#dareddevil x reader

he doesn't like thinking about it too much, but if put to the light, a big part of it is how unmoored you are, too. to love someone already fully-put together is different; but to have someone he can see his younger self in (with how hostile and closed off you are to the world initially) that he can guide and still help grow—to turn out better than he did—tugs at those heartstrings of his, that sense of justice and righteousness and that nasty savior complex rearing its head.

it's to the point that he unexpectedly gets way too entangled with you at a pace even he doesn't expect. until losing you is already unthinkable to him at that point. he'll fight tooth and nail to double down now, grip tighter, whatever; he's learned his lesson.

and maybe for a few months it really is all idyllic sunshines and rainbows. maybe you are, for all intents and purposes, happy.

but being retired doesn't erase his ability to hear all the things still happening around the city, though. now that he has something to lose, he gets more and more strung up with it over time. more difficult to reason with. gradually becoming even more controlling, demanding where were you, why didn't you call, why didn't you tell me where you were going, and telling you to be more careful (because he isn't exactly cleaning up the streets anymore - this is left unsaid), barring you from staying out too late with your friends, even telling you not to act like a child when you inevitably "call him out" for being "controlling." he scoffs at that one, which seems to be your favorite word to throw around lately. controlling. is it truly "controlling" if he does know exactly how dangerous it is out there? does he really deserve such a reductive title, and from someone who claims to love him, no less?

maybe he can't trust you enough to want to take care of yourself, either. after all, you're in the spring of your life—he was that age once, and he'd had the recklessness to show for it then, too.

it's only downhill from there as matt, as you put it, starts to lose his marbles (omg that deranged, absent look he has sometimes that's reminiscent of his confession in s1e1—jack murdock's face going 'flat and cold' before beating people in cold blood) thinking of you possibly pulling away and leaving. as i see it, there's a lot of possibilities that could happen, but chief among them:

one, the slow burn c/o matt murdock: matt at his most insidious, charismatic, paternalistic. keeping you inside the apartment as much as he can. it's a bit of a workaround to keep you happy staying in there at first though—he can only take so much back-and-forths of saccharine wheedling and hostile insults from you before he eventually concedes and lets you out, teaching you a lesson the hard way by letting you get a bit rattled and scared from a little mugging or a 'stalker case' he definitely has nothing to do with. of course, he's sure to (anonymously) come to your rescue before you get seriously hurt—just enough for you to finally see that he is right, it's a dangerous world out there, and your actions have consequences. it's nicer, instead, to come home straight to someone who worries about you, who provides for you, who you can always rely on to be there and have dinner at the ready. you were in over your head to think that you could handle being safe on your own.

and it's funny—you don't even realize that you've stopped fighting until one day you think of leaving, and the thought of walking out that door without telling him already feels wrong. akin to the feeling of the start of a fever; nauseating. how could you have once wanted nothing more than to leave?

two, the crude, brute strength way, c/o letting the devil out, where instead of being docile, reader's headstrong and actively struggling trying to resist these disgusting, controlling fucking rules and behaviour. that's alright though, it just leaves him no choice but to subdue you and muscle you into submission. it doesn't matter what it takes; he's handled a lot worse than you; bigger, more relentless rogues. no, dealing with you is comparable to child's play, a lot more simple: you'll end up chained to his grimy closet if you're being bad, and then later on by his bed, if you're being good. —and if you're being really bad, then don't worry! you've got months of bed rest to heal that broken ankle he's given you to incapacitate you. and there's only so much he can do to convince even himself that he doesn't want you struggling so you won't get hurt—no, he does want you to struggle, to kick and scream and hurt him if you really want. that way, he can do the same to you, and you'll know he's enjoying it. the panicked rush of blood to the head and arteries as you thrash and scratch and bite him trying to get away, his pulse spiking vividly with fury and yours with fear as you writhe under his weight, his hands binding your wrists behind your back. it's the most alive he's felt since he stopped going out, and it's better than any hit. those deafening twin heartbeats—his and yours—make everything feel so alive, like nothing's been before, so intolerably erotic.

in any case, no other word can more aptly describe him than toxic, having bought into it so completely and too far gone now no matter how plainly wrong it already is. unjustifiable. he's never one to do anything halfheartedly though, good deed or otherwise. :DD

and when confronted with the question: why are you doing this? there are only two answers to be given, reminiscent of what he's already confessed to before : because it's for your own good. / and because i enjoy it.