sake. Break their hearts if you have to, just do it quickly.”

Matt shakes his head. “I’m not gonna do that.”

“Then they will suffer and you will die. Relationships are a luxury men like you and me can’t afford.”

“Is that why you left?” He asks, and Stick grows quiet. “Huh? To protect me?”

“I had my reasons.”

“I was a kid.”

“You still are. ‘Boo-Hoo. Stick left me. Think I’ll bury my sorrows between the legs of a supermodel’.”

“Don’t push it, Stick.”

“Or what? I’m trying to teach you how to stay alive. Christ, you’re worse than your old man. Born to lose Battlin’ Jack. At least your daddy got paid when he hit the floor.”

Matt immediately snags Stick’s collar as a warning, but the table’s turn when he finds himself trapped in an arm bar. Matt mentally curses at himself, fighting back memories of his childhood training.

Fuck.

Did he really let himself be beaten around like that?

He tightens his jaw, and gets himself out of trouble with a few, quick, maneuvers. He spins on his heels, hands up in case things escalate, however it never comes. Instead, Stick just chuckles in amusement

“Took you 20 years to learn how to get out of that one”

“Yeah, I’ve learned a lot since you’ve been gone.” Matt snaps back, voice on the edge of irritation.

“Like what?”

“You’re a dick.”

“That’s true. You got any beer?”

Matt laughs dryly.

Still hasn’t fucking changed. He thought, and gestures towards his kitchen. “Yeah, in the fridge.”

Stick starts heading for the small kitchen, standing almost proudly by his answer. “I’ll bet… It’s that German piss, isn’t it?” He asks, opening the door.

“So you gonna tell me why you’re here?” Matt asked as he takes a seat, his question sounded more like a demand (Why the fuck was he back after so many years away?). “Or is the suspense supposed to kill me?”

“You know, drinking all that soda is bad for your health.” Stick says, closing the door with his hip (Matt felt his heart skip a bear again). “And to answer your question, It’s the war, Matty.” He skillfully flicks the cap off the beer bottle, landing it in the trash can behind. “A never-ending war.”

He lets his palms squeeze together for a split second, holding himself together. “With who? You never got around to that part.”

“Now, the Japanese, mostly.”

“Look, I don’t want you tearing up Hell’s Kitchen going after the Yakuza.”

“Yakuza?” Stick chuckles, sitting down across from his protege. “You don’t know what’s going on in your own backguard. The guy that was yappin’ with that old man you slapped around, he’s pretty high up. He goes by a lot of names. Using Nobu this time around.”

Matt perks up at this new information. “So, Nobu, you want him so bad, why’d you let him get away back in the garage?”

Stick sighs. “I don’t want him. I want what’s on the ship he’s meeting at the docks tonight.”

“Right. Owlsley was talking about it. What’s Nobu bringing in? Drugs or something?”

“A weapon. They call it Black Sky, the bringer of shadows.”

“What kind of weapon?”

“The kind you don’t want in your world.”

Matt shakes his head, almost scoffing. “Just say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say you want my help.”

Stick copies his expression and movement. “I want you to help yourself. Nobu and his guys are in tight with Fisk. You hurt them, you hurt baldy–”

“You know about Fisk?”

A scoff. “I know a lot of shit. This beer, for example, sucks.”

“After all your talk about cutting friends loose–” Matt wanted to laugh in his face. “And now you need one.”

“I don’t need a friend. I need a soldier. Committed. Not some bleeding heart idealist hanging onto half measures.”

“You don’t know anything about what I’m doing here.”

“Kid, in war, people die. If it’s not you, it’s the guy next to you. How many men have you killed protecting this city?” Matt’s silence was enough for Stick to throw his hands up in disappointment. “You’re still afraid to cross that line. Someday, it’s gonna come down to you or the other guy. If it’s not Fisk, somebody else. What’re you gonna do then?”

“Yeah, a Russian asshole asked me the same thing recently…” He frowns, the memory still fresh in his mind. “Right before he died.”

“Are you the one that put him in the ground?”

Matt shakes his head. “No.”

“Half measures, Matty.” Stick ponders for a moment. “Ah, screw it.” He sets his beer down. “Ride with me tonight, help me destroy Black Sky, keep it off the streets, and I promise you this. Wilson Fisk will know the taste of fear the day he faces you ‘cause he’ll know that you kicked the guy he’s afraid of right in the nuts. Why do you say, kid?”

Matt ponders too, but still makes his point quick. “One rule. You don’t kill anybody.”

Stick sighs bitterly, raising his right hand, replying, “I swear I will not kill anybody.” Matt nods, it was good enough for him. “Pussy.”

Oh…

If only the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen knew what was coming up next…

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

It felt like hours since they’ve been looking for Karen. Foggy had a hunch that she went to Mrs. Cardenas, their law firm’s client; So that’s where they were heading. However it seemed like it was on the other side of town judging by the time that was flying by at a lightning rate (or had they been walking in circles?).

“Foggy?” Kaila begins, earning a hum as a reply. “Are you sure you don’t want to just call her at this point? Or at least hail a cab?”

“Cabs don’t come out this way this late at night, and I’ve already tried calling her. She’s not picking up.” He explains, hustling. “I even tried texting her too and she’s left those unread.”

She sighs, readjusting her backpack for the millionth time this walk. “Are you sure she’s not… you know, getting…. Laid?” His eyes snapped over towards her for a split second causing her to shrug. “I’m just saying. Maybe that’s why she was leaving in a hurry?”

“That’s a possibility, but I don’t think so.”

“Foggy, listen, she’s–”

He suddenly stops in his tracks, holding up his hand. “Be quiet.”

“What?”

“Shh.”

They listened closely, and soon enough they heard someone screaming muffly, followed by harsh whispers and more screams. The two of them paled and flashed each other a knowing glance.

“You stay behind me!” Foggy said, as the two of them broke off into a sprint.

It didn’t take the duo long to find two men surrounding Karen. They watched as she knocked one to the floor before the other one did the same thing to her. He was burning with rage, his shoulder tensed with steam coming out of his ears.

“Stupid bitch.” He cussed, which made them both start seeing red.

Foggy wasted no time to fish the baseball from his pocket, and chuck it at the guy’s head. His body dropped like a ton of bricks, face planting into the dirty sidewalk.

“Nice shot.” Kaila muttered with big brown eyes, as Foggy pushed her behind him some more and protectively held up his aluminum bat.

Karen pushed herself off the ground, the scared look in her blue orbs started to fade away upon seeing them. “F-Foggy? Kaila? Oh my god…” She stutters, and wobbles to her feet. She points at them with confusion. “Wh-What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Foggy asked, sounding just as confused as she was.

“What are you doing here?!”

“Are you following me?” She asked, exasperated.

He half shrugs. “Yeah.”

“Why?!”

“Because you were acting weird. I was worried about you! The both of us were.” He gestures to himself and the teenager, which makes Karen’s eyes widen more.

“You brought Kaila to one of the most dangerous parts of Hell’s Kitchen? At night?!” She scolds him in a way that reminds them of a parent-child argument.

The teenager looks surprised again, tilting her head. “Wait, there are more dangerous parts of Hell’s Kitchen?” Kaila asked, because that was news to her. “Since when?”

Foggy lowers the bat, almost guilty. “Well… I-I couldn’t just leave her alone!”

Karen sighs right as the man she struck down earlier starts to get. She immediately pepper sprays him in the eyes, causing him to cry out and curl into a ball.

The teenager’s eyes widened once more. “Oh damn…”

“I can take care of myself.” Karen said, pointing to what she just did.

“We can see that. Yes.”

“Okay, but let’s discuss that away from the maniacs. Please?” Foggy chimes in, waving her over. “Come on!”

Karen nods eagerly, cursing under her breath when she notices the other guy standing up. She starts hustling away, snagging Kaila by the under arm as Foggy hits the man again with his bat, sending him to the floor.

Again.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Saying Matt was pissed was beyond an understatement. This did not go as planned, or as promised it was supposed to be. He marched down his stairs, aggressively tossing the billy clubs at his ex-mentor’s feet. He listens as Stick picks them up, placing them on the coffee table; His aura was alarmingly calm.

“You promised me you weren’t going to kill anyone.” Matt says, taking his mask off.

“Yep.” Stick says, casually.

“Then what the hell was that back there?”

“The mission.”

“That’s what your war’s come to?” He asks while taking his gloves off. “Killing children?”

“That thing in the container was not a child.”

“I could hear his heartbeat. It was light and fast. He hadn’t even hit puberty.”

“You’re emotional.

“Yeah, no shit.”

“If you’d have focused beyond your crybaby feelings, you would’ve sensed what that kid really was.” Stick snaps, standing his ground.

“He was just a kid.” Matt replies, words haunting hitting all the right cords within him. I mean–

How could someone take a child’s life?

“You are as blind as you ever were.” The older man continues.

“Maybe you should’ve stuck around and finished training me yourself.” Matt quips back.

“I needed a soldier. You wanted a father.”

“Well, I guess we’re both disappointed then.”

“I guess we are.” Stick gets up with a grunt. He pats Matt’s shoulder before walking by. “You take care of yourself, Matty.”

Matt steps in front of him, defensively. “I’m not gonna let you kill that kid.”

“Oh, he’s already dead. I caught up with that van while you were dicking around with Nobu’s men.” He tilts his head. “But I guess you’ve been doing that all day.”

“What do you mean?”

Stick scoffs. “Come on, Matty, you don’t think I haven’t noticed those hitches in your breath? The sudden stiffness in your back when I walk around your home? Or how your heart skips ever so slightly whenever you lie? What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything.”

“Bullshit. You are. And something tells me it’s in this apartment.” Matt swallows. “Oh… why so pale, Matty? I could tell you lied when saying you only cared about two people, so who’s this third?”

“Stick.” He begins, warningly. “Don’t push it.”

“Or what?” Stick takes a big whiff of the air. “I thought I’d smelled something else earlier. I smelled you of course, and a woman, but I also smelled another woman, a woman who smells a lot like you. I thought it was because of sex but now I’m thinking you have someone related to you living here.”

Matt takes a dangerous step closer, jaw tightening. “Don’t.” He warns in a threatening tone.

Stick sighs, smacking his lips. “So my suspicions were right, but I didn’t want to believe it. Size 7 shoes by the front door, the sickenly sweet sodas in the fridge, a report card transferred in braille on the counter. Matty,–” He shakes his head. “Don’t tell me you have a kid?” He chuckles. “Or to make it worse, you have a daughter.”

That was enough to make him snap, blood boiling and emotions spilling over. Matt growled as he threw punch after punch, all being blocked by the older man, so he switched it up. He sends his black combat boot to land perfectly in Stick’s stomach, sending him into a wall.

“Whoa, Matty. Didn’t think you’d become that soft.” He chuckles. “And to snooped that low either-”

Matt growls as he throws one of his dining room chairs, colliding with his target before rushing in again. Soon they were pretty much eveningly match, punches flying and blocks catching them wherever they may go.

“Your mind’s cloudy, Matty. That’s why I told you to let go. Kids are a distraction too.” Stick says, provoking his pupil’s hidden emotions.

“Shut up!!” Matt yells, throwing another. Unfortunately he leaves himself open for a few strikes to the gut, including a kneeing which made him keel over in pain.

“You can’t even tag an old man!” Stick throws him into a wall face first, striking him several times in the back.

Matt hisses, and throws an elbow to Stick’s face, getting back into the game. He relies on some kicks, front ones and even a spinning kick, but his old mentor did have one thing right; His mind was clouded (but could you blame him?). He missed a landing, and stumbled into his desk spinning around when he heard his opponent coming after him. The lawyer throws his printer, giving enough time to go for yet another kick.

Stick went under it, and tackled Matt by the waist. The two of them grappled into his bedroom barn door, knocking it off the railing, splitting it nearly in half. Matt groans as he tries to get up on all four, but a hand smacks him across the face, sending him flat again.

“Now I can smell it. The hormones of a young girl. Cheap perfume. Fruity shampoo too. Pathetic.” Stick sneered. “I bet you worship the ground she walks on.”

“Stop it!!” Matt says, trying to do a leg sweep.

Stick jumps over it, snatching the back off his head and shirt collar, throwing him over his shoulder. Matt’s body made contact with the coffee table, destroying it under his bulky weight. He winced on impact, opening his mouth in a silence cry.

“Get up.” Stick says, sensing the younger man trying. When Matt’s back turned away, he sent a kick to it, his body flying and tipping over the couch. “Get up!” Another kick. “Get up!” And another. “Get up!! Get up you fucking softy!!”

Matt groans, blood dripping off the side of his mouth as he feels around the floor. His hands soon found a familiar weapon. He hopes to his feet, swinging the baton. Even though Stick catches it, it gives Matt enough time to get the upper hand. A few ducks here and there before he sent punch after punch to Stick’s face. He takes a step back, giving himself enough momentum for a sturdy spinning kick to the old man’s jaw.

And then another one, which made Stick stumble back, and Matt to go in with his hands again. One punch to the nose, another punch, and a roundhouse that sends his opponent to his stairs. Matt jumped up after, but soon found himself in the worse position possible—

The choke hold.

Gritting his teeth at some horrible flashbacks of his childhood training, Matt uses what he learned, rocking them both back before launching themselves into a front flip; Missing several steps and landing on the square bottom, shattering the wood.

Matt quickly gets up, sending a sloppy right hook to Stick’s temple, followed by yet another roundhouse and a spinning kick. He stayed in his best fighting stance as his old mentor laid on the ground, in a confused daze. Stick groans, blood caking his face as Matt starts sucking in some well deserved air.

The vigilante listened closely for a few seconds, waiting until he had a guarantee that this was over. When he does, he walks aggressively over, getting on one knee as he claws at Stick’s front collar. He pulls the old man up closer, rage still coursing through his veins.

“If you ever insult my daughter again, or you decide to ever come into my house a pay her a visit, or you ever decide to touch her, I will fucking kill you.” Matt spit out like venom, a poison he didn’t know he had in him. This was a parental feeling he didn’t know he had in him until now.

But what irritated him even more was that Stick laughed.

He laughed.

Laughed.

Matt tightens his grip, angry burning more. But before he could say anything else, Stick spoke.

“So that’s all it took?” He said, chuckling. “That’s all it took for you to even consider murder? By someone insulting your child?” He snickered. “You actually surprised me, Matty.”

Matt’s jaw tightened as he sent Stick to the floor again, getting up. He walks over to where the man’s trench coat was and bitterly throws it at him, not giving him any chance to react.

“Get out of my city.” Was all Matt said, hands curling back into fists just in case.

Stick grunts and pushes himself up to stand, holding his coat by his side. He sighs. “Maybe there is hope for you yet.” He laughs again. “But you have to get rid of that daughter of yours first if you want to get to your full potential.”

Matt’s blood boiled for the hundredth time tonight. "Not a chance."

Stick scoffs again. “Then I guess, Good luck then.” He slides his glasses on, smirking. “Nice catching up. Eh?” He turns to leave, Matt not even looking in his direction anymore. “You can keep the sticks. You’re gonna need ‘em. And think about what I said too. That kid’s a distraction. Just get rid of her if you want to be the best.”

So he disappears down the hallway and out the front door, his words lingering heavily in the air. Matt didn’t even wait until he knew he was out of earshot, he just yelled in frustration before flipping his living chair over.

“Fuck!!”

He feels his heart pounding in his ears, veins running hot.

“Fuck!”

He kicks the chair again, fingernails digging into his bruised palms.

“Fuck! Fuck.”

Why didn’t he see this coming? Why didn’t he expect his return? Just… why? And now Stick knew he had a kid, a dangerous-murderous man knew he had a kid, and he was expected to just let it go? Let her go? How–

He sighs, his anger starts to die off. “Fuck…” He whispers, gripping his hair as his legs start to wobble. His adrenaline was going, and his emotions were flowing heavily.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was just supposed to bury that past, leaving the tainted life behind. It wasn't supposed to touch his kid, his daughter, his…

Most precious thing in his life.

“Oh, fuck…” Matt collapsed to his knees, paying no heed to the rubble beneath them. “Oh, god… please, just… just n-no…”

He felt like he was going to cry, because why does bad shit keep happening to him? Why was God punishing him now?

“Damnit.”

He laughs in frustration.

“Just… why?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Kaila was shocked to say the least when Karen got done explaining. I mean–

Was she crazy?! And did she not learn after her father the man in the mask saved her from being killed after researching? Kaila was baffled, so baffled she couldn’t utter any words as they made their journey to the Bulletin Post’s office. She was being kept close between the two adults, Foggy still keeping a good grip on his bat, while Karen still had her finger on her mace (and they both seemed so calm while doing so).

“So this guy you’re working with can really help us?” Foggy asked, intrigued by his friend’s confession (he seemed to be handling the news more than the teenager was).

“Yes. Ben is an amazing guy, and really trustworthy.” Karen said, upon arriving at the entrance of the building. “Trust me, this is all going to be worth it in the end.”

The trio entered the building, taking the elevator to the appropriate floor. Wandering around the nearly empty floor until they arrived at an enclosed office space. The door swung open to an older man, dazzled in a collared shirt and tie. He seemed a bit annoyed about their appearance.

“What part of ‘Don’t tell anyone about this’ didn’t you understand?” He asked, eyes trailing to the blonde woman as they stumbled in.

“Foggy’s not just anyone, alright? He’s a kick-ass attorney, and sooner or later we’re gonna need one of those.” Karen explains, honestly. “And he just plain kicks ass.”

Foggy smiles. “When the need arises.”

“You can trust him, Ben. He’s one of the good ones.”

Ben looks skeptical, but eventually seems like he’s warming up until he sees Kaila. Shock and concern crossed his aged features.

“Why is there a child here?” He asked, looking directly at Karen.

“Um-” She stutters.

“Relax.” Foggy jumps in getting his attention. “She’s my law firm partner’s kid. You can trust her too.”

“I’m not worried about trusting her, I’m just…” Ben sighs, eyes going back to Karen. “Worried for her safety. I mean you know what we’re investigating.”

“It’s okay, sir. My dad and Foggy are known for taking… risks in their business. I’ll turn a blind if I have to, if it makes you feel better.” Kaila says, with a light smile for reassurance.

“She’s right.” Foggy said, nodding. “Me and Matt, her father, know the risks that come with this business. It’s okay.”

Ben looks between the three, a sinking feeling arising that he puts away. “Show him the board.” he replies, stepping out of their way.

“Alright, Ben has everything laid out… all of the, uh, possible connections, starting at the bottom and moving up.” Karen drags Foggy over to the cork board, filled with newspaper clippings and a playing card with a drawn on question mark at the very top.

Foggy furrows his brows, puzzled. “The king of diamonds?”

“The man at the top.” Ben clarifies.

“Any idea who he is?”

“No.”

“But I think he might have been the one behind Union Allied.” Karen says, sharing her theory.

“There’s another player on the field.” Ben says, picking up another card off his desk. “The Man in black.”

“You think he’s working for the king?” Foggy asked.

“No.” Karen says, defensively. “No, he never would have helped me expose Union Allied if he were.”

“If that’s the case, they're working against each other.” Ben pins the card at the top, a Jack of hearts with a black mask drawn over its head. “So the question is, which one trumps the other?”

As they talked more about it quietly, Kaila sat back watching everything unfold. She was worried, and a bit guilty because she knew the man in black personally, and knew he wasn’t working with Fisk. She had a sinking feeling that things were about to get a whole lot worse or just more complicated. Maybe even both.

Oh, dad. You’ve got a lot of things coming.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Once he had pulled himself (somewhat) together, Matt had started shifting through the rubble of his destroyed home. He could only imagine what his daughter’s going to think when she gets home tomorrow.

His troubling thoughts were interrupted when he came across something else from his childhood. He feels the twisted paper bracelet belonging to an old ice cream cone. It hits him like a truck. There was something sharp in his heart.

Matt took a moment to sit down, staring in disbelief. He felt like he was going to overflow again. All his emotions would spill out while wrapping itself in a whirl of confusion.

He sighs, closing his eyes and his head dropping. His mind went back to his kid now.

Things just got much more complicated now, Kai….

Taglist:

@stinkywhore @invinciblerikkai @glass-ghost

@your-not-invisible-to-me @ohtacosindrome

@mirkwoodshewolf @dreamscandys

@omniromanticbitch @987coley

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