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farfromstrange · 7 months

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Weed Cookies | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

PART 3 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Karen receives a box of cookies from one of their clients. Foggy and Matt take a bite. Even with his heightened senses though, Matt doesn't realize what's wrong with the cookies before he's absolutely wasted, and you have to babysit him. Yes, they were edibles.

Warnings: Fluff, faint hints at S3 depressed!Matt and suicidal ideations, attempt at humor, crack fic, accidental drug use, for the sake of this fic we are going to pretend that the edibles were made well enough for Mister I-Know-Everything to miss it

Word Count: 3.4k

A/n: I wrote this after watching the episode of Grey's Anatomy with the Weed Cookies. I took some behaviorisms from my own experiences and exaggerated them a little to fit the vibe of this fic. I scraped parts of this and once again adjusted them because this was even more poorly written before than it is now, and I added the Nelson, Murdock & Page Season 3 narrative again because that's now the running theme of this event. Anyway, if you choose to consume edibles, stay safe! (Also, I'm just copying and pasting my usual tag lists. if anyone wants to be added for this event, do let me know)

“We just got cookies from Ms. Lebowsky next door,” Karen announces happily when she enters the office, balancing the transparent Tupperware in one hand and her handbag in the other.

“She told me to thank you for helping her get out of that hellhole,” she says. Her eyes crinkle in the corners as a mischievous grin takes over her face. “There’s plenty for all four of us. Although she did mention Matt a few more times.”

“Ms. Lebowsky?” Foggy asks. He stands in the doorway of his office, holding a freshly brewed coffee. “Isn’t she the elderly lady we helped last week?”

“Yeah, that’s her. I think she has a crush on Matt.”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course, she does. Who doesn’t? Not that I do, but—well, you get the gist.” The blood rushes to his cheeks, and Karen giggles in response.

From the office on the left, Matt’s voice rings out, “We just did our jobs,” he says. “She made us cookies, dude!” Foggy inspects the box on Karen’s desk. “They’re chocolate chip cookies. Our favorite. See what good looks can buy you?”

Matt chuckles, his fingers tracing the Braille indentations in the documents that are starting to form a mountain before him. “I think we got them because we’re good lawyers, Foggy.”

“Yeah, right. No way! That woman was smitten the second she came in. I really gotta get that blind thing going. I mean, she’s way too old for you, but come on! You’re in a serious committed relationship, and women still come piling at your door. It’s not fair.”

The way he whines like a little kid who has just been denied his favorite candy makes Karen laugh at his antics, and even Matt can’t help but join in. No matter how stressed he is, and how badly he wants to focus, Foggy never fails to lighten the mood.

Ever since moving offices, things have been going well for the trio.

When Matt met you, he was at his lowest. You helped him climb out of a dark hole that was threatening to swallow him whole after losing Elektra and almost losing everything he worked so hard for to Wilson Fisk. Thanks to you, he found the will to fight again. You brought him back to life.

He wanted to die. He hated himself for the longest time after the building collapsed and forever took the first woman he ever loved down with its ruins, but then you came into his life, and you didn’t care about his baggage. You were far too good for him, but that didn’t matter to you.

He fell for you hard and fast, and maybe the timing was a little off because what he needed was therapy and not someone new to get attached to. Still, if you hadn’t pulled him back to his feet and encouraged him to fight back against Fisk, saving his friendship with the people he cares most about in the process, he would have never made it far enough to get therapy.

Matt trusts you with his life because he feels like he owes it to you, but he also loves you more than anything. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to him. You’re his soulmate, and he couldn’t be happier.

Nelson & Murdock added Karen to their permanent repertoire. With her, things are flowing much more smoothly, and they’re actually making money now. They’re expensive, as Foggy likes to say it. Matt’s friends are just as happy as he is, giving him hope for the future.

“Hey,” Foggy snaps him out of his trance, “Earth to Murdock.”

Matt blinks behind his glasses, his fingers halting their frantic movements along the paper. “While I don’t disagree with what you’re saying,” he says, “please don’t let my girlfriend hear you say that women are piling at my door.”

Karen snorts. “Trust me, Matt. She knows,” she says.

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t remind her of that.”

“My lips are sealed. Foggy?”

He sighs, once again dramatically. “As long as you don’t sleep with them, you have nothing to fear, my friend.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” says Matt. “The one I’m sleeping with is incomparable.”

Foggy grimaces. “Oh, dude. Gross! You know, God made conscious thought as a mechanism for humans to know when to shut up.”

“To be fair, ninety percent of the population don’t know how to use that mechanism,” Karen jumps to Matt’s defense.

As he laughs, he takes a whiff of the air surrounding their new baked goods. Matt can smell the sweet chocolate of the cookies, and somewhat of a herbal essence, but he can’t quite pinpoint why the scent seems so familiar.

Karen walks around her desk to drop her bag and her coat. “So, do guys want a cookie?” she asks, swiftly changing the subject.

“I’ll take one,” Foggy is quick to answer.

Matt nods from his desk. “I’ll try one, too.”

The innocent decision to indulge in a sweet treat soon comes back to bite them in the ass though. Heavily.

When Matt first bit into the cookie, he didn’t think there was anything wrong with it. It tasted like chocolate mixed with basil, sugar, honey, and the kind of flour Ms. Lebowsky used, but he didn’t find much else wrong with it. Perhaps if he hadn’t allowed himself to get distracted by his phone calling out your name and the sweetest text he could have possibly received this early in the morning from the love of his life, he would have noticed that something tasted off about these cookies. And that what he believed to have been basil as a secret ingredient was something else entirely.

When lunchtime finally rolls around, you drop everything you were doing before and make your way to Matt’s office. You always spend lunch together. It’s your favorite time of the day. For an hour, you can forget the stress of your workplace and focus on him. He’s your safe haven. Your home. You crave to memorize his features anew every day so that you will have something to carry around with you when he has to work a bit longer, or when he goes out at night and his Daredevil duties drag on beyond what he planned.

You need to be with him as much as possible because you’re scared that your happiness will shatter on a white cloth, and you will be forced to move on—you can’t imagine losing him. You dedicated your life to loving him, and the thought of ever losing that privilege kills you.

On your way out, your phone vibrates in your pocket. You smile, thinking that it’s Matt, but when Karen’s number pops up on your screen, you frown.

‘We have a problem,’ she texted you. Without context.

All the alarms in your head start blaring, and you start to walk a little faster. You start imagining all possible scenarios. When you ask Karen what’s going on, she doesn’t even reply. What if someone got hurt? What if something happened to Matt? You almost lost him once; you can’t go through that again.

You burst into the new office space that your friends share a few minutes later, your chest heaving and sweat dripping down your pulsating temples. You’re ready to fight whoever dared to hurt the man you love, or possibly threaten your friends, or both, but when you look up and see your darling boyfriend with his cheek pressed against one of the leaves on their gigantic office plant as if the overgrown Calathea were the coziest pillow he has ever touched, you understand why Karen texted you that you—both you and her—have a problem. A big one, too, judging by the looks of it.

“What is going on here?” you ask the dreaded question, shutting the door behind you.

Only then do you notice Karen to your right in Foggy’s office, trying to get him off of his office chair. He’s belting the chorus of Defying Gravity at the top of his lungs, and he’s got a broom clutched tightly in his right hand.

Oh boy. Your wide eyes drift to Karen’s desk in the middle of the room. As soon as you see the chocolate cookies inside the Tupperware, it slowly begins to dawn on you.

You’re not sure which is worse: Matt cradling a houseplant with his glasses discarded and the first three buttons of his dress shirt undone as he’s coated in sweat, or Foggy singing one of Broadway’s greatest ballads so off-key that the Calathea is starting to wither.

It takes Matt much longer than usual to sense your presence in the room. He calls your name, and his lips curl into a bright grin. Even completely out of it, he looks like an angel on earth.

“Matthew,” you say. You approach him like you would approach a little kid. He’s on his knees, so the analogy isn’t far off.

“Hi, honey. What’s going on?”

“Sweetheart,” he greets you, and you have never heard this man sound so relaxed. His hazel eyes are red-rimmed and glazed over, but the most obvious change lies in his behavior.

“Feel that.” He reaches for your hand when you’re close enough for him to smell you, but he misses. “Where are you?” Matt pouts. “I can’t see.”

You want to laugh, but this is not the time. “You are blind, baby,” you remind him.

“Since when?”

“Over twenty years.”

“Oh.” He finally gets a hold of your hand. The conversation seems to go right over his head. “Feel the power of nature,” he tells you. “It’s so soft.”

You want to drag him away from the potentially dangerous plant if he decides to eat it, but the sight of him is one to behold. He looks downright adorable.

You have to focus though. You gently pat his hand. “Maybe later,” you say, and then you make your way to Karen’s desk to inspect the cookies.

Behind you, she calls your name. You twirl around. From the looks of it, she managed to get Foggy down from his chair, but he remains singing at the top of his lungs. All the signs point to one thing, and one thing only.

“Did you give my boyfriend weed cookies?” you sound a lot more condescending than you planned to.

Karen shakes her head. Her face is pale, and she looks just as panicked as you do. “Those are not mine,” she says.

“But you knew they were edibles?!”

“Of course, I didn’t! I started questioning it when Matt started cuddling the plant because his Braille felt like boobs and he didn't want to cheat on you, so he decided that he needed to touch some grass.” She points to him, exasperated. As if on cue, Matt lets out a happy little sigh.

Your brain struggles to process all of the information at once. “I’m sorry, what?”

“He said that his Braille feels like boobs. I don’t know! I thought he was messing with me until Foggy turned into Elphaba, and that’s when I took a bite and realized there was weed in them,” she says.

You groan, your worried eyes momentarily flicking back to your high boyfriend. High. That’s not a word you thought you would ever associate with him. “How did this happen?” you ask.

“Ms. Lebowsky, the lady next door, we helped her out the other day, and this morning, she gave me these cookies. I called her when these two started acting like idiots—more than usual, anyway. Turns out, she confused them with the ones her niece made for her birthday party tomorrow.”

“Her niece made edibles for her birthday party?”

“Please, don’t ask. I don’t have all the details. I just–”

“It’s fine,” you cut her off. “Just tell me that you’ve got Foggy under control.”

Karen peeks in through the window to his office. “More or less, yeah. You’ve got Matt?”

“Yeah, I’ve got him.”

You have to take care of him. He’s your responsibility. But as calm as he is right now, his heightened senses make the situation a lot more complex than the mere accidental consumption of edibles.

Walking over to him, you try to haul him up. He protests, at first, but then he feels the fabric of your shirt, and he slacks.

Matt wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. “You’re so soft,” he coos. “You smell like honey.”

With his entire weight on you, you have to widen your stance so you won’t fall over. His usually quick reflexes are nonexistent right now; he won’t be able to catch you if you trip, and then you’re both going to get hurt.

“You know what’s even softer?” you ask.

“The plant,” he answers confidently. He sounds like a more careless version of himself. You can’t deny that it does something to you.

“No, silly,” you chuckle softly, “I meant your bed.”

“Oh. But I’m not tired.”

“You’re high.”

He pouts. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” You stroke his back. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you.”

He stiffens and relaxes at the same time. You swear you can feel the electricity in his veins as his nerves respond to the feeling of your skin on his. It’s like he’s on fire. Like your touch feels a million times more intense, and he’s being crushed under the weight of it in a way that makes him crave more.

He squeezes you tighter, trying to get swallowed by you, consumed to the point that you are the same person. The drugs are doing a number on him, and his already heightened sense of feeling has increased tenfold to the point you’re not sure if it’s pleasurable or painful or both. It must be agonizing, yet at the same time there is a high chance that the weed is calming his nerves and dampening his perception to the point he’s taking everything in without the added weight—he’s enjoying the newfound sensations in limbo, and he’s unaffected by it. You wonder how long that is going to last.

After bidding farewell to Karen, wishing her good luck with Foggy who has now reached a point of his high where he’s lying on the floor, demanding to listen to Bohemian Rhapsody and cry over Freddie Mercury. She assures you that she has got it under control, apologizes again, and then sends you on your way.

“Bye, Karen,” Matt says. “You have very nice hair.” His hand tangles in yours, and his face lights up like a Christmas Tree. You managed to convince him to put his glasses on, at least, or he might get irritated. “Never mind,” his voice turns into a pur.

Usually, you would shiver at his fingers in your hair, tracing the strands and sensually massaging your scalp only he knows how to, but today is not one of those days. You’re still concerned about the effects that the weed might have on him, so you want to be careful, although you’re not sure how much longer you can keep yourself from laughing.

As you maneuver Matt through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, his cane hovers above the ground and his arm is hooked around yours. Without you, he would have run off into traffic by now. He has absolutely no spatial awareness anymore.

Every sound, scent, and texture seems to capture his attention, but there's one sensation in particular that he can't seem to shake: thirst. You’re not even home yet, and you had to stop by a convenience store to get him a bottle of water. He shed his coat, which you are now carrying for him while also guiding him while simultaneously trying not to attract any unwanted attention.

You can’t help but look at him as though he is your whole world. He is. He is everything to you, even high on edibles he never meant to consume, and acting like a feral toddler. If anything, you are even prouder now that he is yours.

“Hey,” he whispers, leaning close to you, “do you think fire hydrants taste like licorice?”

You shake your head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Matt, don’t lick the fire hydrant.”

He pouts. For a moment, you think that you have steered off any possible disaster, but that was only wishful thinking.

Matt’s curiosity knows no bounds, and he’s soon reaching out to touch anything that catches his eye. He runs his fingers along the rough brick foundation of a building, marveling at the texture, and he stops to sniff a flower, declaring, “This is the most beautiful flower I have ever smelled.”

You pluck it for him, and he carries it in the pocket of his coat with a happy smile.

You’re both exhausted when you finally make it to his apartment. Getting his large frame through the door is one thing, stopping him from tearing the tap off the sink as he desperately searches for liquid with the words, “Water!” is another.

“Okay, okay,” you try to calm him. You grab a bottle from the fridge, open it for him, and force him to take it. “Drink.”

One touch is enough for him to drop it. “It’s cold,” he recoils in agony.

You sigh. “Tap water it is, then.”

You have never seen him down so many glasses of water. He is severely dehydrated and sensitive to changes in temperature. It’s either too hot or too cold, and you’re so glad that Karen texted you when she did.

You manage to get him to the couch with some snacks that he devours within seconds. If he moves one more inch today, you may not be able to catch him again.

His lip twitches. “Chickens don’t have any arms.”

You pause in the process of wrapping him in a blanket, staring blankly ahead at him. “Excuse me?” you ask.

“Chickens don’t have any arms,” Matt states. “Every American citizen has the right to bear arms under the second amendment in the constitution. If an egg was fertilized on US soil, and the chicken hatched there as well, technically, that makes them a citizen of the United States of America, therefore allowing tiny creatures without arms the right to bear arms, but who gives the bears their arms?”

You’re so flabbergasted that the absurdity of the situation eludes you. The words process only slowly in your mind, and when they do, they cause a wave of confusion to wash over you before it turns into genuine amusement, and it takes every ounce of self-control to keep yourself from laughing at him.

You can pinpoint the exact second the thought escapes his mind and something else replaces it. His hand brushes over the leather couch. “Smooth,” he observes. You haven’t even fully processed his very philosophical question about the animal kingdom before he drops his cheek down on the couch.

The man who has been carrying the weight of the world in bricks on his back for years is finally relaxed; it shouldn’t leave such a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

You kneel in front of him, reaching out to touch his cheek. “Do you need anything?” you ask.

Matt’s gaze is filled with an odd sort of clarity. “Nah. Just you,” he mumbles.

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you brush a sweaty strand of hair away from his forehead. "I'm right here," you reassure him.

He nods, his eyelids drooping as the effects of the edibles start to take their toll. “Good.” He searches for your hand, and you help him intertwine your fingers. A giddy smile finds its way onto his face. “You’re warm.”

You lean in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “And you’re high,” you tease.

Matt huffs out a breathy laugh. “Mmh, yeah,” he says. “But it’s okay. ‘Cause you’re here.”

Despite the chaos and the unexpected turn of events, there’s a sense of contentment settling over you as you watch him drift off into a state of bliss. He deserves it more than anyone.

You stay by his side, watching over him as he succumbs to the pull of sleep that you’re all too familiar with after a sudden high.

“Note to self,” you say to yourself, “never eat a stranger’s cookies without drug testing them first.”

And love has funny ways of making even the most absurd moments feel strangely beautiful.

Matt Murdock Tag List: @littlenerdyravenclaw @yarrystyleeza @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @thatonegamefish @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattkinsella @itwasthereaminuteago @linamarr @gpenguin666 @acharliecoxedfan

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #daredevil #daredevil x reader #reader insert #from the vault #charlie cox #weed cookies

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loves0phelia · 1 month

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Hello

I have this writing where we read the pov of Matt and it is sort a love letter to Y/n. We read about his thoughts about her, how much he loves her and it is very poetic and lovely perhaps even a bit sad. Let me know your thoughts 😊

Letter

Summery: The request but sad ++ (oops)

Words: 809 (it's small sorry)

Warnings: spelling mistakes, and it kind of doesn't make sense in some parts

A/N: listen to LOML by Taylor Swift while reading and thank you for the request xxx

“I’ve always heard that love is blind. I used to think I understood what that meant, that I could grasp the irony of it all, given my circumstances. But then you came into my life, and suddenly, the phrase took on a new meaning—one I never expected.

It's in the way you move through my world, unaware of the light you carry in my fire-filled sight. I can’t see it, but I feel your warmth in the air when you’re near. Your presence makes me feel something I've never experienced.

You make me wish I could see, not to take in the world around me, but to truly see you—the way you smile when you think no one’s watching, the exact colour of your eyes when they light up and the way you look at me. I wish more than anything to be able to feel your love through a simple glance.

I spend so much time running through shadows, but with you, it’s different. With you, I don’t fear the darkness; I embrace it because it brings me closer to you. Your body against mine, your laughter and simply you being you pulls me to you and I can't help it. If I could, I would stay with you forever.

Sometimes, it feels wrong to be so attached to you when I promised to give my full attention to making this city a better place. Because I know that if you asked me too I would drop everything to be where you are. Even if it meant abandoning what I've built and cherished. You are worth more than anything. You’ve intertwined yourself into my soul. I am not me without you.

Every time I close my eyes, it’s your face I see, your voice I hear, your touch I crave. You are my calm in the chaos, the one thing that makes all the noise in my head fade into silence.

But a heartache comes with loving you, an ache that I can’t ignore. It’s the knowledge that I’ll never fully deserve you, that the darkness I carry will always be a shadow over your love. I wish I could promise you a life without fear. But all I can offer is my heart—battered, bruised, but still beating for you through any ups and lows

You are the light in my darkness, the reason I keep fighting, even when it feels like there’s no fight left in me. And even though I know I’ll never be the man you deserve, I will love you with everything I have, for as long as I can.

Yours, always, Matt”

The small paper containing Matt’s braille written note, crumbled in his fist as he stopped speaking. His voice echoed in the large church and the only other sound that could be heard were the sniffles and cries of your loved ones. Foggy, Karen, and your family.

His fingers tightened around the folded piece of paper in his hand once again.

As he reached the casket, he paused, his breath catching in his throat. The reality of it all hit him with a force he wasn’t prepared for. You were gone. No amount of whispered promises or desperate prayers would bring you back.

With trembling hands, he unfolded the letter, the words written across the paper now seeming so small compared to his grief. He had poured his heart into those lines, trying to capture the love, the regret, the sorrow that consumed him. But now, standing there, he felt as though nothing he could say would ever be enough.

Gently, he placed the letter on top of the casket, his fingers lingering for a moment as if he could somehow reach you through the wood and metal as if you could feel his touch one last time.

“I love you.”

Kneeling beside the casket, Matt rested his forehead against it, his hands clutching the sides as if it were the only thing keeping him from collapsing completely. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m so, so sorry…”

The church seemed to close in around him, the walls pressing down as if they were trying to suffocate the life out of him.

Matt stayed there, his heart breaking until the silence of the church was too much to bear. With a final, trembling breath, he stood, his fingers brushing over the letter one last time before he forced himself to turn away.

He knew that he would never truly leave you behind, that you would haunt him in the quiet moments when he was alone, and that your memory would be both a comfort and a curse. But for now, all he could do was walk away, leaving behind the only woman who had ever truly seen him—the woman he would love until his last breath.

#matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock angst #daredevil x reader #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil imagines #daredevil fic

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linnorabeifong · 10 months

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I Physically Can’t Get This Idea Out of My Head

How many people actually know Lin got her scars from Su ? I was rewatching the Zafou episodes and I don’t think Lin ever explicitly mentioned Su giving her the scars. So none of the krew knows. So I get why her anger doesn’t look justified to them and why they would pressure her to make up without that context. But I so badly want them to discover it. I want to see their reactions . I want them to see photos of Lin before she was scarred. How would their perceptions of Su and Lin change ? Would they be more empathetic towards Lin ?

Additionally I don’t think Su’s kids know the truth. Opal really loves her aunt I imagine she would be quite angry if she found out and while Lin’s bond with her nephews isn’t explored in the show ( which it should’ve been I want to see her play power disk with Wei and Wing, and praise Huan’s art and have a heart to heart with Baatar) I think they’re also attached to her and would be upset.

Further how about the air kids, Lin seems quite close to them and they’re all very curious. They’ve probably asked her several times before. Did she lie to them to protect her sister ? Does she give up and tell the truth one day ?

How about Kya, Bumi and Izumi ? Were any of them actually there when it all went down ? Did she tell them ? ( I don’t think she would it seems painful for her to talk about ) How would they react to the truth thirty years later?

Also I think Toph has the capacity for empathy. I think she’s ignorant to the full extent of Lin’s injury and that’s why she was so apathetic about it and just wants to move on. She’s blind. She never saw the bandages or saw how deep the scars ran, how large they were but if she did would she have acted differently? I think so. Sure she’s neglectful but she’s not a monster. If she actually felt the scars I think she would’ve comforted her daughter. She would’ve been more mad at Su. In her eyes Lin has a little scratch and Su was an accomplice in a crime. So if course she thinks Lin is overreacting. In her eyes sending Su away for being an accomplice is a crime is proportional to the harm done. She thinks Lin’s anger is just her being a square and normal sibling bickering. If she knew the whole truth maybe she would’ve punished Su more and made her make it up to Lin somehow.

( does she even know that Lin has a scar afterwards? Does anyone mention them in front of her ?)

and Lin would never let anyone touch her scars ever so how is Toph supposed to understand? How can she without feeling them ?

More thoughts about Toph: Raising both of the girls while being blind must’ve been difficult. Think about it she can’t see if their clothes get stained, can’t see if they have a bruise or see if they’re crying. So much of communication and understanding is nonverbal. She misses out on so many social cues and so much visual information. On top of being blind both her and Lin dislike physical affection.So all they really have left is verbal communication and both of them are too emotionally stunted and prone to bottling things up to ever say what they need to. Let’s be honest Toph isn’t a great listener either so she probably doesn’t fully realize/respond to what Lin is trying to say. Lin may be better at writing out or drawing her emotions but Toph wouldn’t be able to read what she wrote or see her visual work. Lin would have to learn braille and sit down and write in it to get her mother to understand which I honestly don’t believe she has the patience or desire to do. Nor do I believe Toph has the patience or desire to sit down and read all of that. ( Does Toph know braille ?) They can’t communicate with each other properly. There are so many barriers. Of course their relationship is strained. While it may not be wholly Toph’s fault it has produced a huge impact on both of her daughters that none of them can address.

An epiphany : LIN IS A SILENT CRIER. She doesn’t sob. Are you following me? Rewatch the Zafou episode if you don’t believe me . Nonverbal - audio communication ( I don’t know if there’s an actual word for this) doesn’t happen between them. Lin isn’t vocally expressive. She doesn’t cry out loud or scream or make any other vocalizations when she is in physical or emotional pain. She may grunt in some of the fight scenes but she isn’t loud. Think about when she got her bending taken. Probably one of the most physically and emotionally painful moments of her entire life. In that scene she didn’t make a single sound. Or the reverse she got her bending restored a huge moment of relief she didn’t laugh or make any other sounds of joy. She just thanked Korra. Lin is silent . Toph can’t hear her.

In conclusion communication is everything and everyone of them needs therapy.

#legend of korra #lin beifong #fan theory #toph beifong

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blindbeta · 4 months

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Hello.

I am writing a superhero series and I have a blind superhero character. I am currently trying to research how to portray this character in a respectful and accurate way.

For context, this hero is part of the supporting cast, and is a character the MC meets later on in the story. Every character in this world has some sort of superpower. His is the ability to control sound waves. While he can use them in an echolocation sort of way to detect enemy attacks, he can't use them in his everyday life as using your power is just the same as doing any physical activity, it's tiring.

Though, some blogs I've seen seem to discourage giving blind characters superpowers. I don't think this character's powers necessarily "cancel out his disability" I just want to make sure I'm writing this character respectfully.

I guess what I'm asking is, do you have any tips for writing blind superhero characters?

Blind Characters, Echolocation, and General Tips for Writing Super-powered Blind Characters

I answered a similar question that might be helpful. It explored some problems with the echolocation trope. You can read it here.

Limiting the Use of Echolocation

I like the fact that he can’t use it for very long and that it is draining, much like eye strain or using echolocation in real life. Echolocation is also challenging to learn and is not a replacement for a cane or other mobility aid. It would be unhelpful with most day-to-day activities. I’m glad you are considering the possibility of a superpower erasing his blindness and avoiding it in daily life.

Although, I still wonder about his superhero life.

Can he be an active superhero without echolocation? If it is something he relies on to be a superhero, maybe that would be something to consider. If he is an active superhero without it, you’re on a good course.

Furthermore, does he only use his powers for echolocation? I would assume not, although I could not tell from your question, as your main concern is the echolocation aspect.

Addressing Common Concerns With the Powers Often Given to Blind Characters

1. Negating blindness

Controlling sound waves doesn’t necessarily negate blindness outside of echolocation possibilities, as far as I can imagine. Aside from the overly common trope of giving a blind character a sensory-based power, that is. My concern is less about superpowers in general and more about powers that negate blindness, such as those that provide sight. An example would be a character who uses visions of the future to be able to see the way a sighted person would.

Does he still navigate in a way that might be familiar to blind readers? Does he use orientation and mobility techniques? Does he use Braille or large print or brave regular text with headaches so frequent his pockets are full of medication? Does his blindness impact his life?

Blindness need not only limit a character. Is he better able to orient himself? Can he pick up on sounds and landmarks and changes in light with more ease than his teammates? Is he used to getting hurt while playing blind football and thus able to withstand typical scrapes and bruises without being slowed by them? These are only a few ideas and they will change depending on his level of vision, exposure to the blind community, and how long he has been blind.

2. The Power to See is Boring

Additionally, these powers usually focus on addressing blindness, rather than being powers in their own right. This is the difference between a superhero with the power to see and a superhero who can manipulate emotions with a brush of their hand.

Could you consider other uses for this power that aren’t echolocation? For example, could he use his powers to facilitate or conceal communication? To amplify sound? Think of applications for the power that don’t involve echolocation or creating a way to see. Create other uses for echolocation. From your question, it seems you are already considering this.

The way you described use of the power doesn’t seem to negate blindness to me. I also think that considering other uses of this power outside of echolocation (which is often written to negate or reduce the impact of blindness) would be helpful.

Also, as I was reading your question again, I wondered if there are any other blind characters in the story. Since everyone has powers, that could be interesting to explore even if they don’t decide to be superheroes.

I hope this gives you some ideas to explore. Feel free to send a follow-up ask if needed.

#blind #blind characters #writing blind characters #blind superhero #echolocation

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orions-tears · 2 years

Text

Yours Truly - Ominis Gaunt [Part 1]

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x fem!Reader

Themes: Fluff

A/N: Hey guys! I think this request is really cute so I hope it comes out well.

Part 2, Part 3, Final Part (smut) and Final Part (fluff) are linked :)

“What’s that?” you ask, leaning over Ominis. He had been sitting in the Charms classroom when you walked in. He spins around, his shoulder bumping into you.

“Ah, (Y/N)!” He smiles and pats the bench next to him.

You sit down and lean over, looking at the book. It’s void of any print but the pages are covered dots. He slides the book a little closer to you.

“It’s One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. I have to write twenty inches on dittany and its uses…”

You furrow your brows and run your fingers over the pages. “What are these?”

He gently touches your fingers to understand what you’re asking about and laughs lightly. “The words. It’s braille.”

You tilt your head. “And this is how you can read without your wand?”

He nods. You think for a moment and grin.

After class if over you run to Hogsmede. If you can find a way to write in braille you can leave him notes. You walk into Tomes and Scrolls and run up to the shopkeeper.

“Mr. Brown! Do you have anything that would help me learn braille?”

He rubs his chin, thinking for a minute. He smiles and pulls the stairs out, looking at the top shelves. He returns a moment later with a black book, handing it to you. You thank him and pay, running back to your common room. You spend all night studying the book. Grabbing a piece of paper, you use a quill to poke holes in the paper to create the dots. You give it to your owl to drop off to Ominis, hoping he doesn’t recognize her.

***

As the owls fly over head, one drops a letter in Ominis’ lap. Sebastian leans over and picks it up.

“A love letter, eh?” he says, laughing.

Ominis’ flushes red and snatches it back, opening it. Sebastian looks at it and frowns.

“I can’t even read it. Not fair.”

Ominis furrows his brow and touches the paper. Braille…

My dearest Ominis,

I have been awake most nights wondering what I can say to express my feelings for you. I have worked hard to convey my message properly. The first time I travelled to Feldcroft I was visited by the smell of the sea and the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. I have dreamt of us standing on the coast, hand in hand. I think of your hair blowing in the breeze, how warm you must be in the cold air… You have always been kind to me and I hope I am as kind to you. I hope to see you again soon.

Yours truly,

Anonymous

Ominis sets the papers down on the table and turns to Sebastian. “It…was a love letter…”

Sebastian laughs and nudges him. “Who is it from?”

Ominis shrugs. “Didn’t say.”

Sebastian picks up the papers, turning them over in his hands, shrugging.

***

You sit down next to Ominis in Charms and lean in. “What’s the letter?”

He hands it to you and shrugs. “A love letter…It doesn’t say who from.”

You grab it and squeal. “Cute!! Oh Merlin, I have to know who it is.” You stare at the papers for a few seconds and sigh. “I can’t read this.”

He laughs and takes the papers back.

“Maybe you’ll get more and there will be hints.”

He nods and folds the letter back up, sliding it into his pocket. Who could it possibly be? And who would learn braille to send him a letter like that?

Tag list!

Let me know if you want to be added or removed! Also please let me know if you want a specific fic or all :)

@ingerjkb @blueberrydinosaur @kuukimeioo @sometimesidreamthaticanlevatate @thenerdysimp @lonadane @tubble-wubble

#hogwarts #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis imagine #ominis x reader #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis gaunt fluff #ominis gaunt imagine #sebastian sallow

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lostyesterday · 11 months

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As a visually disabled person myself, one thing I wish TNG had done with Geordi is show his disability actually affecting how he functions in his daily life. For example, I can’t remember a single time in TNG where Geordi is shown as needing accommodations in his work environment. You might say that’s because his visor means that he can basically “see” normally and so he wouldn’t need accommodations, but I find this explanation frustrating.

For one thing, real life visually disabled people absolutely require accommodations to do most jobs, so if Geordi’s meant to be any kind of accurate reflection of the experiences of blind people, he should require some accommodations. For me at least, it isn’t some kind of wish fulfillment fantasy to see a visually disabled character who can do anything a sighted person can with no accommodations whatsoever. Instead, it feels like a denial of everything that being disabled has meant to me over my life. Disabled people are disabled. We have more difficulty doing certain tasks than an able-bodied person would – that’s what makes us disabled. We require changes to our environment in order to function well.

Also, literally just based on the in-universe information given about Geordi’s visor, it doesn’t make any sense to me that he wouldn’t require accommodations. Geordi’s visor is not really described as simulating vision, it is described as providing completely different sensory information about the physical properties of the world around him. I like to imagine the visor’s input as a kind of enhanced spatial awareness with a precise knowledge of where certain objects are, what their shape is, and what they’re made of. As TNG mentions several times, Geordi’s visor provides much more information than human eyes do, but, importantly, in the few episodes where the details of how Geordi’s visor works are discussed at all, it’s never described as providing purely visual information such as the color or reflectiveness of an object. I think that if Geordi faces a mirror, his visor will tell him there’s a piece of glass in front of him and he’ll know about how large it is and what material it’s made of, but he won’t be able to see his reflection in it, because the visor doesn’t provide that kind of visual information. This distinction is important to me, because it means that Geordi is still functionally blind with the visor, and it should mean that he interacts with the world differently from a sighted person.

For example, I would have loved if Geordi had been shown to be unable to recognize particular people until they spoke. All his visor tells him is that there’s a person in front of him and about what size and shape they are, but this isn’t generally enough information to determine a person’s identity. He canonically perceives Data as looking very different from an organic person which makes sense because Data is made of fully different material. And maybe Geordi can generally tell different species apart based on different body temperatures or something like that. But I really wish that Geordi had been shown at least a few times to need the sound of a person’s voice or some other cue to tell him who they were.

I also think it doesn’t make sense that Geordi can apparently read text on computer screens. How can he read if the visor doesn’t really provide visual information? A computer screen should just register as a flat piece of material. Geordi should have required some kind of accommodation to be able to use the computer screens. For example, maybe Geordi could use the computer entirely through voice commands, something that obviously already exists in the star trek world. Or he could use some kind of tactile display. The Voyager episode The Year of Hell shows that computer terminals on starships are able to utilize a tactile display that I’m guessing is somewhat similar to braille. I loved this mention in Voyager of tactile displays, because it indicates that Starfleet ships are probably automatically equipped with such accessibility devices. Geordi needing an accommodation as small as this would have gone really far in terms of making him feel like a genuine representation of a disabled character, at least to me.

#star trek tng #geordi la forge #star trek voy #i really like geordi as a character and there are some things i think tng did fairly well in regards to him as a disabled character #but i also have criticisms and this is one of my big ones #if anyone has any opinions on this or honestly about anything relating to disability in star trek i'd love to hear your thoughts #even if you disagree with me!#lane posts #lane's disability meta

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kankuroplease · 1 month

Note

Will we be getting Sakumo’s pups lore? Like their names, bios & other lil headcanons of them? ☺️

Or will they be small background characters that’ll appear from time to time?

Either way! Thanks for blessing us with the Happy AU where Sakumo’s wife & children help heal him ❤️‍🩹

It brings me so much joy knowing that Sakumo is alive & happy with a family even if it’s an alternative universe 🥹

Sakumo truly deserves a happily ever after in some universe 😭🖤🖤 I have a little something I shared with some friends (thanks for the names, Nisi!!)

More under the cut because it’s kinda long but not too long ✨

Daichi Hatake

The middle brother is a total cinnamon roll that would give you the shirt of his back if you asked him to.

As a child he was super carefree and a bit unorganized, but seeing the gap between him and Kakashi’s abilities made him buckle down and focus.

As an adult, he is quite accomplished. He is still behind Kakashi’s skill level by a little bit, but he’s no longer bothered by it. He’s very proud of his brother’s achievements

He also prefers to chill with Bull when Kakashi permits it

Hides how picky of an eater he is quite well but he will eat whatever veggie when Kakashi catches him/puts his discreetly tucked away veggies back on his plate

He tends to hang out with the other jonin a lot because he prefers company to solitude

do to having witnessed his parents crying in each others arms after his father’s attempted suicide with Kakashi, he really only shows his vulnerable/sad side to Kakashi. The what if of that situation haunts him when ever he thinks about failing a mission himself and made him worried their father would leave them at some point

Oda Hatake

Oda has always been described as an old soul. He has always been mature for his age with the exception of stealing treats off of his brothers and using “but I’m the youngest” to get out of trouble

It wasn’t easy to be the younger of the three and Sakumo’s son, but he managed. Choosing to aim for a “desk job” Torture and Interrogation Force

He likes to read and will take Kakashi’s books without asking (including Icha Icha). Substituting the books with ones he’d recommend

He’s friendly enough, but genuinely doesn’t trust the “good” in others, so he has some walls to get through to earn his trust

Likes thunder storms and will sit outside in them to “breathe in the static”

Has a fancy pigeon pet with nubs instead feet that he spoils rotten. He uses her to send his parents messages in braille

Can’t take a compliment. Especially not one about his eyes 💀

Somehow manages to arrive even later than Kakashi to family dinners

Is more willing to question Kakashi versus following him blindly (no offense Daichi)

#ask #kpz naruto founder au #Sakumo x Kōmori #tw mentions of sh #naruto ocs

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peterman-spideyparker · 2 years

Text

The Roommate and The Best Friend (College!Matt Murdock x College!Fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Long time, no post, guys! I do apologize for going silent on the fic front--I’ve just been so tired lately, I haven’t had the motivation to really edit anything I’ve written. BUT, my sweet baby angels, this is the longest stand alone fic I’ve ever done! It also took forever to edit, lol. I really hope you guys enjoy! :)

Summary: You’ve been Foggy’s best friend since you two could walk. Matt’s been Foggy’s best friend since he moved in at Columbia. After three years at law school all together, you’re all as thick as thieves. When Foggy doesn’t show up one day to a study session, something blossoms between you and Matt that will change the ecosystem of your friendship trio forever.

Warnings: Fluff (friends to lovers, cuteness, cuddles, kisses), angst (shouting, friendship fights, hurt feelings), smut (p in v, protected sex, blowjob, handjob, being cute dorks when a matching set is involved), swearing

Other Characters: College!Foggy Nelson

Word Count: 8.081

“At what point do you think we can officially say Foggy isn’t coming?” you sigh, flipping the page in your notebook and highlighting what is written in accordance to your study system.

Matt lets out a breath through his nose as his fingers move to feel at the braille surface of his watch. “An hour ago?” he smirks, resuming his own work.

“Eh, I guess I should have seen that coming.”

“How so?”

“All boys are the same when they start relationships, especially when they reengage the on-again. Knowing Foggy and Marci, they’re doing some weird sort of sex-study review game.” You shudder at the memory. “You’re lucky you’re blind, Matty. You can’t unsee that.”

“Trust me, I think it’s worse to only hear,” he chuckles.

“Ew, don’t even remind me of the sound!”

Matt just laughs, his fingers sliding across the page.

“Hey, get back to studying, Chuckles,” you chastise, smiling big yourself as you move back to your notes. “Rule 24 of Federal Civil Procedure won’t learn itself.”

“Rule 24. Intervention. Intervention of Right: On a timely motion, the court must permit anyone to intervene who—.”

“Shut up,” you scoff playfully, hitting his shin underneath the table. “Show off.”

You go back and forth, quizzing one another on the rules of civil procedure in the unit, adjusting in the library chairs until you’re leaning shoulder to shoulder going over material, Matt having abandoned his braille textbooks to listen to you read to him.

“You have a really beautiful voice, you know that?” Matt hums, his voice dipping into a velvety timbre.

“You’re just lazy,” you chuckle as you tilt your head and gaze over at him. “Getting me to do all the work.”

“Delegating,” he attempts.

“Laziness,” you counter.

“You do better when do explain things. You’ve said so yourself. And I’m a great listener.”

You purse your lips and let out a little sigh. “I do do better when I talk out loud,” you admit.

“You also always find your answer when you do.”

“And I do like talking to you.”

“I rest my case,” he says with a satisfied smile.

“Asshole.”

You laugh in your little secluded spot in the library, your shoulders shaking against one another’s as you do. You tilt your head to face him, Matt doing the same thing at the same time, his dark rectangular glasses long abandoned, letting you look into the honey hazel galaxy of his irises.

“Hey,” he whispers, his voice making a warmth spread all over your body.

“Hey yourself, Murdock,” you counter.

“You’re gonna be a really great lawyer, you know that?”

You feel yourself blush. If it’s from the sentiment of his words, the pitch that he says it, or your proximity, you’ll never know. Maybe it’s all three. You’re just glad he can’t see the full extent of how his words make you feel.

“Thanks, Matty. You’re gonna be great, too. I pity whoever will have to go against you in court.”

“You are so extraordinary, (Y/N),” he whispers, his thumb and forefinger taking ahold of your chin, the space between the two of you smaller than you remember.

“So are you,” you breathe.

“(Y/N), I—."

“I think we’re just getting tired,” you breathe as his lips hover centimeters from yours.

“No, I think we’re picking up on something that’s been here for a bit,” he counters, his voice at such a low pitch it does things to the heart in your chest and the heart between your legs.

But this is Matt you’re talking about. He’s your friend. He’s Foggy’s friend, his roommate. Sure, people can bond with their roommates, but it was almost like something out of a buddy-comedy with what happened with those two, and it was instantaneous.

You shuffle and maneuver around everyone in the hallway, moving furniture and supplies into their homes for the next year as you track down the number that is your best friend’s new address.

“Alright, Foghorn, boxes have been unpacked, and liquor needs to be poured!” you call as you glide through the entryway, the door left ajar. When you enter, you don’t see anyone in sight. Did you get the wrong number? No, that’s not it: unless someone else has some interest in really niche bands and the same quilt his mother knit him for Christmas in undergrad, you’re definitely in the right place. The social butterfly of a teddy bear man probably bonding with his roommate or something.

Just as you flop down on what his definitely Foggy’s bed, you hear his laugh and the tapping of something growing closer to the dorm.

“ . . . and I said, ‘No, Mom and Dad. I love you guys, but I don’t want to be a butcher, I want to be a lawyer,” Foggy recalls his infamous butcher story, his words becoming clear as they enter.

“Not the butcher story!” you interrupt, sitting right back up like a vampire in its casket, watching Foggy enter with a handsome man next to him, his brown hair floppy and shiny, dark rectangular glasses perched on his nose and a white cane in the hand that isn’t holding his coffee. “You got coffee without me? Rude.”

“Jesus, (Y/N)!” Foggy hisses, almost slipping his to go cup of coffee in the process.

“Sounds like a pretty famous tale,” the man next to him says with an amused smirk pulling across some particularly pouty lips. Really pretty pouty lips.

“Matt, this is (Y/N), my best friend since toddledom,” Foggy introduces, licking some of the roast that escaped the sip hole of the lid. “(Y/N), this is my roommate, Matt. His dad was Battlin’ Jack Murdock.”

Getting up, you move over to in front of where he stands by Foggy, watching how he adjusts the cane in his grip to under his arm, extending his hand just enough where it looks expectant for yours.

“It’s nice to meet you, Matt,” you tell him with a soft smile.

“Likewise,” he says with a little nod.

“I have to say, my gram was a big fan of your dad. She loved watching his matches.” He acknowledges your comment with a nod of his head and a little, soft smile. “You know, you lucked out on your roommate. Foggy’s the best friend you could ever ask for. You might need to get some earplugs, though, he snores like a Foghorn.”

“Do not!” Foggy interjects.

“He’s still in phase one denial of the whole thing. Really, sometimes, I think he could wake the dead with that sound.”

Matt’s lips curl into an incredibly large smile with a warm laugh that matches the expression.

And, well, the rest his history, with the three of you being thick as thieves since that day.

“This can’t happen,” you breathe, swallowing hard while your head and heart race a million miles a minute. “Foggy is my best friend—he’s your best friend. We can’t.”

“I know,” he breathes. “That doesn’t mean I want to, though. And correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you want to, too.” He pushes some hair that has fallen out of your clip behind your ear. “Would it . . . Would it really be the worst thing?”

Your eyes flick down to his lips and how is tongue peeks out ever so slightly to moisten the plush skin before back up to his honey hazel eyes and their off-center gaze, his face softer and more vulnerable without the dark specks resting on his nose.

“This kind of stuff can ruin friendships. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to hurt Foggy.”

“I don’t want any of that either. But I also know that I don’t want to go another moment without kissing you.”

It’s unclear if you’re the one that closes the gap between you or if it’s Matt, but before you know it, you’re kissing in your little corner of the library. His lips are as soft as they look, perhaps even more so, and his aftershave floods your nose—crisp and fresh, a subtle blend of sandalwood, vanilla, and coffee pulling you closer and closer into him. His large hands slide down the sides of your body, squeezing your waist, making you moan into his mouth. The sound encourages him to lift you up, placing you so you straddle one of his legs. As the kiss grows more heated, your fingers running through his incredibly soft hair, you pull back, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Are you okay?” Matt asks softly, his hands running up and down your body soothingly.

“Extremely,” you breathe with a bright smile.

Matt smiles so bright he could outshine the sun, lines of happiness etching themselves into the skin by his eyes as he leans back in for a kiss. His hands continue to move mindlessly along your waist and your back, his fingers grazing the hem of your shirt and sneaking underneath the soft fabric, making goosebumps break out over your body with a shudder.

“Isn’t it a bit of a cliché to do that in the library, Matthew?” you whisper in his ear as he trails wet kisses along your neck, your entire body tingling at your position and the way he moves against your body.

“Only if we get caught,” he smirks, moving his face back so it’s focused in your direction.

“I’m taking that as code for you can attest to that from experience?”

“It was a close call, never a red-handed situation.”

“Mm, you true gentleman.”

You watch as Matt’s brows shoot up and furrow, some of the energy leaving him as his demeanor beings to change. “Do you not want to? We don’t have to. I—.”

“I want to, Matt,” you tell him, your cheeks burning hot at your own admission. “Do you?”

“I do. I wouldn’t have kissed you like that if I didn’t want to. Unfortunately, I didn’t think it through all the way—we can’t go back to my dorm. Foggy is probably there.”

“We could go back to mine?” you suggest, your heart now fully racing like a marathon runner. “I have a dingle.”

“Dingle?” Matt repeats with furrowed eyebrows and pouty lips.

“A double that’s now a single since my roommate dropped out.”

“A dingle.”

“A dingle, yeah.”

Matt brings his lips back to your, his kisses needily and tenderly in your isolated corner of the library.

“So, is that a yes, Murdock?”

The wicked grin that pulls as his lips tell you everything you need to know, and he doesn’t even bothering to use his cane as you lead him to your dorm on campus.

As soon as the door to your place is closed, your lips reattach and your hands work in a frenzy against one another’s bodies, desperately trying to get the clothes off of one another. Your hands slide over his muscular arms and torso until they are buried in his hair, the only thought in your brain is that you need to get him deeper and closer—a thought that continues on loop for the time you’re together.

The feeling of Matt’s lips on yours is made so much better after the orgasms that he has pulled from your body over and over during the night, but you’ll be damned if he stops now. A thin sheen of sweat covers your bodies as Matt continues to rut into you, one hand on your waist while the other supports his body weight on the mattress, kissing your shoulders and neck while his little wooden crucifix swings back and forth around his neck.

“Matt,” you groan before you pull him up for a kiss, his hair an absolute disheveled mess. It’s sloppy and filled with need, but damn if it isn’t absolutely impeccable.

“Do you have one more in there for me, angel?” he pants as he moves his kisses across your cheek to the sweet spot of your neck. “Come on, angel, you can cum one more time, can’t you?” All you can do is whimper as Matt continues to wind up that special knot in your stomach. “You’re doing so good. One more, I promise. Just one more.”

Hiking up your legs around his waist, you make sure the Matt’s hips stay as close to yours as possible, selfishly letting him rub up against your swollen, overstimulated clit, and ensuring that he’s nice and deep in you. The little grunts and groans that fall from Matt’s lips are angelic, the parted, plush lips and scrunched look of bliss on his face making your heart race more than it already is from exertion.

“Matty,” you whine. “Fuck!”

“Doin’ good, angel. Fuck, so good.”

Biting your lip and closing your eyes, you let the feeling wash over you while you dig your fingers into his toned muscles.

“I’m gonna . . . I—.”

“M-Me too,” he moans, dropping to his forearm to come closer to you as you try to hold your legs back higher. The newfound closeness and the new position let’s Matt reach a new angle, and it’s enough for the both of you to fall over the edge together. Matt does his best to try and fuck you through both of your orgasms, but it’s too much, and he stills, his hand running all over your body as he dips his head and presses soft kisses to your neck and lips. You suck in a sharp breath as he pulls out, feeling hollow without him in you, the drag of his length along your walls enticing. Tying up the condom, he tosses it in the trash while you get up and pad over to the bathroom. When you get back, you see him waiting with a dopey smile on his face, the sheets draping over his hips like some kind of adonis. When you get close enough, he pulls back your sheets and you happily slide in, snuggling close as he wraps an arm around you.

“You’re good at that,” you hum. “I think you’d gold medal.”

Matt laughs as his fingers trace patterns into your skin. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

“We can’t go back from that, you know,” you say softly.

“Who says I want to go back from it?” He shifts his head down in an effort to look at your face. You look back at him with furrowed brows. “I want to be more, (Y/N).”

“Matt,” you start. “I meant what I said. I don’t want to lose you or Foggy. If we do this and it doesn’t work . . . I lose the two most important people in my life.”

“I swear to you, (Y/N), you won’t lose either of us.”

You snuggle down on him, listening to his heartbeat before you peck a quick kiss to his chest. “I want more, too.”

“Then we’ll figure it out. I promise.” Matt runs a soothing hand up and down the line of your back.

“What are you thinking about?” he whispers.

You let out a little sigh. “Just that I thought I was supposed to be wined and dined before I was sixty-nine’d.”

Matt lets out a chuckle that radiates throughout your body. “We didn’t—.”

Before he can finish, you tilt your head up to look at his face, witnessing the moment that it clicks in his brain. “Classy,” he laughs.

“I’m just saying . . .”

“I can order pizza? I just don’t think I can do booze to go.”

“Who says you need to bring the booze?” Rolling over, you reach into the bottom drawer of your nightstand and pull out a bottle of wine. “From the special movie night reserve.”

Matt’s lips turn into a big smile, making adorable lines appear again at the corners of he eyes as he leans forward for another kiss, making you loose grip on your bottle of wine. He catches it with ease, placing it to the side of the bed as he chases your lips, and the way he captures your body beneath his lets you know that he doesn’t plan for the night to end any time soon.

Your leg bounces and your heart races as your eyes keep flicking towards the clock on the desk, watching the second hand move painfully slow across the timepiece as you await Matt’s arrival like you do several times a week, except this time, you have a surprise for him. Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest when you hear a gentle knock at the door. There’s no special pattern to it, but the pressure and rhythm lets you know that Matt is on the other side. His handsome smile greets you when you swing your door open.

“Hey,” you smile as Matt enters your dorm, his bag sliding off his broad shoulders to the ground, cane leaning up against the wall, and glasses coming off of his face as he toes off his shoes.

“Hey yourself,” he hums as his plush lips curl upward into a smile, slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you in for a kiss. The way his tongue slides into your mouth sends goosebumps all throughout your body; if anyone else tried to kiss you like this, you would consider it absolutely gross. But the way Matt does is? That’s how a man kisses—a man that’s on the cover of a romance novel that is dominant but tender, passionate yet gentle. A shudder of pleasure moves through you like shockwaves as he moves his hands up from your waist and up to your neck, helping him set the pace and motions of the kiss.

“I have a surprise for you,” you whisper when he finally pulls back, getting the sentence out just before he begins to eagerly move back in.

His eyebrows quirk up. “Do you, now?” Cocky bastard.

“I do. Now, sit on the bed.”

With a gentle push on his shoulder, he falls back on the mattress, making him coo in delight as he bounces slightly and causes the springs to squeak. With a little exhale to pump yourself up, you pull off your shirt and slide down your jeans, standing in nothing but your underwear.

“You know I can’t see it, angel,” Matt says with a tilt of his head. “But I do like what I just heard.”

“You don’t need to see it to appreciate it, Matty,” you inform, taking a step forward, taking his hands in yours and placing them on your shoulders. “Now, feel.”

This fingers glide over the soft lace that flutters off of the straps, down to the smooth mesh cups, and over the sides, tracing the lace and the pseudo-boning that decorate the bustier. His fingertips trace between the valley of your breasts, feeling a little criss-cross pattern that adorns the fabric before gliding his fingers down the the mesh panties and feeling the same soft lace that decorated it. A tiny moan escapes your lips when he brushes his fingers down between your legs, his digits lingering before they come to rest on your hips.

“You got a matching set for me?” he asks, his expression and tone one that you can’t quite read.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, Murdock, it’s from Target,” you hum as his hands trace the hemline of your panties. “But yeah. I thought you’d like the textures being consistent. And, I could afford it, so, that was a perk.”

“You got lingerie for me,” he smirks, his lopsided grin telling you that you’ve only inflated his ego. “That’s so—.” His sentence his halted when his fingers trail to the back of the underwear, just below the small of your back. “Angel, I think you’re missing part of these panties.”

Now it’s your turn to smirk. “Nope,” you tell him, popping the ‘p’. “It’s got a little keyhole back. It’s not quite easy access, but—mm, Matty.”

“I say, it gives me a good idea,” he says as one hand squeezes the flesh of your ass as the fingers on the other slip into the keyhole and tease you. Pulling you back onto the bed with him, you straddle him as you mimic the kind of kiss he greeted you with upon arriving. Moans and puckering quickly fill the room as you grind your hips on his jeans, opting to tease him through his light layers before attempting to shed them.

“You are such a fucking tease,” he murmurs in between kisses.

“Hi pot, it’s kettle,” you quip as you mark up his neck before pulling off his shirt. If you didn’t right this second, you’d never hear the end of it.

“Objection—badgering!”

“Overruled.”

With a light shove, you push him down so you are now fully on top of him, kissing all over his beautiful chest and soft skin as you grind into him.

“Shit,” he hisses. “Fuck, that’s nice.”

“You’ve helped me perfect my technique,” you hum into his skin, moving your kisses back up to his neck and lips. “Gotta get you nice and hard for me, Matty.”

As you continue to grind down on him, his hands guide your hips, setting the pace and pressure just so in an effort to make you both feel good. When his hands begin to travel up on your body along the line of your spine, you gently take hold of them and bring them back down.

“I got the matching set for you—it’s staying on during this entire thing,” you smirk, dragging his fingers along the mesh and lace of your panties. “Now, I can’t say the same thing about these jeans.”

Moving off of him, you undo his belt and pants, shimmying off the denim with some help from his hands, allowing you to take hold of his painfully hard cock, pumping it in your hand before you bend down, your knees digging into the thin mattress so you can start to take him in your mouth.

“(Y/N),” he moans. “Fuck . . . So nice, baby.”

“Mm,” you giggle, dragging your lips back and forth along his length, licking him here and there. “Your cock is so pretty, Matty. I love putting it in my mouth.” Slowly going down on his length, you wiggle your head side to side lightly until you’re all the way down on his length with your cheeks hollowed out. You look up at him through your lashes, feeling a sense of pride at how is face is contorted in pleasure and how long his lashes look resting on his cheeks. Moving off of him, you gasp and catch your breath, hungrily kissing up his length while one of his hands cradle the side of your face. His hand doesn’t set a pace as you bob your head, repeatedly taking his thick cock into your mouth over and over, but rather as a silent show of encouragement and affection as you work him. Careful to not get too lost in it all with Matt in your mouth, you reluctantly pull off, leaving soft pecks all the way up his body until you meet his lips.

“Are you ready to fuck me with my panties on, Matty?” you coo.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he murmurs with his lips against your. Taking you by surprise, he quickly grabs you by your hips and flips your positions, making you giggle and bring his lips back to yours for a deep kiss. Like a rehearsed routine, he extends his arm to the side and opens your nightstand drawer, rummaging around for the box of condoms you keep there. “Angel,” he pants, “I hate to break it to you, but there are no more condoms in this box.”

“What?” you say practically whining as you adjust your position under Matt, taking the investigation into your own hands. Just as Matt said, the box of contraceptives is completely empty. This time, you do whine. “No!”

“I told you.”

“I could have sworn I had plenty.”

“You know what it was?” he says, something clicking in his brain. “Moot court championship.”

Thinking back to a couple of weeks ago, you remember exactly how you celebrated the travel team winning your championship over Yale—you and Matt being the two that secured the victory, which only provided extra cause to celebrate.

“Damn, you’re right,” you sigh.

“I could always run out and get some more? I’d be quick.”

“Just what every girl wants to hear,” you joke, only for Matt to roll his eyes, licking his lips and tilting his head back in playful annoyance. Damn, he’s got a beautiful neck. “No, Matty. I don’t want you going out this late.

“It’s not too late, sweetheart.”

“I’d be worried about you going out in the dark.”

“That’s sweet—you worry about me.” Nothing in his words are condescending—they’re filled with pure affection. “Trust me, (Y/N). I’m a big boy. I can handle myself.”

“I still don’t like the idea of you going out.”

Matt kisses your forehead before resting his on yours. “I have an idea, but I don’t think you’re gonna like it.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” you say, knowing immediately where he is going with his sentence.

“Well, since you don’t want me to go out and get some more and I really, really need to be inside the smart and talented woman that bought a matching set for me, we’re in a pickle.”

You let out a huff, your hands sliding down Matt’s furry arms.

“Foggy isn’t there?” you check.

“Out with Marci.”

“And you’re sure there’s no way he’d be back?”

“I can say it’s highly likely he won’t be back. Even if he does—.”

“Matt—.”

“Even if he does,” he repeats. “He’s gonna leave almost immediately because his roommate is having sex.”

“And if he asks with who after? Actually, better yet, what if he tries to come and hang out with me?”

“Tell him you’re out shopping. You and I both know that while he’s a man of unique fashion, he treats shopping like a mission. Trust me, that should work.”

You look up at him, licking your lips in hesitation before you pull him down for a kiss. “Okay. But first . . .” Maneuvering him on the two pushed together mattresses of your dingle so you’re on top, you run your hands down his body, wrapping your digits around his rock hard length and pumping him a few times. “You’re not going anywhere with a boner that big.”

“Matt,” you breathe as he glides into me so incredibly effortlessly, hitting deep over and over. “Oh God, Matt.”

“Angel,” he grunts, a delicious blush spreading up and across his chest and neck. “Fuck, I needed you.”

“You’ve got me,” you smile, taking one of his hands in yours, lacing your fingers together while he thrusts into you. “Mm, you’ve got me, Matty. I’m yours. Only yours. ’m not going anywhere.”

The softest smile spreads across his features when he rests his forehead on yours. “My girl,” he whispers before bringing his lips to yours.

Dipping his lips to your neck, his holds your hips up so your back arches slightly off of the bed while he thrusts into you.

“Matty,” you whimper. “I lo—mm! Matt!”

Matt places wet kisses all over your chest and neck before he brings his lips back to yours.

“So perfect,” he mutters in between kisses, and it’s then that you hear the twist and jiggle of the doorknob.

Matt abruptly breaks your embrace, frantically moving to cover your body with his, and you curl inward and down to the mattress, facing the wall so Foggy won’t be able to see your face.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Foggy says, and you can hear his hurried movements to grab what he needs. “Inopportune timing, I know, but Marci invited me on a weekend getaway, and I need some things.”

“Just hurry,” Matt urges him, and you can tell that the rapid way that his chest rises and falls isn’t from your interrupted exertion. “Please.”

“Don’t worry, I am out of—,” Foggy starts, but he doesn’t finish his sentence. “Those are (Y/N)’s shoes.”

“What would her shoes be doing in our room, Foggy? She can’t just leave them places —she kind of needs them. Besides, I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”

You hear Foggy’s bag fall to the floor with a thud.

Shit.

“Matt, who’s with you?”

“Foggy—.”

“You know, I think I might just give (Y/N) a call. Check up on her.”

“Fog—.”

“Wait,” you sigh, closing your eyes in distress and defeat as you break your silence. Adjusting from under Matt, you turn to look at your friend. The look of pure betrayal and hurt is one that will haunt you for the rest of your life. But what’s even scarier, is how quickly the hurt in his eyes turns to pure, red-hot anger.

“Get away from them!” Foggy shouts, pulling Matt off the bed, Matt barely having enough time to react and keep his sheets around his hips. “Don’t you dare touch them!” You hop down from the mattress, standing between the two best friends and roommates, sticking your arms out to create extra distance in the tiny dorm so Foggy doesn’t absolutely jump Matt.

“Stop it!” you urge.

“I can’t believe you!” Foggy continues.

“Foggy, believe me, we didn’t mean for this to happen, it just did—,” Matt tries.

“You know how much they mean to me, and you just decided to ignore it and drop your pants for a quick fuck—!”

“Hey, whoa, out of line, Foggy!” you interrupt. “Don’t put this on Matt like that, we both—.”

“I’m not talking to him, I’m talking to you!” he clarifies. “You know that Matt is my best friend, and you go and do this? How could you? I can’t believe you! After all the things I’ve told you, about how his is with women—.”

“Hey!”

“—how could you be so careless and reckless?”

“Excuse me—.”

“I thought you were smarter than this! I can’t believe you!”

“Foggy—.”

“I can’t even look at you. Just get out of here!”

Tears burn at my lash line as I let his words absorb into me.

“Get out!” he repeats, the level and tone of his voice something I am thoroughly unused to. “I never want to see you again.”

You would’ve rather he just sent an open-faced slap across your face. His words and his tone cut you like a knife and are worse than any other pain you have or could ever experience. Mixed with his glare more than confirm that my best and oldest friendship has now been severed in half with no chance of reconciliation.

“Fog—,” Matt starts quietly, breaking the deathly silence in the room.

“I’m going,” you say after a moment, grabbing the clothes you can find. You don’t really care that they are Matt’s sweats—you just want to get out as fast as you can. Throwing them on and grabbing your bag, you begin to rush out of the room, only for Matt to take a few steps out to follow you.

“(Y/N)—,” he says softly, his beautiful hazel eyes desperately trying to focus on your face as his tongue darts out ever so slightly on his lips.

“I’ll see you later, Matty,” you tell him with a kiss to his cheek, as he holds your hand feet away from his door in the empty hallway.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispers, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

You squeeze it back. “No. It won’t.”

“How mad is he still?” you ask quietly as lie with Matt in bed, unable to stand the silence in the room that allows your thoughts to run wild, ramping up your anxiety over the friendship that you lost. Foggy was true to his words when he said he never wanted to see you again—he has cut you off cold in every way imaginable, from changing his route from dorm to class, to finding a new coffee shop and time to eat in the mess hall, to changing his seat in class to the other side of the room, and even going as far as to request a new partner for a project, erasing every possible venue where you could interact.

“He’s still really upset about it all,” Matt sighs. “He’s talking to me. It’s not exactly the same degree as it was, but it’s enough where we are moving back to what we were. It’s still awkward sometimes, though.”

“Does he know that we’re still together?”

“He does.” Matt pauses for a long while, his arm rubbing up and down your arm as if he’s listening to your silent question that screams through the dorm room. “We don’t talk about relationships, though.”

You let your breath hitch in your chest while your jaw tightens, a fresh wave of guilt that you haven’t felt in a long time washing over you. “I’m sorry that I’ve made things weird between you guys,” you whisper on the verge of tears.

“It’s not your fault, (Y/N).”

You snuggle down into his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. “Sure as hell feels like it.”

“He’ll move past it. It’s just gonna take time. Before you know it, it’ll be back to how it was.”

“It won’t be the same, Matt. You know that it won’t. Especially after all these months . . . it’s dead and gone and buried.”

“It will be okay, (Y/N).” When you don’t respond, Matt moves his hands down your body and situates you so you’re sitting on top of him, the covers pooling around your waist and leaving you exposed to the cold winter air that seeps in through the old windows of the dorm. “I promise you, (Y/N), that it will all be okay. And you know how I know? You and Foggy have the biggest hearts of everyone I know. There’s so much love in there, and there’s so much love that you have for one another. So when I tell you that it’s going to be okay, it will be okay.”

You give him a small smile, leaning down and taking his face in your hands, giving him a soft and sweet kiss.

“Thanks, Matt,” you whisper, brushing his hair off of his forehead.

“Hey, I know what will get that smile to grow.” With his hands on your hips, he begins to rock you back and forth along his leg, holding you down, placing just the right amount of pressure down on your hips to create the friction that you need between your legs.

“Dick,” you chuckle as he guides you along his strong, muscular leg.

“You gotta give him a minute before it’s good for either of us,” he hums, only making you laugh more. “But I got you to smile.”

“You always make me smile, Matty.”

“Ditto, angel.”

Your room fills with the slick sound of your core against his leg and your heavy breathing, the sounds only getting louder as your pace increases.

“Right there,” you breathe as he guides your hips on his thigh, soaking the skin that’s there and creating a mess between your legs. “Fuck, Matty. It’s so fucking good, baby.”

“Grab a condom, angel,” he moans. “Fuck, I gotta get in you soon. Need you, angel.”

Twisting around quickly, you go to reach for the box in your nightstand. However, you twist too quick, losing your balance and teetering off of Matt’s thigh, crashing down on the concrete floor of your dorm, your arm breaking the fall. You groan in pain, muffling the sound by keeping your mouth shut as it tries to escape your lungs, and you hold onto your forearm, a throbbing pain radiating from deep down.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” Matt asks you as he gets out of the bed and helps you up.

“Fine,” you grit through your teeth. “It’s fine.”

“It doesn’t sound fine.” You wince when his hand grazes your arm. “(Y/N)—.”

“I’m okay. I just whacked my arm real good.”

“It sounded like more than that. Take the word of a blind man with really good hearing. It’s more than a whack.”

“Matty, it’s okay.”

“You really should get it checked out. It might be broken.”

“It’s not broken, Matt, trust me. Nothing Advil and ice can’t fix.”

“Sweetheart, please. That way, we can know for sure.”

“Matty—.”

“I’ll foot the bill.”

“It’s not about money, I—.”

“Go for me. It’ll make me feel better to know that a medical professional says you’re fine,” he continues. “Please, angel.”

You let out a sigh, taking in how concerned he is and how soft his features are.

“You’re gonna have to help me get dressed,” you concede.

“It’s gonna be a while,” you tell Matt as you sit back down next to him in the waiting room.

“But the forms are filled out,” he says with a little smirk. “One step down.”

“I’m telling you, Matt, it’s probably nothing.”

“And then you can rub it in my face. But at least I’ll feel better knowing you’re all right.”

“Yeah, but you’ll have an uncomfortably sore back.”

“C’mere,” he whispers, having you adjust and snuggle into his chest as you sit in the stiff, flat seats. “I always feel better when you’re on me—it’ll cancel out the shitty chairs.”

You chuckle softly, finding the sweet spot that you love to curl into. “You’re a good pillow, you know that?”

“You might have told me once or twice before.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head while he throws his coat over you like a blanket. The motion immediately brings the sleep creeping at the edge of your consciousness to the forefront, slowly taking over. “Try and sleep, angel. I’ll wake you up when they call.”

“No sleep til Brooklyn,” you smile.

“You’re hilarious,” he sighs, lightly resting his head on yours. “You still need to sleep. You were up late studying for your last final, got, what, maybe three hours of sleep? And you’ve been going all day. I’ll wake you up when they want to take you back, I promise.”

You yawn wide and snuggle into him, closing your eyes and feeling just how heavy they are. “Kay, Matty. Love you.”

You feel his hand slip into yours on on good arm. “Love you, too, angel.”

When you feel Matt gently shake you awake, you’re sure you must have only closed your eyes for a short while, but when Matt helps me up, your watch tells you that it’s several hours later.

“Want help, angel?” he asks as you slide his jacket back over to him.

“I’ve got it, Matty,” you hum, giving his lips a quick peck. “Besides, I got to prove to you that it’s all fine.”

“Okay,” he chuckles, giving the hand on your good arm a squeeze. “See you soon.”

After he listens to you get led back, Matt tunes into the orchestra of the waiting room, listening to anything and everything for a long while before something catches him off guard.

“What happened?” a familiar voice rings in Matt’s ears in the quieting ER.

“Foggy? What are you doing here?” Matt asks, standing up.

“Marci was visiting her cousin that had a baby. She saw you guys come in, said that something looked wrong.”

“(Y/N) hurt her arm. She didn’t want to come, but she was in a lot of pain. I almost had to drag her here.”

“What happened? How’d she hurt it?”

“She was trying to reach for something and overestimated the stretch. She fell off the mattress and landed hard on her arm.”

“Is it broken?” Foggy asks as he sits in your empty seat.

“I think it is,” Matt sighs, mirroring his friend’s movements. “She’s convinced she’s fine, though.”

“Of course she thinks she’s fine. She never wants to admit when she’s hurt. It’s like when she gets a cold, it’s always just—.

“Allergies’,” Matt finishes with a smirk. “Yeah. You know, she got a really bad cold about a month ago, and she would swear a blue streak that she was okay. I had to keep a bag of lozenges in my bag with a to-go Tylenol so when her fever spiked, I could give her some with some water or get her a tea from the coffee cart. I don’t know how she muscled through it. It was really bad.”

He can hear how his friend turns to look at him. “You really care about her, huh?”

“I love her, Foggy,” Matt tells him. “When I was with Elektra, I thought that was love. But being with (Y/N) . . . I know she’ll always be there. She makes me better. She helps me be who I want to be. And I’d do absolutely anything for her. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.” He tilts his head to his friend. “You know she didn’t want to date me at first? She was afraid it’d ruin our friendship, but she was more worried about how you would take it. She didn’t want to hurt your feelings. After everything . . . Fog, (Y/N)’s absolutely torn up about it.”

“You know, I’ve thought a lot about what I said to her and how I said it,” Foggy starts. “The look on her face . . . The worst thing about it all is that when I said those words, I wanted them to hurt her, and I did exactly that, and I felt good that I did. She looked so broken. By the time I wanted to try and talk to her, I burned that bridge so much I couldn’t reach her. I feel like the biggest piece of shit that there is.”

“If I know anything, it’s that (Y/N) loves you, and you and your friendship means the world to her. That bridge isn’t gone. If anything . . . The map was lost. And just because the map is lost doesn’t mean that the path over that bridge is gone for good.”

“You think so?” Foggy asks hesitantly.

“I know so. And if I know you and (Y/N) even a fraction of how well I do, things will be okay.”

“Thanks, Matt.”

“I’m just telling you the truth, man.”

As they talk in the waiting room, everything starts to feel like it used to—the ease, the comfort, the flow of conversation. After about ninety minutes, Foggy declares a quest for coffee, groaning as he stands, bemoaning just how uncomfortable the ER seats are. Shortly after Foggy disappears, Matt hears your heartbeat grow closer to the double doors you went through, the nurse giving you a list of care instructions. Matt smirks to himself while he can, taking some pride in the fact that he convinced you to get some help and prevent it from becoming worse, but willing to play none the wiser for when you come out.

“I’m not saying that you were right, only that I underestimated the severity,” you sigh as you meet Matt in the waiting room.

“What was it?” Matt asks, leaning in to kiss your cheek, but you wince when his hand is on your arm. “(Y/N), this feels like a cast.”

“Well, yes, it is. My radius and ulna are broken. But I was right, I’m fine. I’ll survive.”

“You are absolutely fit to be a lawyer,” he chuckles, kissing you once more. “When can the cast come off?”

“It’ll be off just in time for the start of the semester. No kinky sex stuff, though.”

“I’m sure we can find some kinky stuff to do that won’t hurt it. Trust me, I can get very creative.”

You laugh as he leans in for a kiss, your lips still turned into a smile as you embrace. When you pull back, you see Foggy approaching with a coffee travel tray. You immediately dip your head and avoid looking at him, unable to fight the feeling of tears that instantly bloom in your chest.

“You still like cinnamon in your coffee, right?” Foggy asks, making you tilt your head up to look at him, his other hand extending the hot cup to you.

“Two sugars?” you ask softly.

“No cream,” he says with a little smile.

Taking it with your good hand, you let the cup warm you up. “Thanks, Foggy.”

“I’ll hail a taxi for us,” Matt says, pressing a kiss into your hair and then patting Foggy on the shoulder, leaving nothing but thick air between you and the person you’ve known your whole life.

“Listen, (Y/N)—.”

“I’m sorry, Foggy,” you blurt, unable to contain it. “With Matt, we just kissed, and I didn’t want to stop kissing him, but I really didn’t want to hurt you. It was head and heart and I just froze, and I lost my best friend because of it. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about, (Y/N),” Foggy says softly, looking like he just saw a puppy get kicked. “I thoroughly overreacted. I should have been happy that my two friends were together and happy. Instead, I turned into a big brother and treated both of you like you didn’t know what you’re doing. I dunno . . . I guess I had just wished you would’ve told me.”

“I didn’t want you to be mad. And the longer I waited, well, it felt like I couldn’t tell you,” you tell him. “I’m so sorry.”

“You love him?” is all that Foggy asks.

“I really do,” you nod. “He loves me, too. He hasn’t said it, but I just have a feeling, you know?”

“Something tells me that he does, too.” His brows furrow in concern. “Can you forgive me?”

“Of course, Fog. Do you forgive me?”

“I’d wrap you in a big hug as a silent ‘You bet your bottom, I do’, but then I’d hurt your arm even more than it already is.”

“You still can,” you say with a small smile. “I’m a tough cookie. I can handle it.”

“How about when the two of you aren’t holding hot beverages?” Matt interjects as he reapproaches you.

“Attention to detail—that’s why you’ll be an excellent lawyer,” Foggy teases.

“Thanks, man,” Matt tells him, putting his jacket around your shoulders. “Good to go, angel?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you hum.

“I say let’s go to Josie’s. Drinks on me,” Foggy says as you move to the cab. “I’ve got my best friends back—if that isn’t cause for celebration, I don’t know what is.

“You think we’ll have time?” Matt asks, feeling at his watch as you guide him into the taxi.

“I’m sure she’d keep the bar open just a little longer for her favorite patrons and retainered legal council.”

“None of us are lawyers yet, Fog,” you chuckle as Foggy tells the cabbie the address for the bar.

“But we will be after we pass the Bar, and once we are, we’ll be her lawyers. Bingo, bango, bongo. She’ll let us have a tab and everything.”

“Dreaming big, aren’t you?” Matt laughs.

“Oh yeah, once we get that tab, we’ll be able to take over the world.”

“How about save the world?” you offer.

“Matt’s big humanitarian heart has gotten to you, I see.”

“C’mon, Fog. Who better to stick up for the little guys than three little guys from the Kitchen?”

“You make a good point. But I do counter—big office space with nice big windows and a view.”

“Well, a big office space would be nice. Windows and a view isn’t a deal breaker for me,” Matt smirks.

“We’ve got a real comedian over here.”

“All I’m saying is that if we’re helping people, does it really matter what the space is like?”

“Well, it’d be nice to have walls, floors, WiFi—ooh, no lead paint . . .”

“Okay, the space matters a little bit,” Matt and Foggy laugh as the cab comes to a halt, Matt beating you to the punch and paying the driver before you can unzip your bag.

“Regardless of its size, the space has to be in the Kitchen,” you settle. “If we’re gonna help the people, we need to be with the people.”

“Amen,” Foggy agrees, followed by Matt’s, “Here, here!” as we walk in.

“Sounds like we’ve got a future to plan,” you smile as you sit between them at the bar.

“Josie—the eel, please!” Foggy asks. “And several napkins: I’ve got some designing to do.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger @steampowerednightvaler @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop @itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother @hellskitchens-whore @dpaccione

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intimidating-fettuccine · 7 months

Note

I know you mentioned in that last few posts that Jack likes reading but I’m curious to how exactly he reads if he can’t see? Does he use like braille books or something? Would that mean Slenderman owns braille books?

I think he does read braille! That’s usually how I imagine it in my head. I don’t think Slender originally owned braille books but I think since Jack has joined that he started acquiring some so that Jack could have a larger collection of books.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta headcanon #eyeless jack #eyeless jack headcanons #eyeless jack headcanon #slenderman #slenderman headcanon #slenderman headcanons

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littlespacereader · 7 months

Note

Hello! Could I request some Cg! Matt Murdock headcanons please? I saw you just wrote for him and I had no clue you were a fan of Daredevil too so I’m pretty ecstatic right now lmao. Anyways THATS was all have a great day!💜💜💜

Of course I can!! After writing the Valentine’s Day fic about Caregiver Matt Murdock I literally can’t get enough of him! So here are some cute Headcannons for Matt Murdock as a Caregiver! Plus some extra Daredevil type things as well!

Caregiver Matt Murdock Headcannons (SFW)

Matt is probably one of the nicest and gentlest Caregivers out there. Being someone who is extremely sensitive to sound himself, he is never one to raise his voice in anyway to his little one and is always going out of his way to make sure their comfortable.

You met Matt by simply running into each other. You were lost trying to find a doctors office in the same building when you popped your head into the office of Nelson and Murdock. Little did you know the simply mistake would change your life forever.

Matt and you got along so easily. You became quick friends and began to share everything with each other. He shared his secret double life as Daredevil and you shared your secret of regression.

Matt is extremely compassionate and was honored you trusted him enough to not only tell him about your regression but also start regressing with him. When you eventually asked for him to be your CG, he was head over heels. Of course he accepted and here you two are today!

Matt is a judgement free zone. Whatever you want or need for your regression he is all for it! Wanna wear diapers? Totally chill with him! Wanna have a sippy cup? He already bought you two! Aren’t the biggest fan of something? He respects your boundaries and strives to make you comfortable!

His favorite thing to do with his little one is go to the park. The city is loud and sometimes overstimulating. But the parks in the city help drown out some of that background noise.

He loves to go on picnic and lay all day on a blanket in the sun cuddling his little one close. Or he love to sit and listen to his little one running around the playground giggling and playing.

Matt is religious but he NEVER pushes his beliefs or anything of that nature onto his little one. He would NEVER. Whether his little one believes the same thing as him, believes something different, or doesn’t believe anything at all, his motto is that it isn’t his business to mind or care.

Matt is not really a tv or movie type of guy. But he is a big reader! So the two of you have your evening story times together! You settle down in his lap, sippy cup in hand as he reads one of his braille books to you all while you rest your head on his shoulder.

Matt is a big cuddler. Like most heroes he comes home late in the night after a long night of fighting crime. Cuddling helps heal the horrors that he witness. You’re his rock, you settle him down enough to sleep, your heat resting upon his chest is all he need to be able to fall asleep.

When Matt comes home hurt or injured from fighting crime, his Little takes it upon themselves to try and make him better. After all they just got themselves a doctors kit from Claire! It’s got bandaids and all sorts of stuff to help their Caregiver feel better. Matt sometimes feel guilty about it, he feels as though he should be taking care of them not vice versa. But he can’t help but love his little one as they run over with their kit to make him feel better, kissing all his injuries and putting plenty of bandaids all over him.

Oh? You wanna sneak into the kitchen and grab yourself a cookie without Matt knowing? Think again! His hearing is good, too good. “And what do you think you’re doing?” “I’m getting myself a snack.” “Standing on the kitchen counter infront of the tall cabinet where the cookies happen to be stored?” “…” “That’s what I thought get down.”

He’s stern but he’s a massive pushover. He’s too sweet to really be that stern.

Now let’s talk about Matt’s family

While Matt’s birth family isn’t alive, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have one. Infact he has the best family anyone could ask for! Foggy, Karen, Claire, and yes…even Frank at times. All of them love and accept Matt’s little one. Some of them even go above and beyond for them!

Foggy & Karen are in their lives the most, working with Matt will do that. They both adore Matt’s little one. When he brings them to the office they’ll completely ignore Matt and spend all their time giving them all their love and attention. Karen and Foggy will literally fight over the Little! They are his go to babysitters and they are honored.

Foggy is Uncle Foggy and you guess it, he’s the fun Uncle. He’s the type of uncle that sneaks you candy, sticks up for you against your caregiver even if your clearly guilty and breaks all your caregivers rules when they watch over you. He loves to play around and be a goof.

Karen is Aunt Karen. She’s usually a buffer for Foggy’s craziness. She’s kind and gentle. She loves to play with the little one, any game they like from dress up, to race cars, to something simple as a board game. She’s always knows their needs without them saying a word. Her kind gentle nature always put the little one at peace.

Claire and Matt’s little one became friends after they called her in a panic because Matt was badly injured. She arrived and not only took care of him, but also his little one. Being a nurse she’s seen regression so she’s no stranger to it. She’s also prepared for it, having pacifiers, fidget toys, diapers, sippy cups and more. Whatever they chose to take she’s prepared to always make sure they’re at ease. She eventually becomes one of Matt many babysitters for his little one. At first she made a big deal about it, she doesn’t mean a word of it having fallen for the adorable Little. Now their her little medical assistant.

Frank becoming Uncle Frank came as a shock to everyone, especially Matt. His little one once got roped in some bad business and The Punisher saved them. Frank called Matt and explained what happened. Matt expected to come back to his apartment and find Frank and his Little chatting, but definitely not cuddling while he read them a book, doing funny voices for all the characters. He’s never seen Frank so paternal before, so gentle. But his little one brought that father side of Frank out. They’re helping him heal through his tragic past: After that, Frank was added to the list of baby sitters Matt had in his arsenal.

At the end of the day Matt and his family of friends love and accept you for the adorable and fun Little you are!🥰

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munson-blurbs · 2 years

Text

Chapter 3: All This Time Goes By, Still No Reason Why

Collaboration with my Eddie Munson sister wife, @corroded-hellfire 💚

Series Summary: Based on the Jonas Brothers song of the same name. You and Eddie share a hospital room in the wake of Hawkins' turmoil, striking up an unlikely friendship that could lead to much more.

Chapter Summary: With the help of Robin and Nancy, you and Eddie realize how much you mean to each other, but a medical emergency may prevent either of you from admitting your true feelings.

Warnings: eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), Eddie survives the Upside Down, hospital, mentions of surgery, description of Eddie's scars, controlled use of pain medication, angst

WC: 5.2k

Divider credit to @firefly-graphics

“It’s time to play the Family Feud!”

Click.

“Today on Sally–”

Click.

“There’s nothing good on,” you bemoan, flicking through the channels absentmindedly. Just as you’re about to give up on finding something to watch, a familiar dramatic voice rings out from the tinny TV speaker.

“It’s twins, and the two of you are the father of one each.”

Your fingers falter on the remote as you hear the events play out. Shelby’s sitting in a hospital bed, not unlike your own, one baby in each arm. The plot is so ridiculous, yet you can’t help but be drawn in. The only thing missing is a bucket of popcorn for you to chow down on.

And Eddie, you think miserably, swallowing the thought like it’s a dry pill. He would sit slack-jawed as the two lovers argued over which baby belonged to which man, making comments like, “did you see that?!” when he knows good and well that you’re sitting two feet from him and did, in fact, see it.

Dr. Drake Ramoray is about to announce the paternity test results when there’s a soft knock on your door.

“Can, um, can we come in?” You turn your head to see Mandy standing in the doorway, pushing a redheaded girl in a wheelchair. “This is Maxine. She’ll be your new roommate,” she explains.

“Yup, finally busted out of intensive care,” the girl deadpans, tilting her head to better hear the TV. “Is that Days of Our Lives?”

You give an embarrassed giggle, muting the show. “Yeah, sorry. Guilty pleasure.”

Maxine shakes her head. “No, put it back on! I love that shit. I didn’t have a TV in ICU, so I had to listen to my boyfriend read to me.” A blush creeps across her cheeks at the mention of her boyfriend, and she leans on Mandy as the nurse helps her into the bed. “He has a nice voice, though. So it wasn’t all bad. Better than listening to him argue with his friends about D&D.” Mandy laughs at that before excusing herself from the room.

The mention of the fantasy game is like a knife slice through your heart, but you shake off the thought. “That’s sweet of him.”

“Yeah,” Maxine nods. “Read all my favorites. Guess that’s how it’ll be for a while, until I learn Braille.” That’s when you notice that her eyes are cloudy, the blue irises not focusing in a particular direction.

You’re rendered speechless for a moment, unsure how to respond to what she’s said. “I’m sorry,” you finally manage to choke out, wincing at how dumb you sound.

Maxine doesn’t seem to care or pick up on your embarrassment. “It sucks,” she says, “but I’ve got a good support system, y’know? And with the way everything in this town’s gone to shit, being blind doesn’t seem like too big of a deal.”

You assume she’s talking about the earthquake essentially splitting Hawkins into quadrants, destroying homes, businesses, and leaving far too many people injured or dead. You start to nod before remembering that she can’t see you. “I get it, but it doesn’t mean it’s not a big deal to you.”

She pauses before responding, contemplating what you’ve just said. “Guess so,” she mumbles. “I just feel guilty worrying about myself when other people are suffering even worse.”

“I’ll drink to that.” You raise your glass of water to your lips, feeling the lukewarm liquid slip down your throat. “Have they told you how much time you'll be stuck here?”

She chuckles tersely. “Nope. They all keep saying, ‘a little bit longer, and you’ll be back home.’ But I don’t even know if I’ll have a home to go back to.”

“Where do you–did you live?” You shake your head. “That might be too personal, sorry. I’m just excited to have someone to talk to.” And it’s true. Ever since Eddie left a few days ago, you’d been alone with your thoughts. Never a good thing, especially when you’re feeling this sad and helpless, and the mundaneness of the hospital certainly doesn’t help.

“It’s cool. I lived over on Porter Street for a year or so before my mom and I moved into Forest Hills Trailer Park.” She gnaws on her lower lip as though waiting for your judgment. “But before we came to Hawkins, I lived in California.”

“Oh.” California. Where you and Eddie had made plans to run away to–though the sincerity of those plans were apparently up for debate. You want to ask her about it; if she’s ever been to Los Angeles, if she wants to go back, but the knot in your stomach urges you to shift the topic. “Your trailer–was it destroyed in the earthquake?”

“Not sure,” she answers honestly. “No one’s said anything to me, but that could just be to keep me from getting upset. But my boyfriend’s idiot friend–one of them, anyway–let it slip that my neighbor’s trailer got, like, split in half.”

“Oh, shit,” you breathe out. “Is your neighbor okay?”

“Uh, I think so,” Maxine says. “I haven’t talked to him but my boyfriend said he was released from the hospital.”

“That’s good,” you say. “I mean, not that he was in here, but that he was okay to leave.”

“Eddie—that’s my neighbor—is staying with some friends, I think. Or friends of his uncle or something.”

The way your head snaps so quickly in the redhead’s direction makes such a loud crack that even she hears it, wincing at the pop. “Eddie” is a common enough name, but you can’t think of another Eddie other than your Eddie—or, Eddie Munson, that is—in all of Hawkins.

“Wait. Is your neighbor Eddie Munson?” you ask, voice quivering despite your attempt to sound casual.

Her eyebrows pinch together and her head tilts in your direction. “How do you—oh shit! You’re Sunshine, aren’t you?”

Your face heats up at hearing Eddie’s nickname for you. How did Maxine know about that? She’s already said that she hasn’t talked to him. Which only means she heard it from someone else. But who? Between the days dragging into one another and the cocktail medley of medications you’ve been on, you’re not sure if Eddie called you that in front of his friends or not. But either way, somehow it was going around in his friend group that he’d met you and coined that nickname for you.

“I, uh, yeah, I guess that’s me,” you say.

“Dustin was telling me about you,” she answers your unasked question. “He said you’re pretty cool and you and Eddie got along really well.”

“Yeah,” you say, heaving a sigh. “I guess we did.”

“Did?” Maxine asks, picking up on your tone. “Something happen?”

“We had a fight,” you admit. “We both said some pretty nasty shit to one another. Then he left without saying goodbye, and I haven’t heard from him since.”

“Eddie’s never been known for his impulse control,” Max notes wryly, but anything else she’s about to add is cut off by the sound of more voices at the door.

“Max!” It’s Robin, and she has a girl by her side. “Hey, it’s me and Nancy. Sorry we’re late; no one told us that you moved rooms–oh, it’s Sunshine!”

You blush at the second mention of your nickname. “Hi, guys,’ you say, giving a little wave. “How’ve you been?”

“Can’t complain,” Robin puts her hands in her pockets. “But, really, we should be asking how you’re doing.” She glances over to her right side. “Oh, this is our friend, Nancy Wheeler.” Nancy gives you a soft smile, and you try to muster up one back.

“I’m okay.” you shrug. I had my first surgery yesterday, so I’m sore. Kinda nauseous from the pain meds. But other than that, I’m fine.”

“She and Eddie got into a fight,” Maxine–Max–pipes up from the bed next to you. “He didn’t even say goodbye to her. Just…poof! Vanished.” She makes a little explosion gesture with her hands to emphasize her point.

Nancy presses her lips into a thin line. “Yeah, we heard,” she admits. “Eddie told us the other day. He, uh, he’s not very good at handling conflict.”

“You can say that again,” you mumble, trying to hide your bitterness.

“He’s been different ever since he came home from the hospital,” Robin says. She pushes the curtain between the two beds as open as it would go and puts two chairs in between you and Max. She takes the chair closer to you and Nancy takes the one closer to Max.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“He’s been acting weird,” Robin says.

“How can you tell?” Max asks, a smirk on her lips as she gazes unseeingly at the ceiling.

“Weird for him. He’s all broody and sulking. I mean, I get that the guy almost died, but he was in a much better mood when he was in here.”

All eyes—even Max’s—turn to you laying in your bed. It’s hard not to shrink under their gaze. You tuck your blanket up higher in an attempt to comfort yourself.

“Do you want to talk to him?” Nancy asks, leaning forward to see you around Robin.

“Yes,” you admit. “I thought we could clear the air before he left, but clearly that didn’t happen. Then I was hoping the phone would ring. Or maybe he’d just show up. Every time I was taken out of my room for tests or something, I’d always ask my nurse Mandy to watch in case he stopped by. This whole thing’s honestly just got me going crazy. I just want a chance to apologize and explain.”

“What happened?” Robin asks, but after a stern look from Nancy adds, “If you don’t mind talking about it, that is.”

You take a deep breath and nod your head. The pain meds are still circulating through your system so you find yourself more willing to spill your guts to these girls you hardly knew.

“You know how he called me Sunshine? Well, that ended up being a shit load of pressure. I mean, he didn’t really put it on me—I-I guess I did. But if I brought happiness to his day then I didn’t want to bring him down by telling him the news on my leg wasn’t good. This can be a pretty shitty place to spend day after day so I didn’t want to make it worse on him.

But it’s not like he ever gave me a chance to explain any of this. Just assumed I was lying to him for my own sick enjoyment. Kept going on and on about how I was just like everyone else who ever made fun of him. And that really fuckin’ hurt. Then he called me—among other things—a bitch and I was seething. I was seeing red, spitting mad. So, I…well, fuck, I said something I really didn’t mean. It went too far and I regretted it the moment it came out of my mouth. I tried…I tried to tell him that. But he wouldn’t listen. Not that I entirely blame him. So, I told myself, I’d talk to him in the morning before he left. Then everything would be-be good.”

You didn’t expect to start crying while talking about this—about Eddie, but your cheeks are covered in the wet proof that you did. You’re so flustered that you don’t even register Robin taking your hand in hers.

“Let it out,” she reassures you. “You never told Eddie about any of this?”

You shake your head. “Everyone kept saying how happy I made him. I didn’t wanna be the reason why he’s sad.”

“I don’t think he would’ve been sad,” Nancy tells you. “Concerned, yes. But, I also understand you wanting to shield him from that.”

“He misses you. It’s plain as day,” Robin says, and her words make you start crying even harder. She scoots her chair closer to you so that she can rub your shoulder consolingly. “It’s going to be okay. And I’m not the type of person who is just going to say that to make you feel better. Actually, I tend to say the wrong thing when I’m trying to make someone feel better. But I genuinely believe this is just a misunderstanding you guys are gonna get through.”

“Yeah, if he ever talks to me again,” you say with a sniffle.

“He will,” Nancy says and she sounds resolutely sure in her answer.

Robin and Nancy stay for a little over an hour, talking about people that you don’t know and places that you haven’t been, but you somehow still feel part of the whole conversation with them. It might be the medicine coursing its way through your body, but you feel a little emotional being in a group of girls like this. You hadn’t made a solid group of girl friends away at college, so you’ve been missing this kind of connection.

Once Robin and Nancy leave, they’re not out the door for thirty seconds before Max pounces.

“You love him.”

“What?” You’re so taken aback by her statement that you can’t come up with anything else to say. No point in asking who she’s talking about, since the only guy you knew in their whole conversation was Eddie—and Steve and Dustin a little. But you’d never even thought those words to yourself about Eddie before. Obviously, you found him attractive. Very attractive. And he’s so kind and funny. It’s addictive spending time with him; you always want more. Your stomach flip flops as you come to the realization.

Holy shit. Max is right.

“I know I’m right,” Max says.

Color draining from your face, you turn in her direction. “What?”

She chuckles and shrugs her shoulders. “Knew you were thinking about how right I am. I’m right about most things. Just ask my boyfriend.”

A frantic knock on the door has Eddie hoisting himself up from where he’s slumped down on Gareth’s couch, which is now his makeshift bed. Since he’d been discharged from the hospital, he and Wayne have been crashing there. It’s a nice place; much fancier than the trailer, but it’s not his home. The steaming cup of cocoa that Gareth’s mom made for him reminds him of the shelf of mugs in his own home, now utterly destroyed.

Bet Sunshine could make tonight better, he thinks glumly. She made everything better. The knocking gets louder, snapping him from his pity party. “Coming, coming!” Eddie grumbles, tossing aside the quilt and padding towards the door.

He’s nearly bowled over by Robin and Nancy, who eagerly push their way into the living room. “Um, come on in, I guess?”

“Cool, thanks,” Robin says, plopping down in an armchair. “We need to talk to you, like, now.”

Nancy rolls her eyes. “Jesus, Robs. You make it sound like an emergency.”

“It is an emergency,” Robin protests. “A love emergency!”

“Lucy, Ethel!” Eddie interrupts. “Can you get to the point, please?”

Nancy grins as she delivers the news. “We saw Sunshine today,” she says, watching as Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise. “Max is her new roommate.”

“She misses you, and she is so, so sorry,” Robin jumps in. “She told us that she was going to talk to you the morning after your argument, but you’d already left.” She frowns. “Did you really leave without saying goodbye?”

Eddie buries his face in his hands. “I fucked up. Bad.” He stands up, pacing the room. “But so did she! She—she threw the murder charges in my face! Like it was nothing.”

“She knows,” Nancy says. “And she feels awful about it.”

“And she lied to me,” Eddie adds. “I mean, Buckley, you were there when Harrington said there was a spark. How could there be a spark if she’d just been lying to me?”

Robin breathes out, sharing a knowing look with Nancy. “Eddie,” she starts, “she felt a lot of pressure to keep up this happy, optimistic façade for you. She thought that if she told you what was going on, you’d worry about her.”

Eddie barks out an incredulous laugh. “Of course I’d worry about her! When the people you lo—care about are going through shit, you worry about them!”

“Well, did you tell her about the Upside Down?” Nancy presses, leaning her chin on her palm.

“No.”

“And why not?”

“Because it’s crazy, and unbelievable, and pretty fuckin’ scary!”

“Yeah, well, the stuff she’s going through is pretty fuckin’ scary for her, too,” Robin explains. “And just like you wanted to protect her, she wanted to protect you.”

“Jesus.” Eddie breathes out a long sigh. “What can I—how can I fix this?” A misty film coats his eyes. ��I never meant to make her feel like she couldn’t talk to me about her problems.”

Nancy puts a polished hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “I think you should be telling her this,” she says kindly. “Maybe bring her some flowers?”

Eddie perks up a bit at the thought. “Yeah! Yeah, I can do that. Maybe I can go next week, when I’m cleared for longer car rides.” The trip home from the hospital was painful enough; each bump in the road sent shockwaves through his scars.

Robin smiles. “I think she’ll love that.”

“Never thought I’d be taking love life advice from Lady Wheeler and Video Girl,” he muses.

Robin shrugs, clearly not offended. “Better than from Steve,” she says simply.

It’s only been about two weeks since Eddie’s been in these halls, but being able to walk them of his own free will and knowing he can turn around and leave at any time he likes certainly makes it better. Making the familiar walk to his old room, Eddie wrinkles his nose at the scent of antiseptic and whatever disinfectant they use to clean the floors. How did he ever sleep in this place? Bells and alarms are going off every other minute. Eddie feels like he’s going crazy and he’s only been in the hospital for three minutes.

Small bouquet of Sunflowers in his hand, Eddie takes the elevator to the correct floor, then turns right down two hallways, and he’s finally at the room. Before raising his fist to knock, Eddie takes a deep breath to compose himself. He wasn’t sure how he’d be feeling seeing his Sunshine again after their fight, but the correct answer to that would be anxious. He gently knocks on the door frame and pokes his head into the room.

“Who is it?” Max asks, talking to you, Eddie presumes. Or maybe to him, wanting him to announce himself.

“It’s, uh, me,” Eddie says, taking a step into the room. “Um, Eddie.” He glances over at your bed, hoping one quick look would steel his nerves to look at you head on. But he does a double take when you’re not in the bed.

“Hey, Eddie,” Max says. She breaks him out of his confused haze and he steps around the curtain to see her. Considering all that the girl had gone through, she doesn’t look too bad. Casts are still covering the multiple bones that had been broken, but her unseeing eyes were by far the most unsettling. It caused a pit in Eddie’s stomach to know all that she had endured and all she had tried to shield her friends from had landed her here like this.

“How’re you feeling, Red?” Eddie takes a seat next to her bed, your flowers still clutched in his grip.

“So bored,” she says with a sigh. “There’s shit to do around here. I have to listen to everything. Can’t watch anything, obviously. Can’t touch anything ‘cause of these damn broken arms. Only other senses I get to use are my sense of smell to inhale the lovely aroma of body odor and hospital chemicals, and my sense of taste when I have to literally be spoon fed because my body doesn’t work.”

“Jesus,” Eddie says. “I’m thinking I’m lucky now that all I have are some chunks of skin missing from my one man show for some fucked up demonic bats.”

“I’m sorry,” Max says with a sigh. “I didn’t mean to unload on you like that. Just been stuck in my head today.”

“No, no, I get it. But, uh…couldn’t you have talked to… I mean, where is, um,” Eddie stutters out.

“Your Sunshine?” Max asks, a mocking cheesy smile on her face. “Came to see your girl?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says with a sigh. A faint blush comes to his cheeks at Max referring to you in that way. “Where is she?”

“Her second surgery is today,” Max tells him. “They came and took her early this morning and I’m not sure when she’ll be back because they’ll take her to recovery first.”

Eddie’s grip tightens on the flowers in his hands and he makes a conscious effort to take it easy so the stems aren’t snapped off when you get to see them. There’s a queasiness in his stomach as he thinks about you being in surgery right now. Unconscious, doctors working on you, scalpels cutting open portions of your skin. It gives him a full body chill.

“Her mom is here somewhere. In the surgery center’s waiting room, I’d guess,” Max tells him.

“Oh,” Eddie says, suddenly becoming fidgety in his seat. He wants to go out there and find your mom, who will hopefully have an update on you. But he doesn’t want to leave Max all alone again.

“Go,” Max says, as if reading his mind. “Just make sure you switch the television to something else before you leave. If I hear the news cycle one more time I’m going to claw my way out of these casts just so I can turn the channel myself.”

Eddie stands and flips through the channels until he settles on Wheel of Fortune. “How’s that?”

“Kinda hard to play along without seeing the puzzle, but whatever, it’s better than the news. Oh, uh, Eddie? Before you go, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he says, slipping his free hand into the pocket of his jeans.

“No one will give me a straight answer. Maybe they don’t know or just don’t want to tell me, but I know you’ll have seen it. Is my home okay? I know my mom’s still staying there, but I want to know she’s safe.”

Eddie frowns and takes a few steps forward to gently place his hand on your shoulder. “Your trailer looks fine. Or, well, I guess I should say it looks the same. None of the trailers in Forest Hills have ever looked ‘fine.’ But yeah, your mom is safe there. No damage or anything like that.”

“Thank you,” Max says, releasing a sigh that’s probably weighed heavily on her for a while.

“Sure thing. Hey, I brought some flowers. I’m gonna put them on Sunshine’s bedside table, okay?” He takes one of the sunflowers out of the bunch and snaps off the branch so he can stick it into one of Max’s twin braids. “Now you look like a real flower child.”

“Can’t hold my fingers up in a peace sign, but okay. Yeah, I’ll tell her the flowers are from you if she comes back in here after you’ve left. Glad to know there’s actually flowers in here though, because I smelled them and thought it was some new cleaning product they were trying.”

“Thanks, Red. I’ll see you soon, yeah?” Eddie asks as he sets your flowers down.

“Wish I could say the same,” Max says and Eddie winces at his phrasing. “I’m messing around. Go find your Sunshine, lover boy.”

“Ugh, don’t call me that,” Eddie whines.

“Fine. Romeo? Lovebug? Casanova?”

“Jesus, just call me Eddie,” he says with an eye roll. He shouts a goodbye over his shoulder as he heads out of the room.

Eddie makes his way to the waiting room, rubber soles of his worn Keds squeaking on the linoleum floor. He recognizes your mom from their brief encounter the day before he left, and he gives her a tight grin.

“Um, hi,” he says. She gives him a confused look, and he realizes how different he must look, freshly shaved and in his normal clothes. “I’m Eddie. Sunshine’s old roommate? And, uh, the one who called her Sunshine, I guess.” He ducks his head bashfully.

Your mom’s expression softens as she recognizes the boy. “Of course! Sorry, it feels like my head is spinning, waiting for the doctor to come out with an update.”

“How long has it been?” Eddie asks, taking a seat next to her.

“Too damn long,” She chuckles lightly as she glances at her wristwatch, letting out an exasperated sigh. “About four hours now. They said it shouldn’t take too much longer than that…”

As if on cue, Dr. Sanoj hurries into the waiting room, fingers clasped together. A knot forms in Eddie’s stomach; whatever’s going on can’t be good.

“I have an update on your daughter,” he says to your mom. “We could speak somewhere private, if you’d like.” His gaze briefly shifts to Eddie, who shoves his hands in his pockets shyly.

But your mom is firm when she shakes her head and says, “no, he can hear this.”

“Okay,” the doctor begins. “The surgery was successful, and didn’t take too long at all. There are some complications, however; possibly due to having two procedures done so close together.”

“What’s going on?” Eddie interrupts.

“We’re having some difficulty waking her from the anesthesia, and she’s spiked a small fever,” Dr. Sanoj admits. “There’s no real cause for concern yet. We’re just going to have the nurses continue to take her vitals.”

Eddie feels your mom’s fingernails dig into his wrist, but he doesn’t complain. It feels good, in a way, to know that he can be there for someone in their time of need. “Can we see her?” she asks the doctor.

He nods. “Yes, of course. You can follow me into the recovery room.” They’re both right on his heels as they make their way down the white corridor. Neither of them say a word, but the fear is palpable.

“You can go in first,” your mom offers. “I need to make some phone calls to relatives and friends. Just let me know if she wakes up, please.” Her tone is hopeful, but Eddie can still sense the anxiety beneath it.

Seeing you in such a vulnerable state twists Eddie’s heart. He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he feels the tears on his cheeks. Pulling up a chair to your bedside, he takes your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it gently.

“Sunshine, can you hear me? If you can hear me, please wake up.” He leans over, placing the back of his free hand on your forehead. “Shit, you’re burnin’ up. Small fever, my ass,” he grumbles. He’s always been suspicious of doctors, and he doesn’t trust that this isn’t more serious than the surgeon let on.

“Listen, Sunshine,” he starts. He’s not sure if you can even hear him, but it’s worth a shot. “I’m really sorry that I made you feel like you had to pretend to be happy all the time. That’s never what I wanted. I guess…I guess I figured you’d tell me if something was wrong. Sounds kinda dumb now that I’m saying it out loud.” He gives a small laugh. “And when I found out that you’d been keeping your surgeries a secret, I thought it was just you pushin’ me away. But now I know it’s because you were just tryin’ to protect me.

“And, look, I get it if you don’t want anything to do with me anymore. I’m loud, and impulsive, and I couldn’t pass geometry if my life depended on it. I have no idea what I’m doing after high school, and I wish I could blame the earthquake for that, but it’s all me. Also, in the spirit of honesty or whatever, remind me to tell you the truth about that earthquake thing,” he adds, bringing his thumbnail to his mouth and chewing on it anxiously.

“Sunshine, you’re, like, this beautiful ballerina with these big plans and a heart of fuckin’ gold. And if–when–you wake up, if you decide to never speak to me again, I’ll understand. I mean, I’ll be devastated because, y’know, you’re kinda my favorite person in the whole world, but I’ll get out of your way. But, please, please wake up. I can’t have you dying before you even get a chance to live out your dreams.”

Eddie stops, cocking his head slightly to watch your chest move up and down with each shallow breath. You start to sputter, and his heart lurches at the prospect of you hearing his words and waking up to them.

But the sputtering gets more violent, and one of the many machines connected to you starts to beep loudly. A swarm of nurses infiltrates the room, nudging Eddie out of the way.

“We need all visitors to leave,” one of them tells him, even though he’s clearly the only other person there.

“Is she gonna be okay?” Eddie calls out as he’s being guided out of the door. “Is something wrong?” He watches as they pull out a defibrillator, attaching the adhesives to your chest before starting it up. He wants to stay and be there for you, even if you aren’t aware of it, but the door is closed behind him.

“You can pull through, Sunshine,” he whispers. “You’ve gotta pull through.” Not many sounds reach him on the other side of the door, and Eddie isn’t sure how he feels about that as he paces back and forth. He’s hardly keeping together when he hears footsteps coming down the hall.

“Eddie?”

He lifts his head to see your mom walking towards him, a confused frown pinched on her face as she approaches. It’s the sight of her that has the impending tears welling up in his eyes.

“Eddie, what’s going on? Why’s the door closed?”

Wringing his hands in front of him, Eddie halts his pacing. His mouth opens but nothing comes out. The longer his silence drags on, the more concerned your mother looks.

“I’m not sure, really,” Eddie says. “I was in there with her then machines started beeping and they kicked me out. They brought some other machine over to her but then I couldn’t see anymore because they closed the door.”

“W-What?” Your mom looks around, seeing if there are any doctors or nurses around that can explain what’s happening to you. She almost bangs on the door but she doesn’t want to interrupt whatever they’re doing in there to help you. “What’s happening to my baby girl?”

Eddie’s eyes were misting over before, but at the heartbreaking tone of your mom, tears start to trickle down his face. He doesn’t know what to do or say. What would you do in this situation? Taking a wild guess, Eddie opens his arms to your mom, who instantly takes him up on the hug. Her head rests on his shoulder and it’s not long before he can feel her tears soaking into his shirt. “She’ll be okay,” Eddie says. “She has to be.”

taglist: @thebrookemunson, @mystars123, @h-ness1944, @hazydespair, @ajkamins, @aysheashea, @jasminelafleur, @brittney69, @arsonfrogger, @brassreign, @lunarzstarz, @aftermidnightwriting, @justtryingtobecreative, @micheledawn1975, @kailynn-exe @afunkyfreshblog @fangirling-4-ever @crimsonsabbath @babyexpertlampskeleton @whenshelanded @ches-86 @acmbooksfilmtelevisionandreads

#albl #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things

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farfromstrange · 8 months

Text

Do No Harm

CHAPTER FOUR: Overthinking

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt reminisces, and all of his thoughts revolve around you. When he accompanies Foggy to the hospital for a second time, he's nervous. Will he see you again? And how is he supposed to act around you?

Warnings for this chapter: slight angst, Matt's POV, attempt at humor, hint at gun violence

Word Count: 3.5k

A/n: I'm back!! You guys are getting a double update today because this chapter is short af and I was on a roll.

Read Chapter 4: Overthinking here on AO3

The Braille underneath Matt’s fingertips feels unworn, freshly printed. His nostrils pick up on the heavy scent of coffee mixed with creamer from his mug. Foggy just had a sandwich from the deli around the corner; he asked for extra onions. There is a can of coke and a half-empty bottle of water next to his keyboard, muffling the sound of his fingers brushing along the keys but causing the liquid to vibrate ever so slightly in a way that Matt knows will soon cause him a headache.

He forces himself to re-read the same passage of the case file before him for the third time.

The Hudson moves with the wind, its waves crashing into the shore, and the air is starting to smell like the salt of oncoming rain. Those who aren’t busy with work or other responsibilities soak up the last few hours of sunshine of the day.

Matt tilts his head toward the door. Karen shifts in her seat. Foggy lets out a soft groan of pain. He is paying attention to every minuscule detail around him without actively trying to. He wants to focus back on his work and not the myriad of sounds that are crashing into him like the waves of the Hudson are crushing into the docks, but he can’t. His mind is elsewhere.

His knuckles are still bruised from the night before. Just thinking about it spikes his heart rate. Olivia. Or, as he learned at the hospital the other night, Olivia Clarke. That’s what you call yourself, at least. The name doesn’t do you justice. Matt wants to like it because it is your name, but something feels off whenever he thinks about it. Either he is overthinking or his gut feeling is right and you are hiding something else entirely, and it all starts with that name—Olivia Clarke.

Matt can be too curious for his own good. For your sake, he should just leave it be, but he made a decision last night. He made a decision he shouldn’t have made, but he could hear your heartbeat across Hell’s Kitchen. He could smell the fear seeping out of your pores mixed with the purest essence of adrenaline. You got yourself into trouble and you wouldn’t have made it out if it hadn’t been for him.

Perhaps he should have stayed away though. His actions have now complicated his already complex feelings, and you are present in every last thought that crosses his mind. And he can’t focus. He hates it when he can’t focus. He’s not just thinking about you; the curiosity is killing him, and he feels a pang of worry whenever he smells something that reminds him of you, or whenever your voice scratches the inside of his ear when he spreads his hearing out just a little too far.

He doesn’t even have to actively search for you in the city to be reminded of you because you are already all over him. That is the only reason he came to save your life; you were already all over him when he picked the sound of your heartbeat out of a million others.

He is still so painfully unaware of most of your facets. You’re feisty, you’re sassy, you would rather fight your own battles than ask for help—but you’re everything but selfish.

The way you carried yourself last night, the way your heart was beating, the way you were talking to that disgusting excuse of a human being after you saved a young woman from suffering a horrible fate, he knew that there has to be more to you than you let on.

He heard what you said to her before she ran away. The way you talked sounded so sincere—as if you were talking from experience, he believes—and that still makes his blood run cold now whenever he thinks about it.

His not-so-accidental encounter with you has made him wonder what else you’re hiding from the world to protect yourself. And he can’t stop thinking about whether or not you are okay because under all of that curiosity is a big ball of concern and an odd kind of protectiveness that is just waiting to start rolling.

You’re kind, you’re genuine and you’re warm. That perception of you hasn’t changed for him. If anything, his belief that you are a good person only manifested. You’re the kind of person other people can easily feel comfortable around. Your selflessness is what truly struck him.

You didn’t ask where he got his injuries, you simply patched him up and that was it. And you saved a woman you didn’t even know from getting raped, and you faced the man who did it with nothing but a bottle of mace on your keychain. As much as he doesn’t want to understand why you wouldn’t leave him to die, he does get it better than anyone. You have morals. You took an oath.

Matt has sworn to protect Hell’s Kitchen because the system is failing, and he is sure that if he told you that, you would understand. You didn’t even tell on him when you probably should have. You don’t see him as a threat. You weren’t scared of him last night. You weren’t even scared of death.

You have dealt with men worse than him, you told him. He still wonders what you meant by that, but it can’t be anything good. Just like that, the spiral his mind has fallen into starts all over again.

He left his number with the nurses at the hospital without even thinking that he would have to jump in and save your life a day later. Did you get his card? He followed his instincts, but now that it is nearing noon on the second day after first meeting you, he wonders if he made the right choice.

You haven’t called him back yet, so maybe you didn’t get the card. Or maybe you did recognize him the other night and he is completely and utterly fucked. Or maybe, just maybe, you’re not interested in Matt Murdock. You’re not interested in the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. You may not even be interested in any man and maybe he made a huge fool out of himself. There is an infinite number of possibilities.

Matt stops moving his fingers over the Braille when the door to his office opens. It interrupts his thoughts, dispersing the picture of you in his mind.

Your gentle voice, the way you laugh, the way you smile, and how your fingers felt on his bruised skin when you took care of him—It’s not a face, per se, but he sees you in a way beyond functioning eyes. He uses the faint memory of your scent and the melody of your heartbeat to paint a silhouette of golden flames, and you are strikingly beautiful to him.

Maybe Foggy was onto something when he said that Matt has a knack for finding beautiful women with questionable morals.

“Hey buddy,” Foggy says.

Matt tilts his head upward, seemingly startled by his friend’s sudden appearance in his doorway. “Hey,” he replies.

“Sorry. Did I startle you?”

“Oh, no.” He adjusts his glasses. “I just… didn’t see you there.”

In the other room, Karen almost spits out her herbal tea before she starts laughing. Foggy, on the other hand, stammers for a moment.

“I—You’re awful, you know that?”

Smirking, Matt closes the case file. “It was a bad joke, sorry,” he says. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to ask if you’re still up for taking me to the hospital after work,” says Foggy. “You know, the check-up?”

Matt frowns. “The–” He cuts himself off. “Oh, right. The check-up for your, uh, your shoulder.”

“Yeah. You said you’d come with me. You know, ‘cause,” Foggy leans a bit further into the office, lowering his voice, “you’re much better at this stuff than I am.”

“Are you dying?”

“No. What? Why would I—” He realizes quickly that Matt is just making fun of him, so he rolls his eyes. “No, Matt, I’m not dying,” Foggy answers. “I just… I don’t like doctors. I don’t know shit about my own body. But you do. You always know how to talk to ‘em. It’s like a very creepy superpower for a guy who hates doctors, to be honest. But anyway, they could tell me to amputate my arm and I would say yes. You know that. So, I need you to come with me.”

Matt sighs. “Why don’t you ask Karen? She has a car.”

From the entrance hall, Karen’s voice rings out. “That’s true,” she says. “And I wouldn’t mind–”

“No,” Foggy cuts her off. “No offense, Karen, and I appreciate the offer, but this is a thing between Matt and me.” He lowers his voice again, and Matt can only imagine how hard he is glaring at him right now. “You owe me, Matt. Remember that time in college?”

“Okay,” Matt leans forward, “That’s blackmail.”

“Is it working?” Foggy retorts.

“Yeah.”

“Awesome! Two hours, buddy. I’m counting on you.”

Matt forces an exasperated smile. Foggy pats the doorframe with his functioning hand, and he turns around as if he just won the lottery. Walking past Karen’s desk, he even lifts his fist, which, as always, carries a baseball. Matt can hear the fabric brushing against his fingers.

His thoughts drift again. Instead of focusing on the case file like he should, he thinks about the hospital. He thinks about how in two hours, he will be at Metro General again, and there is a chance that you’re working. Or maybe you’re not. He knows what the hours of hospital staff are—he knows the legal limits, and he becomes acutely aware of the shift changes because he hears them loud and clear, even across the city.

What will he do if you happen to be there? Should he talk to you? Should he ask if you got his number or would that be taking a step too far? He doesn’t want to force you into a corner. If you aren’t interested, he has to respect that. And maybe, after all, that happened the night before, it is for the better that you haven’t called him yet. He shouldn’t seek you out.

He wants to. God knows that Matt wants to find you at the hospital. Deep down, he wants nothing more than for you to call him. He knows it’s probably a bad idea, but he can’t stop his heart from wanting what it wants. Cutting it out would kill him, but sometimes he wishes he could. He wishes he could just turn it off and focus on what his common sense is telling him. But he can’t. You intrigue him too much.

Two hours later, Matt and Foggy arrive at Metro General. Even with an appointment, the waiting room is packed.

The noise hits Matt like a freight train. Beeping, clattering, groaning, screaming… It’s a sensory nightmare.

He’s sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair, surrounded by noise and people and overwhelming smells, and he feels as if he’s being burned alive—as if someone is scorching his skin from the inside out. He wants to scrub himself from head to toe with antibacterial soap and burn the hairs in his nose that will carry the scent of antiseptic, blood, and other bodily fluids for weeks to come.

He wants to lock himself in an empty, soundproof room until his ears have stopped ringing, and he wants to meditate. Just for a little while, Matt wants to be someone else and exist somewhere life could be just a little easier. But he knows that the jumble of thoughts that is burning through his brain at high speed will get him nowhere. That’s not how real life works.

Matt is standing in front of the vending machine that is placed neatly against the wall in the middle of the hallway. He pressed the button for his favorite chocolate bar an eternity ago, and the machine still hasn’t spit it out. His luck must have run out. The buttons have Braille indents, but the machine isn’t working. He should have expected this to happen.

His knuckles have gone white from the grip on his cane. He opens the first button on the collar of his dress shirt to breathe a little easier, but the oxygen he’s breathing still feels tainted when he inhales. He’s sweating. There are a million things he would rather do right now, including walking over hot coal barefoot, than be in this hospital right now. Too many thoughts, and too many feelings—he’s close to collapsing under the invisible weight he is putting on his own shoulders, and the vending machine still won’t give him his chocolate.

Matt is starting to consider that God finally doomed him for all his failings.

He put Claire at risk. His actions forced an innocent woman out of her home because she was kind enough not to let him die. Now, she’s in danger. She should stay far away from him, but he’s the one who keeps coming back for free medical attention. It isn’t fair. He knows that.

Matt managed to save the little boy from the Russians, but he still hasn’t figured out what is happening in Hell’s Kitchen. He still hasn’t touched the bottom of a very big problem, and until then, Claire will be in danger, and he will keep failing. One victory doesn’t make it right.

After all of that, he wouldn’t put it past God to forever doom him.

He tilts his head. He can’t make out your heartbeat in the chaos. Chances are that you’re not even there. Your voice is nowhere to be found and neither is that unique scent that sticks to your clothes like glue.

The universe made the decision for him. He won’t search for you in this labyrinth. He won’t chase you down. You haven’t called him, and he doubts that you ever will. He left you his number in a moment of weakness. He was selfish when he did. He doesn’t want to be selfish anymore because his life puts those around him in danger. Your soul seems troubled enough; he doesn’t want to drag you into this the same way he dragged Claire into this. Matt can’t drag you into a war not even he knows how to fight.

“There you are,” Foggy calls from the other end of the hallway.

Tilting his head in his direction, Matt stops pressing the buttons on the vending machine. “Hey,” he says. “You’re back.” He can’t hide the surprise in his voice. He lost all track of time.

Foggy stops beside him. His movements sound freer—probably because the sling that held his arm in place is now gone.

“What did the doctor say?” Matt asks him.

“All good,” says Foggy. “Yeah, I have my full range of motion back.”

In an attempt to demonstrate, he rolls his once-injured shoulder, and his fist accidentally brushes against the vending machine. The chocolate that got stuck when Matt ordered it finally loosens, and it thuds against the metal bottom.

The gears in Foggy’s head start turning. “Oh, a chocolate bar!” he sounds so happy that Matt’s first thought to grab it for himself dissipates into thin air. He closes his fist around his cane again, putting on a smile instead.

“Did you want that?” Foggy asks.

Matt shakes his head and says, “Nah, you can have it.”

“Nice!” His smile is audible when he reaches into the bottom of the machine to take out the candy.

On their way out, Matt’s stomach drops. He isn’t sure why. His senses are on high alert, but there seems to be no obvious explanation as to why. He just feels this impending sense of doom, and it makes him even more acutely aware of his surroundings. He can hear every heartbeat, every breath, and every uttered word in the halls of Metro General. He hears things he never even wanted to hear. He smells things that he only picks up on when he focuses. He doesn’t want to focus, but the dark cloud that is starting to form over his head makes it impossible not to.

Just as he and Foggy are about to pass the emergency room on their way to the exit, the cloud ruptures. Loud yelling can be heard even through the thin wall and the door that is separating it from the foyer. It’s so loud that even Foggy hears it. They both stop at the same time, Matt’s fingers tangled in his friend’s coat for some added support. He pulls him back, and they both turn toward the source of the noise.

“Holy shit,” Foggy mutters. “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Matt answers.

In the distance, he can hear the clanking of keys and the echo of steel boots bouncing off the walls. There is a total of two security guards in the emergency room, but they called for reinforcements. And then, Matt’s blood runs cold.

The sound of your heartbeat has become oddly familiar to him over such a short time. It’s beating faster than usual, but it is still uniquely yours. The sound doesn’t come from far away, either. It’s right on the other side of the wall among the obnoxious yelling that has already sent goosebumps down Foggy’s spine. Instantly, Matt classifies the change in rhythm as either a release of adrenaline or fear, maybe even both. It reminds him of the night before, but there is something different about it, still. The hairs on his arms rise toward the ceiling. His own heart starts hammering in his chest.

He believed your shift to be over. What are you still doing here? And why does it sound like you’re in danger all over again, still trying to handle it on your own? Metro General is known for treating all patients, including those who are violent. The question Matt is asking him is whether or not you jumped in on purpose again or if your job simply put you in the line of fire this time. It sounds like a riot is happening, and the yelling only gets louder.

Before he can open his mouth to say something, the security guards he heard getting ready storm past them. The gush of wind slaps him across the face. He didn’t expect Foggy to see that as an invitation to follow them. He’s always been a curious man, but he isn’t usually one to run toward danger.

“I’m gonna check what’s going on,” he says as he brushes past Matt. “Stay here.”

Matt tightens his grip on his coat. “No! Foggy—” he can’t finish his sentence; his friend is already on his way.

He groans, and he decides, against his better judgment, to follow him.

The emergency room has fallen into chaos. Not the usual chaos of blood, disease, and gore, but a chaos that is charged with a dangerous tension that could snap and kill someone any second now. Matt doesn’t have to see to know what is going on. Foggy stops mid-way, and he almost bumps into him from behind.

“Gun,” Foggy breathes.

And you are standing right in front of it.

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @danzer8705 @kakamixo @littlehappyperson @atemydadforbreakfast @stevenknightmarc @zheezs14 @shouldbestudying41

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #reader insert #charlie cox #do no harm

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bunmurdock · 3 months

Note

hi!! i read way too many of your posts and now i can’t stop thinking about a very specific scenario 🧸

cw: subspace, light spanking, sad reader, coping mechanisms?

—

matt coming home from work to a very, very gloomy and needy reader that happens to be absurdly touch starved that evening. sensing the obvious stormy cloud above your head, he sits beside you on his leather couch and tries to provide you comfort: he asks what happened, his blind hazel eyes filled with preoccupation as gently wraps his arms around your waist and presses the sweetest kiss on the top of your head. but it’s just not enough. you know those nights when you don’t really want to talk about your problems, just momentarily forget about them? and when even the things you love the most in the world, like being cuddled up by matt’s chest, aren’t really equivalent to the raw physical contact from him your body seeks? yeah, you were quite literally crawling yourself into his lap when he senses what you really want, his nostrils getting filled by the familiar smell of your desire. taken a little bit back because he doesn’t want to take any kind of advantage of your sensitive state, you have to almost beg him to get him convinced it is okay to do it, that you want it, that you need it.

so he helps you. his strong arms cradle you to his lap and his skilled lips start placing featherlight kisses all over your jaw to your neck. in a swift motion you could never see coming, matt gets up from the couch, your legs tightly wrapped around his waist, as he so effortlessly carried you to the bedroom, where he placed, right in the middle of the bed, your precious self. now he was on top of you, claiming you with his hands and the featherlight kisses he placed all over your jaw. the feeling of his stubble against your skin has always made you shiver and tonight was no different. he was always careful to not make it hurt you, keeping his facial hair short, in the perfect length you like to both feel and look at. he slides his calloused palms around your body, feeling your goosebumps rise and trying to decifre each curve like you were his favorite braille book.

your eyes were closed and rolled to the back of your head as he so deliciously kissed you, leaving a trail of his saliva all over your neck, deliberately taking the taste of your skin on his tongue. you sigh in satisfaction, but not quite the complete satisfaction: he was being too gentle. because he thought that was what you needed. because you were sad and delicate and he just wanted to take care of you.

“matty,” you breath out, his face buried between your neck and shoulder. “mm?” his voice had that familiar low and raspy tone in it. “ro…rough, please.” you felt your cheeks burning in embarrassment. it wasn’t an uncommon situation, of course, but you never really stopped feeling timid about it. specially now, that he knew you were in a tough headspace. weren’t you supposed to want it loving and slowly? was he going to judge you? would he think of you so lowly as you were thinking of yourself? “are you sure, my love?” he replied oh-so-gently before the mean, nonsense doubts could overthink themselves in your head, immediately erasing them all. one of his hands left your waist to cup your cheek, where he so fondly caressed with his thumb, as he patiently waited for your confirmation, his unfocused eyes trying their best to find your gaze, to give you that reassurance. you nod quickly. “yes. please.”

that wasn’t sufficient for him. he wouldn’t do all that if the situation had normal circumstances, but your melancholic mood was a very big deal to him. so he made you repeat your safe word system perfectly while he held your face, assuring both of you that you remembered it – of course you did, that’s just overprotective matt murdock. “green” meaning to continue, “yellow” to slow down and “red” to stop immediately.

content, he went back to worshiping your body, but this time his hands grabbed you more roughly, like you wanted him to, the sharp skin on his palms marking you everywhere they laid on. smoothly, he reached for your shirt’s hem and pulled it up, passing it over your head and tossing it somewhere else. the softest moan leaves his lips when he notices you weren’t using a bra, only soft cotton panties, which he grabbed and skillfully slid down your legs.

he was doing everything so slowly but so delightfully that you wouldn’t notice if he was touching you for days now, making a mess in between your thighs. the skin on your neck and collarbone was already filled with light red spots, where his mouth sucked and bit so possessively a thousand times. that was until he taste salt in the air, that started dropping in tears from your eyes down to your cheek. it was just so much and so little at the same time. you needed him so badly, and needed him completely. matt knew it, as his own cock was so painfully hard under his pants for what seemed to be hours. he knew that this was enough.

rapidly, his hands roamed to his tie and took it off, just like he sloppily did with the rest of his clothes: he opened the first the buttons on his blouse, exposing half of his strong torso, just to take your hands and place them in there. you felt your palms against the burning skin of his chest and it was heavenly. he didn’t have enough patience to take it all off. it was like anything that didn’t envolve you was just too much work. he cared only for you. so, at the same time, he knew it was necessary for you to feel his skin directly. to ground you. with the same swiftness, he opened the buttons of his pants and pulled them down just enough to release his hard shaft from his boxers, taking it in one of his hands in a desperate matter and brushing it against your soaked pussy.

you both moan at the friction, each savoring the noises of the other. “what are you, my love? mm? need you to talk to me, just now, okay?” he whispers to your ear, and you can only focus on his mushroom head touching you surface down there. he knew your mind was foggy, your vision was dizzy and glossy with tears. it takes a while for you to respond, to even understand what he was saying. “green. green, matty, please.” your voice comes out whining when you finally get it, his name leaving your lips even needier than the usual, in the nickname he thinks sounds so pretty when you say it.

“so proud of you,” he simply whispers in response, directly to your lips, as, with no previous warning, he finally takes you. you were so wet he slips in almost effortlessly, and quickly, the room becomes a whiny mess: sounds coming out of both of you and the click-clack of matt’s undone belt around his waist that he didn’t bother taking off. your mouth opens in an oval shape and your eyes shut tightly as he thrusts into you, the familiar feeling of his shaft spreading you open, the in and out of his hips in the secret rhythm only you both knew was consuming you whole.

you squirm under his body and he shuts you up by taking your lips in his, forcing them open to allow the entrance of his tongue, that slowly and harshly caressed yours. one of his hands slid up to your neck and his thumb presses it’s side, lightly but precisely, making your heartbeats not only audible for him, but also touchable. that was when, suddenly, a loud smack filled your ears. and a burning sensation came to your ass. “oh my god!” a squeaky yell leaves your lips in between the kiss and your walls contract around him. matt’s large hand quickly pressed down where he slapped, cooing the delicious pain he provoked. “lord’s name in vain,” he teases with a smirk, catching the tear that you didn’t even notice slid down your cheek in a kiss. his hips didn’t stop for a second, slowly but firmly pushing in and out of your tight embrace.

immediately, you forgot it all. your brain completely dropped into subspace. you were his and his alone, and there was no room in your head for your preoccupations and depressed thoughts, only the weight of his body over yours. “more,” you manage to moan out and he takes your wish immediately, making his palm collide with your ass once more. you cry out, grabbing his broad shoulders tightly as your skin turned red. “mattmattmattmatt.” you were such a moaning mess it was adorable to him. and it felt so good, unbelievably good for both of you. his body came even closer to yours, digging himself whole as he dropped half of his weight over you. his breath was heavy, he was panting and you could feel it twitching. but you were far, far worse than him, your hands were sweaty and your legs were shaking, barely able to keep tugging his waist.

it felt like you were gonna faint. you tried saying the words but your brain didn’t obey you, only letting out the moans that filled matt’s sensitive ears. he knew it, though. he could hear it in your heartbeat and sense it in every other way possible. with no time wasted you were cumming around him, your head spinning crazily light-weighted. you lost notion of time in between the next acts: the feeling of his warm pleasure spilling inside of you, your own orgasm dissolving away and matt gently pulling you into his arms.

he held you until you could think again, which may have taken five minutes or so. “i’m here, sweetie, i’m here.” you heard his voice as you softly snapped back to reality, and could suddenly feel the caress of his hands on your back and your hair, although it was there all along. it was like you had been reset. completely cleaned over. sleepiness and satisfaction filled you now, instead of the previous sensation of emptiness and melancholy. “thank you…” your voice was very soft and carried a giggle with it, that made matt immediately smile as well, cozy in the afterglow. “shh, no need to, my love. are you okay?” he tugged a strand of your hair behind your ear and you lazily nodded.

now, it was completely up to you to decide whether you wanted him to draw you a bath, cradle you into his arms at the shower, or just clean you up with a damp and soft towel. he softly traced hearts in your arm as he patiently waits for your answer, that loving smile on his face, showing you his charming dimples. either way, your heart felt light, and you would sleep the whole night wrapped around his strong arms, filled with his warmth and enveloped by his scent.

—

that was so long i’m sorry 😭 i just love mm and am obsessively thinking about him all the time

help,, like my ears perked up so fast already at the mention of subspace but. he's so daddy here (╥_╥) he's so strong yet gentle n encouraging and lana coded i'm gonna. breathing heavily into a brown paper bag akdjksjdskxkslajdoanxoandjwlqodnjdj

share your mm thoughts

#IM SCRAMPLED EGG #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #inbox #🧸.txt #i'm claiming you nonnie pls come back any time 😭#bunny brain #>500 words #needy!reader #shy!reader #!bondage #!impactplay #!overstimulation #!denialplay #!breathplay #!oral #daddy!matt #matt murdock angst #lawyer!matt

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