bellesmadeofsilk

[bellesmadeofsilk]

Thank you! I’m so glad you like it— I was a little bit proud of this one 🤭

Listen In M.M x FEM!Reader

Overture- You're trying to move your dining room table when you slip and fall. Your downstairs neighbor Matt overhears and decides to stop eavesdropping from afar.

CWs- Alcohol heavily mentioned but not actually consumed, Matt is a nosey son of a bitch, and reader is very upset because of a million small things as well as her inability to move furniture

A/N- Hopefully adequate (Divider from @lambouillet)

Matt could hear you— constantly. It wasn’t a bad thing, not at all— but he could feel it making him nosier and nosier by the day. He started consciously listening whenever he was home. He could hear you talking to yourself while you cooked, heard the movies you watched and laughed as though he were alongside you. 

Today though, when he came home he could hear the sound of furniture being moved around, the wood of your table sliding against the floor— accompanying them were frustrated sighs and some groans of discontent. He wrote it off as you trying unsuccessfully to rearrange and wished he could come up and help you. But what would he say? ‘Sorry, I was eavesdropping from downstairs and you sound like you need help. Let the blind man help you decorate— hold my cane would you?’ It would make him seem insane, and like he thought you were incapable. 

He was paralyzed by the decision until he heard a small thud, followed by a crash, and the worst part— soft sobbing coming from you. He listened closely, you had no broken bones, not even a sprained ankle. You weren’t bleeding, physically you must’ve been just fine. But he couldn’t stay on his couch anymore. 

He practically ran upstairs, forgetting to even try and come up with a tangible excuse until he got to the door. He could need a bottle opener— he doesn’t, but he could. He could have just happened to have needed to borrow something. He could just not need his cane when he’s in the apartment building, since he forgot it anyway— and he could have merely stumbled upon you when you were upset.

He knocked, and you picked yourself up off the floor, dusted yourself off, wiped the tears from your face, and opened the door. Figures that your incredibly cute neighbor was the one on the other side of the door— bearing witness to one of the most frustrating days of your life. Your coffee tasted burnt, you knocked things over left and right as you were trying to clean, ran into the corner of your desk twice, and —worst of all— you were trying to move your dining room table when you slipped, falling into the table, and then onto the floor. Not badly enough to seriously hurt yourself, but that brought all of the upset mounting from the day crashing down onto you, crushing you into a puddle on the floor. But nevertheless you answered the door, clearing your throat in a failed attempt to hide your upset.

“Hey Matt, what’s up?” You were grateful that he couldn’t see how puffy your eyes had gotten from crying, and the visible frustration on your face. Unbeknownst to you he could however hear the blood rushing to the spots you’d soon have bruises– and he had to strain himself from fussing over you in a way that would only bring both of you more concern. 

“I came to see if I could borrow a bottle opener, if you have one.” He cleared his throat twice trying to keep his tone even– trying to keep from pulling you close and using every sense he could to check on your physical health, and then keeping you close to him so you could tell him every little thing that made you so upset. 

“Sure, come on in, I think I have one in the kitchen.” You held the door open behind you, wiping your eyes one more time as you turned your back to him. He closed the door again as he stepped in, almost following you all the way to your kitchen, but choosing to stand next to the table. 

“Are you alright?” He made an attempt to be nonchalant, but his concern seeped out of every facet of his being. 

“Oh, yeah it’s just not my day.” You were shuffling through the drawers of your kitchen to try and hide how upset you were, looking for the bottle opener that would get him to leave so you could go back to crying on the floor. You could see him and make a much better impression another time. But he just tilted his head and continued staring in your direction. 

“What happened?” 

“Nothing really, it was just frustrating, and then I couldn’t move some things around my apartment and I slipped.” 

“What did you need to move?”

“My table, but it’s fine I’ll— I’ll figure something out later.” 

“Where do you want it?”

“Matt, it’s fine. I can’t ask you to do that, I’ll do it later.”

“I like to be helpful— give me a direction and just say when.” He wasn't taking no for an answer, and you were in no position to turn down help anyway. 

“Umm ok, just like to the left, and then a bit forward from where you’re standing.” He rolled his shoulders back and while he made it seem effortless, you could see every muscle in his arms and back working as he moved. And just as you could make yourself stop staring, he had pushed the needlessly heavy table exactly where you needed it. 

“That’s perfect. Thank you Matt; seriously.” 

“I should— probably find that bottle opener for you. Where the hell is it?” You went back to shuffling through the door, still unable to find the one thing you needed. 

“That’s ok, I can definitely do without.”

“I know it’s around here somewhere if I could just find it.” You were starting to get upset again, but now it was his fault and he most definitely could not let that happen. 

“You know there’s a fantastic bar just down the block, I think I’d rather have your company than be by myself. Drinking alone doesn’t lend itself to the best days.” He could hear the way your heart sped up, almost able to taste the copper of your blood rushing in your cheeks at his suggestion. 

“Oh. That– That sounds nice. Let me go grab my wallet really quick.” You walked past him but he stopped you, linking your arm with his and starting to make his way to the front door.

“Nope– you don’t need it, drinks are on me.”

“Matt you don’t have to do that– really.” 

“I really want to though. It’s a thank you for lending me your company for a while, saving a blind man from walking the streets alone. I just need you to let me know if there are any open man-holes in the street.– Or if I’m about to run into someone which may be more likely.”

“I promise.” In his excitement he was much more leading you down the stairs and along the streets than you were him– but you most definitely did not mind. 

[bellesmadeofsilk]

Listen In M.M x FEM!Reader

Overture- You're trying to move your dining room table when you slip and fall. Your downstairs neighbor Matt overhears and decides to stop eavesdropping from afar.

CWs- Alcohol heavily mentioned but not actually consumed, Matt is a nosey son of a bitch, and reader is very upset because of a million small things as well as her inability to move furniture

A/N- Hopefully adequate (Divider from @lambouillet)

Matt could hear you— constantly. It wasn’t a bad thing, not at all— but he could feel it making him nosier and nosier by the day. He started consciously listening whenever he was home. He could hear you talking to yourself while you cooked, heard the movies you watched and laughed as though he were alongside you. 

Today though, when he came home he could hear the sound of furniture being moved around, the wood of your table sliding against the floor— accompanying them were frustrated sighs and some groans of discontent. He wrote it off as you trying unsuccessfully to rearrange and wished he could come up and help you. But what would he say? ‘Sorry, I was eavesdropping from downstairs and you sound like you need help. Let the blind man help you decorate— hold my cane would you?’ It would make him seem insane, and like he thought you were incapable. 

He was paralyzed by the decision until he heard a small thud, followed by a crash, and the worst part— soft sobbing coming from you. He listened closely, you had no broken bones, not even a sprained ankle. You weren’t bleeding, physically you must’ve been just fine. But he couldn’t stay on his couch anymore. 

He practically ran upstairs, forgetting to even try and come up with a tangible excuse until he got to the door. He could need a bottle opener— he doesn’t, but he could. He could have just happened to have needed to borrow something. He could just not need his cane when he’s in the apartment building, since he forgot it anyway— and he could have merely stumbled upon you when you were upset.

He knocked, and you picked yourself up off the floor, dusted yourself off, wiped the tears from your face, and opened the door. Figures that your incredibly cute neighbor was the one on the other side of the door— bearing witness to one of the most frustrating days of your life. Your coffee tasted burnt, you knocked things over left and right as you were trying to clean, ran into the corner of your desk twice, and —worst of all— you were trying to move your dining room table when you slipped, falling into the table, and then onto the floor. Not badly enough to seriously hurt yourself, but that brought all of the upset mounting from the day crashing down onto you, crushing you into a puddle on the floor. But nevertheless you answered the door, clearing your throat in a failed attempt to hide your upset.

“Hey Matt, what’s up?” You were grateful that he couldn’t see how puffy your eyes had gotten from crying, and the visible frustration on your face. Unbeknownst to you he could however hear the blood rushing to the spots you’d soon have bruises– and he had to strain himself from fussing over you in a way that would only bring both of you more concern. 

“I came to see if I could borrow a bottle opener, if you have one.” He cleared his throat twice trying to keep his tone even– trying to keep from pulling you close and using every sense he could to check on your physical health, and then keeping you close to him so you could tell him every little thing that made you so upset. 

“Sure, come on in, I think I have one in the kitchen.” You held the door open behind you, wiping your eyes one more time as you turned your back to him. He closed the door again as he stepped in, almost following you all the way to your kitchen, but choosing to stand next to the table. 

“Are you alright?” He made an attempt to be nonchalant, but his concern seeped out of every facet of his being. 

“Oh, yeah it’s just not my day.” You were shuffling through the drawers of your kitchen to try and hide how upset you were, looking for the bottle opener that would get him to leave so you could go back to crying on the floor. You could see him and make a much better impression another time. But he just tilted his head and continued staring in your direction. 

“What happened?” 

“Nothing really, it was just frustrating, and then I couldn’t move some things around my apartment and I slipped.” 

“What did you need to move?”

“My table, but it’s fine I’ll— I’ll figure something out later.” 

“Where do you want it?”

“Matt, it’s fine. I can’t ask you to do that, I’ll do it later.”

“I like to be helpful— give me a direction and just say when.” He wasn't taking no for an answer, and you were in no position to turn down help anyway. 

“Umm ok, just like to the left, and then a bit forward from where you’re standing.” He rolled his shoulders back and while he made it seem effortless, you could see every muscle in his arms and back working as he moved. And just as you could make yourself stop staring, he had pushed the needlessly heavy table exactly where you needed it. 

“That’s perfect. Thank you Matt; seriously.” 

“I should— probably find that bottle opener for you. Where the hell is it?” You went back to shuffling through the door, still unable to find the one thing you needed. 

“That’s ok, I can definitely do without.”

“I know it’s around here somewhere if I could just find it.” You were starting to get upset again, but now it was his fault and he most definitely could not let that happen. 

“You know there’s a fantastic bar just down the block, I think I’d rather have your company than be by myself. Drinking alone doesn’t lend itself to the best days.” He could hear the way your heart sped up, almost able to taste the copper of your blood rushing in your cheeks at his suggestion. 

“Oh. That– That sounds nice. Let me go grab my wallet really quick.” You walked past him but he stopped you, linking your arm with his and starting to make his way to the front door.

“Nope– you don’t need it, drinks are on me.”

“Matt you don’t have to do that– really.” 

“I really want to though. It’s a thank you for lending me your company for a while, saving a blind man from walking the streets alone. I just need you to let me know if there are any open man-holes in the street.– Or if I’m about to run into someone which may be more likely.”

“I promise.” In his excitement he was much more leading you down the stairs and along the streets than you were him– but you most definitely did not mind. 

[bellesmadeofsilk]

Text Posts: Matt Is Tiredᵀᴹ edition

[bellesmadeofsilk]

Matt Murdock has one of the biggest hearts in Marvel ♥️

[bellesmadeofsilk]

Every day, all the time. And he’s just like a 17 year old, which makes it so much funnier to me for no reason at all

What to wear M.M x FEM! reader

Overture- Matt's worried about meeting your parents

CWs- Mentions of bruises, not being perceived as good enough, one joke about stripping and not a whole lot else

A/N- oops it's kind of late but Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, and happy chanukah if you celebrate that. And have a nice Wednesday otherwise. Also the divider is courtesy of @anitalenia

You’d never seen Matt this worried before. You’d seen him have nerves before court, or even genuine fear over some of the things happening in his city– but they were always overpowered by his endless resolve. You’d listen to him talk through his problems, through opening statements, and lines of questioning– and at the end of the day he’d feel a lot better. But tonight he was spiraling a little bit and no amount of nervous pacing was helping him. 

He had three near-identical suits laying on his bed, and was pacing from the bedroom to his living room where you sat on the couch. It started with him trying to decide on his clothes for tomorrow and had become– this. 

“What if they don’t like me?” You really tried not to laugh at him— like your parents wouldn’t like the nice guy with perfect manners and a stable career. 

“Matt, they’ll love you– it’ll be a great day tomorrow. I’m cooking, you’re going to be so wonderfully charming, and my parents have never even been to New York before– you’ve got the home field advantage.”

“What if they see one of my bruises– or my scars? I don’t want them to think I’m violent.” Currently his bruises were confined to his upper arm, chest, and back— no one would see them.

“Well then I guess you can’t strip at dinner.” It wasn’t especially often that you could tease Matt, but he was being more than a little ridiculous– no one would guess that your blind boyfriend got a bruise because he was fighting someone on a random rooftop at one in the morning. You laugh a little bit as you put your hands on his shoulders, stopping his pacing. He allowed you to give him a peck on the lips, even though he was still antsy. When you pulled away, he put his hand over yours, still on his shoulder. 

“I’m serious. They’re going to think I’m not good enough for you.” 

“Oh Matt– they’d never say that.”

“But it’s true. I’m not good enough for you.”

“Matt– I think you are wonderful, smart, and sweet, and my parents are going to think you’re great– I’m sure of it.” He could hear your heartbeat. He knew you were telling the truth. But you could think that they’d like him all you want, it wouldn’t change the fact that they might not. And much to your dismay he could only sigh in response, looking down at you. 

“Matt, I'm serious. At the very least, they’ll think you’re a polite young man with a stable job and a nice suit.” That got a laugh out of him— it was self conscious, but an improvement over the frown he had before. 

“Well that’s good at least. Something in my favor.” 

“And Matt? Just for the record it doesn’t matter to me whether or not they like you. I love you, and they love me, and nothing is going to change that.” You’d never said that to him before. Not out loud at least— you’d thought it, and when you knew he was far enough that even he couldn’t hear you, you’d practiced saying it. But he’d never heard you say it before. 

“You love me?”

“Obviously— I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re pretty fantastic.”

“And you’re sweet. And I love you too.” He kissed your forehead and pulled you into a hug, your face buried in his chest. 

“So you’ll be ok tomorrow?” He just gave a contented sigh and pulled you even tighter to him, inadvertently squishing your face. 

“As long as you’re there, I’ll be fine I think.” You squirmed away from his hold just enough to press a light kiss to his jaw, then to his lips. You could physically feel him smile, and then feel that smile fade a little bit when he started talking again. 

“But seriously, which suit do you think?”

[bellesmadeofsilk]

“He just sort of— angled, in your general direction, and did that head tilt he does.”

Fixed it 💕💕

every daredevil fic:

“he looked into your eyes”

BITCH THE BLIND MAN?💀

[bellesmadeofsilk]

Oh my god yes— like I’d bring it up all the time for no reason.

It’s such a vivid scenario now, love it, love him 💗

What to wear M.M x FEM! reader

Overture- Matt's worried about meeting your parents

CWs- Mentions of bruises, not being perceived as good enough, one joke about stripping and not a whole lot else

A/N- oops it's kind of late but Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, and happy chanukah if you celebrate that. And have a nice Wednesday otherwise. Also the divider is courtesy of @anitalenia

You’d never seen Matt this worried before. You’d seen him have nerves before court, or even genuine fear over some of the things happening in his city– but they were always overpowered by his endless resolve. You’d listen to him talk through his problems, through opening statements, and lines of questioning– and at the end of the day he’d feel a lot better. But tonight he was spiraling a little bit and no amount of nervous pacing was helping him. 

He had three near-identical suits laying on his bed, and was pacing from the bedroom to his living room where you sat on the couch. It started with him trying to decide on his clothes for tomorrow and had become– this. 

“What if they don’t like me?” You really tried not to laugh at him— like your parents wouldn’t like the nice guy with perfect manners and a stable career. 

“Matt, they’ll love you– it’ll be a great day tomorrow. I’m cooking, you’re going to be so wonderfully charming, and my parents have never even been to New York before– you’ve got the home field advantage.”

“What if they see one of my bruises– or my scars? I don’t want them to think I’m violent.” Currently his bruises were confined to his upper arm, chest, and back— no one would see them.

“Well then I guess you can’t strip at dinner.” It wasn’t especially often that you could tease Matt, but he was being more than a little ridiculous– no one would guess that your blind boyfriend got a bruise because he was fighting someone on a random rooftop at one in the morning. You laugh a little bit as you put your hands on his shoulders, stopping his pacing. He allowed you to give him a peck on the lips, even though he was still antsy. When you pulled away, he put his hand over yours, still on his shoulder. 

“I’m serious. They’re going to think I’m not good enough for you.” 

“Oh Matt– they’d never say that.”

“But it’s true. I’m not good enough for you.”

“Matt– I think you are wonderful, smart, and sweet, and my parents are going to think you’re great– I’m sure of it.” He could hear your heartbeat. He knew you were telling the truth. But you could think that they’d like him all you want, it wouldn’t change the fact that they might not. And much to your dismay he could only sigh in response, looking down at you. 

“Matt, I'm serious. At the very least, they’ll think you’re a polite young man with a stable job and a nice suit.” That got a laugh out of him— it was self conscious, but an improvement over the frown he had before. 

“Well that’s good at least. Something in my favor.” 

“And Matt? Just for the record it doesn’t matter to me whether or not they like you. I love you, and they love me, and nothing is going to change that.” You’d never said that to him before. Not out loud at least— you’d thought it, and when you knew he was far enough that even he couldn’t hear you, you’d practiced saying it. But he’d never heard you say it before. 

“You love me?”

“Obviously— I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re pretty fantastic.”

“And you’re sweet. And I love you too.” He kissed your forehead and pulled you into a hug, your face buried in his chest. 

“So you’ll be ok tomorrow?” He just gave a contented sigh and pulled you even tighter to him, inadvertently squishing your face. 

“As long as you’re there, I’ll be fine I think.” You squirmed away from his hold just enough to press a light kiss to his jaw, then to his lips. You could physically feel him smile, and then feel that smile fade a little bit when he started talking again. 

“But seriously, which suit do you think?”

[bellesmadeofsilk]

Oh my god yes. Like I’m gonna need you to stop now memere— I don’t need that competition

And I’m a dead dad girlie— but, I just know my brother would throw something at him to see if he could catch it. Not even in a daredevil way— in a can blind people catch way. It would be so hard not to laugh when he has to just let it hit him too

What to wear M.M x FEM! reader

Overture- Matt's worried about meeting your parents

CWs- Mentions of bruises, not being perceived as good enough, one joke about stripping and not a whole lot else

A/N- oops it's kind of late but Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, and happy chanukah if you celebrate that. And have a nice Wednesday otherwise. Also the divider is courtesy of @anitalenia

You’d never seen Matt this worried before. You’d seen him have nerves before court, or even genuine fear over some of the things happening in his city– but they were always overpowered by his endless resolve. You’d listen to him talk through his problems, through opening statements, and lines of questioning– and at the end of the day he’d feel a lot better. But tonight he was spiraling a little bit and no amount of nervous pacing was helping him. 

He had three near-identical suits laying on his bed, and was pacing from the bedroom to his living room where you sat on the couch. It started with him trying to decide on his clothes for tomorrow and had become– this. 

“What if they don’t like me?” You really tried not to laugh at him— like your parents wouldn’t like the nice guy with perfect manners and a stable career. 

“Matt, they’ll love you– it’ll be a great day tomorrow. I’m cooking, you’re going to be so wonderfully charming, and my parents have never even been to New York before– you’ve got the home field advantage.”

“What if they see one of my bruises– or my scars? I don’t want them to think I’m violent.” Currently his bruises were confined to his upper arm, chest, and back— no one would see them.

“Well then I guess you can’t strip at dinner.” It wasn’t especially often that you could tease Matt, but he was being more than a little ridiculous– no one would guess that your blind boyfriend got a bruise because he was fighting someone on a random rooftop at one in the morning. You laugh a little bit as you put your hands on his shoulders, stopping his pacing. He allowed you to give him a peck on the lips, even though he was still antsy. When you pulled away, he put his hand over yours, still on his shoulder. 

“I’m serious. They’re going to think I’m not good enough for you.” 

“Oh Matt– they’d never say that.”

“But it’s true. I’m not good enough for you.”

“Matt– I think you are wonderful, smart, and sweet, and my parents are going to think you’re great– I’m sure of it.” He could hear your heartbeat. He knew you were telling the truth. But you could think that they’d like him all you want, it wouldn’t change the fact that they might not. And much to your dismay he could only sigh in response, looking down at you. 

“Matt, I'm serious. At the very least, they’ll think you’re a polite young man with a stable job and a nice suit.” That got a laugh out of him— it was self conscious, but an improvement over the frown he had before. 

“Well that’s good at least. Something in my favor.” 

“And Matt? Just for the record it doesn’t matter to me whether or not they like you. I love you, and they love me, and nothing is going to change that.” You’d never said that to him before. Not out loud at least— you’d thought it, and when you knew he was far enough that even he couldn’t hear you, you’d practiced saying it. But he’d never heard you say it before. 

“You love me?”

“Obviously— I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re pretty fantastic.”

“And you’re sweet. And I love you too.” He kissed your forehead and pulled you into a hug, your face buried in his chest. 

“So you’ll be ok tomorrow?” He just gave a contented sigh and pulled you even tighter to him, inadvertently squishing your face. 

“As long as you’re there, I’ll be fine I think.” You squirmed away from his hold just enough to press a light kiss to his jaw, then to his lips. You could physically feel him smile, and then feel that smile fade a little bit when he started talking again. 

“But seriously, which suit do you think?”

[bellesmadeofsilk]

Oh my god me bringing him home would be an actual disaster— my mom would be a little happy he has like a job, but she’d also be like wow he’s not a skinny mega nerd— I don’t even know you anymore.

And my grandma would for sure hit on him

What to wear M.M x FEM! reader

Overture- Matt's worried about meeting your parents

CWs- Mentions of bruises, not being perceived as good enough, one joke about stripping and not a whole lot else

A/N- oops it's kind of late but Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, and happy chanukah if you celebrate that. And have a nice Wednesday otherwise. Also the divider is courtesy of @anitalenia

You’d never seen Matt this worried before. You’d seen him have nerves before court, or even genuine fear over some of the things happening in his city– but they were always overpowered by his endless resolve. You’d listen to him talk through his problems, through opening statements, and lines of questioning– and at the end of the day he’d feel a lot better. But tonight he was spiraling a little bit and no amount of nervous pacing was helping him. 

He had three near-identical suits laying on his bed, and was pacing from the bedroom to his living room where you sat on the couch. It started with him trying to decide on his clothes for tomorrow and had become– this. 

“What if they don’t like me?” You really tried not to laugh at him— like your parents wouldn’t like the nice guy with perfect manners and a stable career. 

“Matt, they’ll love you– it’ll be a great day tomorrow. I’m cooking, you’re going to be so wonderfully charming, and my parents have never even been to New York before– you’ve got the home field advantage.”

“What if they see one of my bruises– or my scars? I don’t want them to think I’m violent.” Currently his bruises were confined to his upper arm, chest, and back— no one would see them.

“Well then I guess you can’t strip at dinner.” It wasn’t especially often that you could tease Matt, but he was being more than a little ridiculous– no one would guess that your blind boyfriend got a bruise because he was fighting someone on a random rooftop at one in the morning. You laugh a little bit as you put your hands on his shoulders, stopping his pacing. He allowed you to give him a peck on the lips, even though he was still antsy. When you pulled away, he put his hand over yours, still on his shoulder. 

“I’m serious. They’re going to think I’m not good enough for you.” 

“Oh Matt– they’d never say that.”

“But it’s true. I’m not good enough for you.”

“Matt– I think you are wonderful, smart, and sweet, and my parents are going to think you’re great– I’m sure of it.” He could hear your heartbeat. He knew you were telling the truth. But you could think that they’d like him all you want, it wouldn’t change the fact that they might not. And much to your dismay he could only sigh in response, looking down at you. 

“Matt, I'm serious. At the very least, they’ll think you’re a polite young man with a stable job and a nice suit.” That got a laugh out of him— it was self conscious, but an improvement over the frown he had before. 

“Well that’s good at least. Something in my favor.” 

“And Matt? Just for the record it doesn’t matter to me whether or not they like you. I love you, and they love me, and nothing is going to change that.” You’d never said that to him before. Not out loud at least— you’d thought it, and when you knew he was far enough that even he couldn’t hear you, you’d practiced saying it. But he’d never heard you say it before. 

“You love me?”

“Obviously— I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re pretty fantastic.”

“And you’re sweet. And I love you too.” He kissed your forehead and pulled you into a hug, your face buried in his chest. 

“So you’ll be ok tomorrow?” He just gave a contented sigh and pulled you even tighter to him, inadvertently squishing your face. 

“As long as you’re there, I’ll be fine I think.” You squirmed away from his hold just enough to press a light kiss to his jaw, then to his lips. You could physically feel him smile, and then feel that smile fade a little bit when he started talking again. 

“But seriously, which suit do you think?”

[bellesmadeofsilk]

You get it— like no babe you’re so outwardly perfect, you’ll be fine

What to wear M.M x FEM! reader

Overture- Matt's worried about meeting your parents

CWs- Mentions of bruises, not being perceived as good enough, one joke about stripping and not a whole lot else

A/N- oops it's kind of late but Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, and happy chanukah if you celebrate that. And have a nice Wednesday otherwise. Also the divider is courtesy of @anitalenia

You’d never seen Matt this worried before. You’d seen him have nerves before court, or even genuine fear over some of the things happening in his city– but they were always overpowered by his endless resolve. You’d listen to him talk through his problems, through opening statements, and lines of questioning– and at the end of the day he’d feel a lot better. But tonight he was spiraling a little bit and no amount of nervous pacing was helping him. 

He had three near-identical suits laying on his bed, and was pacing from the bedroom to his living room where you sat on the couch. It started with him trying to decide on his clothes for tomorrow and had become– this. 

“What if they don’t like me?” You really tried not to laugh at him— like your parents wouldn’t like the nice guy with perfect manners and a stable career. 

“Matt, they’ll love you– it’ll be a great day tomorrow. I’m cooking, you’re going to be so wonderfully charming, and my parents have never even been to New York before– you’ve got the home field advantage.”

“What if they see one of my bruises– or my scars? I don’t want them to think I’m violent.” Currently his bruises were confined to his upper arm, chest, and back— no one would see them.

“Well then I guess you can’t strip at dinner.” It wasn’t especially often that you could tease Matt, but he was being more than a little ridiculous– no one would guess that your blind boyfriend got a bruise because he was fighting someone on a random rooftop at one in the morning. You laugh a little bit as you put your hands on his shoulders, stopping his pacing. He allowed you to give him a peck on the lips, even though he was still antsy. When you pulled away, he put his hand over yours, still on his shoulder. 

“I’m serious. They’re going to think I’m not good enough for you.” 

“Oh Matt– they’d never say that.”

“But it’s true. I’m not good enough for you.”

“Matt– I think you are wonderful, smart, and sweet, and my parents are going to think you’re great– I’m sure of it.” He could hear your heartbeat. He knew you were telling the truth. But you could think that they’d like him all you want, it wouldn’t change the fact that they might not. And much to your dismay he could only sigh in response, looking down at you. 

“Matt, I'm serious. At the very least, they’ll think you’re a polite young man with a stable job and a nice suit.” That got a laugh out of him— it was self conscious, but an improvement over the frown he had before. 

“Well that’s good at least. Something in my favor.” 

“And Matt? Just for the record it doesn’t matter to me whether or not they like you. I love you, and they love me, and nothing is going to change that.” You’d never said that to him before. Not out loud at least— you’d thought it, and when you knew he was far enough that even he couldn’t hear you, you’d practiced saying it. But he’d never heard you say it before. 

“You love me?”

“Obviously— I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re pretty fantastic.”

“And you’re sweet. And I love you too.” He kissed your forehead and pulled you into a hug, your face buried in his chest. 

“So you’ll be ok tomorrow?” He just gave a contented sigh and pulled you even tighter to him, inadvertently squishing your face. 

“As long as you’re there, I’ll be fine I think.” You squirmed away from his hold just enough to press a light kiss to his jaw, then to his lips. You could physically feel him smile, and then feel that smile fade a little bit when he started talking again. 

“But seriously, which suit do you think?”

[bellesmadeofsilk]

Oh my god aaaah thank you sm— I love when people enjoy the things I do!

Frozen Over M.M x FEM!reader

Overture- Going over to Matt's for a date, after walking to his apartment in the snow

CWs-Suggestive content towards the end

A/N- First Matt Murdock fic-- I'm very excited. This is also the first of a bunch of things I'm going to do for December

You were so excited for your date with Matt tonight. His firm had been working on a case for almost three weeks now, and as of yesterday it was finally over. Of course the one night you had to work late. You’d only been dating for a couple of weeks and tonight was the first night of your relationship free from this case. No late nights at the office for either of you, just dinner at an amazing restaurant that was entirely unintimidating. You could get dressed up, but there was only one fork on the table per person, the menus were covered in plastic, and it was perfect. 

After changing about 6 times, you finally settled on something and headed out the door to go to Matt’s apartment. Hell’s kitchen had frozen over. There were 6 inches of snow on the ground, and it was still coming down. You zipped up your cute little puffer, and walked as quickly as you could, thanking the universe that Matt’s apartment was only a block away from the restaurant so you could get almost all the walk out of the way now. 

You climbed up the stairs and as soon as you stepped up to the door he opened it. You’d never get used to that. He told you how his senses were particularly heightened because of his blindness– but it was startling every time. After you did a quick jump back in surprise, you physically shook the feeling out of your head. You were so excited for tonight– if only you could be less jumpy. He held the door open for you and you walked into his living room. 

“Hey Matt– are you ready for dinner?” He was looking directly at you, but he wasn’t responding. Honestly, he looked like he was in pain.

“Oh, uh–yeah.” His voice even sounded strained, and if you were jumpy before, now you were a half step away from a full scale freak out. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong.” He put that winning smile back on his face, and tried his level best to be normal– but it was only freaking you out more.

“It’s the outfit, it’s too much isn’t it? You don’t like it? Am I too overdressed?” And then he was laughing at you, and you wished you’d gone with the third outfit instead of this one. 

“I’m blind sweetie, but I’m sure you look spectacular. Even when you’re spiraling.” 

“Right. I forgot about that. Then what was that look about?”

“You have snow in your hair.” You were surprised by the sudden change of subject, but equally surprised that he noticed. 

“Yeah– it’s freezing outside, it’s been snowing all day.”

“The snow in your hair is starting to melt and I can smell the conditioner you used this morning and the perfume you sprayed in your hair before you came here– more so than usual.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Honey, that's not it at all– I’m trying to be good. We have reservations.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“I mean– we could always be a few minutes late to the reservation.” He pulled you closer to him by your hips so he could kiss you. He immediately won you over. 

“Or we could get takeout.” You could only speak into his lips and as soon as you did, he took off his suit jacket. 

“You know we could just skip dinner.” There went the tie, and when he broke away to pull it over his head he was laughing again. 

“I’ll call the restaurant– we can get new reservations for when we’re done.”

“You’re going to get all dressed up in your suit again?” You were saying it like a joke, honestly a little surprised he would.

“I told you I was trying to be good.”

“Yes, you’re such an altar boy.”

[bellesmadeofsilk]

Surprise M.M x fem!Reader

Overture- Matt spooks you while you're trying to bake, completely ruining your hard work

CWs-breaking and entering but in a cutesy fun way, and Matt's kind of a slut but what else is new!

A/N- Divider courtesy of @anitalenia

Matt had finally set aside some time for the two of you tomorrow. He had a case all week, and because of the freezing temperatures he has been able to get away with going out at night even more often– the ice on the streets makes his increase in bruises plausible, and gives him more hours of darkness to work under. Unfortunately the main sacrifice has been your quality time together, which was finally going to turn around. 

Matt said that he wanted to watch christmas movies with you, which considering he can’t see–realistically just meant that he wanted to make out on your couch with a movie (that he couldn’t even see) on in the background– but you made cookies anyway. 

After about 15 minutes in the oven the cookies were just about ready to come out, and when you opened the oven door, you heard something. You wrote it off as a squeak of the oven door but still moved closer to the knife block, ever so slightly more ready than you would’ve been. Nevertheless you bent down to grab the cookie sheet, pot holder in hand. 

Just as you were closing the oven door someone was right behind you. You were startled, and naturally dropped the entire tray. Just to turn around and see your boyfriend, clearly just having come in through your window. 

“Matt! You scared me!” You shoved his chest– kind of hard, actually– but he didn’t budge. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He went in for a kiss, and as much as the ‘sweetheart’ made you want to give in, you’d just dropped over an hour's worth of work because he couldn’t knock. So you turned your cheek.

“I still don’t understand why you insist on coming through the window.” 

“Would you rather me come down the chimney, honey?” Now he was laughing at you, and putting his hands on your arms reassuringly, and yet again going in for a kiss, even giving you a bit of a kicked puppy look when you turned your head again. 

“Ha ha. I have a door.” 

“That kind of defeats the whole inconspicuous thing I’m going for.” You were still mad at him for startling you— too mad to give him a kiss— but you let him pull you towards him. 

“You weren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow.” It was spoken into the fabric of his shirt, slightly muffled by his chest. 

“I didn’t want to wait to see you.” He leaned his head down to you, giving you enough wiggle room to meet him in the middle and you couldn’t deny him a kiss for a third time. No one has that much willpower. So you gave him a quick peck, and his pout turned into a devastating smile. But he wasn’t getting away with sneaking up on you like that. 

“You’re sweet. And you’re helping me remake those.” You patted him on the arm when you pulled away from him.

“You’re going to let a blind man in the kitchen?” He feigned shock, as if him in the kitchen was any more dangerous than you were. 

“Yes. And I prefer to think of it as making my boyfriend help remake the cookies he spooked me into dropping.” He followed you to the kitchen, but didn’t come in to help, just leaned against the entryway. 

“What are those for anyway?”

“They’re for you for tomorrow. They were supposed to be a surprise.” You tossed him a small glare, but couldn’t quite hide the smile pulling at your lips. You handed him a bowl and three eggs to crack, and he got started, gently cracking them against the counter. 

“Well I was very surprised, if that helps” “It does not but thank you anyway.”

[bellesmadeofsilk]

What to wear M.M x FEM! reader

Overture- Matt's worried about meeting your parents

CWs- Mentions of bruises, not being perceived as good enough, one joke about stripping and not a whole lot else

A/N- oops it's kind of late but Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, and happy chanukah if you celebrate that. And have a nice Wednesday otherwise. Also the divider is courtesy of @anitalenia

You’d never seen Matt this worried before. You’d seen him have nerves before court, or even genuine fear over some of the things happening in his city– but they were always overpowered by his endless resolve. You’d listen to him talk through his problems, through opening statements, and lines of questioning– and at the end of the day he’d feel a lot better. But tonight he was spiraling a little bit and no amount of nervous pacing was helping him. 

He had three near-identical suits laying on his bed, and was pacing from the bedroom to his living room where you sat on the couch. It started with him trying to decide on his clothes for tomorrow and had become– this. 

“What if they don’t like me?” You really tried not to laugh at him— like your parents wouldn’t like the nice guy with perfect manners and a stable career. 

“Matt, they’ll love you– it’ll be a great day tomorrow. I’m cooking, you’re going to be so wonderfully charming, and my parents have never even been to New York before– you’ve got the home field advantage.”

“What if they see one of my bruises– or my scars? I don’t want them to think I’m violent.” Currently his bruises were confined to his upper arm, chest, and back— no one would see them.

“Well then I guess you can’t strip at dinner.” It wasn’t especially often that you could tease Matt, but he was being more than a little ridiculous– no one would guess that your blind boyfriend got a bruise because he was fighting someone on a random rooftop at one in the morning. You laugh a little bit as you put your hands on his shoulders, stopping his pacing. He allowed you to give him a peck on the lips, even though he was still antsy. When you pulled away, he put his hand over yours, still on his shoulder. 

“I’m serious. They’re going to think I’m not good enough for you.” 

“Oh Matt– they’d never say that.”

“But it’s true. I’m not good enough for you.”

“Matt– I think you are wonderful, smart, and sweet, and my parents are going to think you’re great– I’m sure of it.” He could hear your heartbeat. He knew you were telling the truth. But you could think that they’d like him all you want, it wouldn’t change the fact that they might not. And much to your dismay he could only sigh in response, looking down at you. 

“Matt, I'm serious. At the very least, they’ll think you’re a polite young man with a stable job and a nice suit.” That got a laugh out of him— it was self conscious, but an improvement over the frown he had before. 

“Well that’s good at least. Something in my favor.” 

“And Matt? Just for the record it doesn’t matter to me whether or not they like you. I love you, and they love me, and nothing is going to change that.” You’d never said that to him before. Not out loud at least— you’d thought it, and when you knew he was far enough that even he couldn’t hear you, you’d practiced saying it. But he’d never heard you say it before. 

“You love me?”

“Obviously— I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re pretty fantastic.”

“And you’re sweet. And I love you too.” He kissed your forehead and pulled you into a hug, your face buried in his chest. 

“So you’ll be ok tomorrow?” He just gave a contented sigh and pulled you even tighter to him, inadvertently squishing your face. 

“As long as you’re there, I’ll be fine I think.” You squirmed away from his hold just enough to press a light kiss to his jaw, then to his lips. You could physically feel him smile, and then feel that smile fade a little bit when he started talking again. 

“But seriously, which suit do you think?”

[bellesmadeofsilk]

If I say me core is that like— depressing? Anyway, 💕me core💕

merry christmas to catholic guilt strugglers

[bellesmadeofsilk]

hear me out, an advent calendar but it’s just 24 days of kinky sex with matt murdock.

[bellesmadeofsilk]

I could be so cool about this—

But I think instead I’ll cry for approximately 3 hours

DON’T BAIL ON ME

Matt Murdock x Reader

DISCLAIMER: The following story is purely fictional and is made for entertainment purposes. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this story.

WARNING: Heartbreak, no happy-ending, Matt is emotionally constipated, Reader is unable to take responsibility as well. Elektra (cuz she’s hawt).

WORD COUNT: 5119 WORDS

--------------------------------------------------------

Matt’s voice trembled with concern as he heard her step through the door, sensing her eyes downcast, her posture tense. He had been pacing for what felt like hours, his mind running wild with worry. The clock on the wall mocked him with every passing second. He hadn’t heard from her all day. He hadn’t seen her since their plans had been set.

"Hey, sweetheart," he began, his tone more gentle than usual, but heavy with the weight of unspoken fear. "I was worried about you. Where have you been?"

Her response was quiet, almost reluctant, as if she was debating whether or not to let him in on the truth. "At the hospital."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. His heart skipped a beat. "What? Why? Are you okay?"

His feet moved instinctively toward her, but she didn't meet his gaze. Instead, she stepped back, a wall of frustration and hurt suddenly building between them. He halted, sensing the shift, his worry now mingling with confusion.

"Yeah," she said, her voice tight. "I was visiting Barry."

There was an unmistakable edge to her words, and Matt froze, the weight of her response settling in. Barry. The name stung. He had heard about Barry—her ex, the doctor— the one she couldn’t quite escape, the one who always seemed to pull her back in. He had known this day would come. He just hadn’t expected it to feel so… personal. Little did he know, that wasn't what she was seemingly hesitant about.

"Oh," Matt said, his voice trailing off as he tried to keep his composure. He noticed a familiar scent around her, something sweet and floral. "You—smell nice."

She blinked, her lips tightening into a thin line. “Really?” she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, I wanted to smell nice for our date. Thanks for showing up, by the way.”

Matt’s heart clenched. The biting tone in her voice stung, but it was nothing compared to the way the truth had just hit him. His sightless eyes bounced, full of remorse and regret. His mind raced, desperately trying to piece together where everything had gone wrong.

"Oh sweetheart," he whispered, his words catching in his throat. "I’m so sorry. It… it slipped my mind. I’m so, so sorry."

He stepped forward, his hands reaching for her, but she pulled back slightly, the distance between them growing, thick with unspoken anger.

"Are you?" she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of hurt and disbelief. She glanced up at him, the vulnerability in her voice almost too much for him to bear. "Are you really sorry, Matt?"

Her question hung in the air, and for a moment, he was speechless. All he could hear was the rapid beat of his own heart, and the deafening silence that followed. He had forgotten their date. He had let her down. Again.

Matt’s breath hitched as he took another step closer, his voice dropping to a softer, more sincere tone. “Y/N, is something wrong?”

The words were tentative, but they were filled with an unspoken plea for her to let him in, to let him fix this, to let him make things right. But she only stood there, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

Matt had known her long enough to recognize the storm brewing beneath her calm exterior. But this—this was different. This was something deeper, something he couldn’t fix with an apology alone.

"Natchios."

The name dropped from Y/N's lips like a stone sinking into the silence of the room, heavy and uninvited. It echoed through the small space, reverberating off the walls and into Matt’s chest, where it lodged like a shard of ice. The very surname that had haunted him for years. The one name he thought he had left behind. The name of the woman who had once ruled his world in a storm of chaos and passion—and who, no matter how hard he tried, was never truly gone.

“What?” Matt froze, his blood running cold, his breath caught in his throat. The dread settled in, slow and suffocating. He had thought he could outrun it, that he had buried that past deep enough for it to never resurface. But now, standing before him, was Y/N, looking at him with eyes that said she knew, and with a smile that barely disguised the hurt and the bitterness.

Y/N tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a bitter, almost rueful grin. “I was so caught up with the trial, I didn’t realise it at first. I’d never heard a name so unique. Then I thought, hey, actually, I have. I’ve only ever known one person with a name that unique. She had a pretty unique personality too. Elektra Natchios. Huh.”

Matt’s heart hammered in his chest, and he felt a cold sweat prick at the back of his neck. Her words stung deeper than he could have imagined. There was no hiding now, no pretending that this wasn’t happening. He couldn't see it but he knew that Y/N was no longer looking at him with the gentle affection of someone who had shared quiet moments of love. Now, she was looking at him with something else: pain. And the realization that everything he had tried to protect her from had come crashing down.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed at him, her gaze sharp and cutting, as she began to recall their past. “God, I hated that stupid Chevy Belair Coupe she used to drive around to pick you up. Then you’d get in the passenger seat with a big smile on your face, bunking all your classes.” She chuckled, but the sound was hollow, edged with something bitter and pained. “And I wouldn’t hear from you for days. Three days, Matt. I didn’t hear from you for three damn days.”

Matt opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He wanted to apologise, to explain, but the words felt useless. How could he explain any of it without dragging her deeper into the mess that was his life with Elektra? 

Elektra. 

Just the thought of her made his stomach twist, but the worst part was the knowledge that Y/N had been right all along. He had never fully severed the connection with Elektra, and now, it was here, in front of him, like a spectre from his past. 

Y/N’s eyes flashed with an icy determination. "She’s here, isn’t she? Like Stick? You can come out now.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and accusing. Matt’s breath hitched, and before he could protest or stop it, Y/N’s gaze flicked toward the door of the bedroom. The silence that followed was oppressive, and Matt’s heart sank as he knew exactly who would walk through that door, already hearing her heels clicking. He didn’t need to say a word. He didn’t have to.

From the shadows of the hallway, Elektra emerged.

“Hello, Y/N,” Elektra’s voice was smooth, almost amused, like she had been waiting for this moment, anticipating the fallout from Matt’s past finally catching up with him.

Elektra’s steps were confident, every movement exuding the kind of smug self-assurance Matt had never been able to shake. She stood tall in the doorway, her presence dominating the room even as she leaned casually against the frame. There was a faint, cruel smile playing at the edges of her lips as she looked past Matt to Y/N. 

Matt’s stomach turned. Elektra had always had that way of walking into a room like she owned it, like everyone in it was just another pawn in her game. He hated that about her. He hated the way she always made him feel like he was nothing more than a fool to be played with. 

“Elektra,” Y/N said, her voice tight with controlled fury. "I should have known you’d be here. Always lurking in the shadows, making everything more complicated than it needs to be."

Elektra’s eyes gleamed with something cold, calculating. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m just here to see Matthew, just like I always have been.”

Matt’s chest tightened. “Y/N, I—”

But Y/N held up a hand, the air shifting as she did, silencing him before he could finish. Her eyes, once soft with affection, now burned with a mix of pain and anger, and he realized, too late, that this was a breaking point. A fracture in their relationship that couldn’t be healed with empty words.

“What? You’re sorry?” Y/N asked, the disbelief thick in her voice. “For what, Matt? For still being tied to her after all this time? For letting her come back into your life, into our life, like nothing ever changed?”

Matt took a step forward, but it was like walking on a tightrope. Every word he tried to say felt heavier than the last, his voice faltering as he reached for her. “Y/N, it’s not what you think—”

“It never is,” Y/N snapped, her voice a mixture of frustration and grief. "You’re still lying to me, Matt. You’re still lying to me, even now.”

Y/N’s voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it, a sharpness that immediately cut through the tension in the room. “Matt and I need to talk, so I’m sorry, but I’d like you to leave.”

Elektra didn't flinch. She gave a soft, almost mocking smile, the same smile Matt had once found irresistible, traced it with his own fingers, now a twisted reminder of everything he was trying to move past. “Alright.” She didn’t hesitate, her heels clicking sharply against the floor as she turned toward Matt’s bedroom, making her way back into the shadows of his life.

But before she could slip out of sight, Y/N’s voice stopped her cold, the words laced with authority. “—The apartment.”

Elektra paused mid-step, a flicker of surprise in her eyes, but it was quickly masked by that same smug composure.

Matt opened his mouth, but his throat tightened as the reality of the situation began to settle in. He had never heard Y/N so resolute, and despite everything he wanted to say, he knew that this wasn’t his battle to fight. Still, he hated the feeling of being stuck in the middle. “Y/N—” he started, his voice soft, trying to diffuse the tension.

“—You speak when I ask you to speak.” Her voice cut through his words like a knife, leaving no room for argument.

Matt flinched, a sigh escaping him. His frustration built inside him, the weight of being trapped between the two women he cared about—one from his past, one from his present. He dropped his head, hands on his hips, trying to control the burning anger bubbling within him. The last thing he wanted was this kind of confrontation, but it was inevitable, wasn’t it? A situation of his own making.

Elektra, as if sensing Matt's turmoil, gave him one last smirk before she silently walked out, her footsteps echoing as she left the apartment. But even with her gone, the tension in the room was suffocating. Y/N stood there, arms crossed, her eyes trained on Matt, who didn’t move. The silence stretched between them like a chasm, filled with things unsaid.

“I’m not gonna have a one-sided conversation, so can you please turn around?” Y/N’s voice was stern, but there was an underlying hurt that Matt couldn’t ignore.

Reluctantly, Matt turned to face her. His jaw was tight, the weight of her gaze almost unbearable. For a second, he was relieved that he wouldn't have to see that scathing look on her face Foggy always talked about. He knew what was coming next, but it didn’t make it any easier to bear. 

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” she asked, her tone softening only slightly as she tried to understand, but the confusion in her eyes was clear.

Matt opened his mouth, the words caught somewhere between guilt and frustration. “About what?” he asked, feigning ignorance, but even to him, the question felt hollow. He couldn’t pretend anymore.

Y/N’s eyes flicked to the door where Elektra had just left, and her voice was barely above a whisper as she listed out the things that had been gnawing at her. “About Stick. About Elektra. About everything that’s been hanging over us since the moment we got together. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her words hit harder than she probably realised, and Matt’s breath faltered. The truth was, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to share it. Not because he didn’t trust her, but because he had hoped—no, he had needed—to believe that he could keep his past locked away. That Elektra, Stick, and all the messes of his old life would stay buried, far from Y/N. But he had been fooling himself. And now, here she was, asking him the one question he couldn’t dodge.

“Because you walked out on me before I could tell you,” Matt said, his voice thick with frustration, his hands clenched at his sides. His sightless eyes were wild, somewhat searching for hers—waiting so that she might tell him that she understood, or at least would understand, if he could just explain it all.

Y/N didn’t flinch at his words, but the hurt was unmistakable. She stood there, her arms still crossed, her gaze unwavering. She had always been so patient with him, so understanding. But this—this was too much. 

“You think I walked out on you?” she asked, her voice tight, trying to keep the trembling anger at bay. “You think I just left? You’re the one who shut me out, Matt. You’re the one who didn’t trust me with the truth. You kept me at arm’s length, and now I’m supposed to believe it was just because you couldn’t find the right time to tell me?”

Matt took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with a frustration that was barely contained. “It wasn’t like that,” he said, his voice lower now, softer but still heavy with regret. “I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to drag you into that world. But you—you wouldn’t have understood. You wouldn’t have accepted it.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she stepped closer to him, her voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t get to decide what I can or can’t handle, Matt. You don’t get to keep things from me because you’re afraid of how I’ll react. I’m your partner. You tell me. You trust me.”

Y/N’s voice was laced with frustration as she tried to make him understand, but Matt could sense that her patience was starting to wear thin. “Besides, I was rightfully upset—”

“—Is there a point to this conversation?” Matt interrupted, his tone sharp, his shoulders tense. He didn’t want to fight. He didn’t want to keep spinning in this cycle of misunderstandings and hurt feelings. He just wanted it to go back to the way it was. He wanted everything to feel normal again.

Y/N blinked, her expression one of bewilderment and frustration. “What do you mean, ‘is there a point’? Matt, of course, there’s a point! I want you to talk to me!” She said the words with an exasperated urgency, as if she couldn’t understand why he wasn’t getting it.

Matt’s jaw clenched, and he turned away for a moment, trying to steady himself. “There’s nothing to talk about, Y/N. Besides, you made it clear yesterday that you didn’t want to talk to me.”

The hurt in his voice was unmistakable, and Y/N’s chest tightened. The memory of last night—the way she’d stormed out, the way Matt had closed himself off—was still fresh. It felt like a betrayal, but even more so, it felt like the same pattern she had been trying to avoid. He was slipping away from her, like he always did.

Her heart pounded as she stared at him, frustration bubbling up again. “See, this is exactly what I’m talking about,” she said, her finger gesturing towards him. “You just brush it all off. It’s like you won’t even try to understand why I’m upset!”

Matt’s eyes flashed, frustration building in his chest. He didn’t know how to explain it, how to make her understand that his silence wasn’t about her, but about the things inside him that he didn’t know how to talk about. “What?” he snapped back, unable to hide the rawness in his voice. “What do you want from me, Y/N?”

“God! It’s always one step forward and ten steps back with us!” she nearly shouted, her voice full of pent-up frustration. “It’s always the same thing! You do something, and I pull away. I do something, and you pull away. We can’t keep doing this, Matt! I can’t keep feeling like I’m the only one trying to hold this together.”

The words hit him harder than he expected, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. He wanted to explain that it wasn’t just her—that it wasn’t always her fault. But the truth was, his own insecurities were starting to drown out the words. His fear of being abandoned, of losing her, was starting to seep into every crack of their relationship, and he didn’t know how to fight it.

“We talk, don’t we?” Matt said cynically, crossing his arms as he looked at where he assumed her eyes were, his expression closed off. “I’m right here standing in front of you.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed as she shot back with a bitter laugh, the sting of his words landing harder than he’d realised. “As opposed to how lately, every conversation I have with you is towards your back?” she said, her voice full of incredulity. “You’re physically here, Matt, but you’ve been gone for a while now.”

Matt flinched at the accusation, the weight of her words cutting deep. He opened his mouth to argue, but the frustration in Y/N’s voice silenced him before he could speak.

“What the hell does that mean?” he snapped back, his confusion mixing with his growing anger. 

Y/N’s words were sharp, cutting through the air between them like a blade. “It means you avoid me!” she deadpanned, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “It means your first instinct is to run away from me the second things get a little bit rough.” She pointed directly at him, her eyes narrowing as she squinted up at him in disbelief. She rocked her hand in the air, as if to emphasise how often he pulled away, how shaky he could be when things weren't easy.

Matt’s heart beat erratically in his chest as she spoke, the truth in her words hitting him like a freight train. She wasn’t wrong. He had always pulled away when things got tough. His instinct had always been to retreat into the safety of silence, of isolation, of not facing the things that scared him the most.

“I don’t run,” Matt muttered, his voice low and defensive. “I—”

“You do,” she interrupted sharply, cutting him off before he could finish. “I’m not an idiot, Matt. I can see it. You shut down. You turn away. You make yourself small, and you expect me to just stand here and wait for you to come back.”

Matt stood there, frozen for a moment, the words hanging in the air like a weight he couldn’t escape. His breath was shallow, his chest tight. The things Y/N was saying, the things she was pointing out, weren’t easy to hear, but they were the truth. And deep down, he knew it.

“I don’t run!” Matt growled stubbornly in denial.

Matt's chest tightened, his jaw clenching in anger. He couldn't stand hearing it, especially not from her. "Okay? That is neither here nor there," he snapped, immediately brushing her words aside, shaking his head in frustration. He was done with the conversation, or so he thought. He wanted to put the walls back up, to shield himself from the rawness of the situation.

Y/N raised an eyebrow at him, the sarcasm in her expression all too clear. "Okay, well, here we are, Matt," she said, her voice dripping with frustration and mockery. "What do you wanna do? How do you wanna handle it, huh? Do you wanna fight for us, or do you wanna bail?"

She pointed toward the door, her hand shaking slightly with the intensity of the moment, as if to punctuate her question. Her voice rose in frustration, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and hurt. She paused, studying him as the weight of his silence seemed to hang in the air. But as she watched him, something softened in her gaze. She saw the vulnerable look in his eyes—the quiet uncertainty he wore so well. And despite the storm of emotions she felt, her heart ached for him.

With a heavy sigh, she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to raise my voice,” she said quietly, the sharpness gone from her tone, replaced by something more tender. The fight was still there, but beneath it, there was love. She stepped forward, her hands trembling as she reached for him.

Y/N placed her hands gently in his, her touch soft and warm. She needed him to hear her, needed him to understand. “Listen to me,” she said, her voice steady now, but filled with a quiet urgency. “I want you, Matt. In all your sweet, yet rugged, devilish glory,” she said with a small, affectionate smile, even as her heart ached with the weight of everything unsaid. “I want to be here when your nights get rough, and I want to be the first thing you feel in the morning.”

She cupped his cheeks, her fingers soft against his skin as she looked into his eyes and feeling the intensity that made his breath catch in his throat. Her gaze softened, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She sniffled, her voice trembling. "Look, you think your crazy life, your past, everything that’s happened to you, is going to scare me away or something… but that’s not true. You’re so wrong."

Her chest tightened, her heart aching at the sight of him—of the man who had always been so afraid of being too much, so afraid of dragging others down with him. “Because there’s nothing out there, nothing in here, that scares me as much as the thought of losing you.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper now, but the weight of her words struck him with the force of a wrecking ball. "Trust me when I say… people like you and me, we don’t get the chance to love like this, Matt. I stay. I don’t run. Because I love you."

The confession hit him like a punch to the gut. She had said it. She had finally said it, and her words hung in the air between them like a lifeline. She had chosen him, despite everything. Despite his fear, his past, the mess he carried around with him. 

Y/N’s voice was soft, tender now, as she spoke again, the love in her tone so raw it made his heart ache. “I love you so much that all I can ever think about is you. There’s no version of my life that doesn’t have you in it.” Her hands tightened around his, pulling him closer, even as she sniffled again, the tears starting to break free from her eyes. “So I’ll stay right here. You can push me away all you want, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait for you.”

Matt’s breath caught in his throat as he processed her words, the weight of her confession crashing over him. She was here. She was choosing to stay, despite the chaos, despite everything. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had said something so raw, so real to him. 

But even now, he found it hard to believe. He was so used to people leaving, to pushing others away before they could hurt him. The idea that she wouldn’t walk away, that she wanted him, despite his flaws and his broken pieces—it was a foreign concept. 

He shook his head, as if trying to clear the fog in his mind, but the truth was, he was terrified. Terrified of letting her in, terrified of what would happen if he let himself truly believe that someone could love him—want him—after everything.

"I..." His voice cracked as he tried to speak, but words failed him. He reached up, touching her hands, still holding him so gently, and his gaze softened as he aimlessly searched where he assumed her face was in wonder, listening to her heart for any sign of doubt. But there was none. There was only love. A kind of love he had never known, never imagined he deserved.

Matt stood frozen, his heart hammering in his chest as Y/N’s confession lingered in the air between them. The weight of her words was suffocating, like a tidal wave crashing over him. He had never expected this moment to come, and now that it had, he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Her love for him, so pure and raw, left him paralyzed, caught between the fear of being loved and the fear of losing her.

His mind raced, his emotions a tangled mess. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in his throat. His fears—his insecurities—gripped him like chains. Could he really let her in? Could he really let someone love him after everything he had done, everything he had become? And if he did, what would that mean for her? For them?

Y/N noticed the struggle in his sightless eyes, the way he seemed to shrink in on himself, and her heart sank. She had poured herself out to him—had told him, for the first time, how much he meant to her—and now, he couldn’t even return the sentiment. She frowned softly, her own pain growing as she took a small step back, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Matt?” She searched his face, looking for something, anything, that would tell her that he felt the same. “Did you hear me?” she repeated, the desperation creeping into her voice. “Say something. Please? Matt?”

The silence between them stretched on, thick with the unspoken. Matt’s brow furrowed, his hands trembling slightly as he struggled to find the words that felt right. But there was nothing—nothing that could explain the tangled mess of emotions inside him. He opened his mouth, but only half-formed words came out. 

“I—uh—I can’t do this right now,” he finally said, his voice shaky with regret. “There’s a lot going on, and I—I can’t—” His words faltered, a deep ache filling his chest. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel the same way. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with her. But the weight of his dual life—the mask he wore, the life he led as Daredevil—was so heavy, and he wasn’t sure how to balance it with what Y/N was offering him. The fear of losing her, of not being enough, of the danger he brought to everyone around him—it all swirled in his mind.

Y/N’s heart dropped at his words. The dread that washed over her was instantaneous, a cold, sharp wave that made her feel small and foolish. She had laid herself bare, had trusted him with a part of herself she didn’t give to anyone else, and now—now he was pulling away. 

"Oh," she whispered, the word barely escaping her lips as the weight of disappointment settled into her chest. A hollow ache took root there. She had given him everything she had, all her love, all her hope—and he couldn’t even say it back. The look in his eyes was enough to confirm the one thing she’d feared most: he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t willing to let her in. 

Her hands instinctively pulled away from his, the absence of his touch like an icy wind. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to see the regret in his eyes. Instead, she looked away, her heart breaking with every passing second. She felt so stupid for believing, for thinking that maybe this time, with him, things could be different. That maybe, just maybe, he could love her back.

“I don’t—” Matt began again, but the words felt too heavy to say. He sighed deeply, his own heart aching as he heard the stutter in her heartbeat. He didn’t want to hurt her; glad he couldn't see that look of brokenness in her eyes. But he knew he had to do this—he had to finish what he started with Elektra, had to be Daredevil first. There was too much at stake. He was torn between the man he wanted to be for her and the one he had to be for the city.

“I have to go,” he said reluctantly, his voice low and filled with regret. His eyes softened for a moment, the weight of the moment heavy in the space between them. “I need to finish something. I need to... do what I have to do. I’ll come back, okay?”

The words sounded hollow to Y/N, and she felt her throat close up as the tears welled up in her eyes. She couldn’t look at him now, not like this. Not when he was so distant, so unsure. Her voice cracked as she whispered, barely able to get the words out.

“Okay.”

It was the only thing she could say, the only thing she had left. Her heart was in pieces, each one slipping further away from him with every word he spoke. She wouldn’t fight him. She couldn’t fight him. Not now. Not when he was already running. 

She didn’t look up as he left, didn’t want him to sense the tears that slipped down her cheeks, the raw pain she could no longer hide. All she wanted was for him to stay, to choose her, but the cold reality was that she didn’t know if he ever would.

Matt hesitated at the door, his hand on the handle, but the moment lingered for just a second longer. He tilted his head, ear faced to her direction, his face a mix of regret and guilt, but he didn’t say anything more. He couldn’t.

And with that, he was gone, leaving Y/N standing in the quiet apartment, her heart aching with the realisation that love—real love—might not be enough to bridge the chasm between them.

The End.

[bellesmadeofsilk]

Your Matt Murdock fic is great! You should tag it with “Matt Murdock x Reader” so it gets the visibility it deserves 💕

Thank you sm I knew I was forgetting something! Also I’m so glad you liked it ☀️☀️