Imagine It | Multi-Fandom Imagines

! The Devil of Hell's Kitchen

Word Count: ~ 1,300
Warnings: Cursing, blood/gore, mentions of fighting, arguing, mini-fluff
SUMMARY: You hate how you love Matthew.

Nothing about being in Matt Murdock's orbit was easy. He was a very difficult person to love-even liking him was hard. Sometimes he'd be just so painfully insufferable that you couldn't help but push him away for being such a dick.

He pushes away anyone who cares and then comes crawling when he's injured. It's a fucked up circle of love, pain, and fighting. Because you can't help but let him back in, it's Matt-how can you tell him to fuck off when he has a dislocated shoulder?

The guilt of sending him away would be much worse than the harsh words he uses as an excuse.

"I can't just come back like nothing's happened,"

He would say; a lie. Matt was known for his amazing skill at deceit. The way he could come up with the most mundane lies was insane. (most of which related back to his disability)

"Oh, I walked into the counter and then bashed my hand on the doorknob."

It's not like you or Foggy could refute and argue with Matt. That'd be a shitty thing to do.

But even with all of that horrible shit, you still loved him so much. He did look so pretty when he was sad. It was sick of you to think that but you'd seen every emotion on his face.

You'd told him how expressive he was and he didn't believe you.

"If only you could see the scowl on your face right now."

It was funny. Matt could never hold himself inside. That's why you understood the devil-but you didn't let him use that as an excuse.

"Therapy does exist, you know."

Then he'd say something along the lines of him being Catholic and only ever needed God, even if he constantly spat on God's name. If Matthew Murdock was anything, he was the most contradictory person to ever live.

A devoted Catholic who curses God's name, a blind lawyer by day but vigilante by night, deeply emotional but ignores himself until he explodes.

The complexity of him validating his clearly illegal acts with excuses (and shitty ones at that) versus him refusing to let the law bend a man to its will... it gave you whiplash. Because one day Matt could be complaining about how unfair and unjust the court is but then the next, he could be tapping on your window-covered in blood; begging for help.

He was so infuriating but whenever you were in the same room as him it was like Matthew Murdock was the sun personified. With a smile like that and a mind as keen... it was hard not to love him despite his major flaws.

"I don't think I've ever loved someone this much before." His voice startled you, the apartment had been silent except for the sounds of you bandaging his wounds.

Matt came to you with what looked to be a stab wound. You berated him for pulling whatever stabbed him out. He claimed that he couldn't have left it in there because it would have only caused more problems if it snagged on anything.

"I think the knife snagging on your enemy would hurt less than this blood loss will, you jackass."

He turned as red as his old Daredevil suit.

There was sadness in his tone, like he felt bad for admitting it. You'd already told him you loved him-albeit it was during an argument because he was so annoying-so the melancholy in his voice startled you. You gave him a peculiar look, pausing in your stitching of his wound.

He cringed at the sudden stop, stitching wasn't something you just stopped doing. You busied yourself again.

"Why do you say that like you're sad about it?"

Matt clenched his fists, "Because I feel bad for you."

You raised an eyebrow at him before looking back down at your stitches. "Why would you-"

"Because you feel guilty because of me."

His admission made heat grow in your cheeks, you hated how he could hear your reactions without you even trying. If your breath caught or your heart sped up, he'd know. It was hard being so naked around him all of the time.

"That's my own problem, Matt." You ripped open a gauze pad and began taping it down.

He tilted his head and you pushed down a groan-the asshole was listening to you. "Please stop doing that." You pushed the tape down harder than you needed to.

The hiss he let out was loud as his eyes rolled up toward the ceiling. "That was mean."

"Yea, well so are you." You pulled the gloves off with a snap and tossed the clear band-aid at him, "I'll assume you can do that yourself?" You knew it was childish but he pissed you off, saying that while you literally bandaged another injury at the hands of Daredevil? Fuck that.

The look on his face said it all, he felt bad but you just ignored him and cleaned up the mess of medical supplies. The silence in your apartment was less comfortable. It was like someone turned the tension in the air into a rubber band and was pulling it back with each passing second. You hated arguing with him but he made you so angry.

You stood in the doorway, watching him slowly pull his black skin-tight shirt on. "You better not be going back out there, Murdock."

"Who else is gonna protect Hell's Kitchen?"

"That's a stupid ass question, Matt and you know that. Nobody expects you to kill yourself for a city that doesn't give a shit about you-except you."

Matt turned around, forcing you to look at the back of his head. "I have a duty, Y/N."

You laughed sarcastically, "You're a guy, Matthew, your only duty is to fucking live!"

"What if I don't wanna do that?! What if I'm meant for more!? Huh!?" He was matching your energy but it only angered you more.

"God! I hate your fake righteousness! Stop hiding behind your excuses and admit that you like hurting everyone around you!" You felt the tears coming, "All you're gonna do is leave and then come crawling back when you're too injured to sew yourself up. And I can't keep doing this, Matt. If you don't set boundaries between you and the devil, then I'm done."

Anyone would be able to see how he visibly paled at your threat.

"You don't mean that." He was quiet now, probably fucking listening to your heart.

"I do mean it, it's fucking exhausting loving you." You wiped your nose and stared at the floor. "I mean it, Matt. So make up your mind."

"Don't make me choose between you and him."

You shook your head, "I'm not. I'm just asking that you be realistic. I don't care you go out at night and help the city, it's kinda cool. But when you tell me to stop caring about you and then barge back in with an actual fucking stab wound-then yea! I give a shit about you literally killing yourself."

He fell silent, only nodding at you. "Okay." Matt's response didn't really make any sense until he hugged you lightly, "Okay." He said again.

You were confused but couldn't help but hug him back, "Okay." Maybe like in that silly teen novel, 'okay' was your 'I love you'. Because the actual word hung in the back of your throat like the unshed tears on your eyes. It was so hard to love the devil of Hell's Kitchen.