fear of god [Matt Murdock x F!Reader]

In the beginning.

You knock on the door a few times, letting go of the breath you held in the entire flight of stairs up here. Shit, you hope you don't sound breathless. Checking the time on your watch, you're three minutes earlier than the time he gave you. You hope that's okay. What if he isn't ready yet? Shit.

The door opens.

"Hi," you smile, speaking far too quickly. Matthew doesn't mind. He thinks it's beyond cute.

"Hey," he grins back, holding the door open for a moment. Neither of you says anything, you both just stare in a daze. "Oh, uh, right - one second, let me get my coat."

"Okay," you answer back, watching him disappear. Fuck, you do sound sort of breathless. Fucking stairs. You were early so you decided to take the stairs to buy time. Dumb idea, Y/N. When he appears again, it's only then that you notice what he's wearing. He looks good, light grey button-up shirt covered by a black jacket. Black pants.

"Ready to go?" He wonders politely.

"Yeah, sure," you smile, swallowing the lump in your throat when he shuts his front door before him.

The walk to the elevator is silent, the only sound being his cane rustling against the floor as he walks. When you both step inside, you make sure you keep your foot steady. No nervous tapping this time.

"Thanks for meeting me here, by the way," he turns to you with a kind smile, "I thought it'd be easier to go to the restaurant together."

"Yeah, of course," you nod, twiddling your fingers nervously.

"I'd say you look beautiful, but," he gives you a shrug, gesturing to his red glasses.

You let out a chuckle, rolling your eyes, "Well, you can. It'd be true."

He lets out a small laugh, the corner of his eyes crinkling at it, "I'm sure you look perfect."

You feel your chest ache at the comment and you stare at your shoes. You feel weird saying thank you, so you think of anything else. "At least if I'm horribly overdressed, you wouldn't be able to tell," you note.

"That's true," he nods back, hearing the elevator begin to grind to a halt, "then again my hair could look like a mess and I wouldn't know."

You look at him for a moment. He smiles shyly, head tilted to the floor, and it gives you the thought that maybe he's just as nervous as you are. "Don't worry. It doesn't," you answer honestly.

"No?" He raises his head, hands gesturing up and down his body, "And the outfit?"

"No, not at all. It's..." you admit to him, "it's coordinated."

He lets out a curt laugh, turning to face the door as the elevator dings, "You get 'perfect' and I get 'coordinated'!"

"Yeah, well," you laugh, grinning at the fact that he can pick up your teasing quips, "take it or leave it, Murdock."

He reaches for your arm, grabbing it gently, "I'll take it."

The restaurant is so pretty and nice. It's this big pizza parlour not far from his apartment, branded outside with big neon lights. The ambience inside is welcoming, modern and inviting. You couldn't have picked a better place, so you're lucky Matt chose where to go for dinner.

"I figured Italian is generally well-liked by most," he smiles, sitting his cane down on the sleek, red booth. He places his jacket down too, and you admire just how good that shirt fits him.

"Definitely a favourite of mine," you answer back, looking around at the place, "how'd you find this place? I love it already."

"Foggy," he admits, a fond but dazed look on his face, "back in college, he had a blog about the best and worst places in Hell's Kitchen. Made me go with him to some and this one was my favourite."