𝐁𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐤
Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader
𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘶𝘱. 𝘓𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭’𝘴 𝘒𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥.
𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴: 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘔𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 | 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 | 𝘚𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘗𝘖𝘝 | 𝘚𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘉𝘶𝘳𝘯 | 𝘚𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘐𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘺 | 𝘏𝘶𝘳𝘵/𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 | 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 | 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘔𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘰𝘤𝘬 | 𝘈𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘍𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 | 𝘛𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 | 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭’𝘴 𝘒𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘯 | 𝘔𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘗𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 | 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘙𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 | 𝘈𝘨𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘱 | 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 20𝘴 | 𝘋𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘴 𝘔𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥
𝘢/𝘯: 𝘢𝘩𝘩𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 8, 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬! 𝘍𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰.
Seven days since he had last walked into the café.
At first, you convinced yourself it wasn’t something worth thinking about.
People changed their routines.
Someone coming into your workplace every morning for a few weeks didn’t mean they were suddenly a permanent part of your life. That would be ridiculous. And yet…
The empty chair near the window kept catching your attention. You hated that it did.
The café was still full of life. Customers came and went, conversations filled the room, and the sound of cups being placed on tables blended with the quiet music playing in the background. Nothing had changed. Except the fact that you noticed his absence.
You didn’t even realize how much you had gotten used to him being there until he wasn’t. You had gotten used to the way he always greeted you with a small smile. The way he asked how your day was and actually waited for the answer. The way he made ordinary conversations feel like they mattered. You missed that. More than you wanted to admit.
“Still waiting for him?” Your coworker’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.
You immediately looked away from the empty chair. “I wasn’t waiting.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You were staring.”
You sighed. “You’re annoying.”
She smiled. “And you’re avoiding the question.”
You grabbed a towel and started cleaning the counter, even though it was already clean. “I just hope he’s okay.”
The honesty of your own words surprised you.
Your coworker’s expression softened. “There it is.”
You looked down. You didn’t know what to say. Because the truth was confusing. You didn’t know why you cared so much. You didn’t know why someone you barely knew had managed to become someone you noticed missing. You didn’t know why a week felt longer than it should have.
Across the city, he was having a similar problem.
He sat across from his closest friend in their small office, barely paying attention to the papers in front of him. Foggy had been watching him for almost ten minutes.
He looked up. “Doing what?”
“Thinking yourself into a hole.”
A tired smile appeared on his face. “I’m fine.”
Foggy immediately laughed. “No, you’re not.”
He leaned back in his chair. “You haven’t been fine all week.”
Silence followed. Because they both knew he was right. Foggy studied him carefully.
“It’s about her, isn’t it?”
Foggy sighed. “Talk to me.”
“There isn’t much to say.”
He looked away. “She likes someone else.”
Foggy's expression changed slightly. “Did she tell you that?”
Matt hesitated. Because the truth sounded stupid when spoken aloud. “I just know.”
Foggy shook his head. “No. You think you know.”
Because maybe that was true.
Maybe he was just assuming the worst.
But every time he thought about the way she smiled when she talked about that person.
Every time he remembered the warmth in her voice…
Matt couldn’t imagine that person being him.
“Did she say it was someone from work?”
“Did she say anything that proves it’s not you?”
The question stayed between them. He didn’t have an answer. Foggy leaned forward “You’re afraid.”
That hit harder than he expected. Because that was exactly it. Hope was dangerous. Hope meant there was something to lose.
And he had already lost enough.
Foggy sighed and stood up. “You know what your problem is?”
“You always assume you’re the person people leave behind.”
He didn’t respond. Because somewhere deep down…
He knew there was truth in that.
Meanwhile, back at the café, you watched another customer leave. The door closed. The bell stopped ringing. And for the first time all day, you allowed yourself to admit something. You missed him. Not the attention. Not the routine.
And that realization scared you more than you wanted it to.
That night, the city feels colder than usual.
Maybe it is because you are tired.
Maybe it is because the streets always seem different after the sun disappears.
During the day, Hell’s Kitchen can almost convince you that it is ordinary. People rushing to work. Children playing outside. Small shops opening their doors.
The shadows return. The streets become quieter. And every corner feels like it could be hiding something.
You pull your jacket tighter around yourself as you make your way home, your footsteps echoing softly against the pavement. Usually, this walk feels heavier. Usually, you find yourself looking over your shoulder more than once.
For some reason, you don’t feel completely alone. You don’t know why. Maybe it is just the memory of someone who once walked beside you. Maybe it is because you have gotten used to the idea that somewhere above these streets, someone is watching. Someone is making sure people like you get home safely.
You almost laugh at yourself.
It sounds ridiculous. Trusting a stranger you barely know. Someone who hides behind a mask. Someone whose real name you don’t even know.
You trust him. The sound of movement above you makes you stop. Your eyes lift toward the rooftops. For a moment, there is nothing, just darkness. Then a figure lands silently nearby.
Your heart jumps before calming again.
“You disappeared.” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them.
Daredevil tilts his head slightly. “Is that a complaint?”
You try to hide your smile. “Maybe.”
A quiet laugh escapes him. It is small. But you notice it. You always notice.
The answer is simple, but something about your voice makes him pause. Because he hears it. The disappointment you are trying to hide.
You look away. “No.” A small pause. Then you sigh. “Maybe a little.”
The confession surprises both of you. For a moment, neither of you says anything. Then he steps closer. Not too close. Just enough. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
And you do. That is the problem. You know he never tries to hurt you. You know he disappears because he has responsibilities you don’t understand. You know he carries things you will probably never see. But you still missed him.
“You were different.” His voice is quiet.
You frown slightly. “When?”
“The last time we talked.”
You understand what he means. Your eyes lower. “I was confused.”
He doesn’t interrupt. He never does. You take a breath.
The words make him still. Not visibly. Not enough for you to notice. But enough.
You continue before he can say anything. “I think I was trying to create distance because I didn’t want to make things complicated.”
“And I know that sounds stupid.”
“It doesn’t.” His answer comes immediately.
You look at him. “You always say that.”
A small smile appears on your face. For the first time in days, things feel a little easier. You walk together again. Slowly. Like before. The conversation returns naturally.You tell him about your day. About the customers at the café. About the little things that annoyed you. And he listens. Like he always does. Eventually, the conversation returns to the person you mentioned.
“You really like him?” The question is gentle. Not jealous. Not accusing.Just curious.
You look down at the ground. “I think I do.”
A strange feeling moves through him. But he hides it. Because he doesn’t want you to notice. “What is he like?”
You smile. And that smile almost gives him away.“He is kind.”
“He makes me feel like I’m actually being seen.”
His breathing changes slightly.
“He is patient.” You laugh softly. “Sometimes too patient.”
“Sounds like a good person.”
“He is.” A pause. Then, without thinking…
You say it. “I mean, that’s what I like about Matt.”
The world almost stops. Just for a second. The name. Your voice. The way you said it. It all connects. A smile appears before he can stop it. Not a small one. Not the careful expression he usually wears. A real smile. A smile so full of relief that it almost feels impossible to hide.
Because after all this time…
After thinking he had already lost his chance…
After convincing himself you were talking about someone else…
He finally understands. But the moment passes quickly. He catches himself. Turns his face slightly away. The smile disappears back into something calmer. You don’t notice. You are too busy looking at the ground, embarrassed that you said the name out loud.
You shrug. “I don’t know. I just didn’t mean to say his name.”
A quiet warmth fills his chest. “You don’t have to apologize.”
And for a moment, you wonder why he sounds almost happy. But before you can think too much about it, he changes the subject. And you let him.
Because somehow… tonight feels different.
You don’t know why. You don’t know what changed.
But for the first time in a week…
You feel like maybe you didn’t lose him after all.
The night continues after the accidental name slip.
For a moment, everything feels almost too normal again, like the world has quietly decided to pretend nothing important just happened. But inside him, nothing is normal. The name is still there, echoing in his mind.
It fits together too easily now. Too perfectly.
And suddenly, all the confusion from the past week starts to make sense in a way that almost makes him want to laugh. Not because it is funny. Because it is relief. Because he had been standing right in front of the answer the entire time and still managed to miss it.
He keeps his expression steady as they walk, forcing himself to stay calm, to stay in control, to not let anything slip through. Because he can’t tell you. Not yet. Not like this.
If you like Matt… if that is who your heart is already leaning toward… then it has to be real.
Not tangled up in masks and nights and shadows.
You deserve that. Even if it means stepping back. Even if it means staying silent. Still, the feeling in his chest is hard to hide. Light. Strangely light. Like something he didn’t realize he was holding has finally been set down.
You glance at him after a while, your steps slowing slightly.
He turns his head just a little. “I’m fine.”
It comes out automatically. Too quickly.
She narrows her eyes slightly, not convinced. “That didn’t sound like fine.”
A pause. He almost smiles again, but stops himself just in time. “I’m just tired.”
It’s not a complete lie. But it’s not the truth either. Because tired isn’t the right word for what he is feeling. He is overwhelmed. Relieved. Careful. And something dangerously close to happy.
You seem to accept it, though not fully convinced, and after a moment you let it go. You both fall back into your rhythm again. It happens easily now. Like it always does when you stop overthinking it. You talk about small things from the café, about customers who complain too much, about quiet moments between the rush, about how the day felt longer than it should have.
Occasionally he teases you lightly, just enough to make you roll your eyes, just enough to bring that familiar spark back into her voice.
Almost like before. But there is something different now. Something softer between you. After a while, you slow your steps again. This time, you don't look at him immediately.
“I thought you stopped coming because of me.”
The words catch him off guard. He turns toward you slightly. “What?”
You hesitate, then shrug like you're trying to make it sound less important than it is.“I don’t know. After I talked about… him… I thought maybe I made things weird. Like I said too much or made it awkward or something.”
He stops walking for half a second. Not because of what you said. But because of what you thought. “You thought I didn’t want to see you anymore?”
There is a quiet pause between you.
The city moves around you, distant and unaware.
He studies you for a moment, something tightening in his chest. “Why would you think that?”
You hesitate again, then finally answer. “Because I thought I made it complicated.”
His brow furrows slightly. “You didn’t.”
You let out a small breath. “I just didn’t want to make it weird between us.”
A beat. Then he understands. Not just what you are saying. But what you aren't saying. You thought you pushed him away. He thought he was giving you space. Both of you had been standing on opposite sides of the same misunderstanding, neither of you realizing the other was still there.
Still showing up in their own way.
He exhales slowly, looking forward again. “I didn’t stay away because of you.”
You glance at him.“Then why?”
A pause. He chooses his words carefully.
“Because I thought you needed space.”
A small, almost helpless smile tugs at the corner of his mouth before he can stop it. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I think I’m starting to realize that.”
The tension between them shifts.
You started walking again. Closer this time, without really meaning to be. The silence between you both is no longer heavy. It is just… calm. Familiar.
You bump your shoulder lightly against his as you walk, like you used to. “You’re kind of bad at this, you know.”
He lets out a quiet breath that almost sounds like a laugh. “I’ve been told.”
You smile. And for a moment, neither of you says anything else. Because something has changed. Not everything. Not enough to be spoken out loud.
And as you continue walking through the quiet streets, side by side again, neither of you realizes just how close you are to the truth finally catching up with you.
The walk doesn’t end the way it usually does.
Normally, there is a point where the night naturally pulls you apart—where you turn toward the street, and he disappears into the city the way he always does, without explanation, without goodbye.
But tonight feels different.
Like neither of you is ready to let the moment end.
You notice it first. The way he doesn’t immediately step back when you reach the usual corner. The way he lingers just a second longer than necessary. “You’re not leaving yet,” you say quietly.
It isn’t really a question. He tilts his head slightly. “I should.” But he doesn’t move. That alone is answer enough.
You shift your weight from one foot to the other, suddenly aware of how close he is standing. Not too close. But closer than before. Closer than he usually allows himself to be.
“I thought you were going to disappear again,” you admit after a moment.
The words are softer this time. Less guarded. More honest.
Daredevil looks at you for a long second. “I’m not trying to disappear.”
There is something in his voice that makes her pause. Something steady. Something real.You nod slowly, even though you don't fully understand it.
A quiet silence settles between you.
Then you speak again, almost without thinking. “I’m glad you came back.”
The words land gently between you. But they stay. He doesn’t respond immediately. And for a moment, you worried you said too much. But then he exhales softly. “Me too. ” Simple. But it feels like more than that. A lot more. You look down at the ground, suddenly unsure what to do with your hands, your thoughts, the strange warmth building in her chest.
“I still don’t really get you,” you says lightly, trying to ease the tension.
A faint smile appears on his face. “That makes two of us.”
You let out a small laugh. “Comforting.”
That makes you smile again. For a moment, everything feels almost normal. Almost easy. Then you glance up at him. And something slips out before you can stop it.
“I think I like Matt even more than I expected to.”
The air changes. Not dramatically. Not in a way you notice.
But he feels it immediately.
The way his chest tightens for half a second.
The way something sharp and warm and impossible all hits at once.
This time, it isn’t just a name. It is confirmation. A truth you're carrying without even realizing what it means. He keeps his expression steady.Careful. Controlled. But inside, relief hits so suddenly it almost makes him dizzy. Because it is real. Not imagined. Not a misunderstanding.
You really are talking about him.
And you don't even know it.
He turns his head slightly, just enough to hide the reaction that almost slips through.
Uncontrolled. It appears for only a second before he forces it back down. Because you are still looking at him. Still unaware. Still completely in the dark.
“You really like him,” he says carefully.
Like it isn’t changing everything.
You shrug, suddenly shy. “I think I really do.”
A pause. Then quieter: “It’s confusing.”
He nods once. “I can imagine.” And he means it. More than she knows.
The silence returns, but it feels different now. Heavier in a new way. Not from distance. From closeness. From something neither of you is ready to name yet.
You finally step back slightly, as if remembering the time. “I should go.”
But neither of you moves immediately. There is a moment where it feels like something could be said. Something important. Something that would change everything. But it doesn’t happen.
Instead, you offer a small smile. “See you.”
He hesitates. Then answers softly, “Yeah.”
And as you finally turn and walk away, he stays where he is for a moment longer than usual.
Smiling again, just barely.
Because for the first time since this all began…
he is no longer wondering if he has a chance.
He is wondering how long it will take before you realize the truth.
