fear of god [Matt Murdock x F!Reader]

Magdalena.

"Were you there that day?" You tilt your head at him, narrowing your eyes, "The day Anna Love was found in 1982?" He says nothing. You grind your teeth together. Matthew can hear your heart pick up, fuelled with anger. "I asked you a question."

"Never heard that name," he mutters, scowling when he glances back at you.

"You haven't?" You almost laugh. You feel a hand on your shoulder. Knowing it's Matt, you ignore it, taking a step forward. "What about in 1989, do you-"

"What's this got to do about my boy?!"

"We need to confirm an anonymous statement you gave."

"A statement you may have given," Matthew corrects you, ever the lawyer.

"It's to prove that your son couldn't have committed these murders," you continue, "that he's too young. That it has to be someone else who began long before your son was ever even born. I'll ask you the same question again, over and over if it jogs your memory!"

"Y/N," Matthew is beside you now, standing close. His hand is on our lower back, rubbing small, comforting circles upon it, "Step outside for me."

His voice is soft and so gentle, it tears you from your anger. Your face falls when you look at him, lips parting when he just smiles gently.

"What? No," you whisper back to him, looking down at his red glasses, "I'm-"

"Yeah," Richard calls out, catching your attention, "listen to him, just as a bitch should!"

You almost see red. Matthew stands in front of you, hands on your shoulders comfortingly, leaning his face down towards you, "For my sake, please. Don't give him any more to feed off." He admits to you, giving you a small nod.

"I don't... I..."

He squeezes your shoulders. "Hey, I've got this. Okay? I'll meet you outside."

Wordlessly, you pull yourself away from Matt and head for the door. Resting your back against the cold wall, you stare at the ceiling. The lights are burning your eyes, white and abrasive. Your mind replays the conversation as you wait. All that you know is that it runs deep; hatred and faith.

Richard raised his son to be a man of faith, instilling thoughts and beliefs into him, like any other parent. But, you have a feeling, in this case, he never instilled the proper ones. Something doesn't feel right, and you don't know what it is.

The door to Richard's room opens and you turn to see Matthew. His mouth is downturned. He doesn't smile at you like he usually does. "Are you okay?"

"Hm," he tilts his head slightly, "let's, uh, let's just go."

Matthew gives you a slight smile now, but it's forced and uncomfortable. The elevator is just as quiet as when you ascended. Except for this time, you're not tapping your foot - your arms are crossed and you stare at the metal reflection of yourself.

"I'm sorry," you mumble, voice barely above a whisper. In the reflection, you see a frown cross his face. You look away, saving yourself from the embarrassment. "It was... hard - to keep my 'cool', I guess. Sorry."

"Oh yeah, your 'cool'," Matt gives a nod, biting back a smile, "I hadn't realised up until this point you were laidback."