A Brief Existential Crisis (Matt Murdock x f!Reader; Fic)
Because this fluffy idea wouldn’t let me go so now you all get a drabble. Set in TRT!Verse but not required reading. SFW. Minor spoilers for ep 8 of She Hulk!
"She didn't know who I was," Matt said mournfully, staring blindly up at you.
"I'm sorry," you said, radiating as much sympathy as you could while also still kinda distracted by the Los Angeles weather report on the hotel tv. How was 68 degrees considered freezing?
"No one else recognized me either," he mumbled, his chest heaving on a great sigh. "All night. One guy even called me a gold ninja devil."
"Ridiculous," you agreed as he slowly edged his head further into your lap. You forced down your grin, which was especially difficult when his expression was so pitiful, not unlike that of a kitten caught in the rain. "Yes? What is it, beloved husband of mine?"
"You know what I want." He made a sad little noise, arching further into your lap until his head bumped your opposite hand where you'd settled it on your thigh. "Please, sweetheart. I need the dopamine after everything that happened."
You snorted and gave in, running your fingers fondly through his dark hair. You even made sure to scratch with your nails just for the way it made him purr and melt into your lap, his eyes rolling back as his mouth fell slack.
Unfortunately, this particular existential crisis was too great to be struck low but something so minor as your fingers in his hair.
"Is it... the suit?" he mumbled, the words just a little slurred. "Not... mm, mm.... recognizable?"
Honestly, considering the color, he's now recognizable from space.
It was just a good thing he was handsome enough to pull it off.
"You're always recognizable as the only Devil-based hero with any real charm," you said confidently, keeping your thoughts to yourself. You shifted your fingers to his temple, scratching at a new spot. You were rewarded with a blatant moan, Matt's toes curling in his socks. "Trust me. It's not you. It's them. LA is, uh... just... more focused on... its own thing. You know how it is. So fuck em. You're still my favorite even if they don't know you."
"Yeah?"
"Mhm. And think about it this way. You might be less known, but that just means you're like, uh..."
"...I'm small-time," he sighed gloomily. "Just admit it."
"Hang on, I've got a comparison coming." You rolled your head up, narrowing your eyes at the ceiling in thought as Matt rolled over to burrow in against your abdomen with an exaggerated groan of sorrow. But there was no hiding his grin, not once you could feel it. "Don't suffocate yourself just yet."
He mumbled something unintelligible, and presumably tragic and martyr-y.
It took you a minute, but then you nodded. "Ok, I've got it."
He grunted, and tipped his head a little in prompting until you started dragging your fingers through his hair again, this time at the back of his head where the Devil mask always made him sore. The, "Mm?" he let out in response was glutted and thick, like the slurred purr of a cat on its back in a puddle of sunshine.
"You are basically one of those 'best kept secrets of the city' things," you said lightly. "All the tourists flock to the flashy stuff, restaurants that are shiny and get all the attention. But the locals know where the good stuff is, the quality stuff, and they know the best burgers always come from that one mom and pop hole in the wall. They don't tell the non-locals, cause someone might steal the recipe or buy it out. That's what you are. You're that burger."
There was a pause, and then he tipped his face up so you could see his warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "That was very sweet."
"Thank you."
"It's also horseshit."
You groaned, rolling your head back as he laughed and dropped his head back onto your lap. "Come on, it was a good comparison!"
"No, no, there's no helping it. I just have to grieve my murdered ego," he sighed, blinking sadly up at you. Or your chin, really, but it was close enough. "There is one thing that might help me feel better, though, and distract me from my wounded pride."
"What's that?"
He hummed, licking his lips as he rolled onto his side, his head still on your lap, close enough for him to nuzzle at your abdomen. "I could eat."
Your brow furrowed. "We literally ate an hour ago. We went through In-N-Out. You were not impressed, you blasphemer."
He hummed, before leaning in and pointedly nipping the waistband of your sweats.
Oh.
"I'm hungry, sweetheart," he murmured, tipping his head down towards your lap as he drew in a slow inhale. "So hungry and empty where all my pride used to be. Can't I just have a little to help fill that void?"
"Oh my god, Matt," you choked out, two seconds away from losing it as he rolled upright to grab your legs and drag you down the bed until you were flat on your back.
"You're the one that chose food for your metaphor," he said with a grin, nudging your legs apart. "I'm just following my wife’s example."
"Oh alright, I suppose I could be charitable just this once. You did get spanked by a Hulk today, after all."
"She caught me. She didn't-"
"Spanked," you repeated gleefully, making him snort. "Want me to kiss the print on your ass and make it better?"
"At least let me eat dinner first."
"Fine. But I expect it as my tip at the end."
"Deal."
871 notes
·
View notes
A Persuasive Argument - dpxdc
"Great!" Danny says, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention. The dinner table falls silent as everyone looks towards him. It's a full house today and, honestly, Danny's a little nervous. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I gathered you here today."
"It's dinnertime. In our house." Duke mutters, while doing a very bad job of concealing his yawn. He holds his fork poised over the braised beef, but, just like everyone else, still looks towards Danny before tucking in. It's intriguing enough to wait.
"Yeah, no one misses Alfie's dinner." Dick says, with a brilliant smile that Danny can't help but return.
"Precisely! What better time to talk to you all than when you're all actually here!"
"Wait, I thought you came round to work on our English essays?" Tim asks, blinking owlishly.
"I'm afraid I've lured you here under false pretences, Tim."
"This is where I live."
"I would still really appreciate help on that essay though, I mean, what the hell is Hamlet even about? I just don't get that old time-y language, like 'Hark! A ghost hath killed me!' - absolute rubbish, what does that even mean?"
"The ghost never kills anyone in Hamlet, he's there to tell Hamlet that he was murdered. Have you actually read it?"
"No, but it sounds like you have. Tim, I want this guy to help me with my essay instead. I know for a fact that you haven't read Hamlet, either."
"So? We don't need Jason, I've read the Sparknotes."
"Hi Jason, I'm Danny, pleasure to meet you, summarise Hamlet in three sentences or less."
"Am I auditioning to help you write your essays? I can't believe you’ve gone through your whole school life without reading it, it’s good!"
"Hamlet, along with a number of other classics, was banned in our house because it portrayed ghosts as intelligent and sympathetic beings rather than evil, animalistic beasts. I didn’t even get to see The Muppet's Christmas Carol until last year with Tim! It was surprisingly good, and I hate Christmas because everyone always argued and it sucked. But we're getting off topic. I—"
"No, no, please go back to that, because what the fu—"
"Boys, please." Bruce interrupts, looking to the world as if he wants to hang his head in his hands. "Danny, you were about to say something?"
"Oh, yeah, Mr. Wayne! Thanks!"
"Please, call me Bruce."
"Well, that very succinctly brings me to my point, because I'd actually really like to call you dad."
Nobody says a word. Nobody even blinks, all as shocked as the other, watching open-mouthed as Danny pulls his laptop out from beside his chair. Bruce can definitely feel a headache coming on.
"Before you say anything, I've prepared a 69 slide PowerPoint presentation on why you, Bruce Wayne, should adopt me, Danny Last-Name-Pending. Please save your questions, comments, and verdict until the end, thank you."
3K notes
·
View notes
Guys!! Okay so I love deaged plots a lot. Like A LOT a lot (I know shocker right?). Well anyway I was rotating in my brain who I could deage next when it hit me: Clockwork.
Now I know what you're thinking. "Winter, he's the ancient of time. How on earth would he get stuck as a baby?" But to that I would rebut that it is actually quite simple my friend. You see, he gets corrupted. Or more specifically, time gets corrupted. Between Superboy Prime punching a hole in reality and the speedsters constantly playing God, time quickly starts (for lack of a better term) dying off. It's like having a ball of yarn that people keep cutting or setting fire to or throwing in the mud. There's only so long it can last for.
So yeah, time and reality as we know it is barreling towards oblivion. Especially because the only one who can fix it, also happens to be so connected to it he got affected too. The only thing that saved Clockwork from the corruption that was crawling it's way up his body was temporarily severing his connection to time. This unfortunately had the effect of resetting his body to back before he was connected to time (ie when he was a newly formed being. Just barely with consciousness. Not yet with a name nor purpose).
Luckily before he did so, he left Danny with a very detailed list on how to fix everything. Starting with a family of light footed idiots who need to learn to leave well enough alone.
293 notes
·
View notes
waiting for the day cowboy!könig finally decides that enough pining is ENOUGH and just decides to ask bee out on a date.
if bee isn't already wooed enough by how nice this big and handsome man is to her all the time then imagine how much more wooed she'd be when it seems like könig *just* know what she likes and dislikes. she's probably thinking "wow! it's amazing how you can guess what i like and don't like!" and könig (nasty little bastard) is just nodding along like "yes yes of course :3 (innocently)" as if he didn't gather that info from spying on her like bffr !!
There are too many kindnesses to ignore. König is too nice to you, and you realize you've fallen for him like you remember the sky is blue. It feels like something that's always been there, nurtured with careful hands and soft works. You wonder sometimes if that's the way König is with everyone. If it's just you that thinks about him like this.
Then he touches you, looks at you a moment too long, whispers to himself with words you half catch, and you think the feeling might be mutual. Still, you'd hate to ruin a good friendship on wants and wishes.
You do your best to stay platonic. To ignore the butterflies in your stomach, the tight hope in your ribs, each time you go out with König. Not dates. You tell yourself firmly, coach yourself in the bathroom mirror. Tonight is no different. Just your weekly dinner. Your own personal thank you to König for all his help. You truly couldn't do this without him.
You bump into König as you turn away from the stove and he catches you with a gentle if firm hand on the small of your back. His eyes wide with surprise at your stumble, before they soften. Your heart pounds in your chest, your stomach fluttering with just the slightest touch from him. His hand slides off you, fingers curling like he could hold on just a moment longer if you let him.
You can't take it anymore.
You grab the front of his shirt and tug him down, pushing up on your toes to press your lips against the warm cloth of his bandana. You're not even sure you're kissing the right spot, but it feels right in the way it makes König lock up. Shit. He doesn't even touch you. You pull back, mentally kick yourself for ruining things like you always do.
König all but rips the bandana off when you do, wrapping his arms around you to press his lips to yours without the barrier. You don't have time to process the way he sighs against your mouth, barely can think past kissing him back. You never believed in the whole fireworks thing, but maybe they meant the flip in your stomach, the desperation in the slide of König's lips as he kisses you like he's just come home from war, the shudder he sends through you with just the tilt of his head.
There's nowhere for you to go, completely held by the arms around your shoulders and waist. Well, that's not completely true. You can press more firmly against König. Try to stand taller as you slide your lips against his, feel his tongue swipe against the seam of your mouth entreatingly. There's nothing that could have kicked your brain out of your head quite like his tongue twisting against yours. He's like a furnace, warming you up wherever you touch him as you lean against his broad chest.
When's the last time someone kissed you like this? Made you feel like you were something they'd never get enough of?
The smell of burning food reaches your nose and you turn your head from König's kiss with a loud panicked swear. His arms loosen around you as you turn to switch off burners and stir the pot you were supposed to be watching. Your chest heaves, a little breathless from kissing König, which- wow, first of all. Second of all, you don't really know what you're supposed to do after that.
"I suppose this is a date then?" König answers for you. You laugh, doing your best to salvage dinner.
"You should've told me I would've dressed up." You joke back. König hums, his fingers tracing over your hips to the edge of your shorts, feather light when they skim your skin. You suppress the shiver it sends down your spine.
"You always look beautiful," He tells you softly, and you duck your head, not able to keep the shiver down that time.
612 notes
·
View notes