Senses []Daredevil/Matt Murdock X Reader[]

I'm Not A Vampire []Chapter Eight[]

AUTHOR PSA: Look I know some of ya'll may not be happy with this announcement but when I started this book I was pretty shitty with my writing skills. I feel like I have improved a lot and with that I want to edit this book. I owe it to ya'll funny ass readers who comment and support me. I was legit re-reading this just now because I forgot everything and was legit cracking up at the comments. I love ya'll. I'm gonna edit some of the lore I established. Starting from when your character grows wings. Like this shit is all over the place im embarrassed. Sorry  ya'll had to deal with that shit. I'm gonna try and explain better and go in depth with it. Also just forget the impenetrable skin thing lmao that was dumb.

Your dreams took you back to that night. That night when you met the Devil of Hells Kitchen. The night that would, unknowingly, change your entire life. His face, or his mask, is what took up the large amount of your dream. It made you toss and turn. mumble and twitch. The hours of sleep felt like mere minutes when you woke up, covered and panting like a rabid dog. Your back hurt. Your teeth ached. Your eyes had a stinging sensation. You shook it off as after effects from the dream, throwing your covers off of you and stumbling towards the bathroom. It was shrouded in darkness, something you found comfort in. However, it wouldn't do you much good to shower in the dark. Your hand reached for the switch, flicking it up and immediately pausing in your tracks. Your bathroom mirror was in front of you, your reflection looking right back at you. But it didn't look like you. 

One step forward.

Two steps forward.

You grasped the edge of the sink, almost vomiting from pure shock. Your original eye color was slowly fading away, being replaced by a deep, dark red. The color swirled and mixed together like a lava lamp, your head growing dizzy. That wasn't the only color change though. Your hair had grown in length, a new color also taking hold. White. Pure white. As pure as the costume you put on at night.

"What the fuck is going on with me." You grabbed at your hair, pulling it with stress. Then you discovered the reason your teeth ached. Fangs were evident. 

That was the final straw. You rushed to the toilet, throwing up whatever you ate for dinner the previous night. A few good upchucks and you were back on your feet, wobbly, but standing.

"Are you okay in there?" Knocking and a familiar voice belonging to none other than Matt Murdock.

Panic mode = activated.  You assumed you had left the door open by how easily he turned the knob. Instantly you slammed your bathroom door shut, locking it. 

"I just- I heard a lot of banging and gagging and wanted to make sure you were okay." Sweet of him, but horrible timing.

"No, I'm fine. Just drank too much last night, you know!" You managed a horrible fake laugh, wiping the vomit from your mouth. A small part of you wanted to open the door and break down in his arms, to vent out everything that just happened. To ask him what was happening to you. Why it was happening. You were an anti-hero with no powers. Just good fighting skills and gadgets you bought off the black market. Patrolling the streets to prevent what happened to your mother from happening to another child. You were never supposed to get powers, to be superhuman. 

Another wave of vomit hit you and you fell before the toilet again, hearing Matt furiously try and open the door.

"Please let me in. Let me help." His voice was pleading. Desperate. The voice of a man who was concerned for you and your health. It made your stomach swirl, but not the vomit swirl you felt. The 'getting a crush and it's annoying' swirl.

"I promise I'm fine. Just I need time by myself. To recover." It was a blunt no. He understood it too, as no words escaped his lips. Only the silence of his departure.