Imagines [Book Two]

Daredevil [Matt X Reader]

Imagine moving into an apartment that once belonged to an acquaintance of Daredevil. He drops in, unexpectedly, looking for his friend only to find you instead. When you see his wounds and hear his slurred explanation, you offer to help. Little did you know, you'd be helping him again and again and again.

. .

. .

Having finally settled into your new apartment, you're more than ready to change into some pajamas and binge watch all the shows you've missed during the move. You're walking back from the kitchen, popcorn bowl in one hand and a glass bottle of Coke in the other. Then just as you push through the kitchen door, the bowl of popcorn drops from your hand at the sight of who can only be the Devil of Hell's Kitchen climbing through your window.

He tenses and you shriek before slapping a hand over your mouth. Seeing the blood on the lower half of his face and the gashes in his all black outfit where he's undoubtedly leaking blood all over the place makes some of the tension in your body just vanish.

"A-Are you okay?"

His head tilts to the side. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize my friend had moved."

"Did you- do you need something?" You ask, not moving from your spot but setting down your bottle of soda on the nearest available surface so you don't drop that too.

He sways on his feet and you jerk forward, but freeze when you realize what you've done. "It's fine." His gruff voice slurs. "My friend who used to live here was a nurse. She'd stitch me up on occasion."

You're struck dumb at the realization that you're having a somewhat decent conversation with the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, or Daredevil as he's better known, and while half of you is screaming to let the vigilante be, the other half of you wants to help him. So when he's halfway out the window, you nearly kick yourself for opening your mouth. "I don't stitch, but I do have my own method of healing."

Daredevil freezes and glances back into your apartment. "Why would you help me? Why aren't you more afraid?"

Gulping, you step closer to the couch and place your hands on the back rest as you explain. "I've seen almost every video of you out there. Though some of your methods are questionable, you keep this city safe as best as you can when the NYPD fails to do so."

"I'm not the hero some paint me to be."

You shrug. "I'm not going to argue that with you while you're bleeding out, so do you want my help or not?"

He takes a moment to think about it, his head tilting this way and that before climbing back into your apartment and shutting the window behind him. "When you say you have your own method of healing, what does that mean?"

As Daredevil limps over to a chair of yours, you cautiously follow. Wringing your hands together, you say, "I.. have an ability. A healing ability. It's not something I tell people or show people because normal people hate people like me, so.."

He frowns. "Are you a mutant?" There's no ill-will behind the question, so you have no problem answering.

"I'm not really sure. Only my family knows of what I can do and we were all scared of going to the wrong Doctor or Specialist and ending up someone's experiment or prisoner."

"Oh. Well your secret will be safe with me. Obviously."

Chuckling nervously, you finally end up toe to toe with the masked vigilante. "Yours too." As he glances up at you, his head tilts again. "You obviously have a head wound somewhere under the mask. While I can heal those on your body because of the gashes in your suit, the head wounds will be difficult because of the mask covering them."