fear of god [Matt Murdock x F!Reader]

Terrific

"I hope you weren't interrogating a priest for another scathing article."

Sucking in a breath, you look up from your people-watching to see Matt. Again.

"You following me?" You ask, tilting your head at him and hoping he catches the hint of a tease in your voice.

"Oh," his face falls, raising his cane slightly, "I'm blind."

"And yet," you scoff, gesturing between the two of you.

He lets out a chuckle and you can see the corner of his eyes crinkle from behind his glasses, "Sorry, I heard you speaking to Father Paul. I'm, uh, I'm kind of nosey like that."

"Right," you mumble back, staring into his red glasses shining in the light, "I guess it's a lawyer thing, huh?"

"It definitely comes with the job description," a smile appears on his face.

You find yourself smiling back, nodding, "For both of us, I guess. Yeah, I read about the trial, by the way."

"Yeah," he raises an eyebrow, "I think everyone did."

"Pretty much the whole world," you scoff, looking around at the people filing from the church, "In any case, you're a terrific lawyer. Good luck with the next one."

"Was that a compliment?" He feigns shock, "Did you just - wow, I can't... believe it."

"I know you don't get them often," you shoot back.

"No?" There's a challenge somewhere in that smirk.

"Yeah, not a lot of people like you, Murdock," you shrug simply.

"Hah," he scoffs, "look at you, lying your way out of a compliment - you'd be good on the stand."

"If you ever represent me in a court room then I'm as good as dead," you answer back quickly.

He lets out a laugh, "Oh, come on, you just said I'm terrific!"

"Doesn't mean I trust you. And I said you're a terrific lawyer."

Matt licks his bottom lip, suddenly feeling a burst of confidence rise within him - and he isn't sure where the hell is came from but somehow the energy surrounding you makes him feel so at home. "Yeah? Say it again."

You pause for a moment, seeing his eyebrows raise slightly before he lets out a laugh. Your heart beats faster. "It was a pity compliment, really - don't dwell on it too much," you joke back, feeling awkward at the sudden tension in your chest. "Either way, next time you're in court, hopefully I'll be the one writing about the trial."

"Hm, maybe," he nods, sucking in a breath as if holding himself back from whatever his mind is thinking, "it might not be for a while though."

"You really think so?" You ask, focused on a young man speaking to a younger woman. They look like they're in a heated discussion.

"I know so."

"I dunno, Matt. I think Nelson and Murdock have skin in the game."

Matt notices that you're distracted, and he tilts his head a little as he zones in on the conversation. It doesn't seem that important; an odd argument about what's for dinner tonight. Children run past you, all their pent-up energy from sitting still finally released. Their parents shout after them, unable to tame them as they run down the street, chasing each other. You watch the faces of old men, their hands clasped around old, wooden rosaries.

"Write anything new lately?"

That gets your attention back.

"Sorry?" You look back to him, eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"Your next article. I assume you're writing something. You always are."

"I wanted to write about Daredevil but," you shake your head dismally, "I dunno. Doesn't seem that important to me."

"No?"

You pout your lips a little, "Not so much lately." A thought pops into your head when you look back at him, eyeing his neat suit. "Hey, um, you come here often, right?"

Matt tilts his head, "Is that the pick up line you wanna stick with?"

"If it'll give me answers, then sure," you sigh deeply.

"Not every Sunday," he answers truthfully, extending his hand out towards you, "Here, walk with me."

"God. Is that your pick up line?" You ask, guiding his hand to gently grasp your arm.

"Come on, have a little faith," he smiles, and you begin to walk down the street together. "Alright, you have something on your mind," he gives you a tender smile, "talk to me."

"I don't know where to start."

"Anywhere is fine."

"Well... My boss said I sounded kind of paranoid but," you suck in a breath, staring at the ground as you walk with him, "there have been a string of murders. Four, so far - though I'm hoping that's the end of them. They arrested a suspect a few weeks back but..." you shake your head, "it isn't him."

"How do you know?"

"Two weeks ago, someone else was killed while he was in custody," you continue, "same profile, same victim type. It couldn't have been anyone else, I know it."

"Have the police issued a statement about it? Will you read it to me?"

"No, that's the thing!" You answer in exasperation, "It's like no one cares about it. I've tried to get stuff published about it but nothing seems to stick. Nobody thinks it's important enough."

"I do," responds to you, turning his head and throwing a solemn look in your direction, "Y/N, how do you know so much about this if it hasn't been publicised?"

You pause for a moment, deciding on what to tell a lawyer about how you slightly evade the law. "I'm nosey too."

He huffs out a chuckle, focusing forward as you pass by a couple holding hands. "Can you tell me what this has to do with Father Paul?"

"The suspect may have attended this church, he had flyers and pamphlets in his home. He's... uh, very Catholic."

"Hm, no he's not," Matthews responds, his eyebrows furrowed, "what's his name?"

"Richard Deacon."

"Never heard of it."

"Yeah, apparently no one has," you let out a sigh, rolling your eyes in frustration, "he's probably going to be released from custody soon, until then I don't know what to do. It's like... it's like I'm just grasping at loose ends, trying to form a picture where there is none. He's a ghost."

"Time," Matt answers, his hand squeezing your arm tenderly, "justice will come, I believe in that. He may be released but he won't be out for long, I'm sure. Criminals like him never are."

"I don't know," you mumble hopelessly, "Matthew, I know you're a lawyer and your whole career hinges on it but I don't trust the justice system or the law," you admit to him, "it feels like there isn't time to wait."

"Hey, listen to me," he stops in the street, and you guide him towards the building away from the path, "with you fighting to tell their stories and fighting to put the people responsible away, I know they'll find the justice they deserve. And I'll..."

"You'll what?"

"I'll see what I can do to help. From my end." He nods, a sense of hesitant determination in his face, "As a terrific lawyer."

"God, you just don't quit," you run a hand over your face, "I do appreciate it though."

"Of course," he smiles, his hand running up and down your arm in a comforting manner, "anytime."

"Thank you," you place your hand upon his and give it a squeeze, "though I guess the office won't be busy for a while, huh?"

He nods, his lips pouting slightly, "Yeah, you got that right."