#daredevil drabble

[lovelybucky1]

matt is the worst at being an ex boyfriend. maybe you’re neighbors, maybe you work together, maybe you go to the same gym. whatever the case may be, you can’t stop from seeing each other, despite the relationship having ended.

you’re both mature adults so you smile through polite conversation whenever you see him. you banter back and forth, trading compliments that are too specific for a friendly interaction, and stand far too close together. its all too relationshippy for two people who broke up.

no matter how funny, charming, kind, or attractive matt is, he still was a bad boyfriend. every time you see him, you have to remind yourself that you broke up with hin for a reason.

those reasons seem inconsequential when his hands are on you, he’s brushing your hair out of your face, and pressing his lips to yours. you forget all about his lies and all those nights spent sneaking around when his teeth sink into your neck and your nails into his back.

he says your name like a prayer, like a promise of a good life if you just gave him another chance. maybe you don’t have enough willpower to resist him, but you know getting back together with him will ruin you.

[devilfic]

More matt content?

I was thinking, Matt’s reaction towards reader wearing something real cute (like a beautiful red dress) or anything idk-

My mind is plastered with this man, god-

pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader. cw: fluff, established relationship, suggestive content. words: 334.

Matt pinches fabric—satin, he’s certain, silk satin—unable to hide the smile creeping up on him. He can feel where the sleeve ends and your skin begins, his fingers sneaking along the hem to paint the picture, “Did I buy this?”

You laugh and the fabric of your sleeve slips from between his fingers, “Yeah. You like it?”

It helps that you trust him, even more that you’ve been lovers for months, because when his hand passes over your chest to feel for the neckline, his ears burn. His fingers travel over the peaks and valleys and wonder of what is left in their wake. Telling by the hitch in your breath, you must feel the same.

“What color is it?”

“Crimson.”

“So we’ll match.” Matt is stroking down your front now, feeling for the length.

“Of course. What kind of partner would I be if I let you embarrass yourself in public like that?”

His head tilts to the side. He laughs once, wetting his lips to spite the urge to kiss your arrogant mouth, “Oh, sure. If anyone’s to blame for the poor color coordination, it’s me.” He feels you shrug as his hand travels back up to settle on the back of your neck. He takes the opportunity to pull you in for a kiss anyway, “I love it. You’re stunning.”

"You're not so bad yourself, Murdock," you trace his chin with your thumb, "glad you like it, though. You weren’t a fan of that velvet number from our last date night.”

“Yeah, no, this is much better… although,” his fingers slip around your waist and feel up your back, pausing with his hand at the middle of your spine, “I don’t imagine you’ll be wearing it long.”

“No ripping,” you nip his nose and his nostrils flare at a distant, heated memory, “replacing this will be expensive.“

Being cheeky, Matt tugs you into him without warning and you grab at his lapel to steady yourself, “What can I rip?”

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes

[traveller-of-the-knight]

Not me imagining Jake, Matt and Frank forming a new team and living together and hanging out with Karen and Foggy and Jessica and beating bad guys and having many emotional venerable moments and hugs and dancing to calm themselves down for the stress of saving Manhattan and going on trips and get drunk and stupid together and do everything and risk their lives for eachother and and and MY BABIES!!!

[chvoswxtch]

Ok I've been trying to figure out what I wanted to request so of course I'm trying to get these in on the last day.

So I'm thinking Red (but if you're more inspired by Midnights, I wouldn't complain) for our Saint Matthew with the lyrics

I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you

from The Night We Met by Lord Huron.

Idk I'm feeling like I want the pain!

ughhhhh I fucking love this song so much and I never thought about it before but this is definitely a saint matthew song

I went with red (I feel like it hurts more when it's shorter) and packed in all the angst and pain I could manage in a few short sad words 💔

drabble below the cut

the night we met (matt's version)

I had all and then most of you / some and now none of you

It had all been so perfect, until Matt let you slip through his fingers like delicate sand through the eye of an hourglass. He hadn’t been paying attention to anything but his own distorted and haunted reflection. He realized too late that your time had run out, and that you weren’t willing to start over again. In the midst of his self righteous crusade, he missed that you had already restarted the hour a thousand times already.

And with every grain of sand that fell, a piece of you was lost along with it.

He was always pushing it. Just one more rescheduled dinner to win this case. Just one more sleepless night alone in bed to bust this drug trafficking ring. Matt was constantly bargaining, trading recycled apologies and empty promises for just a little more time. In the back of his mind he knew that eventually, time would run out.

He just never thought it would be tonight.

He didn’t think he’d be able to tell from three blocks away that every trace of you, every tangible shred of evidence that you had been there, would be gone. That the apartment would feel colder without the warmth of your affection. That his pillow would smell like stale fabric instead of your apple scented shampoo. That there would be nothing to sleep next to tonight except the consequences of his own mistakes. That the only thing he could taste of you was the saltwater that stained the threshold in front of the door where you had finally reached the limit he had pushed you away to.

Matt wished he could’ve done it all differently.

He wished he could go back to the night you met.

Maybe he would’ve saved you from himself.

Or maybe he would’ve let you save him.

[izgnanik-a]

I woke out of a fever dream and immediately had this thought so here it is—

How the original trio would react to you having your period and having an accident

don’t like? don’t read.

Matt would know something was up from the get-go. This man can literally feel the way you vibrate differently. He’ll feel the change in body temperature from you, almost like taking on a fever but not quite hot enough to complain. Always burning off energy too quickly to refill with snacks, he’d be sure to have them on hand around the apartment when you’re craving salty or sweet treats. He has a plethora of things for you that you didn’t even ask him to get; the tea you like to drink before and after to help with cramps, a heating pad that won’t burn your stomach, and just takes time from his work to give you the comfort and service you need.

Matt isn’t a stranger to blood. He’s a crime fighter, he’s always causing his own pain if he isn’t careful enough. So waking up to you shamefully telling him you got blood on the sill sheets is no problem. He puts on a new sheet while you profusely apologize while you change your clothes, and fall back into bed with open arms, kissing you to sleep, assuring that he doesn’t care. Sheets can always be replaced.

Foggy would have your period tracked. He’s the type to even have your period synced with his phone, telling you when you’re going to expect it and when you’re entering each phase. At first it was weird, but when you’d missed a period without noticing, he was the first to say something. He secretly keeps note of your behavior and cravings, writing down your symptoms that you complain about and he’s down to five warning symptoms to absently keep an eye on which each phase. Like Matt, he buys and does things in secret for you, figuring “you’re going to be in your peak soon, you’ll wanna go out and show off because you feel good” and books a fancy restaurant to take all the photos of you a week after your period.

Foggy isn’t a fan of blood but he will do it for you. He’ll grimace (he doesn’t realize he’s doing it) his way through cleaning bloody sheets and clothes, and kiss you in assurance that he’s fine with doing this for you. He’s interested in the things you do, so he’ll listen to you explained how period cups and disks work, the difference between materials, and their capacity. He’ll also do his own research and watch different videos on each brand, and send them to you to learn the best.

Karen would be in-sync with you, or a few days behind. She’s already packed the apartment with double the things that comfort both you and her, and has them splayed out so it’s in reach. She understands 100% the discomfort, so she’ll have a schedule for you the moment you wake up. She has tea for you because she knows the raspberry leaf with help you with your uterine lining and cramping, she has dark chocolate for you because not only is it a treat but it’s better for you. She doubles on electrolyte water, and the moment it hits the both of you at the same time — day off, lying in bed with you, sleeping it off. No excuses.

Karen is a planner so the moment you call her from the bathroom with a “I bled through”, she’s either giving you her own pair of pants from the car or she’s giving you her sweater to cover yourself so you can go home. She tries to keep an emergency pack on her, because bleeding through period products and underwear happens sometimes. She’ll carry heavier products for you if you’re experiencing heavy flow, or she’ll just keep dark jeans and underwear in the car.

Fic master list

[egotisticaleverything]

College!Matt Murdock who’s just so enamoured with you he physically can’t think straight when you’re around. Even the smell that lingers around after you leave a room is enough to drive him crazy. One night after you invite him over to your dorm to “study” and he just can’t seem to focus it clicks for you. Yet you keep going with your “study”, pretending that you have no idea that the small touches you exchange are driving him insane.

Soon enough you end up with him under you, slowly leading him through it. He’s awestruck at how good you make him feel, how you want him just as much as he wanted you. He’s determined to repay the favour. That’s when he nervously suggests something-

“I wanna make you feel good- I uh-… can I—? Do you wanna sit on my face..-?” -oh my god

He’s so innocent about it, he’s so precious, so desperate to please you. Of course your answer is yes. I mean, how could you say no to his pretty little face? God- and when you finally get to it, you look down as you’re hovering above him and have to hold back a moan at the sight. You’d never seen a man this desperate, this needy, this pathetic for you in your entire life. Oh and how he lives up to what you wanted and more.

As soon as his mouth came into contact with your pussy he was lapping at it, devouring it and practically drowning in it like it was his saving grace. Like he was searching for some sort of salvation. It was like he was trying to drag your soul out of you as he went. It was messy, desperate, sinful. But oh so good.

“Oh- oh there you go alter boy… fuck..”

He was practically pawing at your thighs like a desperate puppy as he tried to pull you impossibly closer to him, more of your weight- not just more. All of it. He wanted you to sit. Completely fucking suffocate him if you could. He needed all of you. He wanted nothing but you. He needed nothing but you. That’s all he could ask for, all he could beg for.

You.

You.

You.

As soon as he comes up after you’re done he holds you close and asks in the sweetest most sincere, loving voice,

“Did I do good?”

[mcrdvcks]

You knew something was wrong the moment you heard the faint scraping against the window—softer than usual, cautious, almost like he was trying not to disturb you.

Pushing aside your laptop, you crossed quickly to the window and slid it open, heart dropping when you saw him perched precariously on the fire escape.

“Matt,” you whispered, half scolding, half worried, reaching out immediately to steady him. “What happened?”

“Rough night,” he grunted softly, shifting slightly to ease through the window. He winced, favoring his left side as you guided him carefully into the apartment.

“You always say it’s a rough night,” you murmured, gently pulling him toward the couch. “Come sit. Let me see.”

He sat obediently, a faint smile curving the corners of his lips despite his discomfort. He tilted his head slightly as he listened to you move around, gathering medical supplies from the bathroom cabinet.

“You don’t have to—” he started softly.

“Too late,” you interrupted firmly, settling beside him and carefully peeling away the torn fabric from his torso, exposing the nasty bruises beneath. A sharp breath caught in your throat, eyes softening instantly. “Matt…”

“It looks worse than it feels,” he assured quietly, his hand brushing yours comfortingly.

“Why do you insist on lying when we both know that’s not true?” you muttered, gently applying antiseptic to the cuts scattered across his ribs. He hissed softly, muscles tensing under your touch.

“Occupational hazard,” Matt said dryly.

“You know,” you teased lightly, trying to distract both him and yourself from the sharp pang of worry in your chest, “you’re lucky I’m here. I’m basically your personal medic.”

“Hmm,” he hummed softly, a faint smile tugging at his mouth, “I’m definitely lucky.”

You paused, biting your lip thoughtfully. Carefully placing a small bandage across a deeper scrape on his shoulder, you glanced up into his face. “You know what would heal these injuries faster?”

Matt’s head tilted curiously, amusement flickering in his weary expression. “Oh?”

“Kisses,” you declared confidently, your voice mock-serious. “Kisses are my superpower.”

He chuckled, a soft, warm sound that relaxed the tension in his shoulders, visibly easing him despite his discomfort. But his tone quickly shifted, becoming unexpectedly solemn. “Well, then by all means. I trust you implicitly, doctor.”

You laughed softly, playing along as you leaned forward and gently kissed a bruise just below his collarbone, murmuring teasingly, “See? Practically healed already.”

Matt reached up, fingertips grazing your chin gently, tipping your face toward him. His voice was low, genuine now, wrapped warmly around your heart. “Don’t stop. It’s definitely working.”

You blinked slowly, pulse skipping at his intensity, but held onto the playful air between you. Leaning forward again, you pressed another soft kiss near his shoulder, letting your lips linger gently. “Better?”

“Much,” he whispered roughly, his voice catching slightly.

“Hmm,” you hummed, emboldened, trailing kisses carefully up his neck, pausing to murmur against his skin, “This one might need extra attention.”

Matt’s breath stilled beneath you, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around your wrist. His voice was a tender, gravelly whisper in your ear, “Whatever you think best.”

You paused, your heart beating faster at the vulnerable sincerity hidden beneath his playfulness. Pulling back slightly to look into his face, you brushed your fingertips softly over his cheek, careful of the bruises there. “Matt,” you murmured softly, your voice gentle, serious now, “be careful. Please.”

His expression softened, and he gently lifted your hand, pressing your fingertips to his lips, murmuring earnestly, “I promise.”

“Good,” you whispered, warmth flushing your cheeks at his touch. After a quiet moment, you leaned forward again, pressing your lips softly to his, sweet and lingering, heart fluttering when he smiled gently into the kiss.

When you pulled back slightly, he sighed contentedly, tilting his head down as if savoring the feeling. “Definitely your superpower.”

You laughed softly, leaning your forehead against his. “Glad it works.”

“More than you know,” he whispered, voice full of warmth, thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “Don’t ever stop.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

[halfway-happyyy]

soft frank things

(because as always, my brain only operates in two modes with this man)

the man loves a slow dance

will literally make time for it whenever he can, whether there is music playing or not

he loves to see you in his clothing

even going so far as to insist that when you guys have the odd day off together, you either spend it entirely nude, or in one of his oversized shirts or sweaters

carries a picture of you everywhere he goes. the one tucked on the inside of his wallet right now is so tattered and worn, you can hardly tell it's of you anymore. he still swears it's his favourite

is an avid cook. he'd gotten out of it the last couple of years, on account of having no one to do it for, but nothing makes him more content than figuring out what you're craving from one day to the next, and whipping it up for you

one of his favourite ways to cuddle with you (apart from naked spooning) is to put on an old movie, and settle in for the night. (covers are not usually needed because the man runs hot.)

we've discussed it a bit before, but he loves it when you ask him to read to you

stargazing is hard to come by in new york city because of the light pollution, so on nights when it's really clear, he'll drive the two hours to minnewaska park just to be able to catch a glimpse of some with you

feels comfortable sharing anecdotes of his past with you. it doesn't happen often, but you're really the only person he goes to when he wants to talk about maria and the kids

he loves to build you things. whether it's a shelf set from ikea ("kid- what on earth possessed you to buy this, and why, for the love of god, do the instructions read like ancient heiroglyphics?") or a bird house you've had your eye on, he's your guy, and he's always more than happy to help

thrifting. the man loves a good thrift session. your home is filled with trinkets, and artwork, and random vinyls you two have found over the years

the man does not tolerate any negative self-talk from you. all he has to do is give you a look when you get going, and the words fizzle in your throat. "cut that shit out, kid. no one talks about my best friend like that."

the man is very protective of you. like that one time you forgot to get a first aid kit for your new car, and when you assured him you didn't think it was necessary he "broke into" it to put one in the glove compartment, and one in the trunk

animals. they love frank. dogs, cats, you name it, they're going to cuddle with him

he detests going to bed angry. so even if you've spent the evening in separate rooms, he always comes to find you when it's time to go to bed. "c'mon kid, lets leave the bullshit out here, hm? come to bed."

sometimes he worries he's too protective of you, but at the end of the day, he just hopes that when he's around, you always feel safe. that you know you always have someone you can talk to, to vent to, and to love

[multi-fandom-imagine]

➤All the places that Matt Murdock loves to fuck you-

A/n: Matt is such a cutie

Matt Murdock isn’t a man who allows himself many indulgences. His life is filled with shadows, sacrifice, and the weight of the city pressing down on him. But when it comes to you—the quiet, kind-hearted nurse who’s softer than anyone in his world should be—he finds himself craving every part of you.

And while you turn warm so easily,squeaking under his touch, Matt learns quickly that once he gets you alone, there’s a fire beneath that shyness.

A fire only he gets to stoke.

1. His Apartment – Against the Bookshelf

✨:

It started innocently enough.

You had come over to check on his injuries—again. Despite knowing he heals fast, you had been adamant about making sure he wasn’t reckless.

Matt had been sitting on the edge of his couch, listening to your heartbeat flutter as you pressed gentle fingers to his ribs.

“You don’t have to—”

“Shut up and let me do this, Murdock,” you had mumbled, heart rate spiking

He smirked.

And then, something shifted.

Maybe it was the way your fingers lingered too long against his skin.

Maybe it was the way his own hands itched to touch you, to map out every inch of the woman who had become his quiet salvation.

Either way, the next thing you knew—Matt had pinned you against the bookshelf, lips devouring yours.

You had gasped, hands gripping his shoulders, and the sound had destroyed him.

He had lifted you easily—one hand beneath your thigh, the other bracing against the shelf behind you. The books dug into your back, but you didn’t care. Not when Matt was kissing you like that.

Desperate. Rough.

Like he had been starving for you.

And by the time you were both done, you were breathless, shaken, and laughing softly when he finally let you back down on shaky legs.

You two didn’t even bother fixing the books that had fallen to the floor.

2. Your Bedroom – With the Windows Open

✨:

Your apartment was small but warm—much like you.

And Matt had fallen in love with it.

Not just because it smelled like vanilla and the faintest hint of antiseptic, or because you had soft blankets everywhere (which he would never admit he loved).

No.

He loved it because it was yours.

And when he was in your bed, tangled in sheets that smelled like you, listening to you whisper his name, he felt like he could breathe.

One night, with the windows cracked open, letting the cool night air in, he had taken his time with you.

Letting his hands trace every inch of you soft, warm skin.Letting his mouth memorize every spot that made you whimper.

Letting you fall apart beneath him, whispering his name like a prayer.

And when you came apart on his fingers, your voice barely above a breath—the city outside had disappeared.

Because in that moment, it was just you and him.

3. His Office – On His Desk

✨:

It was a mistake.

You both knew it the second you walked in, wearing that damn dress.

Foggy had already gone home for the night. Karen had left too. It was just you both—you had stopped by to drop off something he had forgotten at your place.

But the second he heard your heartbeat spike—the second he smelled the faint scent of your shampoo, your perfume, the lingering traces of something sweet on your lips and the rustle of the fabric of your dress.

He had lost all control.

You had barely set down the folder before Matt had you pressed against his desk, your hands gripping his tie as you gasped into his mouth.

“Matt—”

“Tell me to stop,” he had murmured against your skin, trailing kisses down your neck, listening to the way your pulse fluttered.

You hadn’t.

Not when he had lifted you onto the desk, pushing papers aside.

Not when he had slid his hands beneath your dress, pulling a moan from your lips as his fingers brushed your core through your panties.

Not when he had taken you apart right there, in the very office where he fought so hard to be the “good man.”

Because around you—he didn’t always want to be good.

He just wanted you

4. The Rooftop – Under the Stars

✨:

You had never been a fan of rooftops.

They made you nervous, made you feel like one wrong step would send you plummeting.

But when Matt had pulled you up there one night, promising he wouldn’t let you fall, you had followed.

And somehow, sitting there with him, the city below wasn’t so scary.

You had leaned into his side, warm beneath his touch, whispering about your day, his scars, the things you two never told anyone else.

And maybe it was the intimacy of the moment.

Or maybe it was just Matt Murdock, the way he made you feel like you were the only thing in the world worth touching.

Because suddenly—his lips were on yours.

Slow. Gentle.

Not like before—not rough, not desperate.

But like a man who had finally come home.

And there, under the stars, with nothing but the wind against both of your skin and the city buzzing beneath you both, Matt made love to you like you were something sacred.

And for once, you believed him.

5. The Church – When it Shouldn’t Have happened

✨:

It had been wrong.

So very, very wrong.

Matt had been struggling—torn between his faith, his demons, his feelings for you.

And you had just wanted to comfort him.

But when he had pulled you into the dimly lit confessional, hands gripping your waist, breath hot against your ear, you had known that you both weren’t going to stop.

And you hadn’t.

He had touched you like he was searching for salvation.

Matt Murdock is not an easy man to love.

But you love him anyways. You love his scars, his sins, the way he worships you when no one is watching.

And no matter where you two are—

His apartment.

Your bed.

His office.

A rooftop.

Even a place that was meant for prayers, not sins.

You will always comes back to him.

And Matt?

Matt always lets you.

Because he loves you, more than life it's self.

[lovelybucky1]

thinking about being between frank and matt, caught up in their conflicting personalities and the dynamic that comes with it.

matt is so mean, such a tease. he’s constantly playing with you, riling you up just to deny you. he loves how you squirm, how you pout up at him when he tells you no. you’ll beg and beg and he’ll eventually give in, but only after you work for it.

“awh, sweetheart, you think you’re gonna cum tonight? you’re gonna have to convince me if you want that.”

frank is the opposite. he’s such a giver and his soft spot for you is way too big to keep you wanting for anything. you say the word and he’s giving you whatever you want until you can’t take it anymore. you’re his good girl and he can’t resist the way you bat your eyelashes and say his name in that tone. he’s weak when it comes to you.

“ya look so sweet sucking my thumb like this, baby. such a good girl for me.”

or maybe matt is the softie, giving in to your every desire. you want to go out to dinner? reservations are at eight. you want a new pair of shoes? a shiny pair of red bottoms are waiting for you on your bed. you want matt to eat you out? he’ll lay between your thighs and pleasure you until his jaw aches.

“when i get home, i want you wearing that new set i bought you. get that toy out too, your favorite one.”

maybe frank is the strict disciplinarian who will put you over his knee if you get a bit too mouthy with them. he’ll grip your jaw and make you look him in the eye when you misbehave. you hate it when you get in trouble with frank.

“who’re you talkin’ to like that, huh? cause you sure as shit don’t talk back to me like that.”

they bicker back and forth on the best way to treat their girl. matt and frank will never see eye to eye on anything, especially when it comes to you.

[littlebirdygirlywriting]

EEEEEKKKKKK!!!!!! OF COURSE I DON’T MIND IT BEING LONGER!!! Oh my gosh, it’s AMAZING!!! I love it, I love it, I love it, and did I mention? I LOVE IT!!! Your descriptions, oh my WORD!!! “Precipitation and tears turn to acid. At first, it sizzles, but then it turns cold.” AND THEN YOU FOLLOW IT UP WITH “The acid of your tears neutralizes.” Like, HELLOO??? Do you REALISE how much of a genius you are??? “His forehead comes to rest against yours, not at all gently, but pressing into you as though he’s trying to heal you somehow.” ASDFGHJKL!! I’m literally no longer computing. You’ve broken me. (But in the best way possible!!) This is going to my favourites IMMEDIATELY!!!! 😍😍🫠

Happy birthdayyy!!!! 💖

This is such a fun idea, I love it!

Can I get a bouquet of peonies and lilies with “Who did this to you?” Please and thank you? 🥰

THANK YOU! Oh, how I love that prompt. I love using it. I love reading it. I love the fact it exists. And I love that I got to write it for you. I went a bit overboard, so it no longer counts as a Drabble but a… triple Drabble? I don’t even know what it’s called. I hope you don’t mind it being a bit longer than 100 words, and I hope I did your vision justice!

"Who did this to you?"

Event Masterlist | Matt Murdock Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Request: A bouquet of... peonies and lilies.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of violence & blood

WC: 327

The November rain rolls off your shredded coat and leaves a trail on the wooden floorboards of his apartment. Precipitation and tears turn to acid. At first, it sizzles, but then it turns cold. 

Matt cradles your face in his hands, hazel eyes now black with the storm raging in them. He can hear the blood rushing a mere inch under your skin, your bones shifting, and your once so steady heart seems to have died in your chest.

Blood soaks his fingertips. One brush against your cheek is enough; you fall apart at his touch. 

“Who did this to you?” he asks, merely a breath away from a whisper.

Your freezing hands find his, and you cling to him like the only lifeboat on a drowning ship, choking on the lack of oxygen. You shrink under the weight of your wary soul.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Matt’s hold on you tightens. “Look at me.”

The neon light casts a glow over his most distinctive features, and you have no choice but to oblige.

“Look at me. You’re safe now, alright? You’re okay,” he says. 

The words on your tongue turn into a gut-wrenching sob. His forehead comes to rest against yours, not at all gently but pressing into you as though he’s trying to heal you somehow.

Someone hurt you. They touched you and made you bleed, and for that, they are going to burn. 

“C’mere.” He pulls you into his arms. “You’re okay, I promise. I’ve got you, baby. I’ve always got you.” 

As you cry into his chest and he holds you so tightly, your thoughts become less terrifying. Noise returns to the world around you, taking the shape of his soothing pulse. The acid of your tears neutralizes. Perhaps the world isn’t ending. Perhaps hope has not withered like a fragile flower.

“I’ll find whoever did this to you,” Matt vows, “and I’m gonna make them pay.”

Perhaps you are going to be okay. 

[https-murdock]

thinking about the softness of matt’s love.

the way he would try so hard to keep you out of harms way, everything in his life is so chaotic he just wants your relationship to be peaceful. for both your sake and his.

waking up with him behind you, soft morning kisses and his low gravely voice when he says ‘g’morning’. everything being so slow, so loving and soft with him.

slow dancing in his loft when he finally has a night off to spend with you. you can see in his smile how truly happy he finally is, and he can hear the way your heart skips a beat when he laughs.

the way he comes home, and the first think he thinks to do is hug you. cuddle and kiss you. he’s not stopped thinking about you all day and all he needs is to hear your voice to put his mind at ease.

foggy and karen noticing how he immediately smiles just at the mention of you. he only thinks of the softness of your touch, the lovingness in your voice when he’s at work and misses you. all he needs is to be truly loved and with you he’s finally found that feeling.

[traveller-of-the-knight]

Uuuuh...

What if Matt ended up actually killing a bad guy and Jake arriving late, not knowing what had happened.

He would ask him if he got the information and tell him to run, they would call an ambulance on their way it is fine!

It was not fine.

Matt took his mask off and "looked" at Jake.

Jake would deny it. Matt- Matt wouldn't! Be couldn't take it! He knew Marc before going to wae before his first kill. He knew himself before that too. He wouldn't want the guilt to change Matt like it changed them.

Matt... He was still pure and innocent (as much as a vigilante can be) he hadn't taken a life!

No that would destroy Matt, he couldn't take it.

The police were arriving.

Matt wouldn't move.

He stayed there not carrying if the police caught him.

He took him on his back and run to were he had parked the taxi.

It would be a long night but Matt wouldn't spent it alone.

[chvoswxtch]

karen page masterlist

»— anything marked with an astrik contains explicit content. minors dni.

»— all work is my own. please do not repost anywhere else without my consent.

☾ one shots

→ getaway.*

☾ requests

→ behave.*

☾ blurbs/headcannons/drabbles

→ you gonna let me be good to you? (karen's version)

☾ thots*

→ karen & being dominant

[littlebirdygirlywriting]

Unpleasant Anniversaries

Daredevil Masterlist || Based on this request!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Every year, it was the worst week of your life. A week absolutely brimming with unpleasant anniversaries. But when you sleep through your alarm for work, you don’t expect a certain Matt Murdock to come knocking at your door. Or that you’d confess the feelings you have for him.

Author’s Note: I can’t believe I reference a game of truth or dare so often in this fic just to not be able to come up with what the dare would be. Smh. Sorry guys. You can use your imagination I guess. 😂 Thank you SO MUCH for the request anon!! I hope it’s everything you were hoping it would be and that it’s not too cliche… (And that it’s not too long, because this baby really got away on me. 😬) This is actually my first time writing (or at least posting) for the DD fandom, so please let me know if I’m OOC!

Warnings: Angst (but with a happy ending), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, References to Parental Death, Cussing, References to Alcohol and Hangovers, no use of y/n (I’m getting pretty good at back flipping and somersaulting around it, but I still apologize if it comes off clunky), Fluff at the end (because what’s the point of hurt/comfort if we don’t have some cute, fluffy comfort??), Love Confessions. I’m posting this without editing, and yes, that is a warning. (I am SO going to regret this decision later, but I am way too tired to edit).

Word Count: 2.3k

———————————————————————————

This cannot be happening. I cannot be falling in love with Matt Murdock.

It was stupid, really. The stupidest thing that had caused you to realise it.

Freaking Foggy.

Granted, you couldn’t entirely blame him. You were far too old to succumb to peer pressure anyway. Far too old to be playing Truth or Dare with a six-pack of beer and the exhaustion of an emotional week under your belt.

A week absolutely brimming with unpleasant anniversaries.

The anniversary of your mother’s death, the anniversary of your long-term boyfriend breaking up with you for your best friend, your birthday. Bing, bang, boom…back-to-back.

Every year, it was the worst week of your life, and you just wanted something fun and lighthearted and silly enough to make you forget about the ache wrenching your heart in two.

Stupid. Stupid anniversaries and stupid emotions and stupid, stupid, STUPID, idiotic game.

It was juvenile, and you cursed yourself for going along with the idea. Because now, you had another item to add to the list.

And the week wasn’t even over yet.

A steady thumping at your door matched the rhythm pounding in your head, your name spoken through the thin wood.

Peeking through cracked eyelids revealed afternoon sunlight streaming into your apartment, the alarm clock beside your bed happily displaying 12:05pm.

Shit!

You bolted upright in bed, groaning as your head throbbed in protest. Another series of knocks rapped against your door, followed by your name again. Double shit!

Matt.

Stumbling out of bed, you grit your teeth against the headache and tripped your way to the door, fumbling with the lock and cursing your hangover. The drinking hadn’t stopped once you got home, and you were really starting to regret that decision.

The lock clicked, and before Matt even had a chance to step into the apartment, apologies were spewing from your lips.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Matt. It won’t happen again. I must’ve slept through the alarm or forgot to set it or something, but it won’t happen again, I promise. I—”

The words were spilling out of you like a river, and even you were struggling to make sense of them. Embarrassingly, tears pricked the backs of your eyes, something that only deepened the ache pounding through your skull.

“Hey.” Matt dropped his cane in the entryway, door closing behind him and strong, steady hands placed groundingly on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not mad. Foggy, Karen, and I were just worried when you didn’t show up to work. We thought somebody better come check on you.”

That was…really sweet.

And the floodgates opened.

Gut-wrenching sobs tore through your body, every ounce of hurt and despair and loneliness bottled up for the last several years breaking through your carefully-constructed walls and flowing like a wellspring onto the hardwood floor.

For a second, Matt froze, stunned, and you wanted to kick yourself. This was not what Matt had signed up for by volunteering to come check on you. If anything, he was probably wishing right now that Karen or Foggy or literally anyone else had offered to go instead.

“I’m–I’m sorry.” You tried to apologize for crying, for not showing up to work, for being a crazy, messed-up disaster that Matt certainly shouldn’t have to deal with.

His arms wrapped around you, warm and comforting, and despite your best intentions, you found yourself melting into the touch, clinging to the front of his dress shirt and probably ruining it with your tears.

“I’m–I’m sorry, Matt. I–”

“Shhh.” He interrupted you with a hum, gently resting his chin on top of your head, strong arms locked securely around you.

Still, you felt the need to explain.

“It’s–it’s just a really rough week for me, but I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. I’m always fine. I always end up fine. I just–”

He shushed you again quietly, warm hands running soothing strokes up and down your back. The tears began to slow, and you hiccuped before attempting to take a long, controlled breath.

“That’s it. That’s good. Just breathe.”

His hands didn’t stop moving, and you closed your eyes, savouring the touch for however long it would last. Burying yourself in the comfort of it.

Maybe you could make a piece of this moment last forever.

When a deep, shuddery sigh expelled itself from your lungs, Matt stepped back, head tilting as his hands rested back on your shoulders, seeming to be listening for something. What, you didn’t know. Concern marred a crease on his forehead though, and another wave of guilt roiled in your stomach.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was small and weak, pathetic. “Matt, I’m so–”

“Stop saying you’re sorry.” His tone was firm, brooking no argument. His hand started stroking up and down your arm. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I was late for work.” The words fell to the floor with your gaze.

“We got by for the morning.”

You squinted against the sunlight streaming in through the windows, the ache behind your eyes barely manageable. “I made you guys worry.”

His tone remained smooth, calm. “That’s okay. You’re okay, and that’s all that matters.”

“And…” You fiddled with the hem of your shirt, worrying your lip between your teeth. “I got tears on your shirt.”

A wry smile tilted his lips, and you could just picture the amusement dancing behind those red glasses. “I’ll live, and it’ll wash.”

“I just…” You sighed, digging the palms of your hands into your eyes, trying to uproot the headache that seemed to be drilling a hole through your skull. “I just wish this week was over.”

The tips of his fingers danced over your arm, and his voice became low, tender. “Why?”

Tears sprang to your eyes again, but you forced them back, swallowing down the lump attempting to rise in your throat.

Could you tell him? Could you really, truly trust him with this information? Would it make him look at you differently? Would it make him see you as broken?

“It just…” You paused, hesitating. “It’s just got some bad memories attached to it, is all.” Then, before you could stop yourself. “Did you know my mom died six years ago yesterday?”

Matt frowned, lips twitching like he wanted to speak.

But you kept going.

“Heart attack. The doctors never saw it coming. I was in my first year of university…” You swallowed, bitter memories you regularly kept locked away rising to the surface. “I was on the plane when she passed—didn’t even know until my dad met me at the airport.”

Your name drifted from his lips, hushed and sad. It should make you stop—it should make you shove the feelings back into a box, lock them up tight, and forget about them forever. Instead…

“Two years later, this great guy came into my life. Smart, funny…” Almost as handsome as you. You pushed the thought aside and continued. “We were talking about marriage. Family, kids. We would buy a house on the coast, right next to his parents. We were going to be so happy…”

The memory played out before your eyes. Big house, a dog, 2.5 children—you’d even talked colour schemes, baby names. Had tentatively set a date for just after graduation.

“Until the doctors thought they found something on one of my routine screenings. Suddenly, ‘in sickness and in health’ became a little too close to home. He was sleeping with my best friend before I even had a chance to tell him it was a false alarm.”

By the hard set of his jaw, Matt was less than pleased to hear about your piece-of-shit ex, lips pressed firmly together like he might be trying to keep himself from having a word with him this very moment.

A near-hysterical laugh floated up from your chest, heart ripping apart inside you.

“It was really a stupidly shitty thing to do on someone’s birthday, but hey, live and learn I guess. Just gives me one less reason to celebrate. It hasn’t been the same since my mom passed anyway…”

His head tilted sharply. “Your birthday is this week?”

A small, pathetic nod tipped your chin. “Today, actually.”

Matt’s jaw worked, expression so pained you thought for a second he might be more hurt by the knowledge than you were.

“And then, of course, I’m stupid enough to play Truth or Dare, get so outrageously drunk that I sleep through my alarm, and if I worked for anyone other than you, I would’ve been fired on the spot, so…” The headache was splitting your brain in two. You needed an aspirin. “Icing on the cake.”

Walking into the kitchen to dig through your cupboards for the pill bottle and a glass of water, you genuinely hoped Matt would leave it as is. It was stupid—nothing but a hard week and an off day and two minutes of word vomiting. Or maybe closer to ten. Either way, you just wanted to keep your head low and forget about this little outburst until the end of the week, when you could cry properly.

Of course, you should’ve known better than to think Matt would leave it alone.

“Okay, first of all,” he said, following you into the kitchen, “you would not have been fired from any other job. You’ve been nothing but punctual every other day of the year—one bad day doesn’t scrap a perfectly good record. And second–” he interrupted your protest with a furrowed brow and his hand raised in the ‘stop’ position. “You were not that drunk when you left the office yesterday. What happened?”

You winced, embarrassment flooding your cheeks, and you delayed by popping the aspirin in your mouth with a swig of water. When you were finished, Matt was still waiting.

“Nothing.”

He scoffed, and you tried not to let it hurt. “Nothing?”

“That’s what I said, Matt.” Whoa, you did not mean for your tone to be so sharp, but there was no stopping it now. “Maybe I had a few more when I got home. Maybe I had a whole case. Maybe—” your voice cracked, and tears pricked your eyes again. “Maybe I just didn’t want to think about my dead mother or my cheating ex or the fact that when I took that fucking dare yesterday, I didn’t realise I had feelings for you until it was too late. And I—” Tears flooded the dam, dripping down your cheeks, your words breaking on a sob. “I can’t have feelings for you, because all they ever do is get me hurt…and I can’t handle any more hurt, Matt. I can’t! I can’t–-”

For the second time that day, you dissolved into sobs, the sheer force of pain clefting you in two like a tidal wave.

Through a haze of tears, you watched Matt hesitate, hand flexing, before stepping forward and slowly wrapping his arms around you, keeping you together when you were sure you would fall apart.

The reality of what you’d just confessed washed over you, embarrassment now mixing with the sadness to create a whirl of agonising pain.

You wanted to choke on the feelings.

“I’m–I’m sorry, Matt.” Your words were so garbled, you have no idea how he understood them.

But he did.

“What did I say earlier?” he soothed, warm hand stroking up and down your back again. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

God, you wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that you hadn’t just ruined your career confessing feelings for your boss. Wanted to believe that he wouldn’t just slowly disappear from your life, like a ship in the night, fading out of friendship, out of reach of a lighthouse.

Your body bucked and hiccuped, lungs struggling for air through the emotion filling your chest. His arms tightened around you.

“Shhh, sweetheart. Shhhh.” His lips graced your hairline—a soft kiss, tender—before he again rested his chin on top of your head. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe, okay?”

You shook your head, the salt-stained fabric of his shirt swishing against your ear. “No. Matt, I ruined everything.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

“I ruined everything!”

Grasping fistfuls of his shirt in shaky hands, you felt his jaw shift atop your head.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he repeated, voice barely above a whisper. “I—God, I…I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

You sniffed, wiping the tear stains off your cheeks with his shirt. “Told me what?”

He paused, chest expanding with a breath, like he was preparing himself for something.

“That I…I have feelings for you too.”

“Don’t patronize me, Murdock,” you snipped, attempting to push out of his arms, because that’s just what you didn’t need, someone to make fun of the emotions that you already knew were stupid.

He held you fast.

“I’m not. I promise you I’m not.” The conviction in his voice was almost enough to convince you of the truth on its own. And if it wasn’t, his heart racing against your fingertips, chaotic and wild, certainly was. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time, sweetheart. I–I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

He smiled sheepishly, and the world moved in slow motion.

“You…love me?” A whisper is too loud to describe the question you breathed, but Matt chuckled, the tips of his ears flushed a dusty shade of pink.

“Yeah.” His head tilted, slight crease between his brows, carefully regarding your reaction.

“Matt Murdock…” you breathed, wiping the final few tears off your cheeks and looking up into his red glasses. “This is the best birthday I’ve had in a long time.”

He frowned. “Then we really need to fix that.”

You laughed, a real, genuine laugh, probably the first one this entire week, and melted back into his arms.

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Summary: Frank with a girl that uses lip plumping lip glow and forgets to tell him before kissing him.

Frank loves that you like to get dolled up occasionally. He never thought it was for him but...he liked to think that sometimes it was for him.

Like tonight, he promised you that the two of you would go to the fancy little italian restaurant that you've been craving for weeks. He came home to the sight of you getting dressed and if he was being honest, he stood in awe for a few seconds. "Damn babydoll, is that a new dress?" He asked as his rough calloused fingers tangled themselves into the soft, flowy fabric of the dress.

Pride filled his chest as he watched a soft blush bloomed across your cheeks and a smile graced your features. "It is new, do you like it, Frankie?" You asked in a teasingly tone, already knowing his answer. He rolled his eyes in response, "As if you have to ask doll." Unexpectedly he leaned down to kiss your glossed lips softly. He was prepared to get his lips glossy and sticky in return; he's not a stranger to the different lip glosses that you adored but he was unaware that this wasn't your typical strawberry gloss.

Pulling back from the kiss his brows furrowed slightly. "Babe...what the fuck?" He asked in a slight panic as he felt his lips begin to tingle and burn. He starts to lick the gloss off his lips as he stares at you completely bewildered.

He's even more confused when all you do in response is giggle. Why aren't you concerned? Why aren't you fixing this...What did you do?

"Oh, I forgot!" You sighed before wiping his lips off with a tissue, "I got a new lip gloss, it's supposed to make my lips fuller." He nods slightly to show he's following along, even though he's completely lost. "Right...fuller lips of course." He mumbles confused.

When it's time for your guy to go on your next date he makes sure to get home before you to hide that lip gloss.