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capybaramurdock · 2 months ago

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Red Ring Series ♡Chapter Three♡

“The Offer” (Matt POV – 24 Days Until the Wedding)

"How does someone like her—gentle, good, steady—come from a man like that?"

Summary: Matt returns to the shelter to check on the girl he saved, telling himself it’s only that, not because of the gentle woman who runs the place. However, when a quiet comment from a volunteer reveals who she really is, everything shifts. Conflicted and reeling, Matt leaves with more questions than answers. But he doesn’t have time to spiral—because apparently her father has requested a surprise meeting. What Matt expects to be a favor quickly turns into a proposition—a deal. One he never wanted. One he can’t walk away from. And as the rain falls harder outside, Matt realizes: He’s already falling, too.

♡Trigger/Content Warnings♡:

~ Emotional manipulation

~ Power imbalance themes

~ Subtle coercion

~ Canon-typical angst and Catholic guilt

~ Discussion of morally questionable family dynamics

~ Dramatic emotional shifts (heartbreak/longing)

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

Want to read on ao3? Available there too! https://archiveofourown.org/works/64668514

Matt surprised himself by staying longer at the shelter last night, but he tries to reason that it was only because it took a while for the rain and storm to calm down.

It definitely wasn't because he noticed she seemed to fear storms and wanted to ensure she was okay before he left.

At least he kept telling himself it wasn't.

It's definitely not because he caught himself thinking about how her voice could make even the worst storms fade into something soft, something safe. Absolutely not. He tries not to recall the gentle way her fingers and soft skin moved over his knuckles, or how her voice softened like she was afraid of waking something fragile and sacred inside him.

For one fleeting second, he allows himself the truth—that he liked how gentle she was, how careful, how kind. But he quickly buries that truth beneath layers of stubborn denial.

The next morning, he rolls out of bed and quickly dresses in one of his nicer suits—the one that fits him better than all the rest.

He tells himself that’s all it is—just to look nice. Not to impress her. Absolutely not.

He finished with his morning routine of getting ready, making sure to grab his glasses and new cane before heading out the door. The morning air still smelled faintly like last night’s rain—thick, damp, the city not quite rinsed clean, but it's New York, so it never fully is.

He made his way from his apartment to the shelter quickly, walking there quicker than he would like to admit. Once he found himself at the front door, he thought to himself, "It’s stupid to care this much. He’s just here to check in. That’s it," he paused to take a deep breath, before knocking, waiting in the most patient but impatient way he had ever. He expected to see her open the door and tried not to be disappointed when he could sense that it wasn't before the door slowly opened. He politely greets the older woman who answered the door.

"Hi, I'm Matt. I helped a girl find her way here after an incident in an alleyway last night. I just wanted to check in on her and make sure she was okay, if that's alright?"

The older woman smiled and gently nodded her head before realizing what she was doing and quickly answered verbally.

"Oh, uh, sorry, of course, right this way!"

Matt laughs a little and replies, "Thank you, you were nodding your head, weren't you?"

Matt senses the woman smiling sheepishly as she replies, "Yes, I'm sorry about that."

He shakes his head and laughs a little again as he gestures to signal that it wasn't a big deal, as he says, "It's fine, happens way more than you'd think it does."

The older woman guides him to the front desk, where she takes her seat behind it. She continues chatting with Matt. She offers politely, "Now, the only girl who came in last night was Elena. Was that who you helped?"

Matt frowns slightly as he explains in his usual polite tone, "She never told me her name. She was too afraid at the time, which I can't blame her for at all. It was later at night, and if she were the only one, then I'd assume it was her. How is she doing? She was pretty shaken up when I brought her here."

The woman nods, her smile faltering briefly before it brightens again and she replies happily, "Oh, she’s safe and warm now. Poor thing was trembling like a leaf, but the woman in charge? She’s got a real gift. Calmed her right down, like she’d done it a hundred times before.”

Matt’s jaw tightens, but he gives a small nod. He knows exactly what that voice sounds like when it’s soothing.

“Between the two of you, that girl landed exactly where she needed.”

He doesn’t reply. He can’t. Not yet.

The reminder that she truly is real just makes him freeze for a moment.

Before he can remember that he's in the middle of a conversation and reply to the woman, he hears Elena's voice. It sounds much more calm and relaxed, he almost doesn't realize it's her, she spots Matt as she comes through and rushes over to speak with him warmly.

"Hey! It's you! Thank you again, genuinely, you're a hero and truly saved me last night. If there's anything I can ever do for you, please let me know."

Matt nods politely, he doesn't like being called a hero or even being thanked for what he does sometimes; he does it because he feels like he has to. Sometimes it's a necessary reminder that God gave him a gift, not a curse, to hear and sense everything around him. He replies politely.

"It's no problem, Elena, I'm glad I was there to help and that you're feeling better."

Elena nods happily and gives Matt a warm smile before she runs off to resume what she was in the middle of before.

Matt lets out a quiet breath. He hadn’t realized how tightly his chest had been wound until she left.

The woman at the front desk watches Elena go, then turns back to Matt with a soft smile.

“She’s lucky you found her. And luckily, our director was still here last night—stayed way later than usual. Though, honestly? That is usual for her.”

Matt nods once, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his mouth.

“She’s got a good heart,” the woman adds warmly. “Didn’t get that from her father, that’s for sure.”

Matt’s head tilts slightly. “…What do you mean?”

The woman chuckles as she turns back to her desk, completely unaware of the weight she’s about to drop. She casually mentions the name—and suddenly, it all clicks for Matt.

“Let’s just say her family made their money in… less-than-wholesome ways. But he’s one of our biggest donors, and as long as the checks keep clearing, we don’t ask too many questions. I don’t think she’s ever believed any of the bad things said about him either. She’s too good, honestly.”

She doesn’t notice how Matt stills.

But he does.

Every muscle in his body goes taut.

Because he knows exactly who she’s talking about now.

And it hits harder than it should.

How could someone like her—gentle, kind—be connected to a man so ruthless?

Before he can say anything, his chest tightens again.

He hears her voice—light, sweet—carrying down the hall.

“Elena? I found the hairbrush and hair ties if you’re ready for me to braid yo—”

She rounds the corner and freezes.

Then, after just a moment, she brightens.

“Matt! Hi, I didn’t know you were here. How are you? How’s your morning been?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Her voice is still soft—familiar. Kind. Like last night never ended.

But something inside him has already shifted.

He forces a small smile. Not cold—just... distant. Measured.

“Just stopping by. Wanted to check on the girl from last night.”

He hears the slight stumble in her breath—confusion, maybe. Disappointment.

“Of course,” she says, her voice still gentle but a little quieter now, her excitement obviously dimming slowly. “That’s really thoughtful of you.”

“She seems like she’ll be alright,” he replies, nodding once.

The words are polite. Careful. But not quite warm.

And not once does he say her name.

She tries to joke again—light, playful. Like she did last night when he was quiet like this. Trying to pull him back toward her with a smile.

“Yeah, I think this’ll be a good place for her to stay for a while,” she says, then adds with a soft laugh, “Well... I’d offer to braid your hair too, but I don’t think it’s quite the right length.”

Matt lets out a dry chuckle. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Uh, yeah. Unfortunately.” He clears his throat, then shifts his weight. “Well, I just came to check in. Glad she’s okay.”

A pause. Then, flatly: “I should get to work.”

Her smile falters, and yep, there goes her excited tone. “Oh... okay.”

“Bye.”

He turns and leaves before she can say anything else.

He doesn’t need help finding the door.

His cane taps against the floor with practiced ease—just loud enough to cut through the air like punctuation. The tapping sound echoing from the speedy end of their conversation

And then he’s gone.

Once he's left the building and is a little further down the sidewalk, he finally breathes. In and out. Again.

“Why do I have the worst luck?” he mutters to himself.

Before he can spiral any further, his phone blares to life.

“FOGGY, FOGGY, FOGGY.”

Matt flinches slightly at the volume. He fishes it out of his pocket and answers.

“Hey, Fog.”

“Matt, finally,” Foggy says, out of breath. “I was about to come and track you down from wherever you stumbled off to myself—listen, I just had a call with someone who really wants to meet with you. Said it was business, but he sounded like the kind of guy who works for a guy who owns a yacht and a PR firm.”

A pause.

“Said it’s urgent.”

Matt sighs before he relents quickly, like he usually always does for Foggy, "Send me the address and I'll head there now if it's apparently so urgent."

Foggy doesn’t ask why Matt sounds off.

Matt doesn’t offer it.

He ends the call with a clipped, “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

And keeps walking toward whatever this is— Already knowing it’s not going to be good.

As soon as Foggy texts the address, Matt flags down a cab with one quick wave and slides into the backseat, rain dripping from his coat as he slams the door shut behind him.

The city outside is still soaked—pavement gleaming under streetlights, headlights fractured into streaks across puddles. The rain has still been off and on, between just a little drizzle and a full downpour from the Heavens. The windshield wipers keep time with his pulse, uneven and sharp.

He gives the address to the driver, then sits in silence, hands folded tight on his lap.

The longer the cab moves, the more space he has to spiral.

He still can’t wrap his head around it. Her.

That man’s daughter.

He’s only met the guy a handful of times—always when something shady was brewing beneath the surface of his business. Always demanding. Cold. Entitled in that way people get when they believe money and power make them untouchable.

Never said thank you. Never paid the full fee. Always left Matt with a bitter taste in his mouth.

But that’s not what’s bothering him right now. It's never about the money for him anyway.

What haunts him is the memory of her hands—gentle, warm, careful—wrapping his own the night before. Her voice, soft like a prayer he wasn’t sure he deserved to hear.

What haunts him is the impossible contradiction:

How does someone like her—gentle, good, steady—come from a man like that?

The cab lurches slightly as it hits a pothole. Matt barely moves. He’s too busy grinding his teeth behind tight lips, his jaw locked with something more than tension.

There’s a faint hum of jazz coming from the car’s radio. It sounds warped—like the oncoming storm outside is trying to drown it.

Even with the new distance he's trying to put between him and her, as the cab slows down, he finds himself wondering if she's okay when he hears a distant rumble of thunder.

The cab finally pulls up outside the building.

Matt exhales once, slow and hard, before reaching for the door handle.

He doesn’t know what’s waiting inside.

But he already knows it’s going to change everything.

After Matt made his way inside, he was immediately guided to the elevator with an assistant who pressed the button for the highest floor. "What is he getting himself into now?" He wondered, someone with such high status shouldn't need anything from him, or so he thought.

A few of the pieces fall into place when the elevator opens, and he's greeted by none other than her father.

"Matthew, it's good to see you, please come and sit. We have some important matters to discuss."

Matt moves forward, quickly finding one of the open chairs in front of his desk as he replies politely, "Uh-huh, good to see you too, sir. What can I do for you? I was surprised you requested to meet with me here instead of coming to the firm."

Her father gives a nod, rising slowly from his chair behind the sleek desk. “I appreciate you coming, Matthew.”

Matt remains standing until gestured to sit. He finds the edge of the chair easily and folds his hands over his knee. His cane rests against the side of the armrest, much like a silent shield.

“I’ll get to the point,” the man begins, voice smooth. “Your firm’s had its ups and downs. Scrappy. Underdog charm. Good heart. Always try your best for your little neighborhood. You’ve done...a lot for people who can’t always pay you back.”

Matt says nothing. He’s used to men like this admiring that kind of thing...right before they figure out how to exploit it.

“You’ve also done good work for me. Helping clean up some of my... less flattering messes. You and your partner are very committed. Passionate. But passion doesn’t pay rent, does it?”

“We don’t do this for the press or even the money.”

“Ah, that's what I thought. Well, my daughter. The sweet girl she is...she has a similar bleeding heart. Runs that little shelter like it’s her mission from God, even when she claims to be non-religious. She's told me multiple times that she feels like she was meant to run that place.”

Something inside Matt twitches.

“She’s a good girl,” her father continues, circling slowly behind his desk. “Loyal. Soft. Too soft, sometimes. Which is why she needs someone beside her who understands how to handle the world when it’s not so forgiving. And you know this, yes? You met her last night when you dropped off the girl you helped.”

Matt tilts his head slightly. “I...yes, I did...but what exactly are you asking?”

There’s a pause. The kind of silence that feels planned.

“I want to propose an arrangement. You marry her. We make it public. The press sees a man of the people standing beside a woman who uplifts the vulnerable. You get a boost in attention, exactly what your firm needs. And you can also consider it part of what I owe you in legal fees, I get a...refinement of image. Everybody wins.”

Matt doesn’t move. But the tension ratchets up like a trigger being pulled.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m many things, Mr. Murdock. Funny isn’t one of them.”

Matt's fingers curl just slightly as her father continues.

“You marry her, and suddenly the headlines aren’t about tax evasion or shell companies. They’re about a reformed empire. A philanthropic legacy. And your firm? Becomes the most sought-after name in New York.”

“And what does she get?” he asks carefully.

Her father smiles faintly. “Security. Protection. Someone who won’t use her. Someone who’ll keep the place she loves most running, without interruption.”

Matt’s pulse spikes—but his face still doesn’t move.

He hears it. The implication behind those words.

“She wouldn’t be the type to ask for help; she likely won't ever ask you for much,” her father adds, pouring himself a glass of something neat, but doesn't bother to offer Matt anything, despite the bombshell he's dropping on him. “She believes the best in people. But you and I both know the world doesn’t run on hope. It runs on leverage. Donations. Influence.”

He lets that last word settle.

Matt knows exactly what this is.

Her father is offering the illusion of love in exchange for control. And if Matt doesn’t say yes?

He doesn’t have to threaten the shelter out loud.

Matt can feel the threat in the silence.

His jaw tightens. “Does she know? About any of this?”

“Not yet, she doesn't even know I've been a client of yours in the past, but I’d like to speak with her next,” he replies. “Separately. I want her to feel like she has a choice.”

Matt’s voice is low, cold as he stands slowly. “You mean like I do?... She won't want this.”

The older man laughs once, sharp and low. “You’ll make the right decision, Matthew. You’re not the type to let something good burn down. And she will. If she knows what’s at stake”

Matt’s voice is quiet, firm. “She’s not a bargaining chip.”

Her father lifts his glass in a mock toast. “No," her father agrees. “She’s leverage. But you already know that, don’t you? You’ve seen her work. Her compassion. She believes in something bigger than herself...Much like you, Matthew..." He pauses and points a finger at Matt before he continues, "But she’s also the future, and the kind of woman fully worth protecting.”

Matt steps closer, voice low, he doesn't flinch, but he feels something within him start to burn.

“If she agrees to this, it won’t be because of you. It’ll be despite you.”

Her father only smiles.

“That’s the plan.”

Matt leaves without another word.

The door clicks softly behind him, but the pressure of the conversation sticks to his skin like the humidity outside.

And the only thing louder than the thunder rolling overhead…is the thought repeating in his head: He’s going to say yes. Because she’d never survive what would happen if he didn’t.

Matt steps outside, barely noticing the rain that’s started up again—fine and cold, falling like it knows it’s not welcome, even as it sticks his hair to his forehead much like last night.

His hands are still curled into fists.

Was there ever a time they weren't?

"When she was bandaging them up for you last night..." The thought slips in before he can stop it.

He walks without purpose at first—just to move, just to breathe. But the sound of the rain against concrete, the echo of her father’s voice, the weight of what’s just been asked of him—it all pushes harder and harder into his chest.

The shelter. Her voice. Her hand resting on his just a night ago.

And now?

Now she’s a pawn on someone else’s chessboard. And he’s being asked to be the move that traps her there.

The worst part?

He knows he’ll do it. He has to do it. Because if he doesn’t… she loses everything.

And somewhere, beneath the press of it all—beneath the cold water on his skin and the ache in his jaw from how tightly it’s clenched—he realizes something that makes him feel even worse:

He’s already started falling.

Not for the version of her that her father tried to sell. Not even for the idea of her.

But just for her.

The one who braided scared girls’ hair and offered cookies and soft smiles to rain-soaked men who didn’t deserve it.

The one who held his hands so gently, like she was afraid to break him last night as she helped him.

And Matt Murdock?

He’s going to marry her to save her.

Even if it ruins them both.

All the while, outside, the rain still falls. Inside, something much colder has already settled. And in his chest, something soft is breaking.

He can't help but wonder, the thought already confirming his choice for him as if he didn't already know,

“Will it rain on our wedding day?”

♡⋆⁺₊⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡⋆⁺₊⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡⋆⁺₊⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡⋆⁺₊⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆♡⋆⁺₊⋆☾⋆⁺₊

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spider-stark · 28 days ago

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KAFKA

pairing | matt murdock x reader

summary | matt made the mistake of telling you how loud electricity is—now Franz Kafka's invaded your thoughts

warnings | mention of bugs, domestic matt, reader and foggy are totally besties, no beta so if there's an error just kick me in the face

word count | 700+

Sometime after you moved in together, Matt told you how electricity buzzed.

“Like a bug in your ear,” he said.

You couldn’t imagine anything worse than that. Living in a world where you could never escape something so constant, so pestilent.

Which is exactly why you spiraled.

“Honey, relax.” Matt laughed as you bombarded him with rapid-fire questions about how loud everything was: the TV, the Keurig, your phone charger by the bed. “I’ve dealt with it most of my life,” he assured you. “I can tune it out most days.”

Great! Fine. Dandy, even!

Except it actually wasn’t great, fine, or dandy. Because while “most days” was objectively better than “no days,” it was still drastically worse than “all days.”

You didn’t want Matt to just ignore the buzz.

You wanted it to stop.

But, since he lovingly asked you to, you dropped it. Let him shift the topic to his day at work—how Karen kept burning the coffee and Foggy had gone full mother hen, nagging him about setting up a doctor’s appointment for that kink in his lower back (which turned into you nagging him, too).

Knowledge of the buzz lingered, though. Festered in the back of your mind like a scab you couldn’t quite reach, desperate to pick.

It became an obsession. Then a complex.

Eventually, you couldn’t even turn on a light without going full Kafka, envisioning some giant bug that you set loose skittering around your boyfriend’s head.

So, you did what any normal person would.

You got rid of your lights.

In a single afternoon, you traded all your lamps for beeswax candles, unscrewed the bulbs from every overhead light, and replaced your nightlight with a heaping dose of Grow The Hell Up.

By the time Matt got off work, you were in the kitchen finishing up dinner. A certain giddiness flooded your veins as you heard his key turn in the lock. Again, you wanted to bombard him with questions. Did he notice a difference? Had the world finally gone quiet?

But you held your eager tongue.

Matt took off his shoes, loosening his tie as he came up behind you at the stove. You were stirring a pot, biting your lip to keep from grinning as strong arms slipped around your waist. Between chaste cheek kisses, he mumbled his usual greetings. Did you have a nice day?—a devilish curve of his lips—Did you miss me?

It wasn’t until several moments later, when you asked him to pull some plates down from the cabinet, that Matt stopped and tilted his head.

Bemused, he asked, “Are you cooking in the dark?”

You loudly objected. Not just because you really weren’t, but because Matt’s mouth didn’t always have an off-switch around his best friend, and cooking in the dark was the sort of breach in Kitchen Safety 101 that would send Foggy—with whom you’d recently Grouponed a beginner’s culinary class—into cardiac arrest.

“I have candles,” you assured him. “And the billboard!”

Oh, the billboard… The one hitch in your pursuit of silence.

Posted right outside your apartment, the big digital billboard shined through the windows day and night, painting your living room like a technicolor dreamland. You used to not mind it—maybe even liked it, once. But ever since the buzz-talk, all you could think was how loud something like that must be to Matt’s hyper-sensitive ears.

Disregarding plates and dinner, Matt held a hand out in your direction. You took it, letting him pull you in for a hug.

You melted into him. He smelled like soap and city streets, like salvation and eternal spring.

Matt kissed your forehead. Once, twice—a third time to prove you were real, here, his. “I love that you care so much—” another kiss, on the tip of your nose this time “—I love you,” he said. “But I don’t expect you to live your whole life in the dark.”

He wasn’t talking about lamps or nightlights, you knew, but real darkness. A soul tangled in sin. A man with the devil inside him.

But when you looked at Matt, you saw none of that.

All you saw was light.

All you heard was a sweet, calming buzz.

“I won’t,” you promised him, tightening your arms around his waist. “Not as long as I have you.”

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

a/n | would you believe me if I said this was originally over 3k and a frank fic? (istg, matt is always losing his girl to frank in my writing.) but it pissed me off, so I decided to keep it short and let matt be happy for once in his life.

anyways, thanks for reading! I'm gonna go write about mighty ducks now

#matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #daredevil imagine #daredevil imagines #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fic #daredevil x you #daredevil fic

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mcrdvcks · 29 days ago

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afterglow

summary: Matt is used to you—your routine in the morning, your humming while cooking. But one day, you stop, sending him into a spiral. word count: 2.8k+ pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader notes: i don't know where this came from, i just knew i needed soft, protective matt who's in love and married. also the tags give a little away, lol warnings/tags: slight angst, a little miscommunication (or rather none? it's a surprise), fluff, mention of pregnancy, protective!matt

Matt woke slowly, awareness settling over him in layers—the gentle hum of the city waking up outside, the familiar warmth of the sheets beside him, the quiet shuffle of your footsteps. He smiled softly, turning slightly in anticipation of the ritual he'd grown to love.

Every morning, without fail, you'd lean over, your breath warm against his cheek, murmuring a quiet goodbye before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

Except today, you didn't.

He waited a heartbeat longer, then another, a crease forming between his brows. The sound of your footsteps moved farther away, toward the front door, the jangle of keys loud and grating in the unexpected silence.

“Y/N?” he called out softly, confused. “Everything okay?”

A brief pause, then your voice floated back, strangely distant, slightly distracted. “Yeah, Matt. Everything’s fine. I—I just have to go. I'll see you later, alright?”

He listened intently, straining to read between the lines, but your heartbeat was steady, calm. Nothing to suggest anger or distress, just... preoccupation.

Before he could respond, the door closed quietly behind you, the latch clicking with a heavy finality that settled uncomfortably in his chest.

Matt stayed sitting on the edge of the bed, suddenly aware of how empty the apartment felt without your voice to fill it. It was strange—disturbing, even—how quickly he’d grown accustomed to you, to the soft murmurs of your laughter, your whispered reassurances, your casual chatter about your day. He’d never intended to become this dependent, this attached again.

The minutes ticked by, and he reluctantly forced himself to stand, shaking off the uneasy feeling in his gut. You're fine, he reminded himself. It's nothing.

But the nagging thought lingered, refusing to leave him alone. You never left without a goodbye kiss. Never.

He tried to go about his morning—coffee brewing, shower warming—but everything felt off. The rooms echoed in your absence, the silence more pronounced than usual, more uncomfortable.

By the time Foggy walked into the office later that morning, Matt was already restless, fingers tapping absently against his desk.

“You alright, buddy?” Foggy asked cautiously, stopping in the doorway. “You're doing the pacing thing.”

Matt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose beneath his red lenses. “It's nothing. Probably nothing.”

“Yeah, right,” Foggy said slowly, unconvinced. “Want to talk about it?”

Matt hesitated, lips pressing into a thin line before he finally admitted quietly, “It's just... Y/N left in a hurry this morning. Didn't say goodbye like usual.”

Foggy snorted softly, leaning against the doorframe. “You mean she didn’t give you your customary farewell kiss? Tragedy strikes Nelson, Murdock, and Page. Should I call CNN?”

“Foggy,” Matt warned lightly, irritation tinging his voice. “I know it sounds trivial—”

“Hey, it’s not trivial,” Foggy cut him off gently, stepping closer, his tone softening. “Not to you. And if it bothers you that much, maybe you should just ask?”

Matt sighed deeply, leaning back against the desk. He didn’t want to admit just how much it bothered him—how your silence felt more painful than any physical blow. He’d promised himself he'd never become this vulnerable again, never let someone’s absence affect him so intensely.

But here he was, unraveling at the mere lack of your whispered goodbye.

Foggy cut through his thoughts. “Also, Karen’s not coming in today. Said somethin’ personal came up.”

Matt straightened slightly, his brow creasing again. "Personal? Did she say anything else?"

Foggy shook his head, moving toward his own desk. "Nope. Just that it was important. Why? Think it's related to Y/N?"

Matt hesitated, shifting uneasily. "I don't know. Just feels weird. Karen usually gives more details."

"True," Foggy said thoughtfully. "Maybe it's just a coincidence. Or maybe they went out shopping or something. Who knows? You know girls—they have secrets we mere mortals aren't allowed to understand."

Matt sighed softly, rubbing at his temple. "Maybe."

Foggy watched him closely for a moment before offering gently, "Listen, if it's bugging you this much, just call her."

Matt shook his head firmly, mouth tightening. "No. It's probably nothing. I'm overthinking this."

"Yeah, because you never overthink things," Foggy teased gently. "Look, just promise me you'll ask her about it tonight, alright?"

Matt hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Yeah. I'll talk to her."

"Good," Foggy said decisively, dropping into his chair. "Now, can we please do some actual work around here?"

Matt smiled faintly, but his mind stayed firmly fixed on you—wondering where you'd gone, what you hadn't told him, and why that sudden distance between you felt like a rapidly widening canyon.

---

In the sterile brightness of the doctor's office, you sat quietly beside Karen, fingers nervously drumming against your knee.

"You alright?" Karen asked softly, nudging you gently. "You've barely said a word since we got here."

You gave her a small, nervous smile. "Sorry, just—thinking."

Karen tilted her head slightly, studying your expression carefully. "Is there a reason you haven't told Matt you're here?"

You hesitated, eyes downcast. "It's... complicated."

Karen sighed patiently. "Y/N, it's Matt. He adores you. Whatever's going on, he'll understand."

"I know," you admitted softly, glancing away. "I just don't want to get his hopes up, you know? Especially if it's nothing."

Karen squeezed your hand reassuringly. "Well, whatever happens, I'm here."

You relaxed slightly, grateful for her presence. "Thanks, Karen."

The door opened gently, and Dr. Reed stepped inside, clipboard in hand. Her smile was warm, calming. "Y/N, sorry for the wait."

You sat up straighter, heart suddenly pounding. "No worries. So...?"

Dr. Reed's smile grew brighter as she nodded. "Congratulations. You're pregnant."

Your breath caught sharply, a sudden rush of relief and nerves flooding through you. "Oh, wow. Really?"

"Really," Dr. Reed confirmed warmly. "You're about five weeks along. Everything looks good so far. Any questions?"

You blinked slowly, mind still spinning. "No—um, not yet."

"Take your time," the doctor said gently. "Make sure to schedule your next appointment at reception before you leave."

"Thank you," you whispered, still in a daze.

Karen waited until the doctor left the room, then turned to you with a wide smile. "Oh my god, Y/N! Congratulations!"

You laughed softly, the sound shaky, but happy. "Thank you."

"So," Karen asked cautiously, watching your face. "Are you gonna tell Matt tonight?"

You hesitated, biting your lip. "I—I want to surprise him. I need some time to figure it out."

Karen gave you a knowing look. "Alright. But don't wait too long. Matt picks up on things faster than most people."

You nodded quietly, a faint smile touching your lips. "I know."

---

You stepped into the apartment quietly that evening, heartbeat steady but slightly quicker than normal. Matt was already home, sitting on the couch, head turned toward you at your entrance. "Hey," he greeted quietly, carefully neutral.

You crossed the room, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Hi."

He tensed slightly, barely perceptible. "You left early this morning."

You winced inwardly, keeping your voice casual. "Yeah, I had an appointment."

"Oh," Matt said softly. He paused, clearly waiting for more. When you didn’t continue, he cleared his throat. "Everything okay?"

You settled beside him, hesitating only slightly before nodding. "Yeah. Everything’s good."

Matt's jaw tightened briefly. "You sure? You've been... quiet today."

You reached over, squeezing his hand gently. "Just a busy day, Matt. I promise."

He sighed softly, nodding slowly. "Alright."

You could sense the faint distance in his voice, and guilt twisted uncomfortably in your chest. You had no idea your quietness was hitting him this hard, but you needed time to plan how you'd break the news. A pregnancy was big—life-changing—and you wanted to do it right.

"So," you said softly, changing the topic gently. "How was your day?"

He tilted his head slightly, voice carefully neutral again. "Fine."

You squeezed his hand again, leaning gently against him. "Just fine?"

Matt sighed, pressing a kiss to your temple, clearly trying to relax. "Better now."

You smiled softly, reassured. Soon you'd tell him everything. For now, though, you allowed yourself to enjoy the comfort of Matt's presence, blissfully unaware of how deeply he'd felt your silence that morning.

For now, the secret could wait. Just a little longer.

---

The next morning, Matt woke up earlier than usual, awareness pulling him awake slowly. He lay still for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of your shampoo lingering faintly on the pillow. Turning toward your side of the bed, he realized you weren’t there, again.

He sat up, rubbing at his face, trying to shake the uneasy feeling settling deep in his chest.

He dressed quickly, fingers brushing along the familiar surfaces of the apartment. Something about the air felt different, emptier somehow.

He moved toward the kitchen, listening for the comforting sounds of your usual morning routine—the gentle humming, the low hiss of the coffee maker—but instead was met with silence.

“Y/N?” Matt called out softly, brows knitting together in confusion.

“Right here,” your voice answered, coming from across the room. You sounded distracted, a little hurried.

Matt stepped closer to you, hand finding your shoulder gently. “No coffee today?”

You paused, body stilling slightly under his touch. “Oh—right, I’m sorry. I got caught up in something. Let me put it on real quick—”

“No, it’s okay,” Matt interrupted quietly, pulling back slightly, unable to keep the slight edge from his voice. “I can do it myself.”

“Matt,” you said softly, picking up on his unease, “I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“It’s fine,” he said quietly, attempting to soften his tone. “Just surprised me, that’s all.”

You hesitated, clearly torn between wanting to explain and needing to maintain your surprise. After a beat, you squeezed his hand lightly. “I have to head out a bit earlier today. I’ll see you tonight, alright?”

He nodded slowly, listening to the rustle of you gathering your things. “Yeah, okay.”

A moment of silence passed between you before you stepped closer, your fingers brushing against his cheek lightly. You leaned up, pressing a soft, careful kiss to his lips. It was brief, different somehow, as though you were holding yourself back.

“Have a good day,” you murmured gently.

Matt swallowed quietly. “You too.”

When the apartment door clicked shut behind you, he remained standing there, heart heavy with uncertainty.

---

Matt was restless by the time he got to the office, his steps heavier than usual. As soon as he entered, Foggy spoke up from his desk, sounding a bit concerned.

“Morning, sunshine. You okay?”

Matt only sighed in response, shrugging out of his coat. “Just tired.”

Foggy was silent for a beat before cautiously adding, “And Y/N?”

“Left early again,” Matt answered quietly, his voice carrying a weight that Foggy recognized immediately.

Before Foggy could respond, the office door opened, and Karen stepped inside. “Morning, guys,” she greeted warmly.

Foggy smiled at her. “Glad to see you’re back. Everything okay yesterday?”

Karen paused briefly, her eyes flickering toward Matt. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just helping out a friend.”

Matt’s head lifted slightly, his attention fully focused on Karen now. “A friend?”

Karen cleared her throat gently, moving to her desk. “Just something she needed moral support for. Nothing big.”

Matt went very still, realization dawning slowly. “Y/N?”

Karen hesitated, clearly unsure how much she could say. “Matt, it’s not—”

“Is something wrong with her?” Matt interrupted quickly, a sharper edge creeping into his voice. “Did she ask you to keep it from me?”

Karen sighed softly, choosing her words carefully. “She’s fine. Completely fine, I promise.”

Foggy, picking up on the tense atmosphere, spoke gently. “Hey, buddy, maybe just ask Y/N about it directly? She’ll tell you, I’m sure.”

Matt shook his head, frustration slipping into his tone. “That’s the thing—she hasn’t. She’s been acting distant, distracted. Now she’s going to you instead of me. If something’s going on—”

“Matt,” Karen cut in softly, firmly, “it’s nothing bad. Trust her, okay? She loves you.”

Matt was quiet for a long moment before nodding slowly, exhaling deeply. “Right. Yeah, okay.”

Karen exchanged a glance with Foggy, clearly wishing she could say more.

But Matt sat heavily in his chair, frustration gnawing at the edges of his thoughts, because he knew Karen was right. He did trust you. Completely. But the small, unsettling changes, your silence, your distance—it all felt painfully familiar, like the calm before the inevitable storm.

---

It was evening when Matt finally made his way back home, standing quietly outside the apartment door for a moment. He paused, breathing in deeply, his senses flooded with familiarity—the scent of garlic and spices wafting from inside, the soft melody of your voice humming along gently with a quiet song playing from your phone.

He relaxed slightly, your calm voice comforting him more than he cared to admit. Maybe he'd been overreacting after all. He opened the door slowly, stepping inside.

The moment the latch clicked shut behind him, the soft humming stopped abruptly.

"Matt," you greeted quietly, clearly startled. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Hey," he said carefully, sensing the immediate shift in your demeanor. He set his cane aside, turning toward you hesitantly. "Smells good. You've been busy?"

"Yeah, I thought I'd make dinner tonight," you replied softly, a forced casualness in your voice. You moved away, turning down the music. "It'll be ready soon."

Matt felt his shoulders tighten at the sudden distance in your voice, and he stepped closer, gently catching your wrist as you brushed past him. "Y/N, wait."

You stopped, body stiffening. "Matt?"

He hesitated, his voice suddenly thick with a quiet insecurity he rarely allowed himself to show. "Did I—did I do something?"

You froze, heartbeat quickening. "What? No, Matt, of course not."

He shook his head slowly, his voice quiet, unsure. "You've been pulling away, and if I've upset you, I—"

You felt the guilt pierce deeply at his words, your vision blurring with tears despite your best efforts. Your voice shook slightly as you interrupted, "Matt, that's not it at all."

He paused immediately, sensing the faint tremor in your breath, the subtle hitch in your heartbeat. Realization hit sharply when he felt the slight warmth of tears slip silently down your cheek.

His hands rose instinctively, gently cupping your face, thumb carefully brushing away the tears. "Sweetheart, you're crying. What's wrong?"

You shook your head softly, voice trembling. "I—I wanted to surprise you. But I messed it all up, and now you're mad at me, and—"

"I'm not mad," Matt said quickly, gently pulling you into him. "I'm just confused. Please, Y/N, tell me what's going on."

You took a shaky breath, leaning into his touch, voice muffled against his shirt. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry."

"It's okay," he murmured gently, holding you close. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. Just talk to me."

You nodded softly, calming yourself before pulling away slightly. You took a steadying breath, gently pulling his hand with you. "Come here. I have something for you."

Matt followed quietly, confusion and curiosity flickering across his face. You led him to the kitchen counter, carefully placing the small box you'd prepared earlier into his hands.

He paused, fingers slowly running over the smooth cardboard. His brow knitted together in confusion. "What is it?"

You smiled softly, heart fluttering nervously. "Open it."

Carefully, Matt opened the lid, gently feeling around inside. His fingers brushed the soft fabric inside, tiny buttons and sleeves of the little baby onesie beneath his fingertips. Realization crashed into him abruptly, his breath hitching sharply in his chest.

"Y/N," he whispered hoarsely, voice choked with emotion. "Are you—?"

You bit your lip nervously, tears pricking your eyes again, this time from relief and happiness. "Yeah. I'm pregnant, Matt. We're having a baby."

He stood utterly still for a long moment, absorbing your words, before a radiant, disbelieving smile slowly spread across his face. "A baby? Really?"

You nodded, laughing softly through your tears. "Really."

Matt let out a breathless laugh of disbelief and joy, quickly wrapping you into a tight embrace, pressing soft, urgent kisses against your temple and cheeks.

"You had me worried," he whispered shakily, voice filled with relief. "I thought—"

"I'm so sorry," you said softly, holding him tightly. "I didn't mean to make you worry."

Matt shook his head gently, smiling warmly against your hair. "It's okay, sweetheart. This—this is the best surprise you could've given me."

He cupped your cheek gently, thumb brushing away lingering tears as he pressed his forehead softly against yours, voice filled with warmth and quiet awe. "We're having a baby."

You smiled gently, your heart finally calming as the misunderstanding melted away. "We are."

And for the first time in days, everything felt perfectly right again.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil x y/n #matt murdock #matthew murdock #daredevil #daredevil born again #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #ddba #abby's works ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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saturn-sends-hugs · 2 months ago

Text

STOPPPP foggy being matt’s inner critic would’ve been INSANE. ough that might have to be a fic idea. someone needs to write that and i fear i may want to (<- guy with four finals to study for)

actually cruel of them to have frank say “he still talks to you, doesn’t he?” and then have not a SINGLE SCENE of it happening. ur telling me i have to imagine all that myself?? matt hearing how fisk won the election and foggy trying to help him stay positive, matt getting frustrated with that client and foggy backing him up like “yeah that guy was a douche”, matt beating up bullseye and foggy yelling at him the entire time.

matt getting shot and hearing foggy’s voice above him like “it’s gonna be ok” and part of him just hoping he’ll finally get to see him again.

i’m just really normal abt matt hallucinating foggy’s voice 🫠

#incredible addition tysm #we all love a spiralling matt murdock #essential to the daredevil vibes tbh

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monicfever · 2 months ago

Note

How you think the punisher and DD characters would be with their s/o asking to move in with them

asking to move in 𝜗𝜚 daredevil & punisher hc’s

r e q u e s t e d ♡

characters used ᝰ .ᐟ matt murdock / frank castle / foggy nelson / karen page / elektra / ben poindexter / billy russo / dinah madani / james wesley

⏜︵ MATT MURDOCK. 𐂯

MATT pauses for a moment, trying to process it fully, because his brain short-circuits a little at the idea of someone wanting to share that much of their life with him.

“you really want to?” like he’s trying not to sound too hopeful but failing. you can hear the smile in his voice before you see it on his face. he probably acts cool about it but is internally spiraling in nervousness.

immediately starts thinking about how to make the apartment more comfortable for you, even if it means giving up some of his own habits or routines. asks if you want a drawer… and then the next day clears out half his closet without saying anything. lets your things blend into his space like they’ve always belonged.

listens to your footsteps echo in the apartment and thinks it already feels more like home.

has a brief moment of worry about you finding out how bad his insomnia really is, or how often he gets hurt, but ultimately decides you're worth the risk. starts sleeping a little better just knowing you're there.

makes you coffee in the morning even when he’s half-dead from a night out as daredevil.

listens to the sound of your key turning in the lock like it’s his favuorite song. gets irrationally proud when you call it “home” for the first time

the first time you fall asleep on his chest on the couch, he doesn’t move for hours, even if he’s stiff and sore, because it’s the best thing he’s ever felt. lets you steal all the blankets because he runs warm anyway.

hears your heartbeat when you're unpacking and notices the slight tremor of nerves — whispers, “me too”.

finds one of your socks in his drawer weeks later and smiles like an idiot all over again.

if you're out late, he pretends he's not listening for you on the street but he's absolutely tracking your every step once you’re a block away.

lets you put up art on the walls, even if he can’t see it, just because he knows it makes you happy. touches the wall near where you hung a photo and quietly asks, “what’s this one of?” with a smile that says he’s already memorizing where everything is, even if he can’t see it.

gets really self-conscious about how sparse and impersonal his place is — starts asking things like, “do you want to paint? get some real curtains?”

the first time you leave clothes on the floor, he trips over them and mutters a sarcastic, “great, love this part.” but you can hear the affection behind it.

the first time he comes back injured after you’ve moved in, he panics — not because he’s hurt, but because he doesn’t want you to see him like that. lets you patch him up anyway, quiet and vulnerable, murmuring “i’m sorry” over and over.

learns how to move around the apartment a little differently now, more careful, more attuned to your presence — even asleep, he always knows where you are.

the first time you kiss him goodbye on your way out in the morning, he stands there for a full minute afterward, grounding himself.

⏜︵ FRANK CASTLE. 𐂯

FRANK goes completely still. like statue-still. doesn’t say anything right away because he’s not sure he heard you right. finally mutters something like, “you sure?” but his voice is rough and low, like he’s fighting back something big.

part of him wants to say no — not because he doesn’t want it, but because he’s scared he’ll ruin it. the other part of him, the part that remembers what peace used to feel like, is already picturing what your toothbrush would look like next to his.

doesn’t know how to ask what kind of stuff you’d need space for, so he just clears out an entire drawer and half the closet and pretends it was always like that. fixes the creaky step by the door before you even move in.

sharpens every knife in the kitchen. installs better locks. reinforces the windows. doesn’t tell you. just does it. the first time you fall asleep in his bed after moving in, he stays awake all night listening to your breathing like it’s the only thing tethering him to the world.

lets you put your books and blankets and candles around, even if it feels like too much softness at first — it grows on him. catches himself smiling when he sees your coffee mug in the sink. still sleeps with one eye open but it’s less about paranoia now and more about making sure you’re okay.

the first time he has a nightmare after you move in, he almost leaves in the middle of the night, but you hold onto him and he stays.

says “this place is yours too” and means it, even if it terrifies him doesn’t call it home out loud, but he feels it in his chest every time he walks through the door and you’re there.

starts cooking more, not just heating up canned stuff — actual meals, because you’re there and you deserve better. doesn’t say much when you rearrange the furniture a little, sits in the new spot on the couch without complaint like it was always meant to be that way.

silently memorizes the sound of your footsteps, your breathing, the way you hum when you’re making tea — tiny details he tucks away.

buys an extra blanket for the bed but claims it was “just lying around” — it’s new, and soft, and clearly for you. one day you catch him fixing the busted sink cabinet, muttering to himself like “can’t have you hurtin’ your damn knee on this thing” and it’s the most tender thing in the world.

gets weirdly possessive over your safety now that you're sharing a space — triple-checks locks, glances out the window every time he hears something.

he doesn’t say “i love you” easily — if at all — but you hear it in the way he says “you good?” every night before bed.

thinks about his old life sometimes, but now when he does, there’s less pain in the remembering and more hope in the now.

⏜︵ FOGGY NELSON. 𐂯

FOGGY says “really??” with wide eyes and a grin before you even finish the sentence. immediately starts talking about how you can redecorate — “i was gonna get new pillows anyway. those old ones are criminal, and not in a cool-lawyer way.”

gets way too excited about sharing a grocery list, like “now we can buy milk together like adults!”

plays it cool but absolutely calls matt the second you leave the room like “guess who’s shacking up with someone way out of his league?”

genuinely proud when you bring over a toothbrush, like it’s a milestone. insists on cooking dinner the first night you officially move in. burns something. orders takeout. swears it was the plan all along

excited to show you every little part of the apartment like “and this — is the cabinet where i keep old soy sauce packets, but we can throw them out now.”

buys a “his & theirs” or “ours” type of mug even though you didn't ask for one. starts referring to things as “ours” before you do — our couch, our kitchen, our mess, our bed.

gives you a key and then immediately worries he made it too big a deal, so he plays it off like “no pressure, just... y'know. if you wanna come and go like a cool roommate who kisses me sometimes”

absolutely cries the first time you call it “home,” but tries to hide it by pretending there’s something in his eye. kisses your forehead while mumbling “can’t believe you’re stuck with me now” and means it.

starts labeling leftovers in the fridge with cute notes like ‘for you (but i’ll fight you for it).’

if you move even one thing slightly, he notices immediately but rolls with it — “did you move the couch a little? i love it. feng shui, baby.”

offers to build ikea furniture with you and somehow turns it into a romantic bonding experience instead of a war. brings home takeout with your favourite sides just because it’s thursday. starts referring to weekends as ‘us days.’

you catch him watching you with this stupidly soft look when you’re folding laundry or doing something completely ordinary. 100% keeps a mental inventory of your snacks and restocks them without being asked.

your first mini-argument about something dumb (like which way the toilet paper goes) ends with him making a dramatic legal defense for his side — complete with opening statements.

finds excuses to say “our place” as often as possible — “our place could use a plant, don’t you think? we’re plant people now.”

if you leave town even for a day, he immediately texts “this apartment is haunted by your absence” and sends sad selfies with your pillow.

you once casually mention you like soft lighting and the next day there are like three new lamps and he’s pretending it was totally normal behavior.

⏜︵ KAREN PAGE. 𐂯

KAREN goes quiet for a second, her heart stutters at the idea of being chosen like this. looks at you with this wide, soft gaze and says “are you sure?” but you can already see the yes blooming behind her eyes.

she smiles right away but her eyes flicker, like she’s flipping through every time she’s let someone in and gotten hurt. she says yes gently, like she’s afraid if she says it too loud it’ll scare the moment away.

later that night, when she’s alone, she stares at the corner of her apartment and starts mentally rearranging furniture just to make room for you.

the first night you bring a few things over, she’s buzzing with nervous energy — lighting candles, fluffing pillows, asking “do you want this side of the bed or that one?” three times.

she overthinks everything — are you comfortable? is it too soon? does it smell weird in here? what if you hate how she folds towels?

she insists on doing a “tour” even though it’s a small apartment — shows you the squeaky kitchen drawer, the window that fogs up in the morning, her favourite mug. the first time you brush teeth side by side, she watches your reflection in the mirror and feels this quiet little thrill in her chest.

she’s careful about letting you into her routines, but once you’re in, you’re in — she brings you coffee with exactly the right amount of sugar and leaves notes on the mirror in the morning.

gets a little nervous about being “too much”—too messy, too intense, too late-night-working— but when you reassure her, she melts.

lights candles at night to make it cozy, and always puts on soft music while you’re both unwinding. loves grocery shopping with you. makes it a whole date. argues playfully over which pasta is best.

if you have a rough day, she’ll cook something simple and grounding, even if she’s tired, and sit cross-legged on the floor with you to eat.

tells foggy immediately and with so much joy in her voice that he tears up a little.

⏜︵ ELEKTRA. 𐂯

ELEKTRA laughs at first — not unkindly, but like you’ve caught her off guard, like you just suggested something absurd. “you want to live with me?” she says, smiling with a raised brow, but there's a flicker of something behind it — fear, maybe. or wonder.

“you’re either very brave… or very stupid.” but her voice is gentler than her words. doesn’t say yes right away. needs time to sit with it. she’s not used to people wanting to stay, let alone being allowed to stay.

the first time she sees you carrying a bag into her place, her heart jumps like a startled bird — but she keeps her face calm, cool, unreadable acts like it’s not a big deal. like your toothbrush beside hers is just “convenient.” like your jacket on her chair doesn’t make her chest ache in a good way.

rearranges nothing. if you want space, you have to carve it out yourself — but once you do, she never touches it. it’s yours.

the first time you bring her coffee in the morning, she stares at it like it’s a weapon she doesn’t know how to disarm.

tries to hide her affection in sarcasm — “what, planning to redecorate now?” — but her fingers brush against yours a little too long when you hand her something.

she lets you see her vulnerabilities in small fleeting moments. when she comes back after a mission, her expression softens when she sees you sitting on the couch waiting for her, and she doesn’t hide the relief that hits her. when you catch her staring at you across the room, she looks away quickly, but the warmth in her eyes is undeniable — like she’s finally allowed herself to belong somewhere.

if you ever say “i love you,” she’ll freeze for a moment, then give you that sharp, half-smile that means she’s feeling things she can’t put into words. she never says it back in those moments — not because she doesn’t feel it, but because she’s not sure how to show it without breaking.

the quiet is important to her. too much noise and she’ll retreat — go for a walk, meditate, or just sit in silence until she can breathe again. intimacy is still new to her. she doesn’t always know how to be tender when things are calm. she’s used to chaos, violence.

in the evenings, after a long day, she’s still a little restless. she’ll either pace around or dive into her training — anything to keep the adrenaline in check — but she never minds when you join her, even if it’s just sitting in the same room, offering quiet support.

she’s always late to bed, lingering in the quiet of the night with thoughts that won’t settle, but you’ve learned to meet her halfway. you stay up just a little longer, keeping her company, offering the presence she craves but never asks for.

she doesn’t ask you to stay. she dares you to. and when you do, she looks at you like you’re the first person in the world who’s ever passed her test.

⏜︵ BEN POINDEXTER. 𐂯

DEX, at first, would freeze. completely caught off guard. it’s not something he’s ever really considered. he’s used to being alone, isolated, and the idea of someone sharing his space would set off alarms in his head. part of him is thrilled by the idea, but another part feels like he's being asked to open a door he’s been desperately trying to keep closed.

he’d try to play it cool, maybe give a half-hearted smile, and act like it’s not a big deal, but you’d see the tension in his posture, the slight shift in his eyes, betraying his nerves. he wouldn’t be used to sharing space, and while he’d agree (hesitantly), he’d quickly start obsessing over everything — every little thing you might change or touch.

moving in with him would require adjustments for you. his place is sparse, cold, slightly clinical — some things are arranged in odd, very specific ways. any changes you make, even small ones, would throw him off, and he is not going to be the type to adapt.

he tries so hard to be easy to live with. washes dishes right after eating. folds your laundry just the way you like. buys the same brand of everything you use because he doesn’t want to mess it up. but when things go out of rhythm — when you go out of rhythm — his chest tightens. the world tilts. and he doesn’t know how to ask, “did i do something wrong?” so he just hovers, waiting for the routine to return

he'd ask for boundaries almost immediately, perhaps too early, like he’s putting walls up before they’ve even begun to come down.

he never outright says “i need you to stay on schedule,” but you can feel it. the way his body goes tight when you skip breakfast, the way his voice flattens when you cancel plans last minute. like you’ve disrupted something crucial to his sense of control. when you do stay consistent — when you fall into routine naturally — he relaxes. he’s all quiet humming, fingers brushing yours while passing a mug, lingering in the doorway just to watch you exist.

there’s an underlying unease to everything he does: the way he watches you unpack, the way he hovers when you move something slightly out of place, like he’s hyper-aware of every decision being made. he’d definitely have moments of intensity when you both adjust to this new dynamic. any accidental miscommunication or small thing would make him tense up, on edge because it feels like he’s walking on thin ice.

he’d have a very hard time with the idea of you being “permanent,” and may subconsciously sabotage the idea out of fear of getting too close. he might withdraw without explanation, acting distant to see if you’ll leave, just to test how much you’re willing to stay. eventually, he’d start letting down the walls in small ways: leaving his phone unlocked for you to use if you need it, letting you use his bathroom products, giving you a drawer for your things.

he notices every single thing you do. how you fold your socks. what side of the bed you take. the sound of your toothbrush against the sink. it becomes part of his routine. part of the structure he builds around himself to stay okay. he starts checking if the stove is off twice instead of three times because your voice in the kitchen grounds him faster than his rituals ever could.

incredibly routine-oriented. if you mess with the order of things — dishes, towels, what shelf the mugs go on — he doesn’t say anything at first, but you’ll catch him quietly moving them back later. doesn’t like a lot of clutter. your stuff slowly migrating into his space freaks him out at first. not because he doesn’t want you there, but because change makes him feel like he’s losing control.

he has comfort habits; like lining up his keys just so, or triple-checking the locks. if you ask he’ll downplay it, but if you don’t ask and just let him do it, he relaxes around you faster.

he doesn’t just notice your routine — he memorizes it. down to the minute. how long your showers take, what time you usually eat, which sock you put on first. if anything changes, even slightly, he feels it in his body like a system glitch.

he builds his entire day around you without realizing it. he starts syncing his schedule to yours — when you wake up, when you brush your teeth, when you leave for work. if you're five minutes late one morning, he gets stuck staring at the door like it personally betrayed him. your habits become sacred. you like honey in your tea? he’ll keep three kinds in the cupboard just in case one runs out. you hum while folding laundry? he starts doing it too. not on purpose, it just imprints.

he keeps a mental archive of everything that soothes you. what music you put on when you’re sad. how you like your blankets folded. the exact temperature you set the thermostat to. and then starts applying it before you ask, like clockwork. if you ask how he knew you needed something, he just says, “i pay attention,” but he won’t tell you that he’s been tracking it for weeks.

if you act off routine — oversleep, cry out of nowhere, forget to eat — he goes into full quiet panic mode. he won’t bombard you with questions, but he’ll hover close, every muscle in his body tense, waiting for the threat he thinks he missed.

he starts sleeping better with you there. deeper. more still. but only if you’re facing him. if you turn away he wakes up every time. when you fall asleep on the couch, he sits nearby on the floor, just watching you breathe. hand resting on the edge of the cushion like he’s guarding you. like if he lets go, something bad will happen.

he'll try not to be clingy but the fact is, the closer you get, the more obsessive his behavior can become. you’ll notice him lingering in rooms just to be near you, watching your every move, constantly ensuring that you’re comfortable and safe. If something’s off he can go into a spiral. that gnawing fear of losing you.

and when you look at him with soft eyes and say, “i love being here with you,” his throat goes tight. “yeah?” like it’s fragile. like it might vanish.

⏜︵ BILLY RUSSO. 𐂯

BILLY’S first reaction is a practiced, easy smile. cool, smooth. "you really want to?" he sounds confident — playful, even — but his heart stutters like it just got clipped by a bullet. there’s a flicker behind his eyes. one second of real vulnerability before it’s buried under charisma.

he says yes. of course he does. but internally? he’s spiraling. he’s spent his whole life building walls lined with silk and marble, and now you’re asking to step inside.

he makes it look effortless. he wants this to feel like it was always going to happen. “it’s your place too now, sweetheart.” he says with that soft, smirking charm — but deep down, he’s bracing for you to change your mind.

the penthouse is pristine. expensive. cold. and when you move in, he watches your stuff disrupt that carefully polished perfection—and he loves it more than he knows how to say. a mug you leave on the counter? he stares at it for a second longer than he should. your shoes by the door? he steps around them like they’re sacred.

he keeps acting cool — laughs when you accidentally drop a sock in the hallway, rolls his eyes when you leave a light on — but every time you do something domestic, his chest gets tighter in a way he’ll never admit out loud.

starts getting scared of loving it too much. of waking up next to you and thinking, this could be forever, and then remembering that forever’s never been kind to him.

he’s obsessive about protecting you now. starts double-checking locks, adding security, keeping a closer eye on who’s around you. he won’t call it paranoia, but you know what it is. his trauma simmers underneath it all. on nights he can’t sleep, he’ll go out onto the balcony, staring at the skyline like it owes him answers. when you come out and wrap your arms around him, he just leans into you silently. he’s still afraid you’ll leave. that you’ll see the cracks under the surface — the mess he hides under suits and soft lighting — and walk away.

so he starts giving you pieces of himself, slowly. a key. his favourite hoodie. his real laugh, unpolished and unguarded

“honey, im home.” in that frustratingly charming voice when he’s trying to be annoying.

mornings are quiet. not cold, just muted. he’s already been awake for a while, sipping espresso by the window in a robe that’s way too expensive, staring out like he’s trying to solve a puzzle only he can see. but the second he hears you stir, he softens. brings you coffee without asking, knows exactly how you take it. kisses the top of your head like he’s done it forever. never says good morning like a normal person. always some variation of “hey, gorgeous.” or “you sleep okay, baby?” — and it sounds like velvet every time.

he watches you move around the kitchen like it’s art. like it calms something in him. you’re the only chaos he allows inside his perfect little world.

when he’s had a bad day, he won’t say anything. just drops onto the couch beside you and pulls you onto him like you’re an anchor. you let him sit in the silence until he’s ready to breathe again.

he can’t cook. not well. but he insists on making you dinner at least once a week — usually ends with a half-burned something and him going, “okay, maybe i’m more of a reservation guy.”

he gets weirdly attached to your routines. like, if you skip a skincare step one night, he notices. “no moisturizer?” he asks, faux-casual, but he’s already reaching for the bottle.

he never says it directly, but being with you day to day makes him feel human. like maybe he’s more than the wreckage he came from. and when you say “i love living with you,” his whole body stills. like it’s too much. like it hurts. then he touches your face, gently, reverently, and says, “you have no idea how much that means to me.”

⏜︵ DINAH MADANI. 𐂯

DINAH blinks. once. twice. like she didn’t hear you right the first time. “you serious?” half-laughing, half-deflecting, because that’s easier than letting her heart show on her face.

the truth is: she’s wanted you there. for a while. but she didn’t think she was allowed to want that kind of softness. she probably tries to play it off like it’s no big deal. “sure. yeah. we can try it.” but you can see the way her shoulders drop just a little. like a weight she didn’t know she was carrying slipped off.

she spends the next week obsessing over logistics. where your stuff will go. whether her place is “too small.” acts like she’s just being practical, but really, she’s panicking under the surface. she doesn’t share space easily. she’s used to her solitude. used to walking around guarded even in her own home. so with you she tries. she wants to let you in, even if her hands shake while doing it.

clears a drawer, then a second one. gives you the better side of the closet. buys you your own toothbrush holder without saying a word. still doesn’t let you see her cry. not yet. not even when you set a mug down beside her while she’s working late and kiss the top of her head.

every time she comes home and hears you moving around in the apartment, she exhales without realizing it. like her body’s been holding tension all day and finally gets to release it. she’s not great at domesticity, but she tries. starts making dinner with you, folds your laundry and pretends she’s not secretly proud of it all.

when you fall asleep on the couch, she puts a blanket over you and sits beside you in the dark, sipping wine and watching whatever you left on the tv. doesn’t even care what it is. she just wants to be near you.

still keeps parts of herself locked up tight, files and folders and grief she never talks about. but every now and then, she lets you see the cracks “i’m not .. easy to live with,” she says one night, eyes on the floor.

⏜︵ JAMES WESLEY. 𐂯

WESLEY doesn’t flinch. doesn’t stutter. just tilts his head slightly like he’s calculating what this means, how it fits into the long-term picture he already started building with you months ago. “you want to?” he says it low, like he’s double-checking, not because he’s surprised, because he wants to be sure.

you nod, and he’s quiet for a second too long. then he smiles, small and private, like something just slotted perfectly into place. “okay.” simple. certain. like he’s already rearranging his entire life in his head and doesn’t see a single downside.

he’d already been making room for you before you asked. subtle shifts. an extra set of your preferred wine glasses. drawer space you hadn’t noticed yet. everything is done intentionally. he doesn’t rush anything, but by the time you bring over your first overnight bag, there’s already a place for every item.

he doesn’t just make room for your things — he blends them into the space like they’ve always belonged. a book you left out gets bookmarked and stacked next to his. your jacket ends up hanging beside his tailored coat. if you move something, even if it’s out of place, he leaves it there. memorizes the change. adjusts.

he notices everything. the way your keys sound when you drop them on the counter, your mood when you walk in, what kind of music means you had a long day. you come home once and he’s already poured your favourite drink, sat it on the table, like he’s been waiting for that exact version of you.

he doesn’t show affection with grand gestures, he shows it in consistency. in remembering. in placing himself exactly where you need him to be without being asked.

at night, he watches you read, or wash your face, or fold laundry like it’s a scene he wants to etch into stone. like it’s the first thing that’s ever felt like peace.

he keeps your schedule memorized. he knows when you’re home, when you’re late, when you’re off. if something’s wrong he’s already halfway to fixing it before you even mention it.

he lets you talk through your day at dinner while he listens, always with quiet focus. occasionally he’ll offer insight or dry commentary, but mostly he’s content to just hear you speak.

he doesn’t nag about tidiness, he just fixes things without a word. your charger’s always plugged in. the pantry stays stocked with what you love. if you leave something out — like a sweater on the back of a chair — he’ll leave it there until you wear it again. he’s waiting to see if that was part of your pattern.

when you’re sick, he takes time off without being asked. “don’t argue,” he’ll say, slipping a blanket over your legs. “you’d do the same.” when he’s sick, he pretends he’s fine. but the minute you touch his forehead and tell him to sit down, he obeys without a word. only for you.

he buys expensive soap you mentioned liking once. replaces your pillow when you say your neck’s been sore. upgrades the apartment’s security without telling you. at night, he reads next to you, one hand resting on your thigh.

when you call it “home,” he just gives you this look — soft, quiet, intense. like he’s storing the word away somewhere deep

★ a / n : i didn’t add muse to this one bc im sick asf and tired but if somebody wants me to add him just leave a comment and i can come up with smth no biggie

started 4.26.2025. finished 4.28.2025.

( masterlist. )

©️ monicfever 2025

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the-shedevil-writes · 26 days ago

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Words of Affirmation (Matt Murdock x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: Matt is a very logical man. It's one of your favorite things about your boyfriend. But when you need comfort and he only offers solutions to your problems, it pushes you away. With help from Foggy and Karen, he learns about love languages—and realizes what he really needed to do. WORD COUNT: 2.2k WARNINGS: Miscommunication. Slight arguing.

NOTES: Anyone else feeling the Matt Murdock drought since the show ended? :( Needed to write some for my main man. MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3

Matt and Y/n had been together for a little over a year now, and the honeymoon phase was slowly slipping and being replaced with domesticated bliss. The routine they built together was put together by a foundation of tender love and care they had nested. Such as, her swinging by his office with lunch for him. Or when Matt would ask the florist which flowers were pink so he could fill her kitchen vase with her favorite color. Small things to brighten each other’s day.

And that aspect of their relationship was perfect. Filled with consideration and a sense of knowing each other… But she had been feeling struck by a horrible mood lately. She was going through a bad streak at work where it felt like she couldn’t do anything right. Her hair was at an awkward length because of a messed up haircut she had gotten recently (thank god, Matt was blind). And she hadn’t had time to go to the gym because of her hectic work schedule lately.

It just felt like everything was wrong. Everything brushed her the wrong way.

She tried to get the support of her boyfriend, but it was like pulling teeth. Matt was a very logical man, and that was something she loved about him. Whenever she was spiraling with anxiety or overthinking something, he was always there to remind her of the more objective truth.

‘Nobody is gonna notice.’ ‘It’s just one mistake, nobody will be mad at you.’ ‘The world isn’t ending because of this.’

But sometimes that just isn’t what she wanted to hear. And that strategy blew up in his face one night.

One night, after an already stressful day at work, she and Matt were supposed to go to dinner. But the dress she had really wanted to wear didn’t fit right. It was a beautiful, bright blue silk dress that was supposed to hug her curves just right. She had bought it just for Matt because she knew his heightened senses loved the feeling of the material. It was an expensive buy, but she knew it’d get some use with Matt around.

Yet it didn’t look like it had a few months ago. She tried to take in deep breaths, but they were shaky. She was just a little bloated because of her cycle, and she knew that. But it was more than that. She felt like her skin was overly oily, and her hair wasn’t at its shiny, voluminous peak. The skin on her legs was dry from the winter cold starting to settle in. The ill-fitting dress was just the cherry on top.

“Sweetheart, we've got twenty minutes before we have to get in the cab, and you haven’t even started your makeup.” He said, peeking his head in.

She stared at herself in the mirror, unhappy with herself.

“I don’t wanna go.” She said, and she knew she was being dramatic. But she felt just awful.

Matt’s brows furrowed, and genuine concern washed over him. “What? Why? You’ve been wanting to go to this restaurant for a while now.” He pointed out, which made her feel worse. Because she was looking forward to this. She had seen all the new desserts online and wanted to try some with him. Yet she just felt so… off that she didn’t want to.

“I don’t feel right. I- I think I’m just really tired or something.” She said softly

“Well, I told you to take a nap earlier.” He said.

Ding. Another thing that made her feel worse. She didn’t want to take a nap because she wanted to get some extra work done at home before her next shift. But his pointing it out just made her feel like he was rubbing it in.

“I couldn’t. And I just don’t look good today, and this dress isn’t fitting right.” She complained, looking over at him as he leaned against the door. He was already dressed in a nice white dress shirt and pants. He always looked nice- it was easy for him. Even though she was getting annoyed, she did always appreciate how dressed up he was. For work. For dates. For errands. He always looked put together… She didn’t feel put together, much less look it.

“Then wear another dress.” He stated simply, and he was met with furious silence.

She huffed and rolled her eyes.

“What’s wrong? I’m sure you look fine.” He said, confused, and starting to get a little frustrated himself. Even without his super senses, he could tell she was angry. He didn’t need to hear her fast beating heart to understand the frustration building around her. “You know that I don’t care.” He tried to joke, pointing to his eyes… Bad timing.

“You don’t care?” She snapped, “I just- I try so hard to look and feel nice, and you don’t care? I wear the silk and the lotion and the makeup, and-” She stammered. “It’s not working tonight, but have you ever even cared?”

Matt walked further into the room, sensing her spiral. “Hey, hey, sweetie, it’s not that I don’t care. You just know that… I can’t see you. You could be wearing a plastic bag, and all I’d be able to sense is that you’re wearing less.” He tried to explain, reaching to hold her hips.

But it wasn’t really about the looks, and she was too tense and filled with emotion to be able to talk through her feelings directly. “I’m not going.” She said.

He sighed and raised his hands. “Fine. Fine. Whatever you want.” He said, not understanding where all this sudden anger came from.

“So we didn’t go to dinner. I went home, and she’s barely talked to me since.” Matt said to his friends, looking for advice.

Foggy and Karen stared at him from across the booth at Josie’s slack-jawed.

“You’re… you’re joking, right?” Foggy asked after he told them what had happened.

He furrowed his brows. “No, why would I be joking?”

Karen scoffed and put her hands on her mouth in disbelief before going, “Jesus, Matt, why would you say… any of that?”

He looked around confused and leaned in. “Say what? I didn’t say anything. I just told her the truth.”

“So you’re telling me. That your super-hot girlfriend is feeling bad about herself, and you essentially told her that her efforts have been for nothing.” Foggy said.

“On top of telling her multiple times what she should do or should’ve done,” Karen added, “Which is probably the worst part of that.”

“That’s not what I meant! I didn’t mean to do any of that. I was just trying to be honest.” He defended himself, but was definitely starting to understand.

Karen took a sip of her Long Island iced tea in front of her. “It just sounds like you weren’t really listening to her.”

“Karen, I can’t not listen to anybody.” He said with a huff.

“Matt.” She chided. Her voice was a warning that he needed to actually listen here: “Trying to simply fix everything isn’t listening to her. Do you know what her love language is?”

He took a sip of his beer and shook his head. “No, what’s that?”

“Matt, you’ve been dating this girl for over a year, and you guys have never talked about this?” Foggy asked, surprised.

“No. No, I have no idea what you’re even talking about.” He replied, and as much as he wanted the Let’s Shame Matt parade to end, he felt that he needed to feel it.

Karen chimed in again. “It’s like how people give and receive love. There’s like physical touch, gift giving, acts of service-”

“Quality time. Words of affirmation.” Foggy chimed in.

Matt just listened now, wanting to understand this new concept.

“What does she like? What’s something you do that sends her over the moon?” Foggy asked.

He thought about it. It was hard because it felt like they did everything. He bought her flowers. He was over every weekend. They’d help each other around their respective apartments. It’s not like they were lacking in the physical touch department.

Then he really thought about it, and a memory popped up. It was from a few months back. She had been studying so hard for a promotion at work. This important test to advance up. And when she came back, revealing that she had gotten the promotion and had received one of the highest scores, he hugged her, of course, then said. “I knew you could do it. My sweet girl is so smart. So so smart.” And that had rendered her speechless. Then she proceeded to practically pounce on him, which he remembered in more vivid detail.

“She… she really likes it when I compliment her.” He said to them.

“Words of affirmation,” Karen said with her hand out, “That’s what I was thinking it was. Because when was the last time you did that?”

… That test was the last time he remembered. “The time I’m thinking about was a few months back. I’m sure there were other times, but what I’m thinking about was obvious.” He sipped his beer again. “It’s just hard because it’s not like I can see her,” Matt explained why he was so infrequent at this.

Foggy rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen you flirt, bud. You can definitely do it without sight. I’m just surprised you’re so bad at it with your actual girlfriend.” He teased

“Hey.” Matt warned with an expression that told him to cool it, “I’m trying.”

“Tomorrow. Go apologize, and use your words to show her just how much you love her.” Karen interrupted the two.

That’s how Matt ended up at her apartment with a bouquet of lilies in his hand and a slice of her favorite cake in a plastic takeout box. The kind of cake with the strawberries and syrupy glaze she liked. He opened the door using the key she had given him.

“Sweetheart? It’s me.” He called out, “You home?”

There was no answer, but it’s not like he didn’t know. He could hear her heartbeat in her room, and it had picked up when he opened the door.

He walked down the hall to her bedroom and gently opened the door. The smell of her vanilla candle filled his senses. The millionth rewatch of her favorite rom-com, Pretty Woman, played on her TV. She lay strewn across in bed in his old Columbia law T-Shirt, she had had it so long that she had practically forgotten it was originally his, and some velvety pajama shorts.

“Hi.” She said, a drop in her usual tone, but she didn’t stop him. Her eyes were set on the television.

“Hi, sweetie.” He said, walking in. “I got you some things.” He said, gently putting the lilies and the cake on her bedside table.

She looked them over. “Thank you.” Even though she was still mad at him, she didn’t want to seem unappreciative.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and gently reached out to hold her hand.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry about the other night. I- I wasn’t listening to how you felt. And I should’ve been a lot more considerate instead of just trying to fix everything.” He said, “That wasn’t fair to you.”

Wow. He hit the nail on the head. She squinted her eyes at him in disbelief.

“Who’d you talk to?” She asked suspect. As much as she wanted to laugh at that, she didn’t want him to blow it off so easily. So she didn’t change her face.

“Karen and Foggy. Who beat some sense into me.” He said, and he looked over at her for a second before leaning down. “And just reminded me of how beautiful and stunning and clever my girl is.” He said gently before kissing her temple.

He heard her heart leap in speed as her eyes widened.

He gave another kiss on her cheek. “I’m so lucky. So so smart and driven. Always working so hard.” He said, his voice low, and she looked up at him, nodding. She sat up a little so he didn’t have to lean so far.

“You know, when we’re out together, I can hear all the heads turning to get a good look at you. I can hear their hearts skipping beats because of how beautiful you are.” He whispered just before her lips and then pressed a gentle kiss.

“Jesus, Matt. Where’s all this coming from?” She asked breathlessly, now wrapping her arms around his neck, wanting him closer.

“I just realized I wasn’t properly showing my love and appreciation.” He said, “I have a lot to talk about, and a lot of time not doing it to make up for.”

She smiled. Practically beamed. “Thank you…” She said feeling much better already.

His hands gently traced up her legs. “You smell really good. You know I like that cherry shampoo.” He said, and he reached up and felt the material of her shirt along her waist, “And I love when you wear my old shirts. I’m sure you look much better than I ever did wearing them.” He planted a kiss on her neck, “Much prettier.”

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack, Matt,” She said, sighing, relaxed for what felt like the first time in ages.

“Oh, sweetheart, we can’t have that.” He shook his head, “Your heartbeat is my favorite sound in the world. I love making it speed up like this.” He said before kissing her again. And again. And again.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fic #daredevil #daredevil born again #marvel mcu #mcu #daredevil fic #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #matthew murdock #ddba #marvel

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feelmyskinonyourskin · 2 months ago

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Judex, Judicum, Infantem - Chapter 5

(Eventual)Reader x Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

previous chapter | next chapter | series masterlist | my masterlist

summary: The beginnings of living with Matt feel too good to be true. Could you be falling in love with him? But Matt's flaws of course can't stay hidden forever. With a few special guest appearances.

warnings: SMUT/18+ (don’t interact if your age is not in your bio or I will block you!) AFAB Reader. No use of Y/N. Pregnant sex! Brief mention of vomiting.

Notes: I hit 2,000 followers last week and didn't even notice so I didn't prepare any kind of celebration. So instead, I'm going to post three!!! chapters this week to celebrate! This one today, one on Thursday, and one on Saturday or Sunday.

w/c: 3,806

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on Tumblr to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platforms I currently post on are Tumblr and AO3. Thanks!*

You weren’t sure what was more spectacular, the way the sunlight filtered in like cascading brush strokes of orange and pink, or the crystal clear view of the Hudson and New Jersey beyond. If you had known dating a successful lawyer came with the perk of moving into such a luxurious apartment, you’d have agreed to go out with Matt much sooner. The nearly floor to ceiling windows were the primary thing you noticed the first time he brought you over here. You weren’t sure if you’d ever tire of standing in front of them and admiring the view that covered most of the living space of Matt’s— now your— apartment.

“Where is this going?” the woman with dark hair asked as she easily hoisted your antique dresser above her head

“Bedroom.” you replied, watching with confusion as she shrugged and headed further into the apartment

A blind guy and a pregnant lady were not two people who should be moving much, so you knew you needed help getting all your things uptown to your new dwelling. But when Matt said he had a few friends who could help you move, you weren’t exactly expecting more vigilantes.

“Jessica, can you please be a little more careful with my girlfriend’s things?” Matt called down the hall, as he stepped up beside you, giving your back a reassuring rub

“As nice as it is to meet some of your friends, why didn’t we hire movers?” you asked, looking around at the chaos that was spread around the living room as you combined your things.

Since Matt could afford a place like this, you were shocked he wouldn’t want to invest in the expense of professionals.

“Really Matt, Heroes for Hire does not exactly fall into the category of movers for hire.” the man named Luke jested as he effortlessly set down a box you knew was heavily packed with your book collection.

Wow, these two were strong.

“I wanted people we could trust.” Matt replied

“Well thank goodness she comes with a first aid kit,” Claire commented, noting the plastic case sitting at the top of the box she was carrying

As she pulled it out and triumphantly waived it in the air, you noticed Matt’s frame went rigid beside you. He hadn’t yet told you why he’d been light in the vigilante scene these days. Maybe Claire joking about you being the one to stitch him up brought up the reason in his mind, or maybe he just hadn’t thought through what life would look like as a vigilante with a family; if he ever did go back to it.

You certainly had thought about it though. Would Matt return to being Daredevil regularly? What would happen if his identity got revealed? To you? Your relationship? Your child? Or worse, what if he got hurt or even killed?

“Oh, were you a Marine?” Claire asked, interrupting your panic spiral

“No.” you replied, confused “Why?”

She rummaged past the first aid kit and pulled the first thing under it from the box; Frank’s sweatshirt. You were packing your apartment up so haphazardly, you’d almost forgotten it was in there. Since discovering Frank was gone, you tucked the item into a dark corner in the back of your closet, hoping to forget him but also not really willing to part with the only item of his you had. When Matt asked you to move in, you were so excited and overwhelmed and admittedly a little scatterbrained from being pregnant, you just grabbed piles of things and shoved them into whatever containers you could find.

Shit, that must be what Matt was actually upset about. You could see him out of the corner of your eye turn away from you and make his way into the kitchen, reaching for a glass and a bottle of whiskey.

“No.” you answered sheepishly “Something from an old friend I totally forgot I had.”

Claire shrugged and put the sweatshirt back, carrying the box into the bedroom.

Matt eased up shortly after his friends departed for the evening, mostly seeming back to his usual self as the two of you snuggled on the sofa and unwound for the night. The apartment was still scattered in boxes and various items of yours, but you both were too tired to actually start unpacking.

“Hang on” you said, feeling the bile already rising in your throat and rushing towards the bathroom

Great, now that you lived with Matt, he was going to hear and smell every reaction your body had to the pregnancy. It seemed your symptoms really ramped up as you approached your 12 week appointment tomorrow. Plus you were starting to have food cravings, calling him when he was out searching for Frank and instead had him swinging from rooftops in search of takeout.

Matt seemed totally unfazed as you returned to the couch, opening his arms up and inviting you back to your place.

“This is getting miserable.”

“Awe I know sweetheart, but the doctor said things should ease up after the first trimester and you’re so close.”

“Yeah until this baby starts getting so heavy that my back hurts constantly and I need to pee every five seconds.”

“You already need to —”

Thwap. You gave his arm a playful whack which caused the corner of Matt’s full lips to quirk up into a beautiful smile as he chuckled. Feigning injury, he pulled his arm away briefly before leaning back in to give you a kiss.

“Sorry baby, couldn’t help it.”

The way his lips pressed against yours sent a buzzing through your skull that radiated down your neck, down your sternum, all the way to in between your legs.

That was another symptom that had appeared in the last few days; you felt insatiably horny. And right now, Matt looked like the most delicious meal you could devour.

You leaned forward, pleading for more which he happily obliged. His lips were as soft as they looked and tingled against yours with the taste of spearmint mixed with the whiskey he’d downed earlier.

Matt had not touched you beyond a few sweet kisses and cuddles since you delivered the news of your pregnancy to him. The way his hands comforted and caressed you in the days since made you feel like he thought you were made of glass; a soft delicate statue like the saints he worshiped, the child of his that you carried the miracle that devined you.

You scratched at his scalp as you kissed, feeling him preening into your touch. Pulling away just enough to speak, you made sure your breath was still hot against his.

“You know I was reading up on unconventional remedies the other day. For my symptoms.”

“Mmm?” Matt’s brows shot up quizzically, a gentle hand lightly tracing a pattern into your waist as he held you.

“One pregnancy forum said sucking dick can help with morning sickness.”

The flush that rose to Matt’s cheeks nearly matched the color of his Daredevil suit and he cleared his throat as his eyes darted back and forth rapidly.

“You —um— You’re joking?”

His voice cracked like a pubescent choir boy. Oh how you loved to make this cocky flirt of a man crumble with just a few words. Lightly, you let your hand creep up his thigh, a centimeter at a time.

“Nope.”

“I don’t think in good conscience I can ask you to do that.” he stuttered

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

Apprehensiveness still lingered on his face.

“Matty please, I’m desperate. Both to not be nauseous and for you.”

“Sweetheart. We’ve both had a long and exhausting day.”

You knew he could read the pout on your face as you pulled back by the way his hands reached forward to keep you close.

“How about this?” he reasoned “Let’s take a nice warm shower. Together? Yeah? Get you a little relaxed. Then if you’re feeling up to it afterwards, I’ll consider it.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m a lawyer sweetheart. And one of us is going to have to be the serious parent.” he joked

Matt’s shower was a gift sent directly from the heavens, especially against your sore back and shoulders. A full walk in with a bench on either end, a rainfall shower-head above, plus eight jets running down the wall; all adjustable in both spray pattern and temperature. You could get used to this.

You could also get used to the way Matt was pressing his lips against your skin, sending a wave of goosebumps across your flesh despite how warm the steam was surrounding you. Relaxing under his touch, you hadn’t realized how sore you were until you finally let your shoulders drop as Matt ran delicate fingers up and down your flesh. His motions were slow, easy in the way he gently moved you around, spinning you to wet your body and then again so he could reach better. You closed your eyes and hummed at how cared for you felt in the moment.

He gently massaged your scalp to lather in your favorite in shampoo, pampering you while keeping his body closer to you than your own shadow. You could feel his hardness pressing into your behind as he took care of you, teasing you unintentionally. He was working you so well, relaxing you into a state of pliability that was doing nothing to calm your neediness.

You hummed once more, this time more of a whine at how desperately you wanted him.

“That bad, huh?” Matt joked

“It feels like my pregnancy hormones want me to somehow get pregnant again even though that’s impossible. Like I’ll explode if I don’t. That’s how badly I want you.”

You turned to face him, watching him calculating your body’s tells behind his glassy eyes. Pushing a strand of his dark, wet hair away from his face, you couldn’t help but smile at the way he nuzzled into your touch. Just maybe some of your desperation was wearing off on him.

“I’m not made of porcelain, Matty. The doctor said sex was perfectly okay and wouldn’t hurt me or the baby. Please?”

Gently, you drew him closer by the flesh of his hip so that his hardness pressed against your pelvis. He instantly melted against your lips, bringing a hand up to place behind your head and keep you close. Not like the tender kisses he’d been placating you with earlier, the way he kissed you back was growing with hunger.

You yelped into his mouth as your back hit the cold tiles of the shower. There was still a fragility to the way he touched and kissed you, traveling down your body with reverence. He kept his movements gentle as he guided your leg up on the bench and even more softly as he nipped as the flesh inside your thighs as he sunk to his knees.

“Wait, I thought I was supposed to be the one on my knees for you—- oh!”

Answering your protestations with only the motion of his lips to your sensitive bud, kissing it while rubbing his stubble back and forth against your thighs.

“Nope sweetie. Gotta take care of you now.”

He pulled away just enough to speak, then dove right back in. He sucked at your core as if he was devouring an ice cream bar in the summer sun, gentle enough to not loose a single topping but also quickly enough to not let it melt.

Labored breaths left your lips in whispers of his name. It seemed to ignite an invigorated fire within Matt, now grasping at your thighs to steady you as he increased the fervor of his tongue. Every circle of it against you drew you closer and closer to the edge. All it took for you to finally snap was the brief pause he took to look up at you, a combination of lust and adoration swimming behind his glossy eyes.

Relief washed over you as your cunt spasmed and contracted, like the first wave of the ocean hitting your flesh after soaking in the sun all day. It was warm and white and you tried your hardest to remain upright on shaky legs and slick tile. Grunting at the taste of your release, Matt didn’t stop until you were all the way through your orgasm.

“Well it didn’t fix the morning sickness like sucking you off might, but I won’t complain.” you commented, earning a hearty chuckle from Matt

You felt a little dizzy as you tilted your head back against the cool wall behind you, too blissed out to even notice as Matt stood and lined his hardness up with your slit.

All you could do was reach forward and hang onto his shoulders as he pushed inside you, inch by inch until he was comfortably seated. One of his large hands held under your thigh, supporting it as it rested on the bench. The other was pressed behind you on the wall, caging you in. You could taste yourself in his kisses, tangy and sweet. He thrusted gently, gauging how much you could take as you clung to him.

You nodded into the crook of his neck, urging him on.

“Is this okay? Are you feeling good?” he asked

“Mhm” was about the most coherent answer you could give

You could feel the warm, toned muscle of Matt’s chest against your breasts as only atoms separated you at this point. As he began to find a rhythm, your nipples rubbed against his taught muscles, extra pert from no longer being warmed by the spray of the shower and already oversensitive from your changing hormones. Your thighs burned as you efforted to keep yourself upright and if you weren’t in so much pleasure you would collapse into the puddle of warm water at your feet. Already still worked up from your last orgasm, you could feel another approaching quickly as his cock dragged deliciously along your walls

“Please…please…” you groaned into his ear, nuzzling at him to just be as close as you could

“I know sweetheart, I know. Let go for me, yeah?”

This orgasm was stronger than the last, blossoming from your core through the rest of your body. Your walls spasmed strongly around him and you could feel his muscles flex under you as he worked to hold you steady. All you could do was ride it out and cling to him like a koala as you came down.

He must have been close too, because Matt’s pace began to falter as he pitched himself up into you. Reveling in the dissipating fizz of you own after shocks, you somehow managed to bring a shaky hand up from his back and run it through his hair, giving it a soft tug.

“So close baby. So close.” he promised, kissing at your neck

It only took a little longer of you nuzzling against him and running a hand up and down his warm skin before he was grunting and shaking against you, releasing inside you in with a groan.

The mix of both your releases ran down your leg and combined with the rainfall droplets from the shower head above, now a lukewarm temperature, running into the drain.

“Careful, it’ll be slippery” Matt said as he gingerly removed himself from you and helped guide your leg off the bench.

Once you were out of the shower and all dried, you laid in bed snuggled in Matt’s embrace with your back flush against his chest. Wrapped comfortably in an old Columbia sweatshirt of Matt’s that he offered to you as you got ready for bed. You suspected the soft navy garment was a subtle territory mark over the one of Frank’s that still sat in the unpacked box.

He kissed at your forehead and ran a hand protectively over your stomach. You weren’t yet showing. Anyone passing by on the street wouldn’t think so at least. But you definitely looked like you had one too many burritos if you wore the right clothing. Getting dressed in the mornings had you favoring more stretchy pants and loose fitting dresses these days and you knew you’d need to get some maternity items sooner rather than later.

“I should get going soon. Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?” Matt asked

You turned to face him, gently taking his chin in your palm.

“Matt, no. Please don’t go at all.” you plead “I really appreciate you doing the decent thing and trying to find Frank, but there’s no point. We’re building a life here together. I’m happy. You’ve already been so committed to this family and so am I. We don’t need Frank. I don’t need Frank. I just need you.”

Matt took the hand you’d been stroking his face with and moved it down to the left side of his chest, letting it rest over his heart.

The way he smiled at you, sincere and genuine made your heart want to burst.

“Okay, sweetheart. Whatever you want.” he agreed

You rewarded him with a sweet kiss, happy with the way he grinned into it.

“Maybe some day, when this is more behind us, you can tell me exactly what went down between the two of you. I know it’s complicated.”

Matt nodded in agreement.

“But not tonight. You need rest baby, we’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

You hummed, twisting to resume your position laying back against his chest.

As you drifted off to the sound of his steady heartbeat in your ears, you clung tightly to him, finally content at having such a soft place to land. A soft place with Matt.

And then a thought danced across your brain, as gentle as a feather in the wind.

I love you.

Goddammit.

You would have loved to stay in bed just a little longer, angrily burrowing further under the cover at the realization that it was already morning. But the way you could hear Matt rushing around getting ready, you knew you needed to get up.

When you opened your eyes, however, you weren’t expecting to see him already fully dressed, finishing the last loop on his tie.

“Matt?”

He rushed to your side and placed a quick kiss on your forehead. He appeared panicked, eyes darting everywhere as he adjusted the knot on his tie.

“Sweetie, I am so sorry but the judge just called an emergency session for the Madison trial next week. I’m going to go to the courthouse and see what I can do to get out as quick as I can.

Your heart sank. Your 12 week appointment was today.

“Matt, it’s—”

“Don’t you dare say it’s fine sweetheart, cause I know it’s not.”

Flopping back down onto your pillow you let out a sigh, unsure of what to say. The disappointment was twisting knots into your stomach and you could feel the tears beginning to pool in your waterline.

“You’re right it’s not, but I guess I really don’t have a choice.”

“I will explain to the judge and see if he’ll let me go early. I’ll try to meet you there.”

You nodded, utterly dejected at the thought of Matt missing this crucial appointment. What if everything wasn’t okay? Matt wiped at the tear that had escaped and was running down your cheek at the thought of receiving bad news today and Matt not being by your side for it. You should have seen this coming. It was all too good to be true. Matt was letting you down, just like Frank had. Just like all the rest. Your heart broke for yourself sure, but also for your baby. Was this what their life was going to be? A dad who couldn’t show up when it really mattered?

“I guess you gotta make money so we can feed this baby.” you joked with another sigh, causing Matt to grimace at the deflection

He gave you one more quick kiss, heart breaking at the despondence he could feel radiating from you, then he was out the door.

He texted you as much as he could throughout the day to keep you posted, but with 5 minutes to go until the doctor called you back, and Matt being 20 blocks downtown, you knew it wasn’t likely he’d make it in time. You shuffled your feet anxiously against the floor of the waiting room, hoping by some miracle he’d pop through the door.

Of course it wasn’t until you were leaving the doctor’s, appointment complete and paperwork filled with news in hand, that you finally got the text from him.

‘Leaving now. In a cab.’

Fucking of course.

You texted him back.

‘Just finished. Meet at your office instead?’

You’d figure out a way to make him pay you back later for missing out on this, but right now all you wanted to do was get to him and tell him everything.

When the taxi dropped you off, you looked up, Matt’s figure clear in the window of his 5th floor office pacing back and forth.

If you weren’t pregnant and exhausted, you’d have taken the stairs just to punish him with waiting to see you a little longer. Instead you opted for the elevator, rocking on the balls of your feet in anticipation as it seemed to take forever to get up to his floor.

With a ding, the elevator door opened and you stepped forward to see Matt still pacing at the end of the hall. He abruptly stopped and turned as he listened to you make your way to him. You knew your heart had to be beating out of your chest and you could feel a little bit of sweat running down your back.

Clutching the little black and white printout close to your chest, you stood before him, staring into your own reflection in his cherry tinted glasses.

“How’d it go?”

“How was court?” you replied, tinge of hurt dripping in your words

“Not funny sweetheart. We’ll catch up later. The baby?”

“She’s healthy. Right on track still.”

“She?” he asked, smile slowly spreading across his face

Had you been more prepared for Matt missing the appointment, you would have done something cute to tell him like printed a braille sign or something.

“Mhm” you confirmed, holding out the ultrasound

He took it, running his hands over the smooth glossy paper, not able to read what it said but knowing the information on it was life changing.

“We’re having a girl!” he exclaimed

He place the print out on the desk behind him and took your face in his hands. Gingerly, he began to plant soft kisses on each of your cheeks, then your eye lids, then your nose, your brow, your temples, then your lips. You could feel the dampness of tears running down from his shaded eyes as he moved his lips across your face.

“We’re having a little girl.”

· �� ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag List: @xxdrixx @a-leg-without-fear @echo-ethe @capswife @xoxabs88xox @allmyn1ghts @laaadygisbooornex3 @ninacotte @uncertified-doc @moth-murdock @danzer8705 @endofthelinegang @buckyssugarchick @hellskitchenswhore @pixviee @themikkapika @bisexualbith @labellapeaky @theoraekenslover @sexyvixen7 @tanyaherondale @marysucks-blog @0callme-mimi @aesthetic0cherryblossom @livewaspsblog @lokifae42 @plutosbearr

#frank castle x reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #frank castle #daredevil #Judex Judicum Infantem #daredevil born again #fratt #matt x reader #frank x reader #matt x frank x reader #nmcu #mcu #mcu fic #daredevil smut #matt murdock angst #frank castle imagine #charlie cox

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ittybxttykxttytxtty · 11 months ago

Text

Elektra, honey. I AM BEGGING. BEGGING. Please shut the fuck up. I will do everything. I'll kill your father's murderer for you. Even the cashier who looked at you funny. For the love of ever loving christ, I am begging you. Shut up. 😭😭😭😭

I need these two to talk with full sentences and a promise of NO interruptions. Omg. I just know, she's gonna leave...oml, she's gonna leave Hell's Kitchen. 🥲🥲🥲🥲

All These Years [Part 9: "A Truth Revealed"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 4.5k

a/n: After the entire fiasco with my cat destroying my previous keyboard, I am pleased to say I managed to buy a new one and still managed to get this up in time to hurt/frustrate you all a little more. We're inching closer to some comfort though! I believe the next installment will be titled "The Weight of Grief" for this series. Enjoy the angst and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705

Curled up on your couch, you were comfortably cocooned in a blanket and completely focused on the book in your hands. Over the last few nights after work you’d been reading it, taking some time to escape into a romance that actually had a happy ending–unlike your love life. You’d been looking forward to having a quiet night in tonight, especially after the long and stressful day you’d had at work.

And also because you’d gotten another call from Matt earlier today.

After the dinner at Matt’s apartment with your friends almost three weeks ago now, you’d really tried to consider what Karen had said. Maybe it was time to try to distance yourself from Matt. If he wasn’t interested in you as more than a friend, you really couldn’t keep torturing yourself over him. You needed to try to move on, to put some space between the pair of you, but you certainly couldn’t do that if you kept jumping at every opportunity to spend time with him. Which is what you’d always done when it came to Matt.

So you’d been distancing yourself from him. Avoiding him lately until you finally thought you might be ready to see him again. You felt bad for doing it though, especially because the calls from him seemed like they’d oddly increased over the past few weeks since that night. You had explained to Foggy and Karen what was going on and what you were doing. The pair of them had been happy to help keep Matt off your back and to keep him from thinking too much into things, though every time his name appeared on your phone screen you felt guilty for all the times you let it go to voicemail. Or the times that you’d lied and told him you were busy and couldn’t talk.

You needed this though. You needed to find a way to let him go before your feelings drove you insane. Because Karen’s question that night had made you suddenly very aware of the fact that you hadn’t been happy for a long time. Not really. You’d been pining after Matt for years now, clutching onto the hope that maybe he liked you, or that maybe someday his feelings for you might change into something more. You’d held onto that hope with a death grip for so long that you’d realized it was gradually dragging you further and further down. And you couldn’t do that to yourself anymore. That other night a few weeks ago, when you’d flirted with Matt and made a complete ass out of yourself only to receive nothing in return from him that even so much as hinted at the fact that he was flirting back, you’d realized that you’d needed to finally release that hold on your hope.

Matthew Murdock was never going to love you as more than a friend.

It was a line you said to yourself almost daily lately. Anytime the feelings would randomly crop up, you repeated that over and over in your head. It was a reminder that you needed to actually try to move forward this time.

Which was why this weekend you were letting one of your coworkers set you up on a blind date. You’d spent this past week trying to get yourself excited about it. Stephanie certainly seemed to think you and this Alexander would be a great match, and apparently he was an incredibly sweet and charming guy. Which was good. You needed to find someone nice. Someone who would be good for you. Alexander wasn’t going to be Matt but you were going to be open-minded when it came to that date.

Another thing you kept repeating to yourself daily lately.

Turning the page of your book, you were so engrossed in it that you almost didn’t hear the noise outside of your window nearby. Except you had. It was a faint, muffled noise that sounded like it came from your fire escape. You lowered your book, eyes narrowing as your head slowly turned towards the window.

Immediately you screamed, your book flying out of your hands and falling to the floor. There were two figures standing on your fire escape right outside of your window–one in all black and the other in red. Both of them had their faces obscured and it took you a moment to recognize the one in black as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, but you didn't recognize the other beside him who looked like they were struggling to hold him up. At least, you didn't recognize them until they'd reached a hand up and slid the mask down their face and leaned forward, knocking on your window.

Your jaw dropped at the sight of Elektra Natchios in the flesh, smirking at you on the other side of your living room window.

"Knock, knock, darling," she called out, voice muted by the glass. "Open up."

You froze on the couch. Letting Elektra into your apartment was the absolute last thing you wanted to ever do. You absolutely loathed her. And you also had no idea why she was toting Hell’s Kitchen's vigilante on her arm, either, but you figured the reason couldn't be good.

"You're not welcome here," you called back, sitting upright on the couch. "We aren't friends, Elektra."

Her face contorted into a look of faux sadness and offense at your words before it quickly returned to its previous smugness. "I don't particularly care what you think of me," she replied, "but I'm sure you wouldn't want your friend here suffering outside in a dumpster."

Your face twisted in confusion as your focus shifted to the masked man clinging to her, his head hanging forward over his chest. He looked like he was in pain from the way he was slumped over. But why would she call him your friend? You'd met him once and you had been drunk–and managed to get even drunker after that encounter. He wasn't exactly your friend.

"I don’t even know him," you shot back, eyeing him through the window. "Take him to a hospital where he can actually get some help."

“Aww,” she cooed through the glass, one hand reaching up towards his black mask. “Are you sure you don’t know him?”

Your mouth opened to once again tell Elektra off, but before the words could even form she’d pulled back the black fabric from the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’s face. At first all you could see was a mess of dark hair, but then her hand still holding the mask grasped underneath his chin, raising the man’s head up so you could see him better.

You audibly gasped, jaw dropping wide open as you stared at Matt’s face on the other side of the window. For a long moment your brain became entirely devoid of thoughts as you sat on your couch staring at Matt on your fire escape dressed as the masked man.

“Still want to say you don’t know him?” Elektra questioned.

It took you a minute to slightly recover on the couch, your mouth finally closing but your wide eyes still staring in shock at the sight of Matt–the same Matt who you’d drank beers with, the one who you’d shared your insecurities pre-graduation with, who’d cried on your shoulder when he’d told you about his father–as the masked vigilante running around Hell’s Kitchen. The very same one who you’d seen grainy video footage of in the news with superhero-like fighting skills.

“Can you open up already? He’s getting a bit difficult to hold onto,” Elektra called out.

“Matt?” you whispered.

On the other side of the window, you saw Matt’s lips twist into a small, apologetic smile. He nodded his head just once in response.

Still in shock, you unraveled yourself from your blanket and rose from your couch, making your way to the window. You unlocked it, sliding it up and watching as Elektra tried to help Matt through the opening. Reaching out, you grabbed onto Matt’s shoulders and attempted to help her get him inside. Matt’s own hands darted out to grab onto your upper arms in return, groaning as he made his way through the window and into your apartment.

You hadn’t been expecting him to lose his balance though, and he’d stumbled straight into you. You toppled over easily, his body falling with yours and pinning you to the floor beneath him. Matt’s hands had flown out just in time to catch himself so he didn’t fully crush you under his weight, his face hovering just above yours. You could see a few bleeding gashes across his forehead and cheeks as his sightless eyes focused along your right cheekbone, a pained expression on his face.

A plethora of emotions raced through you in that moment. Part of you, a very small part, wanted to lean up and kiss him. You’d never been in such a compromising position with him before, and you certainly wished it was under different circumstances–though you knew you shouldn’t be feeling that way and you quickly tried to divert your thoughts. Especially because this was certainly not the time for those types of thoughts.

For the most part you were hurt and confused, though. Matt had been lying to you all this time about those injuries he’d been getting. He’d been going out and intentionally putting himself into danger. And it hurt you that he’d hid that truth from you, that he didn’t trust you with that information.

But not only that, how the hell did Matt go out blind fighting bad guys like the masked man did? Clearly someone taught him to fight like that, something he’d never told you about before–more secrets he’d been hiding from you. But you knew he was blind, so how could he do the things the masked man did? That you’d seen actual video evidence of? How was that Matt?

And why the hell was Elektra in a similar crime-fighting ensemble? What pieces of the goddamn puzzle had you been missing all along without even knowing it?

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

With a grunt, he pushed himself back onto his knees before Elektra was at his side. She grabbed onto his arm and roughly tugged him up, Matt hissing in pain as she did. You winced at the sound, slowly rising back up from the floor after him.

“He needs somewhere safe to stay while I finish…dealing with some things,” Elektra told you, leading him past you and straight towards your couch. “Your apartment was the closest. And he said he trusted you.”

You stood there gaping at the pair of them as she lowered his battered and bloody body onto your couch. Matt was making noises of discontent as she situated him along it.

“What–what the hell is going on?” you stammered out.

When Matt was settled, Elektra straightened and turned towards you. She exhaled a rough sigh as she eyed you from top to bottom.

“Well darling, your BFF is the masked vigilante roaming the city,” she said. “ Clearly . I thought you’d caught that already, but apparently you’re a little slow, I see.”

“Elektra,” Matt warned through gritted teeth.

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Someone beat him with a metal pipe,” she explained. “Now we’re thinking he’s fractured a rib and he’s honestly quite useless to me like this. So he needs to stay hidden here until he can get his ass home. Think you can manage that, darling?”

Your mouth had dropped open at the mention of a metal pipe and it had stayed that way for the duration of her explanation. Elektra groaned in irritation at the look of shock on your face, her head dramatically falling back over her shoulders as she did.

“He’ll be fine ,” she told you. “Throw a blanket on him and he’ll probably walk it off in the morning.” Attention shifting over her shoulder, she frowned when she glanced at Matt. “And it’s a damn shame I’ll miss seeing your ass walk it off. It’s certainly gotten so much nicer since I’d last enjoyed it. I remember–”

“Enough, Elektra,” Matt snapped.

Heat rose up to your cheeks in a mixture of awkward embarrassment and jealousy at what she was hinting at. But when Elektra’s eyes dropped down to where your book had fallen onto the floor beside the couch, you saw her head tilt curiously to the side, a grin slipping onto her mouth. Embarrassment won out as you watched her bend over and grab the book from the floor, slowly rising back to her full height as she examined it. Her attention slowly shifted back towards you, one of her perfect dark brows arching up on her pretty face.

“Didn’t realize we’d interrupted your fascinating read, darling,” she purred, eyes dropping back down to the book. “Romance novels though?” She tsked, shaking her head. “Doesn’t even look naughty. How positively–” her eyes landed back on you, an amused smile on her lips, “– you .”

“Shut up,” you muttered, heat burning at your cheeks.

“Still in love with your friend?” she taunted. “Love life a mess so you read this trash?”

Your arms crossed awkwardly over your chest, your gaze dropping down to your feet. Tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes at her words. She damn well knew you loved Matt and she was toying with you like it was entertainment to watch you hurting.

“Mmm, I see you’ve never actually told him then,” she continued. “All this time and you couldn’t–”

“ Elektra ,” Matt snapped.

Elektra had actually stopped mid-taunt, her lips thinning at Matt’s harsh tone. Even you’d been surprised at how irritated he’d sounded. Maybe he was finally seeing how rude she’d been to you for once. Though you doubted that would stop him from being with her; you were certain they would be back together if they weren’t already. Even if you knew Elektra would only be toying with him yet again.

“You’re both no fun,” she said with a pout, tossing your book onto the coffee table.

You couldn’t look her in the face as she sauntered past you, tears still welling in your eyes. Blinking hard, you did your best to force them back. You didn’t want to cry in front of her or Matt. You were so tired of the tears.

“Don’t worry about getting up, Matty, darling,” Elektra said, sliding your window up behind you. “I’ll handle this one for you. But you owe me something in return.”

Elektra slipped back out of the window before you heard her slowly sliding it down after herself. Your apartment filled with silence at her absence, Matt’s head shifting towards you on the couch. There was a frown on his lips, his dark brows pulled together in something that wasn’t pain, but you couldn’t quite make out the meaning behind his expression.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your night,” he said softly. “And that you…found out. Like this. About me.”

“What the hell, Matty?” you breathed out. “How long have you been doing this?”

"Around the time Fog and I left Landman and Zack,” he answered.

You ran a hand across your forehead, trying to piece things together as question after question ran through your mind. You almost didn’t even know where to start.

But something in particular surfaced in your mind, panic flooding you.

“So that–that night the man in the mask found me drunk in an alley,” you began slowly, the hazy memory coming back to you as Matt’s expression shifted to something even harder to read. “After I’d found Liam cheating on me. That was…you?”

“Yeah,” he whispered.

You grimaced, remembering how you’d unknowingly and drunkenly spilled your heart out to Matt himself that night. How you'd embarrassingly sobbed on him about being in love with him. Which meant that he knew you loved him, right? And he’d just spent all this time pretending you didn’t, like that moment hadn’t happened because he didn’t feel that way in return?

But of course he didn’t love you because as fuzzy as that night was to you, you remembered the masked man crying to you about loving someone, too. The conversation had been difficult to recall from all the alcohol you’d drank that night, but you remembered he’d been upset about a woman he loved. He must have meant Elektra, you realized.

Because of course he’d still be in love with her, even after she went and broke his heart. And now he finally had her back.

Swallowing the lump forming in your throat, you felt even more inadequate for Matt now. With whatever he was out doing around the city at night, apparently he'd found his match in her. Because you certainly weren't about to go out and play at being a hero with him. That only further cemented how wrong you were for him; you’d never be Elektra.

“If you’ve fractured a rib I should really get you to a hospi–”

“No hospitals,” Matt said earnestly, cutting you off. “I’ll be fine, I just need somewhere to stay until I can heal a bit. If that’s alright? Just–just for the night?”

“Matt,” you began slowly, “if you have a fractured rib, that could take weeks to heal, not one night.”

His lips pulled back into a sheepish smile. “I’m different,” he admitted quietly.

Your head tilted to the side, eyes narrowing back at him curiously. He was different ? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Different how?” you asked him.

“I…have heightened senses,” he confessed. “And I was taught a long time ago how to meditate to heal myself faster. So a fractured rib really isn’t that big of a deal to me, but I–I can’t fight like this. And my place was too far from where we were. I just–just needed somewhere safe to rest and heal. But I’m truly sorry for dragging you into all of this.”

“I–”

You stood on the opposite side of your coffee table utterly dumbfounded with this new information about a man you’d thought you’d known for years . Mouth opening and closing a few times, you struggled to figure out how to piece a coherent thought together.

“You–you heal yourself?” you asked in shock.

“Yeah,” he answered.

Another few moments of silence passed, your brain attempting to wrap around that crazy bit of information. But then you remembered the other thing he’d said and a whole wave of new questions rose in your mind.

“What do you mean you have heightened senses?” you asked him nervously.

“I’m still blind, but my other senses are able to pick up on things that others can’t,” he answered.

You sucked in a breath, fear building inside of you. What the hell did that mean?

“Like what?” you hesitantly questioned.

“Well I can hear that your heart rate just elevated even higher than what it had been at after hearing that. I can hear your blood pressure increasing, too,” Matt told you. “And I can smell that your adrenaline and cortisol levels just rose–meaning you’re nervous or afraid.”

You saw the corners of his lips curve downward as he spoke, his focus lowering towards your coffee table. Though at that admission, you felt your own heart rate sky-rocketing. He could read you that well?

“So–so all of your other senses are able to pick up on small details like that?” you questioned.

Matt nodded his head solemnly. “I can hear someone’s heartbeat if I focus. Can even tell when they’re lying to me depending on how it beats,” he explained.

“How long have you been able to do all of this?” you nervously asked.

A sad smile slowly drew his lips upwards at the corner. Despite your panic about everything Matt had probably been picking up on with you for who knows how long now, you wondered how hard it must be to live like that. How much outside stimuli was hitting him all of the time? What all was he experiencing that no one else had to experience?

“Since that accident that blinded me as a child,” he answered quietly. “You remember the one I told you about?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I remember you telling me about it,” you replied. “But how come you didn’t tell me this , Matt?”

“How was I supposed to?” he asked back. “What I can do, it isn’t normal. I’ve always kept it a secret.”

“You don’t think I’d like to know that my best friend can hear my heartbeat? Or smell my–my hormones ?” you asked him. “That you always knew when I was lying? Or–or was afraid? Or whatever the hell else you’ve picked up on from me? This whole time?”

There was not a doubt in your mind now about Matt having known the truth about you at least liking him. Being attracted to him. How could he have not known? If he could hear your heart alone, he’d know it was always racing around him, that he always had an effect on you. But he’d never flirted with you, never taken an interest back in you.

The tears started falling before you could stop them, your hands flying up to your mouth to try to cover the choked sob building in your throat at that realization. The strangled sound still fell out of you despite your efforts to hold it back, though. Matt’s focus immediately shifted to you, something soft and sad reflecting in his own eyes.

“If you can pick up on all of these things happening with someone's body that–that means you’ve known then?” you asked, your voice cracking as more tears fell. “This whole time? That I’ve had feelings for–” you broke off on a strangled sob, unable to just say it.

Matt nodded his head slowly across from you. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I’ve known for a long time, I just–just never said anything.”

Another sob fell out of you before Matt said your name so softly, but the sound of it only drew more tears. He’d always known you loved him then. And he certainly didn’t feel the same.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I do my best to give everyone privacy around me, but some things I can’t help but…pick up on.”

Your tears fell faster now as your hands slid up and you buried your face in them. You didn’t think it was possible to hurt anymore than you did when it came to loving Matt, but you certainly had discovered tonight that you were very, very wrong. Because his admission felt like it had torn your heart straight from your chest before he’d tossed it out of your window straight down to the street below to be repeatedly run over by traffic.

Matthew Murdock was never going to love you as more than a friend. Hadn’t you already been repeating that to yourself lately? Well, how fucking spot on you were.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry, I’m–”

“Who else knows about you?” you asked, cutting him off with your face still buried behind your hands.

You tried your best to ignore the way your heart twisted at the way he'd called you 'sweetheart'. He'd never done that before and now was certainly not the time for him to start.

Matt expelled a rough breath, the sound causing you to peak at him between your fingers. His head had rolled away from you now, his sightless eyes focused on the ceiling of your apartment.

“Foggy found out,” he whispered. “On accident. That’s why we fought and the firm broke up. And uh, Elektra has always known.”

“Of course she has,” you muttered bitterly.

“You’re upset with me,” he pointed out.

You shook your head, rubbing the heels of your hand along your cheeks to try to wipe away the dampness. “I’m not upset at you ,” you told him. “I’m upset that you knew so much about me and I didn’t–didn't know that you did. And that you didn’t tell me all of this back at Columbia, because I’d have wished you’d trusted me enough with this information about yourself.” You inhaled a shuddering breath, that aching, empty feeling in your chest somehow feeling like it was finally consuming you entirely. "And I'm upset that you–you knew . All these years and you've–you’ve always known ."

Matt said your name gently again, but you shook your head quickly, continuing on and trying to force down the tears and the feel of your heart breaking. Matt was hurt and he needed help, that was your focus tonight.

“What do you need from me then, Matt?” you asked, sniffling loudly. “Just a place to crash? Medical help?”

You watched as his eyelids slowly lowered, a frown deepening on his face. “A place to stay for the night so I can heal, yes. And if you could call Fog, ask if he’d bring some of my clothes from my place here. That way I can–can change in the morning before I leave.”

Nodding, you wiped your hand across your cheeks again. It was a moment later that you realized you hadn't spoken.

"Sorry, I nodded," you muttered.

"I know," he whispered. "I could hear the way the molecules in the air shifted when you did."

You winced, suddenly uncertain what all Matt had always known that you weren't aware of. But yet again you tried to focus on your current situation instead. It didn't matter he knew you liked him, he'd always just wanted to be your friend instead. You’d cry about it later, when he wasn’t lying on your couch bleeding.

"I'll go call Fog," you informed him. "Get him to bring over your clothes. You can stay here tonight, Matt. You know I'll always be here for you. I've always told you that." Curling your hands into fists, you tried to stop the way they had begun shaking. "I'm going to get a washcloth, though. To clean your cuts. If that's alright?"

Matt nodded, his head turning as he focused on you across the room again. "Yes," he replied quietly. "Thank you."

Chewing your lip, you turned and headed down the hall to your bathroom. You switched on the light and made your way over to the vanity, bending down and pulling out a clean washcloth from under it. Rising to your feet, you set it on the counter before slipping your phone out of your pocket and dialing Foggy. It took a few rings before he finally answered, and for some reason the sound of his voice greeting you with your name had you crying again.

"Hey, Fog," you said, voice cracking.

"Shit, are you okay?" he asked in a panic. "Did something happen? You sound like you're crying. Why’re you crying?”

Your eyes slowly slid up towards your bathroom mirror, taking in the sight of your red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You looked awful.

"I know Matt is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen," you breathed out.

There was a long pause on the line after you'd spoken, the silence eventually broken by Foggy muttering a curse.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"At home. Elektra dropped him off injured on my couch," you told him, your voice breaking as you spoke.

"I'll be right there," he promised.

"He wants you to bring him a change of clothes," you said, watching as more tears slid down your reflection's cheeks.

"I'm on it," he assured you. "But we are definitely talking later when we're out of his hearing range."

"Yeah," you whispered. "We definitely are."

#matt murdock x reader #i am spiraling #so so good

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 1 year ago

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enter sandman - m. murdock

a/n: see me personally? never seeing the pearly gates. never ever. not after this one . enjoy. feedback always appreciated ! <3 warnings: guys... where do i fucking start. SMUT. SMUT!!!! GRAPHIC PORN!!!! no plot!!!! degradation!!! dumbification!!!! praise!!!! oral!!! (m recieving) cursing!!!! nicknames!!!! reader is female and has female parts and she/her pronouns!!!!! matt is cocky, mean!dom!matt, the ending is kind of cute, lots of inappropriate use of matts senses, uhhh guys let me know if i missed any because... wow. word count: 4.2k summary: you have a hard time sleeping. the devil has a few games in mind to tire you out. pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader now playing: enter sandman - metallica "exit light/enter night/take my hand/we're off to never-never land"

You have a horrible habit. Okay, you wouldn’t really consider it to be a habit per say, but you’re not proud of it. You will for it to end.

You can never seem to fall asleep. Staying asleep is easy, but getting there is a problem. Your mind is always racing, which causes you to spiral into a whirlpool of anxieties. You’re too busy thinking about your job, or what you’ll eat tomorrow, or when you’ll be doing your next load of laundry.

But most of all, what keeps you up at night is worrying about the devil. And not in the sense that you’re a holy catholic who wants to repent for her sins, either. Your worry for the devil comes because you’re hopelessly in love with him.

And you worry that one day he will come home damaged beyond repair. Maybe one day he will not come home at all, and you’ll have to hear about it on the news the next morning. It’s a hellish existence, loving the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, but you make do.

Like tonight—You had baked brownies earlier in the night, and then read your book for the better part of the night. You won’t allow yourself to fall asleep because the possibility of seeing him overwhelms you. But as the hours pass, you begin to lose hope.

And just as you you’re beginning to accept that he won’t be coming to see you and you’re really letting yourself drift, you feel a warm hand on your neck. He’s taken his gloves off tonight. You consider yourself blessed.

“Hi,” You mumble softly, your brain going all fuzzy with even just that bit of contact. You’ve missed him. “Was beginning to think you’d never show.”

But your devil is in no mood for simple pleasantries tonight.

“What have I told you about waiting up for me?”

“Not to?”

“I said,” His hand moves from its gentle place against your neck to grip your chin, “As long as you leave the window open I’ll know to just come in and take what I need.”

Your face flushes, and he grins, because he can tell that he’s making you flustered.

“Stop laughing at me.”

“No one’s laughing at you, sweetheart.” He hums.

“You are.” He shrugs gently. He’s wearing his black suit tonight, and it’s making you feel… a lot of things.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Damn him.

“Nothing!”

He leans forward and kisses you softly, and you lean up to try and kiss him further, but he pulls away, his grip returning to your chin, to keep you just centimeters away. The devil is an expert at reading you, despite his lack of sight. He has developed the habit of studying you, and knows that as of late, you’re not allowing yourself the pleasure of sleeping. He knows it’s because you’re so anxious and worried about every little thing, so tonight.. He intends to fix it. Or at least, maybe come up with a temporary solution.

“Liar.” He whispers and moves away further. “I’m not going to touch you until you tell me.”

Your devil is many things, but he does not bluff. He has this will of steel.

“I prefer it when you wear the black suit,” You tell him, “It’s not very protective, I know. But you look good in it.”

He makes a noise of realization, before moving his hand to slip under the hem of your shirt, resting his hand on your stomach. You shiver a bit, his hand warm against your skin. That’s what you get for wearing a tee shirt and shorts to bed every night, he’d tell you.

“That’s my smart girl.” Your heart flutters. “Mm, you really like that huh?”

“You’re awful.” You always pretend to hate how he reads you, but secretly, although you suspect he knows it, you love that someone knows you so well. He grins and his hands move again, this time picking you up into his arms and carrying you to the bedroom. “Hey! Not cool, we talked about picking up when we have no warning—” You cut yourself off with a grunt when he tosses you onto the bed.

“Shut up.”

He hears no objections.

Just as quickly as you’re thrown on the bed, he is above you, mask still on, kissing your neck.

“Wanna play a game, sweetheart?” He asks, hands on your hips, his fingers creeping up the hem of your shirt. You shiver again, and he just grins “You can answer.”

“Sure. I like games.” Your voice is meek, too busy enjoying all the contact with him. He hums softly.

“I know you do, and you’re just so good at them.” You grin against his skin as he kisses your cheek. “See that? That’s what I want to know.” You’re a bit lost.

“Know what?”

“I want to know what turns you on more— praising you or degrading you.”

What a fun game to play with a human lie detector.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, let’s play.” You confirm. He kisses you quickly.

“Good girl.” You hum softly, but it isn’t quite what he’s looking for. It’s good, don’t get him wrong, but he’s after more. “Tell me about your day, baby.” He continues to plant kisses along your skin. You know this isn’t a request but rather a requirement of the game.

“Well, I had work today, then I had to stop at the grocery store. I made dinner and—” You’re cut off by a kiss to a sensitive spot on your neck, because you can’t help but let out a gasp of pleasure.

“What? A few kisses and you’re already turning dumb for me?” You shudder softly, your heartbeat steadily increasing. The deep cadence of his voice paired with his words make you want to just melt. “Oh, there she is..”

He lets go of your arms for just a moment to slip your shirt off. Then, your hands are back above your head, held down by his grip. He moves on from your neck and begins to kiss down.

“I like this game.” You manage out, and he chuckles.

“I know you do. You know how?”

You think about it for a moment before you answer. You want to be right.

“You can hear my heartbeat?”

“And I can smell you. You like this a lot. More than you like me?” He continues to kiss down your torso.

You don’t answer for a second. He bites your skin gently, prompting you to answer.

“No.” You answer, “No, I don’t like anything.. anyone more than you.”

He kisses the spot where he bit softly.

“Even smart girls need to be reminded sometimes.” Is all he says before he continues to kiss you. You try to hide it, try to hide your reaction to the words, but he grins against your skin.

“Matt..” you groan out softly because his kisses have stopped.

“What?”

“Why’d you stop?” You whined.

“You’re my smart girl, why don’t you tell me?” You pause, biting your lip. “Is it because you can’t? Do you like being dumb for me, smart girl?” You want to defend yourself, but he bites your skin again.

“Yes!” you respond, and he does the same thing he did before—He kisses where he bit.

“Good girl.” He responds. “I like making you dumb just from a few kisses anyways.” He tells you, finally reaching your stomach with his kisses. “I love my dumb little smart girl.” The cadence he has to his voice makes you whine again. He knows every part of you, even the parts you never wanted to tell him about. He’s just too observant. “I love that despite how well behaved and good you are, you’re dumb enough to be talked down to like this, by some strange man who just crawled through your window.”

You answer before you can think about it. You’re smart enough to know that he’s at least half right.

“You’re not just anyone, you’re my Matt.”

“Your Matt?” He hums. “Your Matt, My ditzy smart girl.” He grins, before placing one last kiss right above the waistline of your shorts.

He moves so he can kiss your lips again, kissing you quick before pulling off his mask so you can see his face. He has a cut on his forehead and a bruise forming on his cheek. It’s clear he had a good night though, or else this wouldn’t be happening.

“Your face..” You frown, concern in your voice.

“Observant and smart?” He teases, kissing your forehead. “What happened to wanting to be dumb for me?”

You’re almost embarrassed of it now.

“You’re being mean.” You say quietly.

“Mean? Me? To my best girl?” He kisses you quickly again. “Never.” He hums. One of his hands goes down to your thigh, his fingertips inching up.

“Never.” You echo.

“What do you say, smart girl?” He asks, “Wanna play a few more games? See just how desperate I can make you?”

You huff at his words, your brain short circuiting to the point where you speak before you can really think.

“I just want you to fuck me!”

He stops just as he’s about to pull off your shorts and slithers back up so the pair of you are face to face.

“First of all,” he places a kiss to your lips gently, “You are not in a position to be making demands, pretty girl. Second,” He kisses you again, “Such a foul mouth for such a dumb baby,” You let off a soft whine, and he has the audacity to mock your whine, “I know, it’s not much of a lecture when you like when I talk to you like this,” He hums. “And third, I know you’re smarter than to be a brat.” He says gently, kissing you again.

“I’m not a brat.” You whine, and again, he mocks you before devolving into a deep chuckle, leaning in to kiss you.

“I love you.” He says, with a grin on his face.

He’s gentle with you for a few moments, softer. You decide that now is your chance, and if you don’t act now, you’ll spend the rest of your night under his thumb. So, you flip over and have him under you, as you sit on his lower stomach. His hands come up to the back of your thighs.

“I’ve got you now, Devil.” You grin, leaning in to kiss him. But before you can, he’s flipping you back over, keeping you pinned by your legs.

“Brat.” he accuses, leaning in to kiss you again. You huff. “Easy, pretty girl, your attitude is getting the best of you.”

You frown and turn your head when he goes to kiss you.

“Tell me I’m not a brat and I’ll kiss you.” You demand, and he grins, but this time it isn’t soft. It’s almost wicked. He grabs your chin roughly and tilts your head towards him, before kissing you roughly.

“What did I tell you?” he asks. “Come on, smart girl, I know you remember.”

“That I was in no position to make demands?”

“That’s right.” He coos, “Now, baby, do you want to hear what I had planned for you tonight?”

You must admit, you’re very curious.

“Sure, Matty.” His grin widens.

“Well, I was planning on playing this little game with you, then eating you out until your thighs are shaking,” You let out a whine, but he just shushes you softly, “Sh, sh, sh… You wanted to hear, so listen.” He hums. “Then, I was going to fuck you until you were full of my cum.” He tells you.

Then, he lets out a disappointed sigh.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“That was what I was planning on, but because you decided to be a brat, I have a new plan.”

“I liked that plan so much though..”

“I know, Sweetheart, me too.. But you’re the one who ruined it.” He reminded, leaning in, and biting your jaw between his fingers. His hand positioning is not exactly choking, but the grip is tight enough to leave marks. He feels you grind your hips up a bit, and chuckles again. “Smart girl, already figuring out what’s next.”

You tilt your head in confusion, but before you know it, he’s repositioning you so you’re in his lap at the edge of the bed. He pats your thigh gently.

“Get up for me, Honey. Then you got to take your shorts off for me.” You do as you’re told, no longer interested in fucking up his plans. Then, he pulls you back onto his lap, and he hums gently. You decide to take a risk and bring your hands up to his jaw, and then up towards his mask.

“Please?” You ask gently. “Wanna see you..” He nods softly, letting you pull off his mask, as his head tilts to the side to kiss your palm.

“You remember who’s in charge, right, sweetheart?”

“You, devil.”

“That’s right, angel.” He praises, “And that’s why you’re going to ride my thigh.” You let out a soft whine, and he shakes his head, “No, no whining from you, sweet girl. You wanted to be a brat, so you gotta reap what you sew.”

He holds your hips as you begin to grind against his thigh, and Matt focuses on the way your breathing hitches as you rub against his thigh. Your hands grip his shoulders as he begins to kiss your neck again.

Your skin burns with need, and your hips roll faster as your breath speeds up, and slowly, minute by minute, you’re edging closer to your release. But he knows you’re close to coming undone not only because of how your skin is hot, and your breath is airy, but because you’re making such a mess.

You’re definitely staining his pant leg with your wetness, because after his insatiable teasing, you’re just desperate for him, and oh so sensitive. The speed of your grinding increases, and then, because he wants to see you break, he starts to bounce his leg up so that in addition to your grinding, it’s overwhelming you.

“Matt,” you say, breathlessly. “Matt, please..”

“Please what, smart girl? What do you want?” He’s really going to make you ask for it. This is all part of his game.

“Please..” You start, resting your head on his shoulder. “Please, can I come?”

“What was that, baby? I didn’t hear you.”

Oh, now he’s being a fucking dick. You know he can hear you, with his damned super senses. Nonetheless, you pick your head up and manage to get it out.

“Please let me come,” You beg, and he laughs.

“You know what’s funny, baby?” You let out a whine. “You’re so smart, always holding the world on your shoulders, and yet.. A little bit of teasing and riding my thigh, and you can barely get a sentence out.. You’re being so good for me, baby. So good at following orders,” He bites your neck. “So, go ahead and come for me, sweet girl.”

As soon as those words leave his lips, you’re letting go, the tight knot in your stomach finally snapping. You moan into his ear, his hands on your side to keep you stable as you come undone. He keeps bouncing his leg to have you ride out your high as your legs begin to shake. You’re making all of these pretty noises for him, and the smell of your juices are overwhelming for him.

“Such a good girl for me,” he hums, kissing you softly. He’s back to being rather gentle with you. But his cock is incredibly hard against his pants, and he needs to feel you clench around him. “Can my pretty baby ride my cock?” You’re shaking but you nod gently.

He knows you’re verging on the edge of being unable to do much else, but he wants to see how far he can push you. So, he pats your leg again and you stand up. His hands come up to undo your bra and pull off your panties.

He holds them in his hands for a moment, breathing in deeply as your scent continues to overwhelm him. He wastes no more time, pulling off his shirt and then starting to unbuckle his black pants. On instinct, you’re on your knees, with this.. primal desire to suck him off.

He takes a deep breath, his hand going to your hair and pushing your hair from your face. You lean into his touch, smiling softly up at him. He knows how much you like just thoughtless sex—You value long, intimate nights too, but after a long week, you need to shut off your brain and he needs to take control.

“Wanna suck my cock first, baby? You’re so good for me..” He says softly, slipping down his boxers.

“Just wanna be good for you,” You hum, eying his glistening hardness. You can’t deny that he looks truly crafted by the hands of God—Most of his body is glistening with sweat, cock glistening with precum. He is heavenly and the only thing you’ll ever want to worship.

“You’re so good for me. My dumb little smart girl.” The name form earlier makes you weak, as you lean in and begin to lick his tip. His hand grips your hair as he inhales sharply. “Careful, sweetheart.” He tells you, beginning to guide you in sucking him dry.

His hand guides you as your head bobs against his cock, the taste of him turning your brain further into mush. He makes sure to guide you at a steady pace, moaning out praise, and occasionally degradation.

“So fucking good for me,” He gasps out, “My good little girl.. Sucking my cock so good—Ah, fuck..” He gasps as you quicken your pace. “Sucking me like the little slut you are..” You moan against cock at that, and he gasps, before it devolves into a low chuckle. “And you like it, too.. Being called my little slut.. Good little slut, just for me.. Got you trained so well..” He holds on for a few more moments before he comes into your mouth, panting softly.

His cum dribbles down your chin as you swallow most of it, so his hand comes up to your chin to gently wipe the dribble off before he slips his thumb into your mouth.

“Every last drop for me, angel.” He requests. You happily suck on his thumb for a few moments while he recovers. Then, he leans down and picks you up, resting you on the bed again. “Now you’re gonna ride me, right, pretty?”

“Mhm..” You smile, and as soon as he lays back on the bed, you’re on top of him. His cock slides against your folds and you whine a bit, just desperate for the feeling of him filling you up. “You know how badly I want your cock..” He grins at this.

“You have it, angel. Just gotta ride me, okay?” You hum in response. You slowly lower yourself down onto his cock, taking a few minutes to adjust to the size of him. But your slow pace is not quick enough for Matt, whose hands find your hips (for the millionth time tonight) and quickly slides his entire length into you.

You moan loudly, a feeling of pain and pleasure blurring together as he hits just the right spot to make you see stars.

“Matt, fuck,” You whine, wanting to take a second to catch your breath.

“Color?” It’s a safe word system—He knows he might have taken it a tad too far, pushing into you like that.

“Green,” You promise.

“Okay, good.” He leans up and kisses your forehead gently, a sign of the gentleness that resides in his demeanor despite just how into his dominate behavior you are. He begins to roll his hips, and revels in the sound of the pretty screams coming out of your mouth as he begins to pound into you. “I’ve got you fucked dumb, baby? Can’t even ride my cock properly?” He asks, pulling you in to kiss your skin.

“No,” You protest, “I can do it,” It comes out whinier than you wanted it to—Much whinier, but you can’t deny that he’s wrong about that first part. Your brain is blurry in the best way. He hums in approval before gently pushing you away from his lips.

“Prove it, then.” He demands, and his hips are no longer bucking into you. Instead, you shakily begin to bounce against his cock, using his moans and gasps as guidance. His hands grip your thighs as you ride him. “There you go, angel. It’s not too much for you, right?” He hums.

“No!” You protest again, “No, Sir, I can take it,” He grins at the slip of the title. He swats the side of your thigh, rubbing it softly after you yelp, but it quickens your pace. His brain is beginning to fog too, so he knows he wants to get a few more comments out.

“Fucking liar,” he laughs, “Even when your.. fuck..” He gasps, the feeling of you clenching around him overwhelming him. “When you’re bouncing on my cock and moaning for me, you’re still lying..” His one hand travels to play with your clit, rubbing small circles into it. “So,” He takes a deep breath, leaning forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder, before picking his head back up. “I’ll ask you again.. Is it too much for you, my ditzy girl?”

Tears prick your eyes, as you will your brain to come up with a comprehensive answer.

“Yes!” You admit, “it’s too much,” You pant, but because you don’t say ‘red’ he keeps going.

“Aw, I know, honey,” He plants a soft kiss to your lips, the hand that isn’t rubbing circles into your clit coming up to brush sweaty hair from your face. “But you can take it. Come on, sweet thing, I know..” He hums. “Come for me, baby..”

And you do—You come hard, your vision going white for a fraction of a second as you let out these angelic noises. He doesn’t give a damn about noise complaints right now, all he can focus on is the smell of your sweat, your cum, and your pretty little noises.

You continue to rock your hips, wanting to feel his cum fill you up. And after a few more minutes, your wish comes true, as he grips your hip tightly with one hand as he comes deep inside you, as you roll your hips just a few more times, riding the last waves of a euphoric high.

His chest is heaving as you slump down against his chest. The pair of you are sweating, but he still looks so beautiful like this. His cock still fills you, his cum deep within you. His hand gently runs up and down your back,

“How’s my sweet girl doing..?” He’s afraid he went too far with you, hoping his words didn’t push you into a bad headspace. It’s happened before, where you just needed time to come back to reality. But tonight, you’re exhausted in a whole new way. You’re happy that you’ll actually be able to sleep.

“I’m good,” You promise. You’re sweaty, out of breath and completely fucked out of your mind.

He takes your jaw in his hand and tilts your head up so you’re looking in his general direction.

“You know I don’t really think you’re dumb, right?” He just needs to make sure.

“I know,” You giggle, “But it’s pretty hot in the moment. Besides, you took care of me.”

He grins and kisses your forehead.

“I’ll always take care of you.” He promises. You know he means it, too. Your Matty, always taking care of you. “You know you don’t need to worry about everything, right? You don’t have to hold the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

“I know,” You start, “But you’re always so busy with the firm, and being Daredevil, and—” He hushes you softly.

“I am never too busy for you.” He says gently. “I know I can’t do your job for you, but I can be more careful and help with dinner, you know.” He just wants you to be less stressed all the time, the hypocrite.

“Okay.” You say gently. “Thank you, Matt.” He holds you close and places a soft kiss to your head.

“You’re still shaking,” He says gently, “But you need to shower.” He says softly, moving now so that he can carry you to your bathroom. You whine at the feeling of emptiness you’re left with when he slides out of you, and he just laughs. “I know, Baby, I know.”

Matt is just a general fan of taking care of you. Even when you’re fucked out of your mind like you are right now. You love that about him.

You love that the devil is so devoted to you. It stirs something deep inside you that you can’t quite voice. Matt knows it, too.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil fic #daredevil #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fluff #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock smut #dom!matt murdock #marvel smut #rough kink #never seeing the pearly gates #no plot

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matt-murdockk · 2 months ago

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I can fix him (no really I can)

They shake their heads saying, "God help her" When I tell them he's my man But your good Lord doesn't need to lift a finger I can fix him, no, really I can And only I can

college!matt murdock x fem!reader | fluff— a whole lotta fluff | sorta friends to lovers? | fic from reader's pov, then a pov switch to third person

Matt Murdock famously doesn't stick around for longer than a month, tops. You were determined to change that.

Pre-law golden boy with an aura that exudes confidence, Matt was the person everyone either wanted to be, or wanted to be with. He knew that, and his faux modesty only made it worse for the masses desperate to get a piece of him. Am I one of—? Please, I'd fuck a tree before I fuck Matt Murdock. Not that I hate him or anything. I'm just not on the bed anyone with abs and a personality bandwagon. Good for him for all that attention he's getting, but my ties with him start and end in class. He's just a classmate.

Okay, maybe not just a classmate.

We share notes. Sometimes. Only when he forgets his, which is rare, because apparently being hot and capable is a combo this man insists on wielding like a goddamn weapon. Once, he offered to buy me coffee as a thank you and I made the mistake of saying yes. We ended up talking for an hour. One hour. And somehow I left that conversation knowing his middle name, his favourite diner his dad used to take him to, and exactly what kind of espresso he drinks before a big exam.

It was fine. It’s fine. People have conversations all the time. I’m not spiraling.

We became friends. Real ones. That was the problem.

Because here’s the thing: Matt Murdock is a disaster.

Not on paper. No— on paper, he’s perfect. He’s top of the class, charming when he wants to be, a little cocky, but in a way that makes you laugh instead of wanting to push him down the stairs.

But spend enough time around him and you start to notice things.

Like how he never lets anyone get close. Like how he flirts with half the campus but every single one of his flings ends in vague silence and awkward glances the next day. Like how he knows exactly how to listen to someone but refuses to let anyone hear him.

It’s not a red flag. It’s a goddamn red parade.

So of course I did what any completely normal person with an ounce of self-preservation would do.

I caught feelings for that bastard.

Of course, it's the emotionally unavailable mess with enough red flags to decorate a fucking carnival that catches my attention. Just my goddamn luck.

And, in a moment of sheer lunacy, decided I could fix him.

No really, I could. Just needed time. And patience. And maybe a crowbar for emotional extraction. Whatever. I’ve done harder things. If I can survive Mr Vasquez's class, I can survive whatever this is.

I just have to make sure he never finds out I like him. And also make him like me back. And maybe heal years of trust issues in the process.

Easy, right?

Well, it wasn’t.

Because what started as some deranged attempt to break into the fortress that is Matt Murdock turned into something else entirely. We became friends. Real friends. Somewhere along the way, it stopped being about fixing him and started being about just… being there.

And God help me, I think he needed that more than anything.

It wasn’t just me and Matt anymore, either. Foggy came into the picture fast— bright-eyed, effortlessly funny, with an incredible ability to sniff out bullshit in under five seconds. The three of us? Unstoppable. Study sessions, lunch breaks, late-night coffee runs before an exam. They were my people.

So yeah. The plan backfired. Spectacularly. But I had friends for life now, so I couldn’t exactly call it a failure.

It didn’t mean it stopped hurting, though.

Matt’s life… it wasn’t easy. I could see it in the way he shut down when he was overwhelmed, how he buried himself in work instead of letting anyone in. Some nights he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, but he’d still crack a joke just to make Foggy laugh.

And when he was with other women— when he flirted like it was a language only he spoke— it hurt. Even when I told myself I didn’t have a right to feel that way. He wasn’t mine. I made sure of that.

I’d smile through it. Tease him, even. Make some stupid quip about his tragic taste in women and let the ache settle where no one could see it.

Except Foggy noticed.

He always does.

One afternoon— study session turned snack break in our usual booth— Foggy caught me staring too long. Matt was across the room talking to a girl from one of our electives, charming smile and all.

“You okay?” he asked, nudging me with his elbow.

I blinked. “Yeah. Fine.”

“You sure? Because that definitely wasn’t your ‘fine’ face. That was your ‘I’m swallowing feelings and pretending to be emotionally stable’ face.”

I sighed, resting my chin on my palm. “He’s not doing anything wrong.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

I turned to him. “Foggy, I’m not gonna pull a dramatic ‘what are we’ in the middle of a group project. Matt may be a lot of things, but you really cannot force him to be something he doesn’t want to be.”

Foggy frowned. “But do you think he doesn’t want—?”

“Matt would probably suck at relationships,” I said, more tired than bitter. “Like, actual long-term ones. He likes the chase, he likes the moment. And that’s fine. He’s allowed to live how he wants. I just… I’m happy being his friend. Genuinely. Give it time. I’ll get over it.”

Foggy was quiet for a second. “That was… wildly mature.”

“Yeah well, personal growth is a bitch.”

He grinned. “Still. If it helps, he’s not as smooth as he thinks.”

I snorted. “No, but he is absurdly pretty. That makes up for a lot.”

We let the topic die after that. I figured that was the end of it.

I didn’t know Matt had heard.

—————————————————————————————————

Third Person POV

Matt had only come back for his notebook.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He hadn’t meant to hear that.

But he had.

He stopped just shy of the hallway corner, heart thudding loud in his chest. The way her voice dropped when she said “I’ll get over it.”

The words hit harder than he expected.

She thought he’d be a bad boyfriend.

Worse— she didn’t even think he was worth trying.

And Matt knew— he knew— he hadn’t been great. He had a lot on his plate, a whole goddamn feast of mess, but he never once thought she saw him like that. Not undeserving.

She didn’t know he stayed up wondering what it’d feel like to kiss her. For real. Without laughing it off or playing it cool. She didn’t know how often his fingers hovered near hers and didn’t reach. How badly he wanted to.

But if she thought he wasn’t capable of it? Of loving her the way she deserved?

He had to change that.

Not just for her. For him. For the version of himself he wanted to be—the kind that could love someone, openly and fully, without messing it up.

“Jesus,” Foggy muttered when he saw Matt later that night. “You look like you saw a ghost. Or rather... felt a ghost? I don't know, man.”

“I heard something,” Matt said, collapsing onto his bed, voice low.

“Define ‘something.’”

“(Y/N) said I’d be a bad boyfriend.”

Foggy blinked. “Okay. Context?”

Matt dragged a hand over his face. “She was talking to you. In the booth. Earlier.”

Foggy raised his brows. “You, uh, you were there?”

“I forgot my notebook.”

Foggy held up his hands. “Alright, okay. First off— she didn’t say you’d be a bad boyfriend. She said you’d probably suck at steady relationships. Big difference.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, because you’ve never tried a steady relationship. Which is kind of the point.”

Matt groaned. “I need to fix this.”

Foggy stared. “Okay, I’m gonna need you to walk me through your version of fixing this.”

Matt sat up. “I’m gonna prove her wrong.”

Foggy blinked. “You’re gonna… ask her out?”

“No,” Matt said quickly. “I mean— yes. Eventually. But first I need to become the kind of guy she thinks could be a good boyfriend. You know. Change her mind.”

Foggy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ. Just fuck already.”

Matt frowned. “What?”

Foggy threw his hands in the air. “You like her. She likes you. I have seen you two. Why do you think you want her to stay longer after we're done studying? Why do you think you linger? Why do you think you bring her coffee and save her a seat and remember her deadlines better than your own?”

Matt opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

“She fell first, you fell harder,” Foggy said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You know the drill, man.”

Matt stared.

“…Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. My brother in Christ, you’re in love.”

Matt exhaled.

“…Shit.”

——————————————————————————————————

Matt didn’t sleep that night.

He lay awake, headphones in, a lecture playing that he didn’t hear, the words echoing over and over again in his head.

“She fell first.”

“You fell harder.”

He didn’t even realize when it happened. Somewhere between her snorting at his awful Latin puns and handing him half her sandwich because he forgot to eat again— he’d fallen. And now she thought he was incapable of loving her the way she deserved.

It felt like a punch to the chest.

But instead of wallowing, he decided to do something.

Starting now.

The next morning, Matt showed up to your apartment with coffee. Your exact order. No text beforehand. No heads-up.

You opened the door in pajama shorts and a hoodie, one sock on and a pen still tucked behind your ear.

“Matt?”

He held up the coffee like it was a peace offering. “You mentioned your 9 a.m. was with Vasquez today. I figured you’d need a hit of caffeine and a minor miracle.”

You blinked. “…That’s weirdly thoughtful of you.”

He smiled. “I’ve been working on that.”

And then he left. Just like that.

No flirting. No lingering.

Just… left.

You stared after him, cup in hand, completely thrown.

It didn’t stop there.

Matt started walking you to class. All the time.

Not just when you happened to be heading the same direction. On purpose.

He’d show up at your building with some excuse— “I needed air,” or “Foggy wasn’t ready yet”— and fall into step beside you like it was routine.

Then came the favors. Printing your notes when the Wi-Fi was down. Fixing the broken strap on your bag. Letting you drag him to that awful late-night diner when you were too wired to sleep.

You didn’t get it.

This wasn’t how Matt Murdock operated.

Matt Murdock flirted, ghosted, and moved on.

This? This was effort.

It was also torture.

Because the more he did it, the more you started to hope. Stupid, dangerous hope. Maybe he did like you. Maybe this wasn’t one-sided after all.

But every time you thought about asking, about saying something— he’d flash that same unreadable smile and change the subject.

So you kept your mouth shut. Kept watching. Waiting.

Hoping.

Meanwhile, Foggy was losing his mind.

“You can’t just— Matt, you cannot boyfriend her without telling her.”

Matt frowned, folding his arms. “I thought this was the part where I prove myself.”

“To who? To her? She already likes you. You’re not proving anything except that you’re allergic to communication.”

“I’m building a foundation.”

Foggy looked pained. “You’re building a bad sitcom plot. Just tell her.”

Matt hesitated. “She said she didn’t want that. She said she’d get over me.”

Foggy sighed so hard, his soul probably left his body.

“Matt. Listen to me. She said that because she didn’t think she could have you. You have ghosted every girl before her, remember?”

Matt winced. “Not every—”

“Every.”

“…Fair.”

Foggy ran a hand down his face. “You’re gonna lose her if you don’t speak up.”

Matt didn’t respond.

Because deep down, he knew it was true.

——————————————————————————————————

It started with Foggy texting you.

Which was already suspicious, because Foggy never texted first unless Matt was—

foggy: hey can you swing by the quad after class?

foggy: matt’s planning something

foggy: i’m scared :,)

Now, when someone like Foggy— sweet, unshakeable, usually-down-for-anything Foggy— is scared, you listen. You changed your route and headed toward the quad.

And promptly stopped dead in your tracks.

Because what the hell were you looking at.

Matt Murdock stood on a bench.

On a goddamn bench. In broad daylight. Holding what looked like a beat-up portable speaker above his head like he was channelling John Cusack in Say Anything.

Button-down rolled to the elbows. Hair tousled like it’d been run through about seven too many times. Foggy was standing off to the side looking like he was actively regretting every life decision that brought him here.

“Oh no,” you whispered. “Oh no.”

A group of students was already watching, phones half-raised. Matt didn’t seem to care.

You watched, frozen, as he raised a hand and cleared his throat. Actually cleared his throat. Like he was about to deliver a valedictorian speech. You saw Foggy mutter don’t do it, like a prayer.

Matt did it anyway.

“I, uh… I know this is weird,” he began, voice carrying over the quad, “but I have something to say. Something important.”

The crowd murmured. A few giggles. One guy yelled “Murdock, you proposing?” which earned a sharp shut up from someone else. Foggy, probably.

Matt ignored it. His face was dead serious. “There’s someone I’ve been an idiot about. Someone smart and stubborn and too good to waste time on someone like me. But she did anyway. She does. And if she’s here—” his head turned slightly “— I want her to know I’m sorry. And that I like her. A lot.”

You blinked.

Foggy made frantic eye contact with you from the sidelines and mouthed stop him.

But you couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Matt continued. “I was scared, okay? I thought I’d ruin it. Ruin her. But then I realized I’d rather screw up trying to be with her than let her go without even trying. So, (Y/N),” he called, voice way too confident for a man committing this level of social suicide. “This one’s for you.”

A soft click, followed by the unmistakable synthy intro of Truly Madly Deeply by Savage Garden.

Savage. Fucking. Garden.

You clapped a hand over your mouth.

Someone nearby went “What is happening?”

Matt? he looked hopeful.

And you— stupid, stunned, wildly endeared— were just about to take a step forward when—

Cue the sprinkler system turning on.

Every. Single. Sprinkler.

They sputtered, then blasted to life across the quad like a synchronized ambush. A collective scream rose as people scrambled away, books and phones held over heads.

Matt? Got hit square in the chest, earning a strained Jesus from him.

Foggy somewhere in the periphery muttering “I told him” like a man in mourning.

You? Soaked. Wide-eyed. Laughing.

You actually had to cover your mouth, you were laughing so hard.

Matt stepped down, water dripping from his sleeves. He looked around like he was being personally smitten by the gods. It was like the universe waited for maximum dramatic tension just to drop the punchline.

The song cut out with a strangled sputter as the speaker died a wet, heroic death. Students screamed. Matt cursed under his breath as he was immediately soaked. Foggy, who had clearly seen this coming, was already power-walking toward the nearest tree, muttering “I’m too pretty for this.”

You stood there in shock as water poured down on everyone.

And then— you burst out laughing.

You couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop it. You doubled over, drenched, laughing so hard it echoed louder than the chaos around you.

Matt stood on the bench, blinking water from his lashes, the speaker dangling uselessly from one hand. He looked like a wet, confused puppy. A hot wet confused puppy. Weird analogy. But still.

You pushed your hair from your eyes and walked over, completely soaked.

“This was your grand romantic gesture?” you asked between giggles.

He ran a hand down his face, sopping. “It was supposed to be better.”

You looked up at him, the pathetic speaker still crackling faintly in his grip. “It was absolutely ridiculous.”

A pause.

You smiled. “It was perfect.”

Foggy squelched up behind you both. “Okay, you’ve both had your romcom moment, can I go home now? My socks are... squishy.”

Matt turned to him, still trying to catch his breath. “Thanks for… whatever part you played in this.”

“I want that thank you in writing,” Foggy muttered. “And a refund for emotional distress.”

You turned back to Matt.

“Do I get to keep the boombox?”

He grinned. “It’s mostly water now. But sure.”

You took a slow step closer. “So… boyfriend material yet?”

He reached out— careful, gentle— and brushed a piece of wet hair behind your ear. “Getting there.”

And then you kissed him.

In the middle of the quad. Soaked to the bone. Surrounded by students who definitely started applauding and whistling, because of course they did.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, Foggy just shook his head.

“Seriously. I hate you both.”

You smiled at him. “Love you too, Fog.”

And Matt?

Well, he didn’t run.

Not this time.

a/n: alright so the fic took a detour from what i had originally planned, it was going to be angst, reader was going to be fwb with matt, and well it's a whole thing, a lot of changes happened but i didn't change the title because well i got attached. i know it doesn't really make sense now with how the story turned out, but i'm leaving it in the story anyway, hope you liked it!

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aconitum-fields · 3 months ago

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As we reach Born Again's climax, I believe it's time for Matt to finally face the music. To finally admit that, yes, every choice he's made as of late has been a part of one long nervous breakdown and that he has not recovered from the trauma of losing the man who was once his heart and home.

The classic, time-tested, Matthew Murdock grief process is for him to lose his mind for a week or so, then once he hit's a certain low, he snaps back on a pin drop and enters the longest phase of his grief: living his life in a haze and making increasingly rash decisions until they eventually ruin his life and/or the lives around him.

Beginning with him not speaking to Karen for weeks hot off Foggy's death and "retiring" from being Daredevil, the bulk of DDBA has been nothing but that long second phase. For the past eight episodes, we've been watching Matt edge the line between his secret identity and regular life, isolate himself from his girlfriend and coworkers, and make risky decision after risky decision. It is no secret that Matt is a ticking timebomb, and I think it is safe to assume that taking a bullet for Fisk is the climax of this spiral. He can't exactly "I'm fine" his way out of willfully being shot in the middle of a gala.

And with the inevitable hospital trip Matt's about to face coming up, I can't help but wonder if we'll finally get to see be this page adapted:

It's clear to us all that Matt's life has been feeling as rushed and displaced as it is because of his deteriorating mental health. But who will it be? Who will finally, truly, confront Matt on what's been going on with him? Who will be able to help him find himself again?

Heather attempted to pry Matt open in episode 7, and though Matt did admit to her that his life feels fake, he's clearly still hiding; clearly still running from the idea that Foggy's death broke something in him that he doesn't want to fix. It doesn't matter if she's a therapist and can analyze his mental deterioration, she just does not understand Matt as a person. There's a very blatant disconnect in Matt and Heather's relationship that I don't believe they will be able to fix. Matt's... never really been the best boyfriend/friend in the world (outside of college maybe) so you can't really blame Heather for being so short with him, but it's doing their relationship no favours.

Aside from Heather's attempt, Frank is the only other person (more or less) in DDBA who has gotten close to making Matt face himself. Frank is someone who's able to claw out Matt's deepest rage. It's bloody, beautiful, visceral, and born of deep heartache. But Matt's anger and hatred isn't what we need here. We need to find his heart --the one that was buried with Foggy.

I believe Karen is a very strong contender as for who can help Matt return to himself. Like Ben Urich in Bendis' run, she's been cut out of Matt's life long enough that returning to it in episode 9 with fresh eyes will have her crossing her arms and shaking her head. When she realizes how much he's let his life spiral out of control, I'm sure she'll be more than ready to knock some self-awareness into him. But deep in my heart, I hope it will be Kirsten.

So far, Kirsten has been getting the short end of the stick in the character development department. But, I'm hopeful. Her best and most fleshed out scenes have been from the post-overhaul episodes, and with the way she lifted Matt's glasses and pointed out his black eye in this weeks episode, I can't help but think (and pray) that she's about to get a lot more involved in Matt's personal life.

Where Heather tries to poke, prod, and force Matt into a corner until he admits that he needs serious help, Kirsten's the kind of person to make you feel comfortable enough that being honest with her comes naturally when you're ready for it. It's like that old idiom, "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink." Heather, being the self-assured therapist that she is, can clearly recognize that Matt is mentally ill and has been trying to force him to admit it. But that just doesn't work with Matt. He's not stupid, he knows that his mind is eating him alive, but he's the kind of person who would rather give his all helping others than spend a minute helping himself. You're not going to get him to open up if you make him feel like his emotions are a chore, and this is why I so firmly believe that Kirsten should be the one to help Matt wake up and stop sleeping through life.

Kirsten is one of my favourite Daredevil characters and her relationship with Matt in the comics was easily his healthiest one. She's passionate, hilarious, takes no shit, and will always see straight through Matt. And when it comes to Matt's turbulent mental health, she knows when to push and when to back off; when it's safe to tease and when a joke might make him close off. I can't be the only one who cried when reading Daredevil Vol. 4 and got to the part where Kirsten could tell Matt was teetering on a breakdown and waited outside his place for when he'd be okay to open up. Kirsten's compassion and patience with Matt is something that will forever warm my heart. She's the kind of person I wish I had in my life.

Their relationship is everything to me. Please, Born Again showrunners, I beg of you LET KIRSTEN BE MATT'S ANCHOR!!!

Though most of Born Again has put Kirsten on a back burner, I can tell that the new showrunners understand her well and I really do hope that the show is going to give us a good slow burn romance between her and Matt. You can't just add Matt's best love interest (besides Elektra) into the narrative and have her played by an actress as perfect as Nikki M. James then NOT have her be endgame with Matt. There's so much potential between them!! They can't let their chemistry go to waste. Nuh uh, I REFUSE. So, with season 1's conclusion around the corner, I hope we'll get to see her be a guiding light to help Matt out of the dark sea of his mind.

#the kirsten moments in ep8 have given me so much hope and i pray that this next episode will continue having her be so comfortable with matt #kirsten mcduffie i will forever manifest your success #if it's cherry that ends up getting matt to cry and admit his life has gone to shit i'm going to put my head in a wall #matt murdock #kirsten mcduffie #mattkirsten #murduffie #heather glenn #daredevil #daredevil born again #daredevil comics #ddba #daredevil spoilers #ddba spoilers #Spotify

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