#tdatw

He also knew that he owed her an explanation on why he’d disappeared without a word, and why he’d been radio silent since. Over the past three days, he’d been forced to confront feelings that he’d been shoving down and ignoring since the day he met her, either consciously or subconsciously. He was still wrestling with what the true answer was.

It was a little past eight when he showed up at her apartment, and he’d been rehearsing in his head what he was going to say on the walk over. He knew she was inside. He stood on the fire escape outside her living room window for a moment, focusing all of his senses on her. She was lounging on the couch in a relaxed position, her back against the arm on the right side, her legs stretched out but crossed at the ankle, right over left. Her eyes were focused on the tv as she lifted a chilled spoon to her mouth. Her left hand that was holding a frosted pint was several degrees colder than the rest of her body, despite the napkin wrapped around the bottom. She’d just taken the ice cream out of the freezer.

He inhaled deeply, and he could almost taste the flavor on his own tongue. Smooth heavy cream…egg yolks…cane sugar…rich cocoa butter based dark chocolate chips…pure peppermint extract. Mint chocolate chip. He wasn’t sure what he found more amusing; the fact that she was doing something so mundane and normal, or her choice in ice cream flavors. She’d definitely splurged on the pint. That wasn’t the cheap stuff.

Matt had expected the window to be locked after how he’d slipped in the other night, and slipped out, but to his surprise it wasn’t. She didn’t seem like the type to let something like that escape her mind, she wasn’t forgetful about anything. A tiny piece of him held onto hope that she’d left it unlocked intentionally, that it was a sign she hadn’t fully shut him out, literally and metaphorically speaking.

His fingers brushed against the bottom of the window frame as he went to pull it up, silently slipping inside and closing the window behind him just as quietly. He went to take a step forward, but when she suddenly spoke he instantly froze.

“You seem a decent fellow. I hate to kill you.”

For a second he thought she was talking to him, that she’d heard him sneaking inside. But then he heard the score from the movie she was watching and realized she was quoting a line from it. His brows furrowed in confusion for a moment before he placed it, and then his amusement mounted even further. Cocking his head to the side, the smirk on his lips was mirrored in his tone as he recited the next line.

“You seem a decent fellow. I hate to die.”

Immediately she sat up and whipped her head around, the spoon in her hand suspended in the air halfway to her lips. At the sight of him, it was like a switch had been flipped, and whatever good mood she’d been in soured instantaneously. She stabbed the spoon back into the pint before reaching for the remote to pause the film.

“The Princess Bride is certainly the last movie I’d ever expect to find you watching.”

“Surprised you know it.”

“It’s one of Foggy's favorite movies.”

He’d expected her to respond with something snarky, but instead he was met with silence that left him feeling a little unsettled. Her refusal to participate in their usual verbal sparring was jarring. The relaxation that had been emanating from her, the closest thing to peace he’d ever recognized in her presence, had seemingly frosted over. He felt the bitter chill of her avoidance as she got up from the couch and walked right past him into the kitchen.

Matt stood there for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh, defeat settling in his bones. He gave her a moment while he took in the space he’d been just a few nights ago in a completely different setting. There was virtually no evidence of the wreck they’d made of her apartment in the midst of their surrender to their shared fervent desire, only the memory that still thrummed in his pulse when he let it replay in his head. 

Clearing his throat, he finally followed her into the kitchen and leaned against the counter opposite the sink she was standing in front of, crossing his arms over his chest. There was no beating around the bush with her, there never had been. He’d shown enough cowardice the last three days at her expense, it was time to atone.

“I didn’t know what to say.”

“And in the silence, you said plenty.”

“I didn’t realize you were a poet.”

Nothing. No reaction. No sharp retort. No subtle smirk tugging at the edge of her mouth or wrinkle of annoyance between her brows. No exasperated roll of her eyes. Not even a falter in her heart’s rhythm or breathing pattern.

It became clear in that moment how badly he’d fucked up. While he’d been selfishly trying to detangle his own complicated feelings, he’d purposely contrived ignorance regarding her own. He told himself it wouldn’t bother her that he’d slipped out without a word, because nothing bothered her. And even as he thought it he knew he was a fucking liar, and the guilt had been gnawing at him down to the marrow.

“Y/N.”

The way he said her name made her tense at the sink, gripping the spoon in her hand more tightly until the metal bit into her palm and nearly bent at the force of her frustration. It had been virtually cleaned from the moment she put it under the warm water a minute ago, but she’d still been scrubbing it as if the action would wash away the tension that had coiled tightly within her like a snake strangling its prey. But that subtle plea in his voice interrupted her carefully practiced indifference, and he’d learned to take advantage of these ephemeral cracks in her defenses.

He took a careful step forward, his arms dropping to his sides, fingers twitching against his callused palms. 

“I shouldn’t have-”

Abruptly she shut off the water and tossed the spoon into the empty sink, the clatter of metal against metal making him wince as the sound rattled in his sensitive eardrum. 

“If you’re here just to make sure Fury won’t bench you, you’re wasting your time. You’ve proven yourself to be valuable to him. He won’t exile you at anyone’s request, not even yours.”

The thinly veiled bitterness in her tone led him to believe she might have already asked Fury to cut him loose and he'd said no, and that bothered him more than he liked to admit. It should have been a weight off his shoulders that he was still involved with the investigation, but if anything, it just seemed to add more. While trying to compartmentalize everything, the lie he’d sold himself was that his sole purpose for coming to talk to her tonight was to make amends in order to remain on the case, because the truth was harder to confront. 

He’d kept her at arms length because he felt something, something he didn’t want to feel because it was too familiar. It made an old scar throb with tenderness, and the memory of who had inflicted it served as a warning to not face the same blade twice. But he couldn’t keep ignoring it, not after the other night.

She reminded him of Elektra. From the moment he met her, he’d felt that almost identical click. Two reluctant pieces with connective jagged edges. She understood him the same way Elektra had, maybe even more. The only difference was she hadn’t sought him out under a ruse for recruitment. She’d been upfront from the beginning while simultaneously remaining coveted, and he’d justified his distrust with the existence of the secrets she kept, but the truth was he couldn’t grant her the faith he’d freely given Elektra. He didn’t want to repeat that mistake.

But after the other night, after what he’d felt when he finally gave into the inexorable magnetism, he had to return the honesty he’d demanded from her. And that scared him. 

He let out a deep exhale through his nose when she brushed past him, and he quickly turned on his heel to follow her down the familiar path through the hallway to her bedroom.

“That’s not-look, can we just talk for a second?”

“No.”

As she disappeared into her bathroom and he heard the shower door open, Matt stood in the middle of her bedroom and clenched his jaw, rubbing his hands down his face as he tried to contain his mounting frustration. He’d fucked up, he’d earned this, and he had to deal with it. She was pissed at him, and she had every right to be, but he needed her to talk to him. To hear him out. The sound of the shower being turned on was a not so subtle dismissal, but Matt refused to leave. Not without finally confessing.

There had been annoyance laced within her bitter tone, but evidence of emotion meant she hadn't fully shut down on him. Her guard was up, but he'd learned how to poke holes in it. How to get her attention and get a rise out of her. It was playing dirty, but he knew it would work, and he didn’t have the patience right now for the silent treatment.

He walked towards the bathroom door and blocked the frame, leaning casually against it as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“You’re being difficult.”

Her head snapped in his direction and he could sense her demeanor shifting quickly from aloof to aggravated.

“Excuse me?”

Matt gave a subtle shrug as he maintained his calm countenance.

“I said you’re being difficult.”

Something he’d observed about her was that she hated being called that. She did her best to remain neutral when anyone threw a snide comment or insult her way, but he knew that one specifically hit a raw nerve every single time.

And just like he’d hoped, it conjured a reaction. A dry scoff left her lips as she dropped the towel she’d pulled out of the cabinet onto the counter and stormed over towards him.

“I’m being difficult? You have a lot of fucking nerve to just show up here after three days-”

Matt’s lips stretched into a devilish grin when her composure cracked and her anger was unleashed. Anger was good. He knew how to work with that. He was pissing her off more and more by the second, but pissed off beat indifference. 

“What the fuck are you smiling at?”

“There she is.”

She blinked a few times, confusion muddling her vexation at the almost flirty lilt to his tease, and then her lips pursed in annoyance when she realized how he’d played her. Matt held up his hands in mock surrender, looking extremely unapologetic even though he attempted for a pardon.

“I’m sorry, that was cheating. But I can’t talk to you if you’re ignoring me.”

“You ignored me for three days, and you can’t handle it for less than ten minutes?”

“No.”

He could tell that he’d surprised her by the way her expression shifted, and he knew the scales had shifted in his favor. He liked being the one to throw her off, it sent a thrill through him every single time. And he knew what he was about to do, what he was about to avow, would completely crumble the wall between them they’d both contributed to.

Matt uncrossed his arms and stepped forward, which made her take a step back, but he kept advancing until her lower back hit the counter. 

“I don’t like when you’re upset with me.”

“Then quit being an asshole.”

She was trying to keep up the unaffected facade, but he could hear her heart starting to beat faster, her lungs pumping more oxygen. The steam that had filled the bathroom had risen her body temperature, but the warmth flushing across her cheeks was from an entirely different source.

“You know I can’t promise that, sweetheart.”

Matt reached out to place his hands on either side of her, caging her in as he leaned down and spoke in a more gentle tone.

“But I am trying to apologize here. You gonna let me?”

The soft breath she let out when he brushed his nose along the underside of her jaw made him grip the countertop tightly. He let his lips ghost along her neck before pressing a gentle kiss beneath her ear.

“I’m sorry.”

He poured as much conviction into those two words as he could, but he didn’t just want to tell her, he wanted to show her. Letting go of the countertop, he grabbed one of her hands and brought it up to his chest, placing it over his heart and holding it there, his thumb stroking her knuckles gently.

“I shouldn’t have slipped out like that. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know…what to feel. I was a coward, and you didn’t deserve that.”

Her lashes fluttered as she closed her eyes, and she let out a breath that wavered before braving the question she’d been recycling in her head but dreading the answer to.

“Do you regret it?”

The softness in her tone made his chest tighten. He was on the cusp of unlocking a new side of her, he could feel it. This is what he’d been wanting. This moment right here, both of them stripped raw, souls laid bare. 

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

When he felt her fingers curl in his shirt in a firm grip, Matt reached out to cup her face in his hands, pressing his forehead against hers. 

“Forgive me.” 

One of Matt's hands slipped down to wrap around her throat as he gently kissed down her neck, nipping at her skin gently, brushing his tongue over her pulse point in an open mouthed kiss that made her shudder. The second the delectable scent of her arousal hit him, Matt pressed himself against her more firmly and let out a desperate groan into her shoulder.

“Please.”

It was unclear whether he was begging for forgiveness or permission to touch her, but when she pulled him down by the collar of his shirt and sought out his lips, he took it as an answer to both. The bathroom floor quickly became decorated with their clothing. Matt had one of his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her firmly to his chest, while the other was tangled in her hair as he walked her backwards towards the shower.

The spray of the hot water soaked them both within seconds, but Matt’s grip on her body never slipped. He reached down to grip the back of her thighs, and her legs automatically wove around his waist when he lifted her and pinned her against the wall. The tile was cold against her back, making her shudder against his lips. He felt her start to roll her hips to grind against him, and his forehead dropped to her shoulder as he let out a groan feeling his aching cock gliding through her slick warmth.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, gripping onto the back of his neck, already panting in his ear. Matt shifted his hips to align himself with hers, and they let out a moan of relief in unison the moment they became connected. When her head fell back against the wall, Matt’s lips sought out her neck again, and began to move his hips slowly. He didn’t want to rush this time. 

He grunted when her nails dug into his back, his own fingers digging bluntly into her skin in response. He nuzzled his nose against her neck, kissing along her jaw before finding her lips again, which parted eagerly for his tongue. She matched his rhythm, following him like the tide follows the moon, and when she let out a sensual moan at a particular angle, Matt gripped onto her even tighter and shifted her hips upwards to keep hitting it.

“Right there?”

“Right there.”

Matt pressed his hips more firmly against hers, grinding a little harder against her so his pelvis stimulated her clit in the way that made her eyes flutter with every single thrust. The moans it pulled from her only made him even more desperate to pleasure her. 

“Oh my God, Matt…”

“I know…I know.”

He was panting in her ear as he picked up speed, feeling it too at the base of his spine. Their slick skin colliding echoed in the shower, the sharpness of the sound barely dulled by the water. He buried his face in her neck, forcing himself to maintain his current rhythm feeling her start to tighten around him. They clung to each other desperately, and Matt willed himself to hold back until she reached her peak first.

When her back arched and she started to writhe against him, Matt fucked her through it to prolong it as long as he could stand, and then he snapped, his rhythm faltering into pistoning his hips relentlessly, letting out a guttural groan into her shoulder as his hips stuttered with one final sharp thrust. 

In the sanctuary of her bed, Matt finally told her the truth. About why he hadn’t trusted her. About why he’d been struggling with how he felt. About who she reminded him of. She listened quietly, patiently, and Matt was surprised by how weightless he felt afterwards. There were a few moments of silence that followed, but they weren’t uncomfortable. A few times, he heard her lips part, heard an intake of breath, but she stayed quiet. He could tell there was something she wanted to say, but maybe didn’t know how. He didn’t push her.

“It’s not personal. Me keeping things from you.”

Matt considered this for a moment, his fingers stroking up and down her spine, like he’d done the morning he’d woken up tangled in these same sheets. 

“Then what is it?”

A soft exhale slipped past her lips, and he heard her close her eyes.

“Part of it is my job.”

“And the other part?”

“You’re not the only one with trust issues.”

In the dark Matt smiled, giving her waist a soft squeeze.

“I noticed.”

He felt her roll her eyes, and the smile that reluctantly tugged at the edge of her mouth before disappearing into something more serious.

“There’s just…some things about me that are difficult to explain.”

He could hear the hesitance in her voice, and a hint of anxiety. Something struck him in that moment that he never would’ve considered before, but the evidence was in her voice. She cared what he thought of her. She was nervous that if she divulged her past, something in it would change his opinion. It was a shocking unspoken revelation, but also made something inside him ache. 

Her words from the other night about how she’d picked out her dress for him echoed in his head.

I wanted you to like it.

She wanted him to like her. How the hell had he not picked up on that? 

He held her a little tighter against his chest, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“My past isn’t sunshine and rainbows either, you know. You’re talking to a guy who puts on a devil costume and, ‘beats the shit out of people’, I believe you called it.”

He thought she’d laugh at that, but she closed her eyes and spoke in a tone that was almost…somber.

“You’re still a good person though.”

Matt’s brows furrowed in confusion, and he tilted his head in her direction.

“And you think you’re not?”

“No.”

The conviction in her voice and the way she said it without hesitance made his heart break. It reminded him of the conversation she’d had with the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agent when she’d said she didn’t mind being the bad guy. Self-loathing was something Matt was all too familiar with, but he was starting to realize her perception of herself was even lower than his own. And he felt guilty, because he knew he’d contributed to that in the last few months.

“You care.”

He pressed another soft kiss to her temple as he kept his voice gentle.

“If you weren’t a good person, you wouldn’t care. You wouldn’t be fighting so hard to save those women.”

“Maybe it’s guilt.”

He hadn’t considered the fact that she may feel like she wasn’t doing enough, and that it would result in remorse.

“You’re gonna lecture a Catholic about guilt?”

When she cracked a smile finally, Matt grinned and let out a chuckle. He gave her waist another reassuring squeeze.

“I don’t think anyone could be doing anything more than you already are. We’re gonna figure this out together, I promise.”

He felt her unclench her jaw and relax her shoulders, the tension melting as she relaxed into him again. Her fingers absentmindedly toyed with the cross he wore around his neck.

“We got a lead on a location.”

Matt perked up at his, already feeling that restless anticipation starting to seep into his veins.

“Yeah?”

She untangled herself from him for a moment to reach over and grab her phone off the nightstand.

“We tracked down the most recent property sold by Tarasov’s company. It was bought through one of the Yazkua’s shell corps a few days ago. Fury wants to send a team tomorrow night.”

“I’ll clear my schedule.”

As she texted the address to him, the voice assistance on his phone alerted him to the message. His phone was in the pocket of his pants, still lying discarded on the bathroom floor, but he felt her still in bed next to him as the muffled sound from the other room cut through the silence.

Incoming message from Spy 3-PO

He felt her slowly turn her head towards him, and he fought to contain his grin. She narrowed her eyes as she observed the expression she could just make out from the glow of the streetlights through the window. Setting her phone on the nightstand, she turned to face him fully, her tone dry as she arched one of her brows.

“Spy 3-PO?”

Matt shrugged innocently as he finally let his grin split across his lips.

“Seemed fitting.”

“Did it now.”

“You were quite robotic when I met you. Although, now that I think about it, C-3PO shows way more emotion than you do-”

When she reached out and smacked his chest, Matt burst into laughter and grabbed her wrist before she could pull her hand away.

“Ow! Abusing a blind man? Maybe you really are a terrible person.”

“Well look who’s talking, little orphan Annie.”

“I don’t have a dog.”

“You have Foggy.”

Matt let out another amused laugh, reaching over to wrap his arm around her waist to flip them over, pinning her beneath him as he settled between her hips.

“Fair enough.”

tags: @the-swift-escape @lambmurdock @lunakkey @Lfdybadgirlsdiw @devilmurdock64 @moonyinthestars @suits-and-smirks @day-dreaming-goddess @natashasotherhalf @rebel13lion39 @pixelfaery @ebsmind @mattmurdocksscars @ahhhhhhhydbhdg @ayupcap @thepassionatereader @awenthealchemist @zomtart @superrbffun @buckypops @snicksbabe @redroomproperty @angel113431 @18raven @a-sunflower-in-bloom @shadypaperwitch @lizziela @givemylovetoall @dreadfulxives18 @jjprxntiss @bigratbitchsworld @s1xthirty @daisy-the-quake @raven18 @hipwell @scorpiovelaryon @yiiiikesmish @mel-thefrog @ponyosmom35 @daisydark @xoxabs88xox @punkshyteee @abbyhaslongshorts @wolvierinee @snowflames-world @yomnajir @fries11 @groovycass

the devil and the widow soundtrack

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While she drove through the bustling streets of the city below, Matt was bounding across the rooftops above. He leapt into a front flip, his back briefly hitting the concrete as he landed with a roll, springing into another sprint. He didn’t stop until he reached the building where she’d driven into an underground parking garage.

Perched on the ledge, he was panting from the physical exertion of the chase, and his lungs burned with each rapid inhale. His body’s searing internal protest branched from his chest, but Matt ripped out the roots of exhaustion with his adrenaline fueled determination. The anger blazing in his blood was hotter than hellfire, and it incinerated any lingering seeds of weariness that had become embedded in his bones.

The elevator emitted a low hum as it ascended, and Matt counted each floor that passed until the doors announced her arrival on the seventh with a high pitched ding. The gravel crunched under his shoes as he mirrored the path she was taking several floors beneath him, crossing to the other side of the rooftop, pausing at the right corner when she did. At the grinding of metal on metal when she slipped her key into the lock, and the click of it being turned, Matt jumped onto the ledge and grabbed the handles of the fire escape ladder, placing his feet on the outsides of it to slide down to the platform below. 

He didn’t bother running down the steps, hauling himself over the railings instead as he jumped down, platform by platform. Right as she walked into her bedroom, Matt pushed up the window by the fire escape and slipped inside her living room, not even trying to be discreet. He announced his presence by slamming the window shut hard enough to nearly shatter the glass, a sharp bang echoing in the silence.

The telltale sound of a gun being cocked was almost as loud as a bullet actually being fired, but not nearly as loud as the thunderous roar of his blood pounding in his ears. He found himself on the receiving end of her aim, but she was the one startled by his presence. 

“What the hell-”

He didn't even take a moment to revel in the crack of her composure detailed by the crease of confusion on her forehead and the taut frown tugging down the corners of her mouth. He tossed his folded cane onto the nearby coffee table with a loud clank before reaching up to yank at the bow tied around his neck, ripping the silk seams apart to toss the shredded fabric carelessly to the side. He let out a dry, clipped and humorless laugh as the left corner of his lips was curled into sneer parading as a smirk. 

“Oh I'm sorry, sweetheart, I thought we were on a breaking in basis.”

Taking advantage of her rare moment of disorientation, Matt advanced forward and ripped the gun right out of her hands, releasing the clip with a flick of his finger, tossing the two pieces in opposite sides of the living room forcefully. He heard the grinding of bone when she clenched her jaw, but the irritating sound was drowned out by his own erratic heartbeat.

“Get out.”

“No.”

“Murdock-”

Matt ripped his sunglasses off his face, gripping them in his hand as he pointed an accusatory index finger in her direction.

“I'm not leaving, and you're not kicking me off this investigation. You want to get pissy with me because I didn't let you gun someone down in the street? Fine. But just because this is personal for you doesn't mean that it isn't also important to me. This is my city-”

“What did you just say?”

There it was again. That barely restrained rage that lurked beneath her surface. He wasn't sure what exactly it was he'd said that lit that fuse, but a twisted part of him wanted to see it finally go off. Maybe if he made her explode, he could finally get something real out of her. Flashing her a smug smirk he knew would piss her off, he calmly folded his sunglasses, the action a stark contrast to the wild look in his sightless hazel eyes. 

“You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific. You seem to be bitchy about every word that comes out of my mouth. Which one did you not like this time?”

By now he could hear her blood crashing through her veins like a tidal wave, and her body temperature was steadily rising concurrently with her temper. Clenching her hands into tight fists at her sides, she took a bold step forward, and her voice dropped to a cautionary tone that pointed out which thread to pull at to make her unravel.

“What makes you think this is personal for me?”

Tossing his sunglasses onto the coffee table with his cane, Matt took an even bolder step forward, dropping his own voice to the one he typically reserved for his darker half.

“Looks like Fury is better at keeping secrets than you are.”

It was subtle, but he was so hyper focused on her, he didn’t miss the way she flinched. Her knuckles cracked as she clenched her fists even tighter, and her words were rough slipping through her gritted teeth.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Taking another step closer so that there was barely an inch of space between them, Matt’s lips split into a wicked smirk as the volume of his taunting dropped to a whisper.

“Doesn’t feel good being left in the dark, does it?”

Matt was almost certain if he kept pushing, she’d snap. He could already sense the way her right hand was half cocked, ready to strike at any moment. Hell, he wanted her to. At least that would be a raw reaction. 

“I wanted out. After that first night, I told Fury that I didn’t trust you, and that I wanted nothing to do with you. He tried to give me some sob story about how this whole thing was personal for you, but that didn’t change anything for me. The only reason I stayed is because Fury forced my hand, but trust me sweetheart, if there was any other way to do this without having to work with you, I wouldn’t be here.”

“And yet you are.”

Matt’s smirk faltered hearing the tone of her voice shifting. It wasn’t her usual impersonal nonchalance, but it wasn’t that suppressed anger slipping through the cracks either. This had a serrated edge to it, and while bitter icicles formed on the tip of her tongue, that rage was beginning to seep from her pores.

“You didn’t have to follow me here. You could’ve gone above my head and went to Fury to plead your case, but you didn’t even come here to argue with me, did you Counselor?”

Clenching his jaw, Matt forced a tight lipped smile and let out a breath of humor through his nose.

“And what is it you think I came here to do then?”

Taking a step closer, her chest was now pressed against his, and he could feel the outline of her figure through her dress again, like he had earlier on the dance floor. His fingertips suddenly tingled with the phantom buzz that had ensued from caressing her bare skin.

“I think you came here to indulge.”

That earned a genuine scoff from Matt, another dry and clipped laugh escaping at her audacity.

“Indulge? The only thing I enjoy indulging in with you is arguing.”

“Now who’s the liar.”

Matt’s hands tightened into fists at his side, partly out of his anger, partly to ensure they wouldn’t betray him in wandering for another taste of her skin. Her whispered allegation skimmed along the stubborn denial he’d committed to since that first day in his apartment.

“You came here to let the devil out. Because you know you can do it with me. You come here, you get to strip yourself down to your rawest form, you get to fully immerse yourself in that darkness you pretend isn’t there in the daylight, and you get to walk away knowing that no matter how much you give into it, at least you’re still better than me. That’s what you indulge in.”

He thought he’d finally found the string to pull at to make her come apart, but somehow she’d used it to lure him in instead, weaving him into her complicated web that he was struggling to find an escape from.

“You’re not looking for an argument, Matthew. You’re looking for a fight, and you knew exactly where to find it.”

Matt didn’t block her punch, he took it right across the jaw. But before she could throw another, he gripped her right wrist and yanked her forward, turning to pull her chest flush against his back, trapping her arm between his bicep and ribcage to glide the bracelet off her wrist and toss it down the hall.

“No toys.”

“I didn’t take you for the vanilla type.”

Gripping his bicep with her other hand, she jumped to spin herself upside down and wrap her legs around his head, using the momentum to flip him onto his back. Matt let out a grunt when his back collided with the hardwood, but he kept his grip on her arm, kicking his feet upwards and pushing his body up forcefully to roll them forward, trapping her beneath him.

“No, I just don’t need them to get the job done.”

“Or maybe you just don’t know how to use them.”

Matt hissed when she punched him in the side, sliding her knees up between his thighs to kick at his chest and send him backwards, making him knock over the coffee table. In a flash he jumped to his feet, surging forward to tackle her against the couch, flipping it over backwards and them along with it. Reaching for the back of her head, he slipped his fingers into her hair to grab a fistful of it and yanked her head back roughly, making her let out a sharp noise.

He had her pinned, face down on the floor, his knees on either side of her hips. His other hand had an iron grip on her left wrist, immobilizing it. He bent down so his mouth was right by her ear, his warm breath grazing her lobe as he panted.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? I thought you didn’t want me holding back?”

A breathless laugh slipped from her as she turned her head towards him as much as she could.

“I don’t know, I think you still are. This kinda feels like flirting, Matthew.”

Kicking her heel up from her foot, she grabbed it in her free hand and gripped the heel to jab it into Matt’s thigh, making him grunt in pain and release her hair and wrist to grab the sore spot.

“Did you just try to stab me with your shoe?”

“Oh don’t be so dramatic, these aren’t stilettos.”

With a frustrated growl, Matt caught her ankle as she tried to get away, his hand darting out to grip the other so she couldn’t kick free. He knocked her other heel off with a brief swat before dragging her down by her ankles until her thighs were on either side of his hips. He grabbed both of her wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head before swiftly slipping his free hand into the slit of her dress to pull out the dagger still strapped to her thigh. He quickly brought it up to press the blade against her throat, applying just enough pressure to elicit a subtle gasp of surprise, but not enough to break the skin and draw blood.

They were both panting heavily, and a breathy whisper of a laugh slipped past her lips.

“That's not a very convincing threat.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because you would never actually hurt me.”

Matt was caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. Her heart was racing just as quickly as his was, but her rhythm didn’t falter. She meant that. She believed it. He loosened the pressure of the blade against her soft skin, a huskiness coating his words.

“But you’d hurt me.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Because that’s what he believed.

“No.”

There was the same softness he’d heard in the rare glimpses she’d given him into who she really was. The gentleness for the fragments of herself she deemed in need of delicate handling, either for his sake or her own. Those pieces that she guarded like antiques passed down to her, only they didn’t seem to come with the fond recollections or sentimental attachment.

“I wouldn’t. Not really. Not intentionally.”

Matt didn’t know how to process that. His body was still buzzing with adrenaline, his blood still sizzling with lingering anger, but there was a new source of heat growing from her kindling. He kept a tight grip on her wrists, but loosened his hold on the dagger. The two halves of his brain were fighting against each other, playing both plaintiff and defendant, each shouting their own argument. 

The logical part of him rapidly presented the documented evidence he’d collected against her, all the proof of his justification in distrusting her, condemning her, wanting her out of his life. But the emotional side conjured all those circumstantial little moments that had made him doubt his own critical judgment, that made him wonder why despite himself he felt so drawn to her.

There was a kindredness, whether he wanted to admit it or not. In the mirror of his soul was another lonely child molded by some kind of trauma, forced to grow up beneath a mask to survive. Matt had a few good hands that helped shape who he became, but it didn’t seem like she’d had any. He knew who he was with and without the mask, but did she? Under all of those rehearsed identities, was there even a real one?

Almost subconsciously, he pulled the dagger away from her throat and set it down by her head, letting go of her wrists just to see what she’d do. But she didn’t reach for it. She didn’t throw another punch or try to shove him away. She didn’t even move her hands from where they were. Matt slowly placed his hands on either side of her head, leaning down until his nose just barely brushed against hers.

This whole time, they’d been dancing around each other, each playing their own version of the same game. But Matt was tired of moving around in circles on the board and not getting any closer towards her coveted pieces. Even when he managed to catch up to her constantly being three steps ahead, their strategic moves and countermoves seemed to just cancel the other out. He wanted to swipe all the pieces off, send them flying and topple the goddamn board over. He was done playing.

“Tell me something real. Not an omission of truth. Not a vague truth. Real.”

He could feel her staring up at him, her heart still racing although now for an entirely different reason. He could smell the change in chemistry, the addition of an element they’d both ignored purposefully to prevent this reaction. There was that restless anticipation in his stomach, like being at the top of a rollercoaster you know is about to drop. There’s a moment when you either regret getting on the ride at all, or you let go of the safety bar and let your hands fly above your head the whole way down.

He wasn’t sure which moment this one was.

Instead of trying to slip free and get away, she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him in closer, and he felt an electrifying spark that jolted his entire system when his hips became flush against hers. 

“I did pick out this dress for you.”

Matt dug his blunt nails into the hardwood in a vain attempt to keep a semblance of restraint over his self control that was rapidly disintegrating. He could leave, right now. He could get up, walk out that door, and go above her to Fury like she said and fight for his right to stay instead of lingering here to dig further into her confession.

But her legs were wrapped around his waist and he could feel the heat radiating from her thighs through his pants. That spiced vanilla and jasmine intermingled with a faint hint of sweat was a heady combination that erased any trace of logical thinking from his head, leaving nothing behind but pure primal impulse.

He shouldn’t ask. He should get up and leave. But Matt Murdock never made the best choices when it came to women.

“Why?”

“I wanted you to like it.”

Slowly moving her hands from where they had been resting above her head, she reached for one of his wrists, grasping it gently to pull away from the cold hardwood floor, guiding it down until his fingertips brushed against the thin silky fabric of her dress before finding the warm soft skin of her bare thigh. She whispered her next confession, like any decibel higher would shatter the delicate intimacy of the moment.

“I wanted you to take it off.”

As much as he hated to admit it, she had been right. He did know that both halves of him could co-exist in her presence in a way they couldn’t with anyone else. With her, there was no favoring of the man over the devil. No expectation of choosing one and abandoning the other. No matter what form he existed in, what sins he committed, with her there was a freedom he’d never felt. It was completely terrifying, irrevocably thrilling, and in that moment that breathy revelation finally made him snap. 

His hand flew up from her bare thigh to wrap around her neck, and he crashed his lips against hers in a ravenous kiss. There was nothing gentle or sweet about it. It was the eruption of everything he’d tried to deny, all the tension that had been building up between them, finally exploding into raw desire and unrestrained lust. The feeling of her fingers grabbing the back of his neck, her nails digging into his skin, tore a groan from him as a tingle shot down his spine. 

The kiss was messy and desperate, their teeth gnashing almost violently, and he squeezed her throat as he slipped his tongue past the seam of her lips. The noise that emitted from the back of her throat and the taste of her tongue had him feeling inebriated, but it was the delectable scent of her arousal beginning to drench the lace between her thighs that drove him feral. A low growl vibrated in his chest, and he slipped his arm underneath her back, hauling her up off the floor.

He released his hold on her throat to grip her thighs, stumbling over strewn furniture and broken glass as he navigated her wrecked living room. Her legs were still tightly wrapped around his waist, one of her hands gripping the back of his neck and the other grasping at his shoulder. He slammed her against the wall in the hallway, earning a gasp from her that finally made them break apart for air. His greedy lips immediately sought out the delicate flesh of her neck, caressing it with his tongue before sinking his teeth into it hard enough to make her blood bloom beneath the surface.

Her head fell back against the wall as she hissed, grabbing the lapels of his tuxedo jacket to shove it off his broad shoulders and halfway down his arms. Matt kept her pressed against the wall with his hips as he ripped the jacket off, and her fingers were already reaching for the buttons of his dress shirt. Neither one of them had a shred of patience, a silent understanding between them indicated by their shared fervor. She tore the shirt open, sending the buttons flying in different directions, clattering on the hardwood. 

Matt kicked her bedroom door open and tossed her onto the bed, her body only able to bounce once on the mattress before he pinned her beneath him. He nuzzled his face into her neck as her hands found his bare chest, her palms gliding down his scarred flesh, making him hiss as she dragged her nails down his stomach to leave temporary scars of her own. He slipped his hand beneath her back, his thumb and index tugging down the zipper. In his haste to get the dress pulled off, the thin straps were ripped completely off her shoulders, not that either of them seemed to notice or even care.

He was greeted with the soft suppleness of her breasts which he eagerly took into his callused hands, dipping his head to leave hot, sloppy, open mouthed kisses down her chest. She grabbed a fistful of the hair at the back of his head and tugged, making him grunt from the stinging protest of his roots, and a breathy moan escaped her when his mouth enveloped one of her peaked nipples. She arched her back, offering more of her chest to his greedy mouth, and he growled as he licked and sucked at the sensitive bud, biting down and giving it a tug, making her moan louder and pull at his hair harder.

As his hands explored down the rest of her exposed flesh, his fingertips came across raised and indented markings. It took his fuzzy brain a moment to recognize what they were. His fingertips brushed over each one he discovered, written in a language that was familiar but foreign in origin at the same time. Her collection of scars seemed to rival his own. It made something in his stomach twist, and for a split second he felt the urge to restrain his roughness, but then her legs wrapped around his waist again and she suddenly flipped them over.

He landed on his back with a grunt, and his hand was already darting out to tangle into her hair as she trailed her own sloppy kisses down his chest. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the pillow with a groan when her hand palmed his hard cock that was straining against the zipper of his pants. Her fingers worked hastily to unbuckle his belt, nearly ripping off the button of his pants getting it undone. The hiss of the teeth of the zipper being bared caught his attention, and his eyes snapped open, his body thrumming with renewed vigor.

Matt lifted his hips so she could tug off his pants and briefs, but he quickly reclaimed dominance, springing forward to tackle her onto the bottom half of the bed. He captured her lips in another frenzied kiss, reaching between their bodies to grasp the waistband of her lacy panties to tear them right off her hips. The scent of her arousal was so strong and so intoxicating, dripping down her inner thighs, it made his mouth water and his eyes flutter when he inhaled deeply.

“Fuck.”

His voice was husky as his breathy groan slipped, and as badly as he wanted to spread her wide open and bury his face between her thighs, he was aching to bury himself inside her, and she seemed just as desperate for him. She grabbed onto the back of his neck and pulled him down roughly, panting heavily against his lips.

“Matthew.”

The raw need in her voice, the way she moaned his name, the way she begged for him…it made him completely lose it. He gripped her thighs hard enough to leave bruises and spread them wider, reaching between them to wrap his hand around his cock and guide himself forward.

The second he began to push inside her, his eyes nearly rolled and he let out a guttural groan. The instant relief he felt was overwhelming. She was so tight and warm, and so goddamn wet. It took everything not to combust right then and there. He gripped her hip, digging his blunt nails into her soft skin as she arched into him. The breathy moan that got caught in her throat drove him wild. He didn’t have it in him to take it slow or ease into her. He snapped his hips to fill and stretch her in one swift thrust, and he didn’t give either of them a second to savor the feeling before he began to fuck her with reckless abandon. 

Her nails nearly pierced the skin of his shoulders, and he hissed as she raked them down his back, the sting making him grip onto her even tighter. The bedframe creaked from the force of him pistoning his hips, and she grabbed the back of his neck to pull him in for another messy kiss. She moaned and panted into his mouth, and he grunted as he slipped his arm under her back to lift her hips slightly, changing the angle and the depth he was able to reach.

“Oh fuck..Matt…”

He growled when the sound of her lashes fluttering hit his ears, like the buzz of a hummingbird’s wings. This was the first time he’d managed to get control over her, and it was intoxicating. For once she had no smartass remarks to fire off, no cryptic responses to infuriate him with. The only thing able to slip past her kiss bitten lips were prayers of his name, and he wanted more.

Without warning, he suddenly pulled out, earning a maddening whimper of protest from her. Gripping her hips, he flipped her over onto her stomach and then hauled her up onto her knees, delivering a firm smack against her ass that echoed in the bedroom like a clap of thunder. He slammed back inside her, making her jolt forward with a sharp cry. He reached forward to grab a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back again as he leaned over her, nipping at her neck and grunting into her ear as his other hand gripped her waist.

Matt was relentless, and completely merciless with how hard he was fucking her. But she wasn’t fighting him. She was giving in to him. Every noise and moan from her that filled the room was drenched in unadulterated pleasure in its purest form. He became lost in a haze of lust, driven by carnal desire and selfish greed. He’d never been an inconsiderate lover, his primary focus was often satisfying his partners to the point they were overly saturated in rapture. But with her he just wanted to take. It was a twisted form of vengeance and punishment for all the perceived deceit, for constantly knocking him off equilibrium, and for picking the lock on that darkness he tried to keep concealed.

It was reclaiming the power he thought she’d taken from him, snatching the scales so they couldn’t be unbalanced again, or maybe it was trying to cure the fever brought on by her existence with the remedy of possession. Or maybe it was just finally shattering his own delusion, relinquishing what was right to succumb to what was desired. She felt so fucking good wrapped around him, and the noises he was getting out of her went straight to his head. One of her hands reached back for him, and let go of her hair to grab her hand, pushing it forward to pin it down on the mattress. He placed his hand on top of hers and intertwined their fingers, gripping onto her just as tightly as she was gripping onto him.

She turned her head, her lips seeking out his, and he didn’t hesitate to indulge in another sloppy heated kiss. He swallowed down her moans as his hips kept snapping in rapid succession, the sound of skin smacking against skin rivaling the volume of the headboard slamming against the brick over and over. He was fully immersed in her, free falling from grace and willingly drowning in this transgression. Matt dropped his forehead to her shoulder with a groan when he felt a tingle at the base of his spine. He knew by the way her cunt was clenching around his cock she was right there with him.

Letting go of her waist, he slipped his hand between her slick thighs and found her clit, beginning to strum it quickly with his fingers. She jolted forward with a loud moan, but her body had nowhere to go. She was completely at his mercy. He felt her back arching, felt her pressing her ass back against his hips, and he grunted in her ear.

“Just let go.”

“Matt-”

“Let. Go.”

Matt growled his command in her ear, increasing the pressure of his fingers against her clit, stimulating it at a maddening pace that had her mouth dropping open and her body writhing beneath him. A strangled moan echoed off the walls, and the second he felt her gush around his cock, he was done for. He let out a guttural moan when her cunt gripped his cock and drenched him in her euphoria, making his hips stutter while his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his mouth hung open. With every wave of release he haphazardly pumped into her, ecstasy settled into his bones, making his nervous system buzz with pure static electricity. 

They collapsed in a heap of tangled sheets and sweaty limbs. His heart was thundering against her back, and he could feel her pulsing around his softening cock still. The intensity of his orgasm was so overwhelming he couldn’t move, every nerve ending feeling stripped to their most sensitive neuron. When she shifted just the slightest, he let out a quiet moan and squeezed her waist tightly, and she instantly stilled. Her hand reached back to carefully feel for him, her fingertips gently caressing his forearm.

Matt twitched at the affection, but forced himself to focus on her tender touch. The scent of spiced vanilla and jasmine mixed with sweat, the sweet musk of her wetness mixed with his cum, the warmth of her heated skin, the softness of her hair, the rapid tempo of her heartrate and heavy breathing. It helped anchor him to the moment, to navigate through his overstimulated senses back to the sanctuary of temporary peace.

He knew he should move and untangle himself from her, but he didn’t want to. He wasn’t ready to. The second he got out of this bed, he’d have to deal with the consequences of what he’d just done. He’d have to confront the impulsive decision he’d just made. He’d have to face it, face her. He’d just complicated everything in the worst way possible, and there was no coming back from the line they’d just crossed. 

Matt wasn’t ready to do that. 

For just a little while longer, he wanted to remain ignorant in this warm bliss. He wanted to just give into the exhaustion, and hold onto this tiny piece of calm before the storm inevitably came. He wanted to indulge just a little longer.

The consequences could wait until morning.

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the devil and the widow soundtrack

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Matt had been standing outside the front door of his loft, which was locked, for several minutes. His head was cocked slightly to the side as he focused his heightened senses on the foreign presence in his home. All Matt could decipher was that it was a woman, and not one he’d ever encountered before. There was nothing about her that sparked recognition in his brain. He had no idea who she was, or how she’d managed to get inside.

Slipping his key into the lock as silently as possible, he twisted it to the left until there was a faint click, and as he turned the knob and pushed the door open, he braced himself for whatever, and whoever, was waiting for him.

His steps were calculated and careful, avoiding the worn wooden floorboards that creaked under even the slightest pressure of weight. He kept his back flat against the half wall that separated the entryway from the kitchen, stopping a few inches before it ended and made his presence visible in the open layout. He had the advantage that his couch faced his bedroom on the opposite side of the apartment, which meant her back was to him. 

She hadn’t budged at all, her heart rate remained steady, and she sat comfortably with her legs crossed. Her head was tilted slightly towards the right, presumably looking out the two large paned windows that interrupted the aged rows of rust colored brick.

Keeping his footsteps silent, he slowly stalked towards her like a predator advancing on prey. Just as the toe of his shoe reached the edge of the area rug, she suddenly spoke up.

“You’re home early. I wasn’t expecting you for another hour or so.”

Matt immediately froze, his right knee slightly bent in a halted half step forward. He hadn’t made a single sound, and he hadn’t picked up on any indication that she even knew he was there. 

“Who the hell are you?”

There was a faint twitch at the edges of her lips. Amusement. He could hear it in her voice when she spoke again.

“You know, for a blind man, you’re very perceptive. But then again, you aren’t just any blind man, are you Matthew?”

The way she said his name was almost taunting, emphasizing the fact that she knew it, just like she knew where he lived, and apparently how to break into his apartment. As she subtly turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, he straightened up, squaring his shoulders as he clenched his jaw.

“Answer the question.”

She took her time as she stood up, smoothing her dress down with her hands, casually walking around the edge of the couch to face him. Matt clenched his hands into fists at his sides, his body tense as his heightened senses worked overtime to decipher if this woman was a threat. She stopped a few feet away, and he could feel her eyes on him, looking him up and down. He detected the faintest of a smirk at the edge of her mouth and the quirk of her left brow.

“Are you always this welcoming to your guests?”

Matt wasn’t used to not having the upperhand. It was unfamiliar territory, and he didn’t like it. Trying to tip the power dynamic in his favor, one that he was still figuring out, he took two bold steps towards her.

“Guest implies an invitation.”

There wasn’t a trace of fear, or even apprehension in her body when he advanced towards her. Instead, she let out a deep exhale through her nose and folded her arms over her chest. 

“Fine. Since you’re not in the mood for small talk, I’ll skip the bullshit and cut to the chase. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Matt’s defensive stance faltered slightly, puzzlement creasing between his dark brows as he cocked his head to the side subtly.

“S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. We’re a-”

“I know what S.H.I.E.L.D. is.”

Matt countered, cutting her off, a hint of annoyance creeping into his tone. He knew exactly what the organization was and what they did. What he didn’t know was what the hell that had to do with him.

“Then why did you ask with that stupid look on your face?”

Matt pursed his lips in a firm line at her quick rebuttal. Everytime he tried to seize dominance over this new unfamiliar dynamic, the scales of power shifted in her favor. It was grating on his nerves in a way that had his skin feeling several degrees warmer and his suit jacket suddenly heavy and unbearable.

Beginning to shrug the jacket off his broad shoulders, he carelessly tossed it forward in frustration, landing perfectly over the back of the couch, a movement that did not go unnoticed by her.

“And what does S.H.I.E.L.D. want with me?”

“What, you think we don’t have a department dedicated to you street level people?”

In the midst of rolling his left sleeve up to his forearm, Matt abruptly froze, two of his fingers still tucked under the crisp fabric of his dress shirt and his thumb hovering over the folded fabric. The way she said it was so casual, but there was an undertone of implication, something extremely subtle but consequently unnerving.

She couldn’t possibly know. 

Matt decided to do what he normally did in the courtroom when trying to get the other side to reveal their hand; he called her bluff.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She let out a deep exhale of disappointment through her nose, giving him a pointed look.

“I thought we agreed to skip the bullshit.”

Everything about this woman Matt found exceedingly infuriating. Here she was, standing in the middle of his apartment, that she’d broken into, calmly dangling the idea over his head that she seemed to know exactly who he really was. If she did know, which Matt didn’t know how the hell she possibly could, that put the knowledge of his biggest secret in her hands, and it gave her a power over him he wasn’t ready to submit to. There was a feeling in his gut, like a sixth heightened sense, that whatever the reason was that this woman was actually here was about to alter his life in a big way.

Matt continued to roll the fabric up until it reached about an inch below his elbow, and he steeled his expression while he undid the button on the cuff of his right wrist and repeated the action of rolling up his other sleeve.

“What do you know?”

“Just assume I know everything.”

Letting out an aggravated exhale through his nose, Matt placed his hands on his hips and leaned his weight on his left foot, his fingers brushing over the leather of his belt.

“That is frustratingly vague.”

She could hear him growing more and more annoyed by the second, and see it on his face as well as in his body language. One of her brows lifted in amusement as the faintest of a smile graced the edge of her lips, and she tilted her head to the side in a gesture of faux confusion.

“Is it?”

The sound of bone grinding against bone as Matt grit his teeth in growing vexation made him twitch subtly in discomfort, the noise it caused like sharp nails being dragged across a chalkboard in slow motion in his own ears. He reached up to loosen his tie around his neck, yanking on the fabric like he was giving slack to a noose. He unbuttoned the small button of the collar with one hand, and the larger one beneath it, tugging the fabric away from his neck. 

His indignation always seemed to turn into physical discomfort that made his clothes feel entirely too restricting and his skin too warm. The sweat that began to seep from his pores was like liquified anger trying to find a way out of his body when he wasn’t able to expel it with action.

“What do you want with me?”

“I don’t want you. They do. You weren’t exactly my first choice.”

The look of offense that flashed across his face almost pulled a genuine laugh out of her, but she kept her expression neutral, even though he could feel the way her lips twitched in amusement again. She turned to retrieve something from her purse and then took a step forward, holding it out towards Matt. 

“Here.”

His curiosity piqued, Matt extended his hand, his fingers brushing over the smooth cardstock of a thick file that he grasped in his hand.

“What’s this?”

“A folder.”

Matt shot her a displeased look, his lips pursed as his fingers brushed over what felt like an embossed symbol in the middle.

“I meant what’s inside, smartass.”

“Paper.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Matt muttered under his breath, which did earn a real smile from her as her brows raised in surprise.

“Wow, your file said you were Catholic. Then again, I suppose taking the Lord’s name in vain isn’t the worst thing you do on a daily basis.”

“I’ll add it to the list for confession.”

Matt retorted dryly, cracking open the file as his fingers began to trace back and forth over the documents. Each section had a tab with a label that was also in Braille. If he wasn’t so annoyed, he would’ve been impressed by how meticulously organized the file was, and how accessible. A faint furrow creased the middle of his forehead as he read the contents inside. 

It was a detailed file on a local Russian gang here in New York that Matt had been investigating for months now. It wasn’t the mafia that had worked for Fisk. Those brothers were a daydream compared to this new organization he’d been trying to take down. The Russian mafia’s primary focus had been drug trade, but the Krasnaya Pravaya Ruka’s operation was far more sinister.

A few months ago, a new player had seemingly seized control over the other crime organizations almost over night. With Fisk out of the way, the throne had been open for the taking, and while there weren’t many organizations left after The Punisher had wiped out the top three gangs in the city and Matt had disbanded Fisk’s entire operation in one way or another, there were still a few left fighting for power. But in the midst of the chaos, someone had stepped in, and they seemed to cast an even bigger shadow than Fisk ever did.

Matt had been tirelessly working his way through low level thugs dealing on the streets. The leader was smart, and clearly had the resources to operate efficiently enough to move millions of dollars worth of product around and the stealth to do it silently in the shadows. The drug dealers on the corners were just pawns, convenient pieces to move around to distract from the rest of the board. It took four whole months before Matt discovered what the real product was.

People.

The drugs were just a front for the human trafficking ring that had formed right here under his nose in the city. They were smoke and mirrors to distract local law enforcement, leading them down a never ending wild goose chase of one expendable dealer after another that had no real connection to each other. It left the NYPD, and Matt, consistently at dead ends. While they had been following the powder trail, humans were being imported and exported like mere livestock in cargo at the docks.

“Pier Nineteen. Saturday night, eleven-thirty. Bring your little red number.”

As she grabbed her purse and slipped it over her shoulder, turning to head towards the door, Matt’s expression twisted up in puzzlement and irritation. His hand swiftly darted out to grab her wrist, not hard enough to be aggressive, but firm enough to halt her in place.

“Whoa whoa whoa, I’m not going anywhere with you, not until you tell me what the hell is going on.”

She’d stiffened when he grabbed her, and he heard her heart rate rise slightly, but not in fear. Her free hand subtly closed in a half clasped fist, a defensive motion that didn’t go unnoticed by Matt. 

“If I give you a hint, are you gonna quit pouting?”

Matt’s lips quickly pursed in annoyance as he grit his teeth again. He let go of her wrist and let out another frustrated exhale through his nose.

“I’m not-”

“That trafficking ring you’re trying to single handedly take down? You’ve barely scratched the fucking surface. You want the head of the snake or what?”

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the devil and the widow soundtrack

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All morning he’d been trying to persuade himself that last night was just a heat of the moment thing. It was just a moment of weakness that resulted in a loss of control, and overridden his better judgment.

But the truth was he hadn’t lost it. He’d let it go. All of those pent up emotions that had been compounding from his refusal to acknowledge them had finally come to a head, and he’d given in to what he’d been denying. But he couldn’t confess that to himself, and he wasn’t ready to face what that meant for them now. So he’d silently slipped out without a word to avoid her and the consequences that would arise with the sun. 

“Matt.”

The sound of his name snapped him out of his convoluted thoughts, and he tilted his head in the direction of Foggy’s voice.

“What?”

“Did you even hear a word I said?”

“Yeah I got it.”

Foggy let out a frustrated exhale past his lips and dropped the files in his hand onto the conference table.

“Matt, we have to be in court in two hours, and we still-”

“I said I got it, Foggy.”

He tried to ignore the feeling of Foggy staring at him, the palpable irritation that was as almost as tangible as the Braille beneath his fingertips. A moment of uncomfortable silence passed before he detected the subtle display of disappointment as Foggy shook his head, grabbing the files and straightening the stack. He was almost to the door of the conference room before he paused, turning to face Matt and pointing the stack of papers at him accusingly.

“You promised me.”

“Foggy-”

“No, Matt, I don’t want to hear it. You promised me that when you were here, you’d be here. That you’d leave all that other shit at the door.”

“And I’m trying.”

Matt inhaled sharply and let out a frustrated sigh, tugging off his sunglasses and tossing them onto the table, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to reign in his own irritation.

“Look, I’m sorry, alright? I really am trying. I just…last night…things have just gotten really complicated with this thing I’ve been dealing with.”

Foggy let out a sigh, walking back over towards the conference table, tossing the files down before sitting next to Matt.

“Talk to me.”

“I don’t wanna drag you into this-”

“Matt, I’m already in it. I have been since the day you walked into our dorm room. How many times are we gonna have this conversation? We may not do what you do, but you, me, and Karen, we’re a team. That goes for everything. So cut the shit and tell me what’s going on.”

Leaning back in his chair, Matt let out a deep exhale through his nose, trying to figure out what exactly to divulge.

“I was…kind of recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Foggy blinked a few times in complete dumbfoundment, stuttering as he tried to grasp the bombshell Matt had just dropped.

“What do you mean ‘kind of’? Are you…holy shit, are you an Avenger-”

Matt chuckled and shook his head, his lips spreading in amusement despite the storm cloud that had been hanging over his head all morning.

“No, Foggy, I’m not an Avenger. It’s not like that. I was working on something that they were also looking into, so they brought me in to help out. And I’m uh…I’ve been…working with someone.”

Matt rolled his eyes at the pure excitement that shot through Foggy’s bloodstream. He could practically hear his next question, and he held up his hand to cut him off while he tried to hide his smirk.

“It’s not an Avenger.”

Foggy pursed his lips in disappointment, his elation deflating as he slumped back in his chair.

“Well then who is it?”

“Just a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent that was already on the case.”

“Alright, so what’s the case?”

The brief moment of levity he’d felt faded as quickly as it had appeared, and his expression darkened into something more somber.

“After Fisk went to prison, things were quiet for a bit…somewhat. The criminal organizations leftover were fighting amongst themselves over who was going to take the throne. But then this new Russian gang, they call themselves the Red Right Hand, they…swooped in out of nowhere, and they took control over everything. I mean they were getting all the others to work together, and I couldn’t figure out how they were doing it. It took me months just to figure out who they were. Most of the dealers on the street didn’t even know who it was they were working for. And I…I thought they’d just restarted the drug trade in the city.”

Foggy stayed quiet, looking at Matt in concern hearing the heaviness in his voice.

“But it was just a cover. It’s not just drugs, Foggy. It’s a human trafficking ring.”

Foggy’s eyes widened in shock, and he leaned forward in his chair again, speaking in a hushed tone even though they were the only ones in the conference room.

“What? Here in the city?”

“I thought it was just the city. But it’s bigger than that, Foggy, it’s…everywhere. New York is just a small piece. This thing it’s…it's international.”

For a moment Foggy was silent, trying to process it all. He wasn't naïve enough to think corruption didn't exist all around them, and that it hadn't been embedded in the very people in this city that were supposed to protect it. He knew it grew in precincts and court houses and high profile political offices like wild ivy, coveting morality and justice with other shades of green that could purchase any greedy soul.

But that awareness didn’t prepare him for the reality of how dark things actually were. That these sinister speculations weren’t just whispered shadows, but had real faces and existed in broad daylight. To think something like this was happening in his own backyard, right under his nose…it softened his disapproval of Matt’s vigilantism. 

“Holy shit.”

Matt closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a deep breath along with a confession he hadn’t admitted even to himself.

“I’m in over my head, Fog. I mean Fisk was one thing, but this…I can’t stop this.”

It was as shocking as it was heartbreaking to hear Matt admit defeat like that, to hear it weighing down his words. There was no trace of his usual stubborn commitment to his self imposed crusade, and that bothered Foggy in a way he didn’t expect. 

Straightening up in his chair, he leaned forward and placed his hand on Matt’s arm, giving it a squeeze of reassurance, his own voice steady with resolve and determination. 

“Matt, S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn’t have brought you in if they didn’t think you were useful. Maybe you can’t stop this everywhere, but they can. They have resources all over the world, let them take care of that part. You can stop it here. And however Karen and I can help, we will. You just have to let us, alright? Tell us what we can do to help.”

»»———　　———««

Fury was standing in front of the floor to ceiling windows in his office, his hands clasped behind his back, looking out at the city. When he heard the ding of the elevator and familiar footsteps, he subtly turned his head over his shoulder.

“You wanna tell me how Constantin managed to get away?”

“Ask Murdock.”

Turning around, Fury arched one of his brows inquisitively as he looked over at her.

“I’m asking you.”

“What did you tell him.”

Pursing his lips in visible annoyance at his question being deflected, he grabbed the top of his leather chair and pulled it out to calmly sit down at his desk.

“What did I tell who about what?”

“Don’t bullshit me. Why did you tell him this was personal for me?”

Fury regarded her silently for a moment, noticing the irritation that was slipping through the cracks in her normally composed demeanor. He interlocked his fingers and rested his hands on his stomach as he leaned back.

“He needed something to humanize you. I'm not sure it worked, but it kept him from walking away. I didn't give him the details, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“What I'm worried about is you keeping things from me, Nick.”

“I didn’t keep it from you. I just didn’t tell you.”

“He shouldn’t know things that I don’t-”

He cut off her argument with a stern look, and there was a firmness in his voice that demanded her silence.

“You and I both know that’s going to be virtually impossible at a certain point.”

When she clenched her jaw, he leaned forward and rested his forearms on his desk.

“The only thing we can really keep from Murdock is on paper. Now, you’ve managed to fool him so far, but those heightened senses of his are not to be taken lightly, and the more we find out, so does he.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Then act like it.”

For a moment neither of them said anything, locked in a simmering staring contest, each with their own frustrations towards the other.

“So, you wanna tell me how neither of you noticed Constantin was there?”

“We ran into complications, it’s in my report-”

“I'm not asking about what’s in your report. I'm asking about what’s not in it.”

Her brows furrowed at the subtle accusation and her tone immediately became defensive as she took a step towards his desk.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Fury shrugged casually, leaning back in his chair again as he looked over at her, not bothering to hide the hint of suspicion in his eye.

“I’m just wondering if your focus has been dulled by Murdock's presence.”

She stiffened at the veiled allegation, feeling a flicker of panic, as if he somehow knew what had happened last night. He seemed to study her more closely when her silence passed a moment too long for his liking.

“You’re making mistakes, Agent Y/L/N. You don’t make mistakes. I'm concerned your efforts to appease him are taking your eye off the prize.”

“You’re the one who told me to compromise-”

“Compromise, yes. Not put his approval over the mission.”

She let out a scoff, looking at him in a mixture of incredulity and annoyance.

“Is that what you think this is?”

“You tell me.”

She grit her teeth again so hard there was an ache in her jaw, and she stared at him in barely concealed outrage. He was wrong. She kept repeating that over and over in her head, forcing it to fit into the truth. Straightening up and squaring her shoulders, she didn’t bother to dull the sharpness in her voice.

“It was your idea to bring him in.”

“It was my idea to bring someone in. He was one of several options, I didn’t choose him-”

“Well then maybe he needs another pep talk on cooperation, because this is the second time he’s interfered with a mission, and I’m not taking the fall for his fuckup a third time. Maybe this time you can try telling him your own secrets instead of mine.”

Her hands were balled into tight fists as she spun on her heel to storm off towards the elevators. Fury waited until she was a foot away from the metal doors before speaking.

“He already wanted to walk away after the first night. What do you think is going to happen when he finds out who you are?”

All at once, she froze. That question was one she hadn’t allowed to pass through her thoughts, but one that had haunted them anyway. Her defensive irritation was put out in a split second, the fire behind it doused by his confrontation. She meant to sound firm when she spoke again, but the communication between her brain and her tongue seemed to be blocked and it didn’t get the instruction, coming out layered with a plea instead.

“He doesn’t need to know.”

Fury let out a deep exhale through his nose, staring at her back with a softer expression, his tone a little more gentle with a hint of a premature apology.

“He’s going to find out, Y/N. You know that. Just because we don’t have a solid connection yet doesn’t mean we don’t know what this operation is. You know where this is gonna end, better than anyone. It's the whole reason you wanted it, and why I'm letting you take the lead. When Murdock finds out just how much we’ve been keeping him in the dark, what this really is, and your part in it, are you prepared for how he’s going to react? Because I don’t think there’s going to be any coming back from that.”

From the beginning, she’d anticipated the truth coming out eventually. But she hadn’t anticipated caring how Matt was going to take it. The more time she spent with him, the more afraid she became for him to find out who she really was, and everything she’d done. She’d tried so hard to keep every piece of herself concealed. The parts of herself she hated that were crafted at the hands of someone else, and the parts she’d created with her own to fit whatever identity she needed to take shape in the absence of her own.

But last night she’d let him in. And when she woke up in bed alone this morning, that sinking feeling in her stomach felt like an ominous preview for what was to come once her darkness was brought to light.

tags: @the-swift-escape @lambmurdock @lunakkey @Lfdybadgirlsdiw @devilmurdock64 @moonyinthestars @suits-and-smirks @day-dreaming-goddess @natashasotherhalf @rebel13lion39 @pixelfaery @ebsmind @mattmurdocksscars @ahhhhhhhydbhdg @ayupcap @thepassionatereader @awenthealchemist @zomtart @superrbffun @buckypops @snicksbabe @redroomproperty @angel113431 @18raven @a-sunflower-in-bloom @shadypaperwitch @lizziela @givemylovetoall @dreadfulxives18 @jjprxntiss @bigratbitchsworld @s1xthirty @daisy-the-quake @raven18 @hipwell @scorpiovelaryon @yiiiikesmish @mel-thefrog @ponyosmom35 @daisydark @xoxabs88xox @punkshyteee @abbyhaslongshorts @wolvierinee @snowflames-world @yomnajir @fries11 @groovycass

the devil and the widow soundtrack

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summary: matt murdock is recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D. to help take down a trafficking ring run by a new crime organization that rose to power in fisk’s absence. he’s forced to work agent y/l/n, who’s just as thrilled about the pairing as he is. as the investigation unravels more webs of lies, haunting details are uncovered, and matt starts to question who he’s actually working for, especially as he digs further beneath the skeletons of his mysterious partner’s dark past. every revelation leaves matt with the same unsettling question; who’s the real villain?

a/n: there was an idea...and it got out of hand and so here we are. i'm so excited to finally share this with y'all. it's been in the works for quite some time now. if you loved the bodyguard, I really hope you'll love this one. it's another slow burn, so get comfy. there's also going to be a lot of mature themes in this series, as well as spice (duh), but as always, I will post specific content warnings for each chapter as they drop.

if you've been in the daredevil fandom this whole time, it's great to see your beautiful faces again. if you're new here from dd born again, on behalf of all of us, welcome. we're glad you're here.

without further ado, sit back, relax, grab a drink and a snack, maybe some tissues, and enjoy.

»— anything marked with an astrik contains explicit content. minors dni.

»— all work is my own. please do not repost anywhere else without my consent.

chapter one: the head of the snake

chapter two: follow my lead

chapter three: by any means necessary

chapter four: an olive branch

chapter five: lucky

chapter six: the entertainment

chapter seven: back up plan

chapter eight: the deal

chapter nine: dance with me

chapter ten: good luck charm

chapter eleven: indulge*

chapter twelve: consequences

chapter thirteen: forgive me*

chapter fourteen: a red door

chapter fifteen: rebranded

chapter sixteen: monster

chapter seventeen:

chapter eighteen:

chapter nineteen:

chapter twenty:

chapter twenty one:

the devil and the widow soundtrack

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The edge of his lips lifted in a smirk, and an involuntary dry chuckle escaped as he shook his head, lifting the box to carry inside with him. Curiosity got the best of him as he tugged at the intricately tied bow to unravel it. He lifted the lid and reached inside, pulling out the different pieces of fabric to place them on the kitchen island. Brushing his thumb over the soft silk material of a bowtie, his intrigue became muddled with perplexity. 

Why had she left a tuxedo on his doorstep?

Grabbing his phone out of his pocket, he unlocked it and activated the voice assistance.

“Call Spy 3-PO.”

It only took a few rings for her voice to come through on the other line.

“Does it fit?”

“I haven’t tried it on yet. Why did you give me a tux?”

“Because I’ve been in your closet and you didn’t have anything nice enough to wear Saturday night.”

Matt pressed his lips together, letting out a dry scoff in response.

“And what is Saturday night?”

“You and I have a date for a charity gala.”

Matt leaned back against the kitchen island, cocking his head to the side as he processed that statement.

“Do we now? You don’t really strike me as the giving type.”

“Well that’s why I’m bringing you, you’re the Catholic.”

He couldn’t restrain the snort of amusement at her quip, rolling his eyes as he reached up to loosen his tie around his neck.

“So you have ulterior motives you weren’t gonna disclose. Sounds about right.”

“You know, I worked really hard to break into their system and put our names on the guest list. I got you a fancy suit, there’s gonna be an open bar, all top shelf shit by the way. But if you’re gonna be ungrateful-”

“Tell me why we’re going and I’ll consider it.”

“The building it’s being held in is the same building where Tarasov’s office is.”

Matt perked up at that. It was a perfect cover to be there without arousing suspicion, and if Dimitri had been telling the truth about the files, they could finally have some solid evidence. 

“So, see you at seven on Saturday?”

»»———　　———««

The plan was to find a discreet way to make it up to Tarasov’s floor and get into his office without drawing any attention or tripping any silent alarms. She had arranged for someone back at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters to loop the security cameras when she gave the order, but that would only buy them three minutes, which wasn’t a whole lot of time considering they didn’t know exactly what they were looking for. 

Matt took a sip of his drink as he stood next to her at the bar. Between the live band’s music and the self important chatter of New York’s elite, he didn’t even need to speak discreetly, but he leaned in closer towards her anyway.

“Guards are making rounds every fifteen minutes.”

Taking a sip of her own drink, she kept her eyes focused on the crowd, subtly scanning the attendees.

“Every floor?”

“Just his.”

“Imagine that.”

Matt turned towards her slightly.

“The elevators aren’t accessible without a keycard-”

“I have that covered.”

“Are they gonna loop the elevator cameras too?”

“Mhm.”

He had to admit that he was impressed. She really did think of everything. He had to constantly keep reminding himself that this was her job, her life, and that there were just some things she had more experience with. 

He’d still never confess that to her out loud though.

Things between them had been more…civil lately. His thoughts drifted towards her more often than he’d like, especially since he constantly carried her gift around. Every now and then, he’d absentmindedly brush his thumb over the smooth metal, and he would find himself wandering down a path of questions in his mind, curious about the true intention behind it. What he wouldn’t give to be able to read her mind for just five minutes.

“We have about six minutes until the next shift change, we should probably-”

“We’ll go later.”

Matt turned his head towards her, his expression betraying his confusion.

“Later? Why?”

“Because this is a party. The champagne alone probably costs more than you make in three months. It wouldn’t kill you to indulge every once in a while, you know. As a matter of fact, I think it would make you more tolerable.”

He could sense the smirk on her lips as she lifted the dirty martini to her lips, could feel her watching him over the rim of the glass. He reached out to snatch the thin skewer of olives from her glass.

“And yet you’re not drinking any, nor are you drinking that the right way. It should be made with Vodka.”

“Champagne gives me a headache, and traditional martinis are made with Gin.”

“You’re not exactly a traditional person.”

Matt slipped the skewer between his lips, sliding off the two olives with his teeth before dropping the empty skewer back into her glass nonchalantly.

“No, I just don’t like Vodka. Or olives.”

He’d done that just to piss her off, but hearing that she didn’t even like olives, his brows furrowed.

“Then why did you order a dirty martini?”

“I like the olive juice with the Gin.”

Matt was blankly staring in her direction in pure puzzlement and faint irritation. She truly was one of the most complicated people he’d ever met.

“Do you purposefully try to be difficult in every single aspect?”

“Does your priest know you’re a thief? Stealing olives is still stealing, Saint Matthew.”

Matt rolled his eyes behind his glasses and took a large sip of his drink.

“You didn’t even want them.”

“You still could’ve asked.”

Matt let out a deep exhale through his nose and ran his fingers through his hair.

“So, what, we just…hang out?”

“Well don’t sound too excited.”

“I’m doing my best to contain myself.”

Matt muttered dryly, taking another sip of his drink as he leaned back against the bar. She studied him silently for a moment, and he got that strange feeling again that he’d struck a nerve, that his quip had somehow penetrated some weakened spot in her otherwise perfect composure.

“Has there been any lull at the bar in the past twenty minutes?”

Her question caught him off guard, and it confused him. The bar area had been packed since they walked in, and there were also waiters walking around carrying trays of champagne that were swiftly being depleted within minutes of walking through the crowd.

“No, why?”

“Do you think most of the people in this room will be anything less than buzzed in another half hour?”

All at once, it clicked, and he suddenly understood what she was getting at. Matt focused his senses on the crowd. Nearly everyone had a drink in their hand. Some people’s internal body temperatures had already risen, creating that telltale flush in their cheeks that signified the alcohol was having its desired effect.

“No. I’d be surprised if anyone was still sober by the end of the night.” 

“And drunk people don’t make the most reliable witnesses. I’m sure most of the seven deadly sins are being committed tonight, but I think gluttony is rivaling greed.”

Matt set his drink down on the bar and turned his body so that he was facing her.

“You know, you could just tell me these things.”

Mirroring his action, she set her own drink down and turned to face him, and he felt her eyes wandering over him before a subtle smirk tugged at the edge of her lips.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

A sudden wave of frustration crested within him. Matt had grown tired of her constantly having the upper hand, always being at least two steps ahead of him, and always being the one in control of the situation. He wanted to be the one to surprise her for once, to shatter that carefully crafted composure and draw a real reaction out of her. He wanted to throw her off her game.

Since that day he’d come home to find her in his apartment, every interaction between them had been a competition, and Matt was extremely competitive. He didn’t just want to even out the scoreboard, he wanted to tip the scales of power in his favor entirely. 

And he had an advantage that she didn’t.

“Dance with me.”

The subtle shock he registered in how her facial expression shifted, and the way her body subconsciously reacted, sent a thrill through him. It only further encouraged him to continue with this impulsive little game. 

“What?”

He was already folding up his cane and setting it on the bar, grabbing his glass to down the rest of his drink before grabbing her wrist.

“You wanted me to indulge. I’m indulging.”

After guiding her to a vacant spot on the dance floor, Matt let go of her wrist so he could wrap his arm around her waist, placing one of his hands on the small of her back while his other grasped her own. The dress she wore had a low cut back, and the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips was nearly as distracting as that goddamn blend of spiced vanilla and jasmine. But beneath the salty olive and bitter Gin on her breath, he could also detect the lingering smell of roasted espresso from a few hours ago, intermixed with…

“Do you put cinnamon in your coffee?”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“I can smell it.”

As they swayed from side to side to the languid rhythm of the ballad the band was playing, she stared at him blankly for a moment before letting her true thoughts slip.

“You do realize that is an incredibly strange thing to say out loud, right?”

“Blind people have an enhanced sense of smell, it’s a known fact. Don’t be ableist, Y/L/N.”

Rolling her eyes, she resisted the urge to take her hand off his shoulder to smack the back of his head.

“Not like you do. You could give a goddamn bloodhound a run for its money. Cinnamon is a perfectly normal thing to put in your coffee, by the way.”

“Maybe in the fall, not all year round.”

“Okay, first you try to mansplain my drink preferences to me, now you’re trying to lecture me on my coffee order, mister ‘I can’t have a latte without oat milk’?”

“Oak milk is a very common substitution. Cinnamon, on the other hand, is a seasonal addition.”

“Maybe to Irish Catholic boys that can’t step outside without SPF, but in a lot of cultures, cinnamon in coffee is a wellness tradition, and even a spiritual one. In Mexico, it’s a tradition to invoke comfort. They add it to their hot chocolate too.”

There was a familiarity in the way she said that, like it was something that had been passed down. And out of all the cultures she could have used as an example, he didn’t think it was a coincidence she had chosen that one. He tilted his head to the side slightly, speaking in a tone that was less argumentative and more inquisitive.

“Is that where your family is from?”

He felt the way her fingers subtly tightened their grip on his shoulder, the falter in her heart's rhythm. He was expecting some smartass response, or no response at all and to change the subject instead, but after a moment her lips parted with hesitation, and then she was looking away from him when she spoke her confession, even though he couldn’t look at her with judgment anyway.

“I don’t know.”

He had never really considered the possibility that the reason she was so elusive about her past and wouldn’t give him all the pieces to the puzzle was because there were some that she didn’t even have herself. 

Matt had at least known his father before he died. Even though he’d grown up in an orphanage, he’d at least had Father Lantom, and he’d had the memories of his father to cherish. She had briefly mentioned having glimpses of a woman that she thought might be memories of her mother, but there was a strong possibility that they were just ideations of a lonely child who hadn’t had anyone. 

He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. The vulnerable verity had him subconsciously pulling her closer instead, extinguishing the space between them, the physical show of comfort like a silent apology. Slowly, slowly, he felt the tension leave her shoulders and her body relax. Her grip on his shoulder loosened, and she unclenched her jaw. He even caught the subtle deep exhale she let out through her nose. 

Matt couldn’t tell if the tempo of the music had gradually decreased or if things just seemed to be moving at a more sedated pace, but for a moment he completely forgot why they were even there. His fingertips subconsciously traced a trail up her spine in a faint caress, and he felt her flesh prickle in response, like her body was sending him a secret message in Braille. It sparked a sense of victory that had him buzzing with excitement. It was proof she wasn’t as unaffected as she appeared to be. He wanted to keep going just to see what other reactions he could pull from her, the thrill of the challenge making his blood pump harder.

The silk of her gown was almost as soft as her skin, and he could feel the outline of her body through the material. As distracting as it was, he forced himself to focus on his winning streak. Dipping his head slightly, he let his warm breath ghost over her ear. He paid close attention to the subtle change in her heart’s tempo, how her skin felt a little warmer despite the shiver he’d elicited. He repeated the caress of his fingertips, this time in a languid path down her spine, faintly brushing over the zipper of the dress. His fingers subtly twitched with an impulsive thought about what it would be like to hear the metallic teeth opening one by one, freeing her bare skin to his touch as the silk became a soft puddle at her feet.

His voice had taken on a slightly huskier tone when he spoke into her ear again.

“What color is your dress?”

“Red.”

His lips spread into a pleased smirk, and whether it was the allure of the moment or the Macallan hitting his blood stream, he boldly brushed his nose against her cheek as he dropped his voice to a more intimate volume.

“What kind of red?”

He heard her tenuous inhale through her nose, felt her fingers grasp his shoulder just a bit more, the heat in their clasped hands delicately burning as if they were both holding the same ember. She turned her head slightly, his coarse facial hair brushing over the smooth skin of her cheek in a gentle scrape. 

“Guess.”

Matt’s grin stretched even further, causing his dimples to make an appearance. 

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you picked out this dress to wear just for me.”

A sly smirk stretched across her lips, and he could sense how hard she was fighting to not let it split into a full on grin. Her voice weaved around him in a sultry tease.

“Oh, I wouldn’t ever give you the satisfaction of answering that.”

With a devilish smirk, he let go of her waist for just a moment and took a step backwards, twirling her before she could question or predict his intentions. Slipping his arm around her waist, he pulled her back firmly against his chest and placed his other hand on her hip. 

He heard the sharp surprised intake of breath that became a breathless laugh of amusement upon exhale. 

“I didn’t take you for a dancer, Matthew.”

“Well, isn't fighting like dancing? Just less bloody?”

“Unless it’s ballet.”

A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest that vibrated against her back, and he dipped his head to where his chin was almost resting on her shoulder.

“So the ballerina thing was true.”

“You knew it was. You’re a human lie detector.”

“And you’re a very good liar.”

She let her head rest back against his shoulder, placing her hands on top of his as she turned her head so her lips were closer to his ear.

“That’s not a compliment to me or you. Either I’m that manipulative, or your super senses aren’t all that super.”

“Heightened. And two things can be true at once.”

Raising her left hand, she brought it backwards to grasp onto the back of his neck. The sensation of her fingertips lightly brushing over the hair at the nape of his neck straightened his spine all at once, the action pressing his chest against her back with a little more pressure.

“Does this count as keeping your enemies closer?”

Matt brushed his lips against her ear once again, keeping his voice low.

“Are you saying you’re my enemy, sweetheart?”

“Well you’ve made it clear I’m not your friend. Maybe partner is too sentimental.”

“It’s less to do with sentiment, and more with trust.”

Closing her eyes for a moment, she didn’t bother to hide the frustrated depth of her exhale.

“You know, you keep trying to catch me in lies I’m not telling you.”

Matt let out a quiet scoff as he lifted his head.

“You’re saying that you’ve never told me a single lie?”

“Withholding details from you isn’t lying-”

“Agree to disagree, but that’s not what I asked.”

A moment of silence passed between them. Matt wasn’t sure when they’d stopped moving, but now he was suddenly aware of the fact that they were just standing there in the midst of the crowd dancing around them.

“Once.”

Matt was surprised she’d answered, and even more surprised that it was the truth.

“When?”

As the band ended their song, a chorus of applause filled the ballroom, and a voice announced from the stage that the auction was about to begin. While Matt’s attention was momentarily distracted, she untangled herself from his grasp, and he wasn’t prepared for the sense of loss it induced, causing him to involuntarily reach in her direction before he realized what he was doing and stopped midway.

“It’s time.”

Without another word, she held out her arm towards him, a silent indication that their conversation was over, and a sobering reminder of why they were there. Matt felt another wave of frustration again, but more towards himself. He’d gotten too wrapped up in his own selfish impulses, and instead of gaining control like he’d intended, he felt more out of sorts than ever.

Adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose with a hint of irritation, Matt bypassed her entirely to make his own way off the dance floor. 

“Fine. Let's go.” 

After swiping his cane off the bar, he unfolded it and began to walk off towards the hall where the bathrooms and elevators were before she even reached his side.

tags: @the-swift-escape @lambmurdock @lunakkey @Lfdybadgirlsdiw @devilmurdock64 @moonyinthestars @suits-and-smirks @day-dreaming-goddess @natashasotherhalf @rebel13lion39 @pixelfaery @ebsmind @mattmurdocksscars @ahhhhhhhydbhdg @ayupcap @thepassionatereader @awenthealchemist @zomtart @superrbffun @buckypops @snicksbabe @redroomproperty @angel113431 @18raven @a-sunflower-in-bloom @shadypaperwitch @lizziela @givemylovetoall @dreadfulxives18 @jjprxntiss @bigratbitchsworld @s1xthirty @daisy-the-quake @raven18 @hipwell @scorpiovelaryon @yiiiikesmish @mel-thefrog @ponyosmom35 @daisydark @xoxabs88xox @punkshyteee @abbyhaslongshorts @wolvierinee @snowflames-world @yomnajir @fries11 @groovycass

the devil and the widow soundtrack

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