#daredevil imagines

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Grinning Like a Devil

Matt Murdock x Reader

Words: 3539

Summary: Matt and the reader tease each other relentlessly at work. What happens when they discover that it’s more than just harmless flirting? One night of one too many drinks may prove just that. 

Notes: Some of my favorite Matt edits are to the song ‘Cruel Summer’ by Taylor Swift, and while I didn’t totally want to do another song based imagine for it (I have a different one for him in the works), I really love this cute little line for him. Plus I really need to write more fluff for him because everything is so angsty. This is, as so much of my fluff, a total mess, so I hope you guys enjoy. 

More Matt imagines: HERE

-

“And that’s three for me and… oh yeah, none for you,” you smirked, leaning on your pool stick. 

“Isn’t there some kind of rule about making fun of the blind guy?” Matt chuckled. 

“Matty, we both know you could have kicked my ass hours ago.” You shook your head and stepped towards him. “Stop toying with me and play.” 

Matt leaned towards you. 

For a second, you were afraid he could hear your heart racing in your chest, the butterflies in your stomach resuming their painful, wild dance. You faked a cocky laugh, letting him know you weren’t backing down. 

A grin formed on his lips. “Okay.” 

The next break landed three stripes. His next series of shots landed two more. You were right about one thing- he was perfectly capable of kicking your ass. The end of the game yielded only one shot for you while he swept the table. Hell, looked so bad for you, that you were half tempted to cheat and point him at the wrong ball. Somehow you felt he would know. 

Matt put up his pool stick and took yours with a smile. You tried to keep your jaw from dropping. 

He chuckled. “You asked for it.” 

You snapped out of your awestruck state and laughed. “Remind me to keep my mouth shut next time.” 

He paused and his smile shifted into a smirk. “Next time?” 

“Oh, that was just round one, Murdock. One of these days, I will beat you fair and square. Without you going easy on me.” 

He held out a hand. 

You took it. 

“Challenge accepted.” 

The touch sent a pleasant shock up your arm. His finger traced along the back of your hand as he pulled away, grazing your knuckles. Your breathing hitched and another smirk spread across his face. 

Bastard. 

“I’m going to get another drink,” he said. “Do you want anything else?” 

You cleared your throat to stop from squeaking. “Surprise me.” 

He nodded and headed back to the bar. You had to lean against the pool table to stop your knees from shaking. This was stupid. You saw Matt every day. 

But the way he smiled at you…

“Here.” Matt handed you a tall glass of a dark liquid.  

“What the hell is that?” You laughed through your grimace, holding the drink up to the light. It was clouded and hardly allowed any of the neon to shine through. 

Matt shrugged. “A surprise.” 

“You’re terrible.” 

“Oh, but you love me,” he teased. 

“Whatever.” You took a drink and immediately regretted it. The burning liquid traveled down your throat like black tar and despite how hard you tried, you couldn’t hold back the coughs. 

Matt laughed and sipped his perfectly normal beer. 

“Shut… up…” you sputtered. 

He kept laughing. It sent a surge of idiotic courage through your chest. 

You tapped the bottom of the glass against the pool table, took a deep breath, and gulped down the rest of the foul drink without breaking. You swallowed back the disgusted coughs and touched the empty glass to his chest. 

“Is that-” You winced at the taste still lingering in your mouth. “The best you’ve got, Murdock?” 

Matt chuckled and shook his head, setting the glass aside. You take a step forward on wobbly legs and stumble. His arms shot out to catch you and held you up against his chest. 

You both froze, dizzy from more than just the alcohol. 

“Maybe that’s enough for tonight,” he breathed. 

Having you this close, he didn’t need his hearing to know your heart started to race. And he knew, with your hands pressed against his chest, you could feel his too. 

“That’s probably a good idea,” you agreed, finding your footing again. 

The break of contact left a hollowness in his chest. His hand found your arm, both to steady you and to fill the space the lack of your touch had created. 

You closed your tabs and he insisted on paying, despite your protests. 

“After that toxic waste you downed, it's the least I can do,” he said. 

“Celebrating anything specific?” Josie wondered. Her eyes shifted curiously between the two of you and she gave you a smirk. 

Your face reddened. 

“We won a pretty major case today,” Matt explained with a smile. “The big bad land developers were defeated all thanks to Y/N’s investigating skills.” 

“Are you kidding?” You scoffed. “You and Foggy did all of the real work in that courtroom.” 

“Work we couldn’t have done without you.” He squeezed your hand. “Give yourself some credit. Without you, we’re just a couple of guys in suits and no case.” 

“Hey, don’t sell Foggy short,” you snorted. “He does all the real lawyering while you  stand there and look pretty.” 

A sly smirk spread across Matt’s face. “Pretty, huh?” 

“Goodnight, Josie,” you said, trying to hurry away, but Matt’s hold on your arm remained. Standing this close, his laugh vibrated through you. 

You walked out together into the chilly February evening. The brisk air bit at your bare arms, having forgotten your jacket in the office. You tried not to shiver. 

“Here,” Matt said. He slipped off his suit jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders. 

“Thanks.” 

You tried not to think about how the fabric smelled like him- like cedarwood and leather. 

Matt kept his hold on your arm, less to guide himself and more to keep you from tripping on something. The heat of his fingers on your skin radiated throughout your body. You tried to keep your breathing normal, but it was like the air was getting thin. That last drink really was a bad idea. 

By the time you reached the door of your apartment, you were sure your flesh was burning up. You desperately dug through your purse, feeling the dread build up more and more as you searched. 

“Shit,” you muttered. 

“Everything okay?” Matt asked, brows furrowed in a way that was far too adorable for you to handle at the moment. 

“I, um,” you gulped. “I can’t find my keys. I must have left them at the office. Damnit.” You smacked your hand against the door, hitting it a little harder than you meant to and wincing.

Matt took your hand in both of his, holding you steady. “Hey, it’s okay.” 

“No it isn’t. You walked me all the way here and now I can’t get in and it’s too late to try to call me landlord and-” Your intoxicated brain spiraled into all of the things you’d done wrong that evening that led you to this moment. 

Getting drunk with the man you were in love with being numero uno. 

You started to hyperventilate. 

Matt put your hand against his chest so you could feel the slow and steady rhythm of his heart as he breathed. He took a deep breath, indicating for you to do the same. 

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, just calm down,” he said softly. “Can you do that?” 

You closed your eyes, took a few breaths, and nodded. 

“Sorry,” you said, sheepishly dodging his gaze. “Sometimes drunk-brain turns into anxiety-panic-brain and I have moments like that.” 

“You don’t have to apologize,” he smiled. Matt let go of your hand but kept hold of your arm. “Why don’t we just go to my place? It’s just a few blocks away. We can pick up your keys tomorrow.” 

Your heart leaped into your throat. 

“Like… spend the night?”

Matt gave you that famous smile. “I’m flattered, Y/N, but I’m afraid you would be taking advantage of me,” he teased. 

You shoved him playfully. “Shut up.” 

-

It wasn’t like you hadn’t been to Matt’s apartment before, but this felt different. Maybe it was that horrible, horrible drink still making your brain a little fuzzy, but the neon lights of the billboard outside lit everything in a beautiful, color-changing glow. 

The two of you sat on Matt’s couch and talked for what felt like hours. About nothing, about everything, about you, about him. 

“So I go every year now to commemorate the occasion,” you said confidently

“You have an anniversary for falling off of a swan boat in Central Park?” He snickered. 

“It was a formative moment in my childhood!” 

Matt held up his hands. “Okay, fair enough.” 

“When’s the last time you just took a walk?” You asked, leaning a little closer. “You know, stopped and smelled the roses? In all the time I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you slow down.” 

Matt swallowed and didn’t answer. You had a point. 

“You have to let yourself live, Matt. You can’t go around trying to save everyone.” You leaned closer, eyes falling to his lips. 

Matt drew in, unable to stop himself. How long had he thought about this? How long had he thought about telling you? When he thought about slowing down, he wanted to do it with you. You made him want to want to have a life. 

He pulled away. 

“I think you should probably get some sleep.”

You jerked back. 

“Right,” you said. “Thanks.”

What the hell had you been thinking? 

“I’ll sleep out here,” Matt said. He stood up and went to a cupboard in the hall. 

“Matt, you are not giving up your bed because I forgot my keys.”

“Too late, I already grabbed clean sheets.” 

“Matthew-”

“Y/N, really, it’s fine.” He said and from his tone, you knew there was no winning. Besides, you were embarrassed enough. Did you really just try to kiss him? You didn’t even feel drunk anymore, which you didn’t know if that made it better or worse. 

You hurried into Matt’s room and tried not to think about the fact that you were sleeping in his bed, under his covers, blanketing you in his scent. 

This whole night was starting to feel like a mistake. 

Matt listened to your heartbeat and felt the heat rushing to your face, kicking himself for making you feel like you’d done something wrong. He’d have to talk to you in the morning, when you were both sober, so you could have no doubt that what he wanted to say was true. 

You both went to sleep with butterflies in your stomach and thoughts of each other in your dreams. 

-

You woke up to a killer headache and the smell of coffee. You felt the sheets around you. Silk. Definitely not yours. 

The memory of the night before started to come back to you. 

Oh. God. 

You were at Matt’s apartment. 

You slept in his bed. 

You tried to kiss him. 

And he was outside the sliding door, right now. 

The floor was cool against your bare feet, your legs shaking as you tried to walk silently to the door. You slid it open just a crack. Just to see where he was. 

Matt was walking around the kitchen, most of his frame hidden by the open fridge door. 

You stepped out of his bedroom. If you could just sneak to the door…

“Morning,” he greeted cheerily, closing the fridge door and giving you a bright smile. “I made you some coffee.” Matt held up a steaming mug with a slight chuckle. “I thought you might need it.” 

You winced. “Right. Thanks.” 

Matt could feel your skin getting warmer, as well as the churning of nausea going through your head. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Super.” 

Matt grimaced. “Yeah, I felt the same when I woke up. Hence, coffee.” He took a drink from his own mug. 

There was a long, unbroken, and horrifically awkward silence between you. Why couldn’t you have one of those hangovers that obliterate any memory from the night before? Why couldn’t you get the image of him pulling away from you out of your head? Why did you have to try to kiss him? Why did you have to ruin everything?

“I should go.” 

Matt blew out a low sigh. “I’ll walk you home.” He moved to stand, but you put a hand on his arm to stop him. 

“I think I should go by myself,” you said quickly. If you stayed any longer, you would start to cry and you couldn’t do that in front of him. 

“Y/N-” Matt started. 

“Thank you for letting me stay, but I have some stuff I want to get done before we have to get to the office.” 

Matt heard your heart racing. He could hear the edge in your voice. 

He’d hurt you and he hated himself for it. He wanted the chance to fix things, but at the moment, he knew that anything he said would just make it worse. 

“I’ll see you there, then,” he said quietly. 

“Yeah, uhuh, right. Bye, Matt.” You scurried out of the door, forgetting your jacket and your purse but being far too embarrassed to go back in for them. As long as you had your keys, you would be fine. A fresh change of clothes and a cold shower. That’s what you needed. 

Once you forced yourself to get ready for work, you actually had to go to work. Which meant facing Karen- who knew all too well your crush on your boss. And worse, it meant facing Matt again. Maybe you could get away with avoiding him. 

You could not. 

When you got to the office, Matt was there, perched on the edge of your desk with your bag and jacket in hand. 

“You, uh, forgot these,” he said, giving you an awkward half-smile. 

Karen sat at her adjacent desk and raised a brow. 

You took your things and put them on the desk, feeling that all too familiar rush of blush to your face. Thank god he couldn’t see it. 

Matt nodded and walked to his office, letting his hand graze your shoulder as he went, hoping it would be a comfort, but when he heard your heartbeat rise, he realized it was probably a mistake. 

How could he show you that what happened last night, the reason he pulled away, was not what you were thinking? 

The day passed agonizingly slowly, but at least Foggy and Matt kept busy enough that you were able to avoid him for the most part. You couldn’t bear the pitying half-smile he gave you so you made sure to stay with Karen, looking over cases and organizing facts about clients. 

Matt was going mad, flipping through papers and listening to Foggy read off statements. All he could think about was the hurt in your voice and how he was the reason for it. 

“Uh, earth to Matt,” Foggy said, snapping his fingers. “You there buddy?” 

Matt swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?” 

Foggy leaned over the desk with a slow, teasing smirk. “I think I know what’s going on.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You finally made a move on Y/N. Didn’t you?” 

Now it was Matt’s turn to blush. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh come on, Matt,” Foggy exclaimed. “I saw it from the minute she wandered through our doors. You like her.” He poked Matt’s shoulder, prompting him to shrug away and stand. This, of course, was all the answer Foggy needed. “Oh my God you do like her!” 

“Foggy-”

“So what happened? Did you guys go on a date?” Foggy raised a brow. “Did you do more than go on a date?”

Matt went silent. 

Foggy’s jaw dropped. “Oh, did she reject you?” 

Matt ran a hand down his face. “That’s not what happened.”

“Don’t tell me that you rejected her.”

“That’s not what…” Matt grimaced. “It wasn’t like that.” Because of course, he liked you and of course, under different circumstances, he would have liked to do a lot more than kiss you, but he couldn’t unless he knew that it was really what you wanted and not what the liquor was telling you to want. 

“Well, whatever it was like, you better fix it,” Foggy said, walking to the door. “Because you do not want to let that one get away, my friend.” 

The rest of the day passed painfully. You were avoiding him and he was trying to figure out how to make you stop avoiding him. It didn’t help that Foggy kept giving both of you painfully obvious hints, worst of all being when he asked Karen to help him run an errand, clearing his throat loudly as he passed Matt’s door. 

You kept your head down, looking over client files and incident reports. Anything to take your mind off of the way his arm felt around your waist. His breath on your cheek. You came across a file that had a recorded statement. Shit. it must have gotten put with your things by mistake. 

You swallowed, stood, and made your way to Matt’s office. 

“I think this is probably for you,” you said softly, standing in his doorway. “I don’t usually listen to the statements.” You swallowed again, your throat feeling dry. “I just look into who you tell me to.” 

“You do more than that,” Matt said, shaking his head. Why did you always downplay your importance? Could you see how much you meant to this place? To him? “Y/N, stay for a second. Shut the door please.” He took off his glasses.

You froze under his unfocused gaze, feeling him watch you in his own way. 

“Is something wrong?” You gulped. 

Matt gave you a small smile. “You’re the one who has been avoiding me all day.” He motioned for you to sit beside him on the edge of his desk. “I think we should probably talk about last night.”

“W-what… I don’t…” You stammered, staying where you were. “I didn’t think there was anything to talk about.” 

Matt raised a brow, motioning again to the spot beside him. 

You hung your head and shuffled to stand beside him. 

“Now,” he said softly, “will you please talk to me? It’s been driving me insane all day not being around you.” 

“What do you want me to say, Matt?” You sighed. Emotion crept its way into your tone. Embarrassment. Heartbreak. “Things took a turn. We stopped. We went to bed. What else is there?” 

“What else is there?” Matt huffed, turning to fully face you. His hand reached for your arm. “Y/N, I did what I did because you were drunk. I didn’t think-”

“It’s okay, Matt.” You didn’t look at his face., at his dark eyes that managed to see you better than anyone ever had. “You don’t have to explain. You were just being kind. You let me stay because I was too drunk to open my own damn door. And I appreciate that, but please,” you grimaced at the memory of him pulling away from you. You shrugged away his hand. “Please just drop it.” 

You moved to leave.

Matt stood in your way. 

“I won’t just drop it,” he said, desperation in his tone. “Don’t you get that I can’t?” He grabbed you by the shoulders, not letting you go this time. “Y/N, I can’t stop thinking about last night. I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

You blinked. “W-What?”

This wasn’t real. This was another trick of your mind. Surely you weren’t still drunk. 

“I have wanted a night like last night since you first walked through those doors,” he admitted, listening to your heart as it started to race. He gave you a small smile, hoping to calm you down. To convince you that what he was saying was the truth. “But I had to make sure that it’s what you really wanted. Not because of some awful drink I dared you to drink or because you felt like you owed me.” 

“Matt…” You trailed off. Couldn’t he tell? Couldn’t he sense that you’d wanted the same thing ever since you first saw him? 

“I just,” he sighed, “I need you to know that.” 

You didn’t know what to say. Any words that formed on your tongue died before they could make it out of your lips. 

Matt heard your heart pounding. He heard your fingers tugging on the bottom of your shirt- a nervous tick he’d noticed your first day. He let his head fall. He’d made things worse. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said softly, grabbing his cane and heading for the door. 

You didn’t think. Thinking had so far gotten you nowhere. Instead, you grabbed his arm, pulled him back around, and crashed your lips into his. 

Matt stumbled back in surprise but only for a moment. His hands found your face, cupping your cheeks gently as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. 

Both of you stepped, him forward and you back, his body pinning you against his desk, his arms moving around to hold you up against him. Your hands traveled up his chest and into his hair. 

This was happening. 

You pulled away, resting your forehead against his. 

“This is happening,” you gasped, unable to stop yourself. 

Matt just grinned. He gave you that ridiculous, intoxicating, devilish grin. And it melted you. 

“Do you want it to keep happening?” He asked cheekily. 

You didn’t answer and pulled him back to you.

[dameronology]

moment's passed (matt murdock)

summary: based on say don't go by t.swift (x)

warnings: excessive use of the f-word. angst.

this is one of the from the vault songs that just fucking HITS me. i have been crying to this since it came out tbh. i hope you enjoy xx

-jazz

You had Matt Murdock.

Until you didn't.

Things had been sweet at first; he was a weathered lawyer who needed some light in his life. Somebody to come home to; somebody to properly love for the first time in his fucking life. It wasn't like the high he was chasing with Eletkra Natchios, or the familiarity he'd sought out with Karen Page. He got both things from your relationship, but you were...different. You gave him highs; you could make him feel like he was home and on a rollercoaster all at once. It was a feeling Matthew wanted to keep for the rest of his life. He would have been stupid not to. But wasn't that the thing about Matt? He was incredibly smart, but also incredibly fucking stupid. Almost bound to take someone for granted. He'd done it with Foggy, hadn't he? 

Five years. That was how long you made it before cracks began to appear in your foundations. You'd loved Matt for his Daredevil side at first; maybe he could go too far, but he'd always known when to stop (right?) and you admired him for it. For his bravery, for his candor, for the way he protected the city. It was like a dark and sexy secret that you prided yourself on keeping. It tied you together. You were part of it now. You were the person that Matt could come to about his darkest fears and worst nights. You were the person whose side he would curl up into during the night, craving someone to protect him for once. There was always the worry that he would go into deep and truly lose himself, but every time Matt found himself on the precipice of doing so, you would be there to hold him back - to keep him sane and to stop him letting Matt Murdock and Daredevil blur into one person. 

You were only a human being, though. So was he. Matt could save the city and everything in it but you couldn't save him from himself. Save him from coming home at 6AM - your agreement had always been 3AM at the latest - and sliding into bed beside you without a word, or save him from waking up in a bad mood and refusing to talk to you about it. No matter how many times you begged him to just spend one night in, or to not leave himself three hours to sleep before work. It all fell on empty ears and that hurt when he had fucking super hearing. Comforting cuddles at night turned into whispered touches and soon, those touches became backs turned to one another. Long conversations turned into polite niceties than eventually faded into silence. The happy relationship - breakfast together in the morning at the table and takeouts on the sofa at night - became a burden. A horse you were both flogging because staying together in silence was slightly less terrifying than whatever the alternative that left you alone was. Soon, you were the only one flogging said horse. Matt had dropped his stick a long time ago and turned away. He'd walked into the depths of Hell's Kitchen and you weren't sure he was ever coming back. 

This wasn't your fault. Maybe it wasn't his fault either but hell it was his burden to bear. You'd done nothing but love and support him and what did you get in return? Silence. Iciness. Long, tense moments of forced conversations. 

You got used to it eventually. Every night, he'd come stumbling in at 4,5,6AM, skin littered with bruises and wounds; some from that night and others reopened. Matt's skin was thick with scars now. They were forming a new Daredevil suit across his arms and legs and back and there was no taking it off. It was always there. Always a reminder. 

Matt was laying with his back to you; you watched with open eyes, as his breathing went from shallow and tense, to something a little deeper and softer. He was falling asleep. Tough fucking luck, Murdock, you thought, it's time to talk. 

You brushed a hand down his back - Matt arched like a cat, suddenly waking.

"Hey, Matty."

He sighed heavily. "I was sleeping."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just wanted to see how you were-"

"- I'm tired," Matt huffed. "Go to sleep."

"I'm tired too," you murmured. Tired of this. Tired of this silence. Tired of you.

"Sleep too, then."

"I will," you whispered. "What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?"

"I'm working all day. Probably late."

"Okay, goodnight," you said. "I love you."

Silence. 

The morning came and still, Matt barely spoke to you. He ghosted past you in the morning, hands fumbling for a clean shirt and pants. His shoes were pulled on and coffee made, and he was out the door before you'd even risen for work. That was purposeful. He never left earlier than 8AM and it wasn't even gone 7:30. Maybe he didn't want to talk. Maybe he just wanted to talk to anyone that wasn't you - which was funny, because you'd barely had a conversation in weeks. 

You had lunch with Karen later that day, about four doors down from the Nelson & Murdock office. Whatever dalliance she'd had with Matt was in the past - you two were good friends. She was level-headed and candid. You needed that in a friend. She always said what you needed to hear, even if you didn't want to. 

"So, I'm gonna see this guy for a second date, I think," Karen was saying something. You were gone, eyes blankly staring past her. "But I'm not sure, because - hey, are you listening to me?"

"No," you admitted. "I'm sorry. I had a really shitty night."

Her face fell with concern. "What's going on?"

"Matt's losing himself to his night job," you admitted. "I haven't had a proper talk with him in fucking months. I don't think he's touched me since people liked James Corden, Karen. Do you know what a long time that is?"

"Jesus," she muttered. Without another word, she pulled out her diary and flicked through it. "Look, it says he's got his whole afternoon wide open today. He went home at midday I think."

You faltered slightly. Either Karen was mistaken or Matt was a fucking liar and had fed you bullshit about being busy this afternoon. The worst part was that you knew Karen never made mistakes when it came to her secretary job. She had a Pinterest board for everything and her Google calendar synced up to ten different devices. She probably wasn't wrong and lying to you, although a new development, was pretty in line with how Matt had been lately. It felt like the final nail in the coffin. The thing that sealed your relationship's fate.

"I..." you muttered. "Okay. Will you hate me if I ditch early to go and talk to him?"

Karen shook her head. "No. Go."

That subway ride was the longest of your ride. It felt like every stop was twice as long; like every red signal lasted ten years. Had the walk from the platform to the barriers always been this long? Had the street from the station to your apartment been this stretched out? Your feet had never hurt more as you sprinted up the stairs from the lobby to your apartment. The door was on the latch - Karen was right, he had been home - and you booted it down with ease. Matt jumped up from the sofa as you did.

"What are you-"

"- you're a fucking liar!" you snapped. 

There was a lingering silence for a moment. Matt was a man of few words but he had very rarely found himself speechless.

"I'm done," you muttered.

"Done with what?"

"I'm done with you," you said. "I'm done with us. With this shitty relationship. Do you know how long I've been trying? How long I've been begging you to give me some kind of attention? Months, Matt. I've been dying for MONTHS and you haven't cared."

"I haven't been ignoring you-"

"- please don't lie to me," you cut him off again. 

The silence returned. You might have been half way out the door for months but Matt had been the one holding it open. The worst part was that you loved him to your very core and if he just said the words then - stay, don't go - or even any fucking word in the human language that hinted at a glimmer of hope, you would have thought twice. Maybe your apartment was a ghost town now but it was haunted with what used to be. Maybe there was a chance to go back to that. Just maybe. You would take maybe. 

The seconds passed. One, two, three. You counted them as they went, right up until you hit sixty. The dreaded one minute mark. That was more than enough time to beg. You could have done it in thirty. But he'd said nothing. The silence now said more to you than Matt had in the last three months. 

"Do you have nothing to say?" you quietly asked. 

"Right," you murmured. "I'm really done then."

"Just...think about this?" Matt said. His voice wavered slightly. There it was. The thing you'd been wanting to hear. It was just one minute too late. 

"Moment's passed, Matty," 

[writingdumpster]

his wife and nothing more

pairing: Matt Murdock x reader

warnings: suggestive dialogue

word count: 1,200

summary: Matty wants a housewife and no one can convince me otherwise. fluffy.

navigation

marvel master list

Matt had been spending long hours away from home. The difference this time was that he was spending time at the office, not on the street, which meant that he really couldn’t stay home. He didn’t always make his own hours as a lawyer. He had to make a three week trip to Boston for the case he was working on. Tonight he was back in Hell’s Kitchen and he promised you that he would be home by dinner. He knew how much you missed him, and he hated to leave his girl alone. He hated to be without his girl even more.

When he got into the building he could smell your cooking. You were making his favorite. He could hear the sounds of Aretha Franklin on his record player. A dopey smile spread across his face as he clicked the elevator button, feeling blissfully happy now that he was so close to you. He pulled open the door and began slipping off his shoes and placing his glasses on the shelf by the door.

“I’m home, baby,” Matt called as he put down his bag. When he turned around you were wrapping your arms around him and kissing him lovingly, your tongue sliding into his mouth. You pulled away only when your need for air demanded it, taking in a deep breath. Matt chuckled against your lips.

“I missed you,” you purred.

“I can tell,” Matt said with a smile.

“Never leave me for that long again,” you practically whined.

“Come with me next time,” Matt suggested. You let out a dry laugh.

“Miss three weeks of work and still have a job? You’re funny, Murdock,” you said as you tangled your fingers in the hair at the nape of Matt’s neck. His hands slid around your waist so that they rested on your lower back, his fingertips just barely brushing the swell of your ass. The two of you began slowly swaying to the Aretha Franklin record you had playing.

Matt’s head was tilting a bit as he took in every detail of your presence. He could smell your shampoo still lingering from a shower you must’ve taken that morning. Your heart was beating a bit faster than usual, he assumed from the excitement of his arrival. Then he realized that you were wearing his Columbia sweatshirt. His heart ached as he thought about what it would be like to really see you in his clothes. He had almost lost track of the conversation, but his words came out before he could think better of it.

“Then quit,” Matt said as he leaned in, brushing his nose against yours. He surprised himself, but when he heard the thought out loud he knew that he meant it. “I can take care of you.” His heart stopped for a moment as he thought of what it would be like to have you as his wife and nothing more. Completely and totally taken care of, with nothing to worry about at all. You chuckled.

“We aren’t even married,” you pointed out.

“Not yet,” Matt said assuredly. You raised an eyebrow, a smile dancing across your lips.

“All you have to do is ask,” you said, your voice as sweet as syrup. Matt’s heart warmed. He raised a hand to your cheek, running his fingertips along your soft skin and pushing a few loose pieces of hair out of your eyes.

“Not tonight, sweetheart. You deserve a proper proposal,” he said. You smiled.

“I think you already know the answer anyway,” you said. The corner of Matt’s lips tipped upward and he gave you a quick peck.

“But we’ve got to do something about that job of yours…” Matt said. His tone sounded more serious than teasing and you couldn’t tell if he meant what he was saying.

“Are you serious, Matty? You want me to quit?” You asked.

“I want to take care of you,” Matt said. “And if you let me take care of you, we could be together a lot more.”

“You’re serious about this?” You questioned again, needing to be sure. Matt nodded.

“Business has been good lately. I’m making enough for both of us,” Matt said. You were considering his offer when you had a sudden thought.

“What about when we have kids?” You asked. Matt beamed excitedly.

“Are we having kids?” He asked. You blushed.

“I don’t—I mean—I just thought…” You stuttered. You took a pause. “Do you want to?” You asked. Matt gave you a sweet smile.

“Yes, sweetheart. I want to have kids with you,” Matt assured you. He gave your hips a gentle squeeze. “I want to give you a family.”

“Well, I’ll need a job for us to be able to take care of them,” you said.

“No, you don’t.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Matt, if you’re making so much money then why are we still living in this neon lit atrocity of an apartment?” You asked. Matt chuckled.

“I thought you liked it here,” he said. You rolled your eyes.

“I do, but there’s a reason the rent’s so cheap,” you replied.

“I have something worked out. You don’t have to worry that pretty little head, baby,” Matt said.

“What are you talking about?” You asked. Matt paused for a moment, nervous about telling you what he’d done.

“I bought us a townhouse in Astoria,” Matt admitted.

“You bought a house?!” You exclaimed in question. Matt nodded.

“It’s got three bedrooms, we’ll have plenty of room for kids. There’s a fireplace in the living room and a basement that I was gonna renovate so you could have your own space,” he said. You looked at him in awe, taking a moment to process everything he was saying. Matt started getting nervous that you weren’t responding. “If you don’t like it—”

“Can we go see it?” You asked. Matt’s heart lifted. He had been worried that you might be upset for making such a big move without asking you, but he had also wanted to surprise you. He was quite the fan of grand romantic gestures when it came to you. He’d never met anyone like you. He wanted to give you everything and he’d been working harder at his day job to make that dream a reality.

“Not today, the current family’s still living there,” he explained. “In two weeks.” You took a moment and realized just how much Matt loved you, how serious he was about you.

“You bought a house for us,” you said in amazement, your voice just barely a whisper. Matt smiled softly.

“For you, sweetheart. Everything I do is for you,” he whispered back. You leaned up and kissed him tenderly, running your fingers down his chest.

“I love you, Matty. So goddamn much,” you said.

“Language,” he chided. You chuckled. You reached up to rest your arms on his shoulders, linking your fingers together at the nape of his neck.

“Matthew Murdock,” you murmured to yourself. “My good catholic boy. How did I ever get so lucky?”

“I’m the lucky one,” Matt said. You scoffed.

“Yeah, the one who bought the house is the lucky one,” you said. Matt chuckled.

“I was hoping to get lucky tonight too,” he said with a smirk.

“You don’t want your dinner?” You asked.

“I think I can find something else to eat.”

[writings-of-a-demigod]

As soon as you walked through the door to the office “Why are you late?” Matt asked you.

You groaned “Good morning to you too.” You closed the door behind you.

Foggy rush from his office and gave you a big hug lifting you off the floor. You just looked confused with ‘what the heck?’ look on your face.

“I thought you were dead.” Foggy stopped hugging you and put you down.

“What?! Why?” your voice was loud “Why would you think that?” you ask him.

“Well you haven’t picking up your phone or answering your texts. You scared the crap out of us.” He told you

You looked at Foggy then Matt you felt bad for scaring them like that but that warmed your heart. They were worried about you.

“Actually I wasn’t I knew that you were alright.” Matt sent a cheeky smile your way.

Foggy turned his head to look at Matt “Yeah well you don’t have a heart like mine.”

He took your things to put them on the sofa. Then picked up your water bottle to take a sip.

“I’ve been partying for 3 days straight.” Y/n told them.

Foggy taking a sip from Y/n’s water bottle and chocking halfway through.

“Oh my god why does this have vodka in it?” Foggy asked with a confused look.

Y/n gave them a look “I just told you I’ve been partying for 3 days straight.” You said to them like it was the most obvious thing ever.

“That doesn’t exactly explain the vodka in the bottle.” Matt told you.

“Who do you think starts the party dude?” You gave them the ‘duh’ expression.

“Why? Why God why?” Foggy said dramatically “Why do you keep doing things like that?”

“Because I’m young and stupid. It’s called living.” You said looking at him straight in the eyes.

“They’re right Foggy.” Matt chuckled before going to his desk.

*gif not mine*

[sgt-morgan]

Guessing Game 🦯

Summary: You and Matt have a little inside joke, turns out you’re hella right

Warnings: AFAB and female identifying reader, Mentions of g!ns, probably blasphemy, Matt’s dangerously beautiful ass. None really, v fluffy.

A/N: This is for all you girlies still waiting for Matt to show his face in She-Hulk. I’ll fill your thirst void. We are gonna get there 2gether I swear.

Pt.2 Robin Bites Back.

Pt.3 The Test

DD Masterlist

“Jesus Christ Matt!” You exclaim, dropping crumbs all over the court documents you had been diligently going over for the past forty five minutes. When your boss (technically) and the man of your dreams walked in with the biggest bruise you’d ever seen, you honestly forgot they were there.

“Blasphemy, really? Don’t worry about it sweetheart.” he chuckled as you rushed over to check him over for more injuries, trying to calm the frantic beating of your heart from the nickname.

“If Jesus could see you, he’d take his own name in vain.” Matt huffed out a laugh at that, as you gently pressed a finger to the bruise. He hissed in pain, and you hissed back in sympathy. “Sorry, What happened?”

“I got in a really gnarly bar fight.” Matt pursed his lips and flexed his-surprisingly-muscular arm. You rolled your eyes and smacked his bicep, He gave an over exaggerated ‘ow!’ And rubbed his arm with a frown. Or so you thought, in reality, there was actually a pretty nasty knife wound there from the same asshole who got his face. He got his injuries fending off a mugging just outside Josie’s.

“Haha Murdock, no way some drunk asshole is gonna punch a blind guy, nobody is that stupid.” Matt could tell you were rolling your eyes, and he smirked.

“What, don’t think I could win a fight? Is it cause I’m blind?” He grinned wolfishly and you flopped back down in your desk chair.

“No Mathew, I’ve seen you move, I bet you take after your dad. Got some sort of illegal fight ring I should know about?” You brushed the crumbs from your papers and started to work again.

“Ah, yeah you caught me sweetheart. Got a fight ring stashed in the old Fogwell’s building. It’s like poetic Justice.” He laughs, sitting opposite you and pulling his own work from his brief case. You laugh and shake your head. God, he loved that sound.

“Yeah, alright wise guy, when are you gonna tell me the truth huh? I’ll bet you’re that man in the black mask, ah what’s his name… OH! Daredevil!” You snapped your fingers and chuckled again, not noticing Matt’s whole body go rigid in panic. He listens to your heart beat for any sighs you weren’t joking, but only found it’s normal steady pace.

“Yeah, I’m secretly a ninja for sure.” He chuckled stiffly, trying to play it off. Luckily, you were already wrapped up in your work, and didn’t even notice the slight flop sweat that ghosted over his brow.

“Alright DD, chop chop. Gotta make sure your day job still pays the bills.” You mumbled, and how right you were.

Matt kept coming to work with bruises, and you kept making jokes about them. He knew you made them because you worried, and if he could joke about it, you figured he was fine. He loved that about you, you had the ability to bring levity to any situation. He was grateful for it. What he was not grateful for, was how close those jokes sometimes hit to the truth.

“Woah! What happened this time DD? Catch that mugger?”

“Whoa there Devilman! You and Spider-Man catch a cat burglar?”

“Jeez man without fear, you’d think with skills like that they would have made you an avenger already.”

Matt laughed at every single one, but that Spider-Man one was just uncanny. Sure, it was a guy robbing a bodega, but it was close enough. You kept up the running gag, and it was honestly surprising Foggy and Karen had never heard you. One day though, you almost caught on to how right you were because his dumb friends were no good with subtlety.

You, Foggy, and Karen all happened to be in the break room one morning, when Matt stumbled in after a rough night. “Hello Daredevil, you give somebody the horns last night?” You said it with such serious nonchalance, that Karen gasped and Foggy spit his coffee across the room. Matt smacked a hand to his forehead and just pictured the cartoonish shock on his friends faces, conjuring memories of Looney Tunes and Scooby-Doo. You turned to look, and Matt made silencing motions behind your back to a wide eyed Foggy and Karen, who were gaping in horror at your joke. “Jeez guys! It was just a joke, right Matty?” You turned just as Matt stoped his wild gestures and he laughed, shrugging off his suit jacket.

“Yeah guys, what. You really think I’m Daredevil or something?” He laughed awkwardly, and Foggy and Karen caught on.

“Oh! Haha! No! Of course not!” Foggy started chuckling awkwardly, and Karen joined him.

“Yeah! Good one!” Karen giggled almost manically, but you didn’t notice, too busy obliviously cleaning up Foggy’s spit take. It was moments like these that Matt was glad that you were a bit of a social ditz.

When the shock wore off, Karen and Foggy found your little inside joke to be hysterical. They joined in on your little jokes as well, cracking off some really good ones, much to your delight.

“Jeez buddy,” you started one morning. “Have a rough evening being Justice?”

Foggy cackled and did a growly Batman voice. “I am Justice, I am vengeance, IM BATMAN!” You laughed and he grinned. Making you laugh was quickly becoming a competition in the office, and by god was he determined to win.

Karen was not to be beat either, she was getting in some real zingers herself.

“Good lord Mathew! Tell the criminals of the Kitchen to stop damaging the goods!” You grimaced at the cut on his cheek.

“You think my face is the goods?” He grinned waggling his eyebrows to an empty corner and you rolled your eyes.

“It’s not the criminals that need to take a break,” Karen scoffed, “It’s all that pent up Catholic guilt.”

You cackle and Karen grinned. You however, not to be beat in this battle of wits, got the last laugh. “You know Karen? I think you’re right! I’m honestly surprised he doesn’t piss holy water.” Matt looked like a wet cat, but Foggy and Karen had tears in their eyes.

Then of course there was the Christmas Sweater incident. “What’s that?” You asked, watching Matt stuff a red piece of clothing back into a brown paper bag.

“What’s this?” Matt tilted his head with a frown, like he always did when he was curious about something. You did what you always did when Matt did this and kissed his up turned cheek and patted it twice. “My sweater for the holiday party.”

“A sweater devil boy? for the holiday party at Josie’s?” You nodded with satisfaction. “The one we planned with Karen and Foggy not three weeks ago?”

“The very same,” Matt nodded, “Yes. We’re also playing Secret Santa. I’ve already got a gift for my pick.” He grinned.

“Good boy!” you grinned and Matt preened, “I’ve got mine as well. Now all we have to do is turn up in one piece, think you can manage Devilman?”

“Only for you.” Matt grinned and he could feel the heat of the blush rising in your cheeks, hear the way your heart rate stuttered at his flirting.

“Cheeky,” you chuckled, and set down the paperwork you copied over to Braille for him with two pats to his right hand. Your little substitute for a wink. “Keep talking like that and I’ll have to find some mistletoe.”

The fabled holiday party came, and Matt did indeed manage to get to Josie’s without a scrape. He could hear you and the other’s whispering in your booth and grinned. He got to your table and you gasped.

“Mathew Murdock, where did you find such ghastly reindeer ears!?” You cackled.

“Peter got them for me, I asked him to pick up my secret Santa gift and he brought these along with him.” He shrugged with his roguish lopsided grin that made your insides turn to jello.

“Well they’re awful, I must have a pair.” You laughed, scooting to make more room for your friend, but first he folded up his cane, and pulled off his jacket revealing his great secret. “MATHEW MEREDITH MURDOCK!” You exclaimed with uncontrollable mirth, Foggy laughed at your presumed and nonsensical middle name. “What is that!?” Pulled over his signature too-tight button up, was a red sweater with holiday trimmings that read ‘IM NOT DAREDEVIL’ in bold print. He smiled in victory as he heard the laughter from his table of friends. Could practically taste your tears of joy, heard the wheezing, and the way you all struggled to catch your breath.

“Oh god, I’m gonna pee myself.” You chortled, clinging to his arm and wiping your tears. Foggy was staring at the thing in shock, and Karen was trying (and failing) to hold back her giggles. He had beaten you all at your own game. “Mathew Murdock, I could kiss you.”

“Please do!” Matt laughed, finally plopping into the empty seat beside you. You smacked his arm and he winked.

“Oh god, let’s start drinking. I’m already exhausted and we haven’t even exchanged gifts.” You sighed with a laugh.

You all laughed, and drank, and sang Holiday tunes until midnight. You also exchanged your gifts. Mostly joke things. Matt bought Karen a ‘half cup’ mug, that was like a sawed off mug with a flat back. “So you can cut back on the caffeine!” He had chuckled. Karen bought Foggy a pack of un-clickable pens, and a rock’n’roll Santa tie. “There, now I won’t strangle you when you play with the pens in your office, no noise!” Foggy bought you a pet rock for your desk, that had little tiny devil horns and google eyes, “you needed a friend,” he grinned, “and what better friend than your very own deskdevil?” You chuckled as well, pulling out the last gift of the night and passed it to Matt, a devil shaped re-freezeable ice pack. “So you can ice your face!” Matt laughed heartily and thanked you, chuckling as you helped him run his hands over the cartoonish horns, and described the color.

When the evening came to a close, Matt left around an hour before you all did, claiming he had court documents he needed to sign and return to a client by tomorrow. Foggy and Karen nodded, and you went with it because you didn’t know the man’s work load, and frankly you were burgeoning on too drunk to care. You had another round of shots, and then the rest of you left. You parted ways with a very inebriated Karen and Foggy at the corner, and headed back to your apartment (also very inebriated). About halfway to your apartment, you got a very uneasy feeling, as if someone was following you. You knew you should have called Matt to come get you.

You kept steady down the alley way, hoping that by subtly walking faster, you’d get back into the streetlights quicker so whoever it was, if there even was someone, would let you go without a fuss. What you didn’t realize, was that when you’re as drunk as you are, subtly speeding up announced itself as a sprint. Then you felt hands jerk you back suddenly, one over your mouth and one jammed something that felt suspiciously like a gun into your back.

“Gimmie the bag and nobody gets hurt.” A voice slurs from behind you. You raise your hands and drop the bag, congratulating yourself mentally for putting your wallet in your front pocket with your phone earlier. You hope that if he takes the bag and you run fast enough, he won’t notice. Thank god it’s just one du-

“Now empty your pockets!” Well, shit. That’s no good. You should have known that shitty drunk assholes traveled in packs. That way, if shit head numero uno forgets, shithead two will inevitably pick up the slack, that’s street slime 101. “You hear me bitch? Pockets!” Shithead number two reaches for your front pocket when-

THWACK!

Oh Merry FUCKING Christmas to you, a vigilante, now shithead one is gonna be jumpy and you’re gonna bleed out in an alleyway from an overzealous trigger finger. God has a sick sense of humor after all, you bet it’s Daredevil, that would REALLY prove God to be a comedian.

“I know you don’t have a gun, let the girl go.” A blur of motion and then in all his glory, the Daredevil. (Because of fucking course.)

“H-how do you know?” Shit bag squirms and grasps you tighter. You roll your eyes, this is gonna take all night, and all you wanna do is drink another beer and imagine Matt’s ass in the new suit you helped him buy, you’re over it. You strike while he’s distracted. “I could have a g-OOF!” You stomp on sleezebag’s foot and head but him in the nose. Yikes, that shit hurt, how do these super dorks do it. Once you were released, you ran behind Daredevil and let him finish knocking the guy out. From behind though, you noticed something very strange. When he finally turned to you, you voiced your assumption.

“You got a familiar ass.” You slurred, scrunching your brow. Daredevil let out a bewildered chuckle.

“Oh? And what might a familiar ass look like?” Matt shook his head, picking your bag up from the sidewalk with a breathy chuckle. You’re drunk, surely you won’t figure it out.

“Peachy, round, hot, very uhhh-“ he nodded and put your bag back on your shoulder, cocking his head to the side with a grin. Just like- “LAWYERLY! OH MY GOD! M-“ he clapped a hand over your mouth shushing you, you squealed and pointed and flailed around.

“Sh! Yes! Baby, you called it! You were right!” He shushed frantically pulling you into the darkened alleyway again. He was stunned, you really managed to figure it out. You recognized him… by his ass. He’s never gonna let you live this down, at least, if you live through this. You locked his palm and he let go of you with a disgusted sound.

When he finally released your mouth you whisper yelled. “Oh my god!? I was right!? Holy shit! You’re! And then I’m- and god! I don’t know where your hands have been DD ew! Gross!” You made spitting noises and blew raspberries, and then went to start shouting again, he frantically shushed you long enough to get you to listen.

“Yes! You’re very clever! Let’s get you home yeah?” He nodded slowly, steering you in the direction of your apartment. He got you there in relative silence, keeping you occupied by jumping from building to building following you. You giggled when he would perch on the rooftops, laughing about him being a ‘poser’ or as ‘blind as a bat’, leading you to sing a drunken rendition of Meatloaf’s bat out of hell much to his amusement and frustration. He had honestly never been more endeared to you, you were taking this whole vigilante thing like a champ, he wondered faintly if it was the booze, but now was not the time. It was slow going, but you made it. He climbed through the window you opened once you got in, and flipped on your couch. To his shock, you plopped into his lap. “Hey there sweet pea!” He laughed, curling his arms around you. Your drunken stupor made you affectionate, he would file that away for later.

“Wow Matty! You’re a hero!” You crow, pulling his mask from his head with a flourish and plopping it on your coffee table. “You got horns and everything! We gotta talk! I know you’re really blind, cause I switched all your socks with My Little Pony socks that one time and you didn’t see,” Matt spluttered at this, but you shushed him with your fingers before he could get more details. “Also, who would go through all the trouble of learning Braille if they were lying. Psh- I wouldn’t for sure! So you gotta have like super smell, or touch, or hearing, or something! Oh Jeez! Super smell! I gotta smell like Josie’s! And that smells real bad! I’m sorry!” You tried to get up and almost fell, so Matt pulled you back onto his lap.

“I do have all those things,” he chuckled, pushing your hair from your face, brown eyes vacantly moving around the room. “But you always smell good! The gross is there, the trash cans outside your building, Josie’s, the homeless robber, but overtop of all that is your skin, and your perfume, and coffee.” He scrunched his nose adorably and you coo and stroke it with a finger.

“Oh Matty, that’s so nice!” You sniffle, “you’re really good at flipping on stuff, are you a ninja?” She gasps, whispering conspiratorially.

“No,” he whispers back, “but my dad was a boxer, and I trained with a guy called stick.” He answered all of the questions you came up with and held you in his lap, he wished that he could live in this moment forever. He wished that he could hold you like this all the time; breathing in your shampoo and talking with you about his life. It was a balm to his aching heart, and a real relief to no longer be lying to the woman he suspected more and more would be his forever.

“Wow Matty, you’re so cool.” You sighed, burrowing into his suit and coiling around him tightly. “I was right all along! You really are Daredevil! Foggy and Karen knew! They suck ass! You should have told me you big meanie, I coulda been helping! I could be your sidekick!” He nodded and chuckled as you start to nod off, muttering about Batman and Robin.

“Yeah, yeah honey, you can be my Robin.” He grinned, kissing your hair.

“Well, you told me a secret, now I gotta tell you one!” You jolted awake suddenly with urgency, and leaned into his ear. “I think you’re really hot, and I wanna kiss you all the time.” You then leaned back and put your finger over your lips tapping the back of his hand twice. “Ok! That’s all! Night Matty!”

Matt sat frozen in shock as you stood, he could feel the currents shifting, hear the soft clothing rustle against your skin as you got undressed and flopped onto your bed. Within seconds you were snoring, and Matt was beaming. He couldn’t believe it, you liked him after all, he’d see how you felt sober. The Daredevil thing is fun for now, but when you’re sober he didn’t know how true that would be.

In the morning, you awoke with a groan, your head aches and you felt like you’d been hit by a bus. Then you remembered you’r really hit boss is a vigilante, and you suddenly felt very awake. You turned your head to check the time, and saw that Matt had left you a glass of water, some Tylenol, and had recorded a voicemail on your phone, his name blinking on your screen over and over. You took the medicine and listened to it with nervous jitters, remembering the nights revelations.

“Hey sweet stuff, I left you some meds, figured you’d be pretty worn out. When you wake up, shoot me a text and we can go get some food, and I’ll fill you in on all the other stuff. If you need anything, let me know. Since you wanna kiss me all the time, you can pay me with those, I hear Daredevil loves being paid in affection. Talk to you soon, bye.”

You stood there again, shocked but grinning. Matt liked you, and now you knew it, but most importantly, you screeched into your empty apartment…

“I WAS RIGHT!”

The sequel

[gxthicwxrm]

Good Choice (Without Him Part Two) - m. murdock x reader

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader

Warnings: angst, happy ending, cursing, pregnancy

Word Count: 1,814 words

Summary: Matt and Reader find common ground regarding their child and future.

Part One Masterlist

---

"Ms, L/N. You are having a beautiful baby boy. " Your doctor speaks in a soft gentle tone as her hand glides the ultrasound device across your protruding stomach. Tears welled as you looked at Foggy who was holding your hand with an intense stare on the monitor. A smile washes over his face as the doctor confirms what we suspected. 

A boy. Smiling widely at the monitor looking at your precious baby, warmth filled your heart. Thoughts of baby cuddles, taking him to the park, good field trips, sports, all the potential memories but none have him in them. You thought you'd never regret leaving him after what he did with her but all you want now is for him to hold you, not Karen, Not Foggy. But the father of your child.

Karen and Foggy have been taking turns for doctors' appointments, despite your protests, eager to be with their niece or nephew. Despite not being blood-related, you all were family. 

"I know it's been rough for you these last few months between him and this baby. Just know I am always one call away, even if it's just to talk no matter how small. The next three 9months are going to be scary, but worth it in the end. " Your doctor smiles gently, making you nod a 'yes' knowing you'd never take her offer. "Well, I'm all done here. Imma get Rachel to draw up those discharge papers and get out of your hair. Keep taking good care of her, Fog. She needs it. Extra rest, stop stressing the baby." She says with a wide smile as she waves goodbye, closing the door on her way out.

Foggy wipes your stomach with the rag provided to remove the goop from the machine and sticks his hands out, which you take and allow him to pull you up. He grabs your underwear and pants, handing them to you before he stands by the door, facing away from you. 

Reaching down with underwear in hand, you go to bend over before realization hits you. You can't. 

"Uhm..Fog..I can't reach." When he turns, you are barely hunched over, belly blocking you from seeing your feet. Your best friend starts to laugh.

"Y/N, you look like the Hunchback from that Disney movie." He moves to grab your pants, holding them out. 

"Shut up and help me!" You laugh, shaking your head. You sit back down on the bed, doing your best to cover yourself as he slips your underwear up to wear so you can reach them before quickly turning back around to face the opposite of you. 

"Tell me when you're done." He says obviously. 

"No. Imma tell you to turn around now to see my cooch, yes I will tell you when I'm done." Sarcasm drips from your words as a chuckle follows them.

"Between you and Matt, this kid is gonna be the definition of sarcasm." At the mention of him, everything comes crashing back down onto your happy moment.

Your feelings for Matt were still as strong as when you left, you hated him for what he did to your family. But your love for him was just as strong too. You couldn't let all that love go, so you focused on your son. But it was like being stranded at sea. Every time you think you're strong enough to do this and swim back to shore, another wave would snatch you up and take you away. Your love for him was drowning you and you fucking hated it. You shouldn't have any love for the bastard. You tell yourself as a memory of the night you think you become pregnant haunts. You both were filled with so much love and passion for each other. 

Immediately, a tear runs down your face and you wipe it away. Pulling up your bottoms, you tap Fog with your foot. 

"Can I get my pants?" He turns around and quickly wraps you in his embrace.

"I'm sorry I brought him up. But you have to talk to him at some point. This is his baby, too. He's begging Karen and me to give him information from the doctors, you, everything." Foggy pleads for the fifth time that week. You know he's right. Matt should be here for his son and he would if I let him. But letting him means letting him near you and you weren't ready for that.

"Would you drop this if I said I'd think about it?" Pulling back with his arms still holding your shoulders, he nods with a soft smile. "Okay now get my pants. Please, Karen has Chinese food with our names on it!" You say in a sing-song tone. Smiling he repeats what he did with your bottoms to your joggers, but instead of turning he pulls them up for you and slides your slides onto your feet before sticking his arm out to you.

"Come now Milady. Off we go!" He says as you take his arm. "Time to stuff our faces, nom nom nom!" He says in a gruff, raspy voice, using his hands to peck at your shoulders.

"You are so weird!" You say as you leave the doctor's office, heading home.

---

Laughing, you push the door to Karen's apartment as Foggy holds the food behind you. Stepping into the apartment, you go straight to the bathroom, ready to pee on yourself. Closing the door, you hear Foggy say "the fuck" loudly before muffled voices. 

Finished in the bathroom, you go back to the living room with food on your mind.

" I can't wait to dig into this Rangoon! I've been dreaming of it since last we- what the fuck?" Sitting beside Karen is Matt. Foggy is still standing but the food now rests on the coffee table between the group. Gritting your teeth, you shake your head. Unbelievable. You look over to Karen in disbelief. 

"You let him in? Knowing we were on the way back? Fuck this." You turn to go to your room but am stopped by a hand on your arm. Lightning speed, you twist around with your hand raised ready to hit the man that caused you so much pain but stop when you see it just Foggy.

"I know this isn't how you wanted to do this and I promise we did not plan this! Right, Karen?"

"You know how I feel about this, Y/N. He just showed up and refused to leave. I didn't know what to do."

"Call the cops." You mutter under your breath. A sad smile finds its way to Matt's face. With a sigh, Matt stands up and turns in your direction before taking a step toward you. Silently, Karen nods to Foggy for them to leave, you wish they would stay but you let them go, knowing how awkward it is to see a couple, especially your friends, fighting. Or in our case, separating. 

"I'm so sorry. And I'll always love you and want you. But, I'm not here to try to win you back. I know what I did was wrong and can never be forgiven, at least not for a while. I just want a chance to be a father to my child and if possible, your friend." Your eyebrow shot up at the word friend.

"Or just co-parents. I just want to be in their lives. Please." His voice is genuine, dripping with guilt, sadness, and even hurt. Seeing him like this kills you, but then flashes of him in Jen's bed pop into your head. 

“How could you do this to me?” If it wasn’t for his super-hearing, Matt wouldn’t have heard you, you mustered the words. Hurt flashes across his face as his eyes soften, his hand flinches to reach for you but he decides against it as he drops his extended hand. 

“There’s no excuse for what I did. I was drunk-”

“Oh, that lame-ass excuse! You just said you didn’t have any, but lied in the same breath.” You yell, shaking with anger. 

“No! I’m just trying to explain what happened. Please just let me talk.” He begs, hands out open and waiting: an invitation, not a demand. Everything in you tells you to grab him and let him hold you, you need his comfort after months of doing this without him. But, you couldn’t break. However, you couldn’t keep Matt out of his child’s life. You take a deep breath, trying to calm down. 

“G-Go ahead. Explain.” Your voice is shaking, you can tell if you're ready to cry or if you are angry. His begging eyes relax a little bit before glassing over with tears.

“I had too many drinks and I felt so out of place there. I was lonely and missing you. I was at the bar the next thing I know I was in someone else’s bed. I felt sick. I wanted to throw up. She woke up and I told her everything about us. We both got so drunk neither of us remember what happened. None of this is an excuse. I fucked up so bad and lost the best two things I ever had. Please give me a second chance, even as a co-parent. Just let me be in his life, p-please.” His voice cracks as a tear slides down his stubbled cheek.

Looking at his still-extended hand, you put yours in his. His eyes focus in on your general direction as a smile forms on his face. 

“We can be friends. Friends are okay.” You whisper, happy tears rolling down your face.

“This baby will need us and I want us to do this together, even if we aren’t..together.” His face fell as you mentioned no longer being a couple. Maybe you two could grow to pass this, for your baby and each other.

“I can do friends.” He says. “Can friends hug?” He asks. Instead of answering you rush into his embrace. His warmth wraps around you as his scent fills your nostrils. He feels like coming home. 

“I refuse to move and refuse to sleep on the couch so you can take your pick of the floor or couch.” You say into his chest, a low rumble coming from his chest as he laughs while his arms tighten around your waist, cradling your stomach with one hand. 

“I missed you so much.” He mutters into your neck, feeling your skin against his. 

“That’s not an answer.” Pulling back slightly, you look up at him. Annoyed, he huffs as he looks down at you.

“Couch.” He says making you smile at him.

“Good choice.” You beam as you snuggle back into his chest. You couldn’t help but love him. You knew you two weren't going to be friends forever, but your heart needed time, time to heal, time to forget.

part three coming soon!!

tags: @scarletsloveletterr @margoo0 @echos-muses @pbeckn26 @rockyhayzkid @lportes-22 @sinnah8

[babyboiboyega]

Not what I Heard (Matt Murdock x GN!reader)

A/N: Hiatus who?? Hiatus where?? Nah, just kidding; definitely still on a hiatus. I just got a very strange boost of motivation and wrote out this very short drabble that I think is really adorable

ENJOY THIS SHORT MATT MURDOCK, FLUFF, CUTE AS HELL DRABBLE I DID

Matt Murdock x GN!reader

Content: fluff, no use of y/n

Babyboiboyega’s Marvel Masterlist

Babyboiboyega’s Masterlist of Masterlists

It had slipped out, purely on accident; a result of hearing that Matt would be home earlier than usual and the excitement that it caused. You hadn’t even noticed the impact of your words until he had stopped, his eyebrows furrowing as his head tilted slightly. 

“What did you just say?”

You paused, directing a questioning gaze at him before replaying the words you had just spoken. The realization made your eyes widen.

“I…I think I said ‘I’ll see you at home.” You nodded once as if he could see you, and in an effort to make yourself more sure of the lie you had just come up with, you nodded again. 

Matt’s lips started to curl at the corners, and before long, a full blown grin was on his face. He pushed back from his desk, standing and walking around it until he stood right in front of you. 

You couldn’t have calmed your racing heartbeat if you tried; and even if you could, he’d have already picked up on it. Almost a year together and he still had this effect on you. 

Damn him and his charming grin, and his perfect lips, and his stupid suit, and his glasses-

“That’s not what I heard.” 

“‘That’s not what I heard’; well between us two, one of us makes it a habit to get punched repeatedly in the head, so maybe your hearing isn’t as good as you think it-oof-.”

In one smooth motion, he leaned back against his desk while grabbing your hands and pulling you with him. A huff left your mouth as your chest connected with his, but you couldn’t stop your own smile from forming.

“No, my hearing is just fine. And I know what I heard. Just like how I can hear your heart rate increasing right now.” He emphasized his words by guiding your hands to rest on his shoulders before letting his trail down your sides, lowering to your hips, and squeezing affectionately. Your eyes narrowed at him and the game he was playing.

“Matthew, we’re in your office. There are people outside.”

“Foggy and Karen went to get lunch. It’s just us.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to participate in this…delinquency.”

You lightly pinched his shoulder and he flinched dramatically, immediately easing your worries with the way his smile grew. Instead of pulling his hands back, he only pulled you closer until he could rest his chin on the center of your stomach. Without thinking, one of your hands raised and landed in his hair, lightly drawing your nails across his scalp. You may not have had his super hearing, but you felt the pleasant chill that raked his body at your actions, prompting you to continue with your motions.

“Delinquent or not, it doesn’t make any difference, because…”

His words trailed off and you furrowed your eyebrows. Your hand in his hair stopped, but all it took was a gentle nudge into the palm of your hand for you to continue.

“Because…of what?”

He seemed to be savoring the seconds between your question and the words he knew were about to come out of his mouth, but all the silence did was make you grow nervous. The look on his face could only be described as blissful, and anybody in his shoes would attest that “blissful” was the only word to describe this moment.

Matt was sitting in an amalgamation of sensations that emphasized your presence, something he could honestly sit in all day and night. Your signature scent that had a mixture of your soap and just a hint of his apartment paired with the feeling of your nails slightly dragging against his scalp almost had his eyes fluttering closed beneath his glasses. The steady rising and falling of your stomach made his slightly uncomfortable position worth it. But as much as he wanted to stay in the moment, he had to do something.

“Matthew Michael Murdock, because of what?”

“Sweetheart, can you take my glasses?” 

He could practically taste your confusion as you complied with what he asked, gently removing his glasses and setting them on his desk behind him. Your hands cupped his face and you let your thumbs rub across the stubble dotting his cheeks; a movement that was as natural as breathing to you.

Matt’s eyes radiated such a strong look of adoration and…love that it made your breath hitch. His smile softened.

“Just wanted you to see my eyes when I say…that I love you, too. More than anything.”

He didn’t need his sight to know that the smile that had taken over your lips was blinding in its entirety.

************************

Hope you all enjoyed this! Hopefully things will get to a point where my motivation is a little better and I can post more! I’m definitely continuing to write; but what I write is solely for my enjoyment, and I don’t exactly feel all that comfortable putting them out to the public.

What I can remind yall of is my other, other account (@finnlandiaaa) which is where I post what I write in my free time if its in “script” form (still have not found another name to call it). I literally only have one piece up on there, BUT it’d be cool if you check it out!

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine Frank Castle taking care of you during a depression spell.

You woke up when the alarm clock started to blare. It was time for Frank to get up and go to work. He did his usual thing, rolled over, gave you a kiss. You did your usual thing, complained about his morning breath, which would make him kiss you more to spite him. Then you’d lay there in bed while he got ready, grabbed the lunch that you made the night before, and then would go. Only things were a little different behind the scenes today. You didn’t care about his morning breath. You only brought it up because you did it every day. You almost forgot to make his lunch the night before, having to drag yourself up and do it after he turned in. A lot had been slipping your mind these days. A lot of things just didn’t feel as important as they used to.

You went back to sleep. Your own alarm went off an hour later. Work. You didn’t feel like getting up, going to your computer. You couldn’t even get yourself up to do anything, much less work from home. It just felt - like too much. Too stressful. You texted your boss, and then rolled over, fell asleep again.

Countless times throughout the day, you woke up. But you didn’t get up. You had to pee but - the bathroom seemed so far away. You just held it instead. You didn’t feel that hungry either. You just - stared out the window. You should have gone to work. You should have showered. Your hair was feeling a bit greasy. You should have done the dishes. They were piled up in the sink. You should have made lunch for yourself, but - no. No, you just didn’t feel like it. You didn’t want to do anything. Pee, eat, brush your teeth.

The door opened. The sky had darkened. Frank called out that he was home. You didn’t call back. You just pushed the blankets up over your head. Hiding. Ashamed. He found you in the bed after a minute, after you heard him searching through the kitchen. You heard him set something down. He sat on the bed, causing you to roll slightly towards him. He took the blankets off of you, forcing you to face him.

“You sick or something?” He asked. You shrugged. He pressed his lips to your forehead to take your temperature. An old trick. “You don’t feel sick.”

“I’m fine,” You said. “Just - feeling...”

“Oh,” Frank said. He understood. It had been a while since you had one of your lows. But these times still came. He kissed your forehead again, pushed your hair away from your face. “I got you one of those expensive fancy fuckin’ coffees you like. Why I gotta pay six bucks for a coffee and some whipped cream, I’ll never understand-” He passed you what he had set down before. Starbucks. Your favorite. The smell hit your nostrils and you wished you could say that it was enough to make you feel better but... You shook your head. He set it back down and looked at you. “So what am I going to do with you then?”

“It’s fine, Frank, it’s just a bad day. I’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“Too late for me,” He said. “Come on, get up.” Against your will, he took the blanket off of you, grabbed your arms and pulled you up like you were nothing more than a ragdoll. He threw you over his strong shower. “We’re getting you in the shower and then you are not putting that six dollars to waste.”

Requested by: Anonymous

[amberlynnmurdock]

Blind Faith

Chapter 8: Forgiveness

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: "So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets," Matthew 7:12.

Warnings: making out, angst, Matt's Catholic guilt and lack of accountability lol

Tags: @starry-night-20 @sumsytee @queerqueenlynn @mattmurdocksstarlight @marvelcinematiquniverse

Also, Ao3 link for anyone interested <3

Hell’s Kitchen 11 PM

It wasn’t right to keep coming to you at night, as Mike, when as your boss, everything had fallen apart. 

Matt fought with himself mentally ever since that night he last was with you—kissing your knee and giving you the space you needed. I shouldn’t be here anyway, he had told himself. Then why did he find himself crouched on his roof again, sensing with his hearing the path to your apartment? Why was he pacing back and forth on his roof, a tug of war between right and wrong, to make a decision? 

The whole thing was screwed up, he thought. He was pretending to be two different people with you: it wasn’t fair. As Matt Murdock, he had yelled at you and hurt your feelings. Of course, he wasn’t happy with himself. He let his feelings for you, as Mike, get the best of him. How was he supposed to react to hearing you’d put yourself in danger? 

God, the thought of you in that apartment complex, by yourself, with no weapon but that cheap can of mace you had on you the night he first met you. Something else echoed in Matt’s mind, that one night you’d taunted him with the willingness of throwing yourself in danger. “I’d walk into the depths of this city alone and in nothing but a sundress and wait for you to come to find me.” Matt shook his head at the memory, feeling his blood boil at the thought of you in danger, and him being absent. 

He was mad at the situation, mad at how he reacted, mad at himself. It felt really, really wrong, to ignore you in the office but still keep seeing you at night.

But if he stopped seeing you, even until things got better at the office, it might be suspicious. Especially since the two of you had fallen into a routine over the last few weeks. He wanted to apologize, to hold you and tell you the only reason he got upset was because the thought of you getting hurt made him nauseated, sick…but he can’t. Not as Mike. Not as your savior. He could only apologize to you as Matt, something he knew he had to do sooner than later.

Matt did find himself on your roof, soon enough. 

He waited for a few moments. You were in your room, wearing a soft hoodie and shorts. Your friends were just on their way out, but not before making sure you wanted to stay in. 

“Are you sure?” One of them whined. Matt listened closely to your breathing. 

“Yeah, I’ve got to study. Seriously,” You gently argued. You were half lying, Matt could tell. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards. 

“All right well, leave the kitchen light on for when we come back,” another one of them said. 

“Will do. Be safe,” you told your friends. 

Matt waited and tightened the mask on his face. He listened as your friends made their way down the elevator, onto the streets. Then, he heard you shuffle back inside your room. You slipped on your shoes and headed for the rooftop access. 

Matt waited for you by the door, head down. When he was immediately hit with your overwhelming sweet scent, he knew there was no turning back now. 

“Studying, huh?” Matt teased. 

He heard you sigh, not lightheartedly. Tiredly. 

“How can you hear that? I wasn’t lying to them,” you argued. “Not entirely.”

You stood in front of him, arms crossed. Matt gently uncrossed your arms, pulled you in, and held you tightly. He buried his face in the crook of your neck. Breathing in your sweet scent reminded him of the day he yelled at you. Well, it was always on his mind, but this transported him back to that moment. Not only was the sound of your heart banging in your chest overtaking his hearing, but it was everything else in how you reacted that became obvious to his senses: your nervous sweat, your voice quivering. The more he thought of it, the more guilty he felt. The more it became obvious he had to apologize and ask for your forgiveness. He’d get on his knees right now if he could. 

Why was he here? What was he doing to you? 

“What is it?” He suddenly heard you ask him against his chest. You stayed there for a moment until you pulled back, arms still around him. 

“Something’s bothering you,” Matt spoke softly. It’s bothering me, too. But maybe if I can talk to you like this, as Mike, I can understand. 

“Yeah…” you trailed off. “I don’t know. Do you wanna hear about it?” 

“Tell me.” 

You sighed, again, and ran a hand through your hair. 

“Well, I’m not sure you’ll be too happy either,” you began. “The other night, I was out with my friends. I wasn’t really in the mood, but I haven’t gone out in a while. It was at a Cathedral turned bar. You’d hate it—sacrilegious and whatnot. Anyway, I left to get fresh air and happened to be on the street of one of our client’s houses. I thought I’d be helping, taking pictures for her of her terrible, criminal-run apartment. But my one boss, Matt, got so mad at me,” you explained, defeated. “I’ve never been talked to like that by anyone.” 

Matt tried not to react when you said his real name. 

“Did he say why he was upset?” 

“I put myself in danger, he said. Sure, that might be true, but I did it because I wanted to help.” 

“His anger must have come from a place of wanting you to be safe,” Matt echoed his thoughts from earlier. “Maybe the very thought of you in danger is too much to bear.” 

“Well, that’s on me,” you argued, “if I want to do something risky.” 

“Your risks can affect others too, you know,” Matt replied. 

“It’s not like I mean anything to him—I’m just his summer legal assistant.” 

Oh, sweetheart. You are much more to me than that. 

“You don’t know that,” Matt whispered. 

“You wouldn’t have done the same thing I did?” You questioned. 

“I would’ve,” Matt answered truthfully, “but it’s different. You’re a young woman, who barely has experience defending herself.” 

“Well, we all start somewhere, don’t we?”

Matt ignored you. “I’m happy you are safe. You should let people know your whereabouts next time.” 

“I have the phone you gave me,” you argued. “I would’ve called you if anything had gone wrong.” 

“I—“ Matt struggled with his words, “I know. Still. Please,” Matt begged, reaching his fingertips to your jaw, “I need you to be safe.” 

You cursed under your breath, you were tired of hearing the same sentiments from everyone. 

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Matt asked. 

“I guess I just hope he can forgive me,” you confessed. “I think that’s what’s bothering me. The guilt. I thought… he could be a mentor or something for me. But I feel like it’s ruined now.” 

“If his anger came from a place of wanting you to be safe, I am sure he feels guilty for the way he handled it,” Matt said in a strained voice. “He will forgive you.”  

“I hope you’re right.” 

Matt found your lips, pressing a light kiss on you. You slowly pulled back, feeling his lips detach from yours. 

“I am,” he whispered. 

Truthfully, it wasn’t about Matt forgiving you—it was more if you would be willing to forgive him. 

⣿⣿⣿⣿

You woke up slowly, then all at once. You had that strange feeling you got when your dream slowly fizzled into reality—it took you a moment to realize the startling beeping came from your phone alarm. 6:30 AM. Well, you didn’t want to admit it, but you knew there was no avoiding going in early for work this morning. And that meant possibly sharing the office space with Matt. 

It’s been a couple of days since he scolded you for taking pictures at Ms. Cruz’s apartment. You tried avoiding him at the office during this time, walking quickly past him when you had to, dropping his files off on his desk before he arrived, or shortly after he left…Karen told you she talked to him and said he would be apologizing, but that hasn’t come yet. You wondered if it ever would. Not that you really needed it; you just wanted things to go back to how they were. 

On your way to work, you took your time walking up the blocks of Hell’s Kitchen—you passed a bodega and went inside to grab some coffee for the office and some snacks as well: mini donuts and pastries. The old man at the counter smiled graciously at you as you dropped the change into his tip bucket. Small things like this made you feel better about heading into work. 

As predicted, you were the first person to arrive at 7:30 AM. You locked the door as you usually did and began to unpack what you bought from the bodega. You placed the box of donuts and pastries in the middle of the kitchen counter and began to refill the coffee machine. Walking to your desk, you booted up your laptop as you waited for the coffee to brew. 

Then came a knock. 

You looked up with feline reflexes and saw Matt’s silhouette in the window. His head was low as he waited for you to open up for him. After a deep breath, you walked over to let him inside.

“Good morning,” you greeted in a weaker voice than you anticipated. 

Matt pressed his lips together, in an attempt to grin. “Morning.” 

You shut the door, not locking it. 

You stood by for a moment, your hand on your opposite elbow, Matt’s back to you. You watched as he undid his jacket and hung it on the coat rack. He pulled his cane apart and felt for his jacket pocket, slipping it inside. He paused for a moment.

“How are you?” He asked turning his head. You could see his eyes peek from behind his dark red glasses. You moved your eyes to the floor. 

“Good,” you lied, “how are you?” 

“I’m all right,” he answered. “You got more coffee?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It should be done in a bit.” 

“Okay,” Matt breathed. He placed a hand on the door frame of his office and kept his other at his waist. Suddenly, everything in the office felt tense, like you were standing in the middle of an invisible fog. You didn’t need to see it to feel it. And frankly, Matt probably didn’t either. His head was low like he was thinking of what to say. 

“When it’s done,” he began, “would you come into my office? So I can talk to you?” 

“Yeah,” you replied as lightly as you could. Hopeful. “That's fine.” 

You wanted the coffee machine to hurry up from that point on. You poured two cups of coffee—black—and entered Matt’s office, shutting the door behind you. You placed a cup in front of him, to his surprise. 

“It’s black,” you told him with a small smile. He smiled in return, moving it to the side. 

“Thank you.” 

Your cup burned in your hands, so you placed it on his desk as well. 

Matt said your name, ever so softly. You’ve never heard his voice like this. He’s spoken to you kindly before—but not softly. 

“I’m sorry for how I reacted earlier this week. I know it was unprofessional. And I know it hurt you, for me to lose my temper like that,” Matt began. He shifted behind his desk and fiddled with his tie like it was too tight around his neck. 

“I want you to know that it came from a place of wanting to keep you safe. This firm has seen the worst of Wilson Fisk. I know Karen told you about Mrs. Cardenas. And while Fisk may not have his power anymore, there’s still evil in every corner of this city. I was more upset about me not knowing you were there. And I couldn’t bare to think of what could’ve happened if anything went wrong, and I wasn’t—none of us knew,” Matt pleaded, fingers interlocked. He sighed, at the mention of what could’ve gone wrong, like the thought of it actually pained him. You felt guilty, to an extent. He was right in some ways. 

“I understand, Matt,” you spoke softly, “I know I should’ve called someone. Like I said, I wasn’t planning on doing it. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. But now I know better, to consult with you or Karen or Foggy.” 

“Honestly, I… can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same. But, please, next time, let us know. That’s all. I really… really can’t fathom if… if…” 

“I know,” you finished his thought for him. “I get it. Thank you for talking to me about it, Matt. I really appreciate it.” 

“And… I hope you can forgive me, for how I reacted. It wasn’t right. I know that,” Matt shook his head, sort of defeated. 

“Of course, I do—as long as you forgive me for going behind everyone’s back.” 

Matt held out his hand in response. You hesitated and then shook it. His hand felt surprisingly soft but strong. It was cold. He slowly retreated his hand. He smiled warmly and slid the coffee cup back in front of him. Then, a worried expression fell on his face again. 

“Your arm,” he mentioned, “I remember Karen said it was bruised. Is it okay now?” 

You’d almost forgotten about your tattoo-like bruise. It was beginning to fade, changing from blue and purple to green and yellow. It didn’t hurt anymore. 

“Oh,” you said, “yeah, it’s getting better. It doesn’t hurt.” 

“Good,” Matt nodded. 

You sat up from the chair and began to walk out, but Matt’s voice stopped you again. 

“I’m sorry,” Matt said again, “just so you know that I really regret speaking to you that way.”

You exhaled, truly feeling like a weight had been lifted off your chest. “It’s really okay, Matt. I’m just glad we can move forward.” 

He smiled and turned his attention to his Orbit reader. 

The rest of the morning went by better than you could imagine. It didn’t have to be said that Matt apologized—it was a clear indication that things were fine when Foggy and Karen noticed you going back and forth to Matt’s office, with questions about his cases and offering help on any writing. 

Things became even more solidified that all was well when Matt left a gift on your desk for you at the end of the day: a brand new leather-bound legal notepad. The color red. 

⣿⣿⣿⣿ 11:30 PM 

Now that you felt everything in your professional life was fine again, you easily fell into the warmth and excitement of seeing Mike at night. For a little, it was hard to push those things aside but walking up the steps to the rooftop access, you felt as light as a feather. 

There he was, your creature of the night, stalking the roof with his hands behind his back, dressed all in black. His face was half covered, a comfort you’ve grown used to, a feeling you knew would be hard to detach from, if you ever had to. He smiled when you entered into his graces. You grabbed him by his jaw and kissed him, hard. 

“You seem in a better mood,” Mike smiled against your kiss. You ignored him and kissed him more. 

“I am,” you affirmed, running your hands along the length of his torso. “How about you, Catholic guilt?” 

Mike laughed, and you felt the vibrations in his chest. He snaked his arms around your waist and held you against him. You moved your head so your neck was exposed. Mike ran the tip of his nose along the side of your neck, peppering kisses along the way. He stopped when he reached your ear, gently tugging it with his teeth. 

“I can never be in a bad mood when I’m with you,” he murmured in your ear. You shivered against him.

“You sure you don’t say this to all the girls you’ve saved before?” You smirked. “Our meetings have started much later lately.”

Mike growled in your ear as he held you even tighter, the joke of him being with anyone else other than you triggering him. “You’re my first stop, my last, and my only,” he said in a husky tone. He kissed your neck and pulled your hair to guide your lips to his. He kissed you and slid his tongue into your mouth. You graciously accepted. He was kissing you like he’s never kissed you before. He ran his fingers through your hair and rested his hands on the small of your back. 

“Mike,” you pulled back, breathlessly, “you know what I was thinking recently? And by recently, I mean, just moments before this?” 

“What, sweetheart?” 

“Sometimes, well, frequently, I really worry about you. I know you’ve been doing this a while, but now I feel like I have a hand in this fight. I…I’m attached to you. I feel safe with you. I worry about you.”

Mike’s jaw clenched as you spoke. Did you upset him, in some way? By being honest? 

“I know you say you worry about me and want me to be safe, but that goes both ways now. You know what I mean?” You continued, reaching up to run your finger over his bottom lip. Mike seemed to melt at the touch, unclenching his jaw. 

“Yeah,” he answered softly, “I know.” 

“I just thought you should know that now.” 

“Forgive me,” he answered almost instantly, taking your hand from his face and holding it. “For making you feel that way.” 

You looked at him confused. He kissed your knuckles.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you said breathlessly. 

Oh, but only if you knew what there was. 

[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

Sparks Fly

Click here for my masterlist.

Click here to add yourself to my taglist.

Prompt - ‘I run my fingers through your hair and watch the lights go wild.’

Warnings / This fic contains smut - you can skip it if you want, you won’t miss anything!💜

Notes - Happy Speak Now month! Request a fic for any of the remaining Speak Now tracks, click my masterlist to see which songs are left!!💜

The problem with Matt Murdock was that you had known from the moment you had met him that he was a bad idea. At first he had been all pleasant smiles and soft words but once you had gotten to know him his words turned flirty and his smiles were charmingly attractive. You were glad for the fact he couldn’t see you, glad for the fact he could never witness you blush under his gaze, see as you shifted in your seat or watch the way your breath hitched when he stood too close.

Everything about Matt was a bad idea, falling for him was the worst one though. As much as that man loved flirting with you and everyone else in his general vicinity, you knew at the first sign of real feelings he would run and hide, ignoring it because he was so scared of something you didn’t understand.

You’d met Matt by chance, running into Foggy first after your boss rented out the office space opposite theirs and he invited you inside. The two of you were fast friends but meeting Matt, letting his hand wrap around yours as he introduced himself, feeling sparks between you, you had known then and there it was a bad idea to stick around Nelson and Murdock and yet after that first day you seemed to spend more time in their office than you did your own.

It went on for months, Matt oblivious to how you felt whilst you silently pined. You couldn’t count how many times you’d lost yourself in a daydream, your traitorous thoughts creating all sorts of impossible scenarios where Matt would just grab you, pull you close and kiss you until your lips were swollen and you struggled to breathe.

You knew Matt was a good person, even if he did have a reckless streak, one you’d bore witness to yourself and heard about in length from Foggy. You knew that he would never date somebody seriously, preferring to sleep around rather than stay with one person, you knew you should let go of your crush for him but it was impossible.

Some days you were convinced Matt knew how you felt. When the three of you went to a bar together after work and he sat a little too close to you, his knees brushing against yours and your arms rested against each other. You knew he couldn’t see the way you glanced at the way he sat so close, knew he couldn’t see your smile as you resisted the urge to shift close and yet you always caught a smirk on his face aimed in your direction, some flirty comment following it.

It didn’t matter because you knew for Matt it wasn’t nothing but a fun little game to flirt the night away with you. It didn’t matter how much you told yourself it was just a crush when you knew your feelings went beyond that because nothing would come from them.

“Let me walk you home.” Matt insisted like he did after every night spent at the bar. It had been over a year since you’d met him and he had never once failed to make sure you got home safe, despite your insistence that you’d be fine.

“You don’t have to.” You told him, a scripted response that Matt had come to expect in the time he’d known you and you didn’t need to see him without the red tinted glasses to see he was rolling his eyes behind them.

“I’m gonna walk you home.” He grinned at you causing you to laugh as he headed off in the direction of your apartment, you following him straight away.

Matt walked by your side, close enough that if you were brave enough you’d be able to reach out and brush your hand against his, thread your fingers together and feel his hand against yours. He was close enough that if you turned to face him and leaned up you could press your lips to his.

He was close enough to touch and yet the distance between you seemed wider than ever.

“Everything ok?” Matt asked softly, startling you out of your thoughts and you prayed that he hadn’t somehow been able to tell what you had been thinking about.

“Sorry, lost in my own head.” You chucked, hoping he’d let you brush it off and change the subject but Matt was never one for letting the people he cared about suffer, always wanting to do something to make it better.

“Seems to happen a lot.” Matt stated and you tensed slightly, Matt noticing straight away but he didn’t let it show. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

Did you know that? Sure, of course you did, you could talk to Matt about anything, anything except for the fact you were in love with him, anything expect for the fact that all you could think about was him kissing you right now on the sidewalk, how you wanted nothing more than for him to tell you that he felt the same way.

“I know.” You smiled, letting all the things you most desperately wanted to say go unsaid. “But there’s nothing to talk about.”

Matt clearly didn’t buy it if the frown on his face was anything to go by and as much as you hated putting it there, as much as you hated lying to him you knew it was easier this way. Losing Matt would hurt infinitely more than silently wishing for him.

Matt knew what was eating you up, he knew that you were as desperate for him as he was for you. If it had been anyone else, if he had met you years ago he wouldn’t have hesitated to cup your cheek and drag you in for a kiss, he wouldn’t have given a second thought to taking you to bed, he wouldn’t have wasted any time in making you his.

But it wasn’t years before, it was now and now he had Daredevil in his life. He couldn’t risk another person getting hurt because of him, he was already risking more than he’d like with Foggy knowing but you…he couldn’t risk anything happening to you because of him.

And yet he wanted you. He wanted you so bad. Hearing your heart rate speed up when he brushed his hand against yours, feeling the heat spread to your cheeks when he made a suggestive comment, hearing the way your breathing hitched when he wrapped his arm through yours, knowing you wanted him was driving him crazy.

He felt like a man starved when it came to you, barely holding back from his desires to just give in and kiss you, to feel how good you felt for him, he wanted you. He knew he had feelings for you and all he wanted to do was act on them.

The rain started to fall when you were five blocks from your apartment and began to pour down by the time you were two blocks away. Matt’s hand found yours and you felt the same familiar sparks you always seemed to feel whenever he touched you shoot through your hand.

Matt took off in a run and you had no choice but to follow after him, the two of you laughing and gasping for breath by the time you stood under the small roof at the door of your apartment complex.

The rain had stuck Matt’s suit to him, his hair flat against his head as droplets fell down his cheek and nose. You wanted to reach out and brush his face, wanted to follow the path of the rain drops and trail kisses all the way down to his lips.

Matt could hear the way your heart had sped up even more, having nothing to do with the rain and everything to do with whatever thoughts were running through your head. He wanted to know what you were thinking, wanted to give you whatever you wanted, he was torn, so close to throwing everything out the window and giving in.

The two of you went silent as you turned to each other, your eyes drawn to Matt’s lips and you watched as he ducked his head, watched as he went to lean in before you closed your eyes.

“I should go.” Matt breathed out and you bit back a huff of disappointment, letting your eyes open to look at his sad smile.

“Okay.” You murmured, debating on whether you should be the one to take the risk and close the distance between you, suddenly so sure that Matt wanted you, but you weren’t brave enough.

You knew you’d spend the rest of your life regretting that.

You didn’t want to spend the rest of your life regretting it though, even if Matt couldn’t give you what you wanted you knew he wanted at least one night with you and you’d do anything for it, anything to feel how electric Matt’s kisses were, anything to feel how good his hands running along your body could feel, anything to run your fingers through his hair to pull him into a kiss.

You watched as Matt stepped out into the rain, watched him walk to the end of your street before freezing. You decided you were going to be brave, didn’t let your mind become overwhelmed with all the reasons this was a bad idea and instead followed him out in the rain, feeling a shiver run down your spine and not knowing whether it was from anticipation or the cold.

Matt seemed to have the same idea, turning around on his heel and meeting you halfway, cupping your face in his hands and practically smashing your lips together in a rushed and messy kiss, your noses knocking against each other as your hands gripped his wet suit.

The kiss was everything you had thought it was going to be, if you thought Matt brushing against your hand was enough to send a rush of electricity through you then it wasn’t nothing compared to the sparks flying as he kissed you.

The two of you stayed out in the rain kissing until you had to pull away for air, both of you drenched through but not even noticing as Matt rested his forehead against yours, the two of you breathing heavily against each other.

Matt gave you a second longer to catch your breath before his lips were on yours again, this time his hands found your hips and he nudged you until you were walking backwards towards your apartment, Matt managing to pull himself away so you could open the door before he attached himself to you again, the two of you somehow managing to get up the stairs without breaking apart.

Matt slammed your back into the door, pulling away from your lips to nip at your neck, trailing kisses and pausing to suck bruises into the skin causing you to muffle soft moans as you tried several times to open your apartment door.

Once you were inside Matt wasted no time moving you both to the bedroom, by the time the two of you got there you had both been stripped off your wet clothes and left only in your underwear. Matt sat down on the bed first and pulled you on top of him so that you were straddling him, feeling how hard he was for you.

You moaned as you ran your fingers through his hair, he wet locks tangling around your fingers and you tighten your grip to pull him into another rough kiss, Matt groaning into as you grinded against him, his hand moving towards your hips and dragging you closer, bucking up into you.

“Fuck Y/N, need you so bad.” Matt grunted into your neck when you finally pulled away from each other, his hands running up and down your body causing you to moan.

You shifted down Matt’s body, trailing kisses down his chest until you settled in between his legs, wasting no time in removing his boxers and moaning at the sight of his hard cock, already leaking with pre-cum.

Matt couldn’t stop himself from thrusting into your mouth when your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, forcing his dick half way into you before he restrained himself, listening as you choked and moaning loudly, his hands gripping your hair as you took a breath before you started sucking on his cock like you were made for it.

Matt felt himself hit the back of your throat, moaning even louder as he felt you relax and take him even further. You were making such a mess, he could feel your drool all over his cock, leaking from your mouth and down your chin, he could feel your gaze on him, knew your eyes would be bright and wide especially when he stilled you with the hand in your hair and took over, letting himself lose control as he thrusted himself deep into your mouth.

He had to force himself to pull out before he made an even bigger mess on your face, tempting as the thought was, he needed to be inside of you, needed to feel how good you felt on his cock.

Matt shifted you so that you were laying underneath him, as he settled in between your legs he dipped his head down to smash his lips against yours and feeling the mess you had made had him groaning into it before he pulled away.

You moaned loudly when you felt the head of Matt’s cock pushing at your entrance, spreading you open and stretching you wide. Your hand gripped the bedsheet as you felt him push deeper into you, already feeling fuller than you’d ever felt before he was fully inside you.

Matt kissed you again as he pushed his cock fully inside you, feeling the way you stretched perfectly around him, unable to stop the moans and grunts that escaped him. You were so tight on his cock, the little gasped breaths that left you as he stretched you out ran straight to his cock.

The way he could hear your heart hammering against your chest had him thrusting into you after giving you a minute to adjust to him and you were crying out in pleasure as he set a rough pace, slamming in and out of you like he couldn’t control himself, his fingers rubbing against your clit causing your toes to curl and back to arch as you fisted the sheets and moaned mindlessly.

Matt trailed kissed down to your neck, tasting sweat against your skin as your head fell to the side and he wasted no time in covering your skin in even more bruises, marking you as his whilst he slammed into you, whispering praises, telling you how good you felt, how perfect you were, how much he loved feeling you on his cock.

Eventually it was all too much for you and your hands found Matt’s shoulders, fingers digging into his skin as you felt yourself come apart, practically seeing sparks fly as you came on his cock whilst he continued thrusting into your sensitive pussy, his fingers still rubbing at your clit causing you to whimper and gasp.

Matt continued thrusting into you, feeling like he was in heaven when he felt you cumming all over his cock and lasted only a few moments longer before he stilled, burying his face in your neck and cumming inside you, giving a few lazy thrusts before he managed to pull himself out of you.

You felt a trail of cum leave your pussy, groaning at how empty you felt now that Matt had left you, the man laying on top of you and trailing lazy kisses along your chest, your hands moving up into his hair, running your fingers through it gently and smiling as he leaned into your touch.

“What is this?” You couldn’t help but ask after a while, keeping your voice soft so as not to disturb the peace between you.

Matt knew he couldn’t leave now, not now that he had had you. He wanted you to be with him, he wanted to be with you in every way possible. He’d do everything he could to protect you, to keep Daredevil and the trouble that seemed to follow the masked vigilante far away from you.

“I love you.” Matt confessed, smiling as he felt your heart stutter before speeding up. “I was scared but I love you, Y/N/N, I want you to be mine.”

“I’d like that.” You murmured, letting your lips press against his hair. “I love you too.”

You were ecstatic, for so long you had thought you would never know what it would be like to have Matt feel anything other than friendship for you and now he was here, in your bed, telling you he loved you. It was better than all your wildest dreams, holding Matt close and falling asleep in his arms, glad you had been brave enough and knowing you wouldn’t have to live the rest of your life wondering what would have happened if you’d just kissed him in the pouring rain.

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[fandom-imagines-stories]

Running in the Dark

Matt Murdock x Reader

Words: 4139

Summary: The reader’s work as a decoy for one of Matt’s clients puts her in some hot water with her boyfriend- as well as a jealous ex-husband who has connections more dangerous than anyone could have imagined. 

Notes: This one honestly came about when I was walking around my campus at night. I literally pictured Matt watching over me from the top of the Humanities building. Yes, I am doing fine, how are you?

Warnings: Violence, general peril (I just love making the reader get herself into trouble, don’t I?)

More Matt Murdock: HERE

-

You knew he was there. Your eyes scanned the rooftops of the buildings enclosing you. Even though you couldn’t see him, you could feel him. Standing. Watching. Waiting. You could practically hear his frustrated pacing, his furious objections.

“This is a bad idea. There are other ways. Safer ways. You don’t need to do this.” 

All things he had said before tonight. 

But this was about more than just playing decoy so a woman could be free of her abusive ex-husband. 

This was about what that piece of shit could do for them. 

You may not have been able to hear him, but you knew he could hear you. So, as you pulled Nancy Bartman’s door closed and your hood further over your face- careful to let your hair show- you muttered up at the figure hiding in the shadows. 

“Back. Off.” 

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You ignored it. 

Jogging at night in Hell’s Kitchen alone was a risk all on its own. Every alley you passed seemed to lurk with some unseen threat. Every shifting sound put you on edge. 

God, you were turning into Matt. 

You turned the corner to the street where Detective Morrow was waiting in a dark Sudan. If this didn’t work, everything could go back to square one. They had to catch this guy. You had to catch this guy. He knew something. Nancy wouldn’t say what, but you could tell she was holding something back. Bartman was the key. You could just feel it. 

The Sudan crept forward, keeping far enough away to not look suspicious, but close enough to give you a crumb of comfort. 

You could do this. 

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“Says the one who misses date night to go after crime bosses.”

You couldn’t wait to see the look on Matt’s face when this was over. His mild annoyance of being wrong overshadowed by pride. Proud that his girlfriend had made a difference. That you had not only helped a woman in need but also got them one step closer to catching the bigger villain here. Fisk. 

You could do this. 

A hand pulled you into the alley. 

“Did you think it would be this easy, Nance?” Corey Bartman hissed into your ear, pinning you against the brick. “Did you think you could just leave me like that?”

You lifted your head, letting your hood fall back. “You’re never going to hurt your wife again, Corey,” you spat. 

The man’s eyes widened, then filled with rage. “Why you little bitch-”

You heard the flick of a switchblade. 

“Corey Bartman, you’re under arrest!” Detective Morrow’s boomed. 

Corey flipped you around, arm across your chest, and switchblade at your throat. Morrow raised her gun, as did the other cops. 

No no no, you needed him alive. 

“Drop the knife, Mr. Bartman,” Morrow ordered. “This is not how you want this to end.” 

“Don’t be stupid, Corey,” you muttered, trying to swallow without cutting yourself. You lowered your voice to a whisper, your words meant for a different presence. You could feel him, looming from one of the above rooftops. If Corey went any further, he would reveal himself and that would be a whole other problem.  “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“What did you say to me?” Corey snapped, tugging you closer. The blade dug just enough into your neck to break skin. You winced. 

Matt would smell the blood. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you said again, hoping he would listen. 

“You can come back from this, Mr. Bartman,” Morrow said. She stepped closer, eyes meeting yours. “But not if you hurt her.”

You gave her a small nod, feeling the blood drip down your neck. 

Bartman gripped you, his hot breath on your ear. “This isn’t over.” 

He let you go. 

You couldn’t help the sigh of relief, pushing yourself away from him as Morrow pushed him against the wall and cuffed him. 

“You okay, Y/L/N?” She asked. “Theo, call a bus!”

“No, I’m fine,” you said. “Really. It’s just a scratch.” 

She handed Morrow off to another officer to put him in the car. “Are you sure? That looks like it hurts.”

“Nothing a little whiskey won’t help,” you smirked. 

“Yeah well, go get yourself a drink then.” She gave you a smile and put a hand on your shoulder. “You earned it.” She started to walk away, turning back. “I expect you bright and early at the station to give a statement though.”

You gave her a mock salute. “Yes ma’am.”

Morrow joined the rest of her team. You sagged back against the wall. 

“I know you’re there,” you breathed out. 

A gloved hand pulled you further into the alley, out of sight from the others. The hand lifted to your neck, just below your new wound. 

“He hurt you,” Matt growled. His other hand held onto your arm, holding you to him. “Morrow shouldn’t have let it get that far. He could have…” Matt trailed off. What if Bartman had done worse? What if he didn’t have time to stop him? 

“Hey,” you said softly, laying your own hand on his cheek, feeling the fabric of the mask under your fingers. “I’m okay.” You checked to make sure no one was coming, then brought his lips down to yours. When you pulled back again, you were smiling. “We got him.” 

Matt couldn’t help but return your grin. “You got him.” 

“I told you I would.” You poked his chest teasingly. “It was unwise to doubt me.”

“I never said I doubted you.”

“It was heavily implied,” you laughed, making yourself wince from the sting in your neck. 

Matt’s expression softened under his mask. “Come on. We should get that cleaned.”

You didn’t argue this time, letting him lead you back home. 

-

It had been a long night for both of you. By the time you got back to Matt’s apartment, exhaustion sagged in your shoulders and weighed in his steps. You breathed in the familiar air like you were drinking water in the desert. Matt’s hand found the small of your back, guiding you to the couch while he grabbed his first aid kit. 

“Really, Matt, it’s just a scratch,” you insisted. 

He didn’t listen, finding a cloth to dab at the now-drying blood on your neck. You winced a little, the alcohol stinging the open cut. 

Neither of you said anything. The silence hurt more than the cut did. 

“I know you’re upset,” you started softly. “But I told Nancy I would help to keep her safe. Now, she is.” 

Matt stayed quiet, putting the kit away. 

“Matt, please. I knew what I was doing.” You reached for him, fingers grazing his arm. “And I knew you were there, watching over me. I knew that I was safe.” 

In one quick motion, Matt pulled you into his arms. It almost felt like he was shaking. 

“Don’t scare me like that again,” he whispered into your hair. “Please.” 

You sat, shocked for a second. Then, you wrapped your arms around him, running a soothing hand up his back. 

“I’ll try my best,” you teased, pulling away to look into those perfect dark, unfocused eyes. “I’m okay, Matty.” 

Matt’s hands cupped your face, gently bringing your lips to his as if to remind himself you were here. You weren’t hurt, not too badly anyway. He hadn’t lost you. You were here. 

“I’m okay,” you said again against his lips. 

Matt pulled you into his lap, your legs on either side of his hips. 

“We should get some rest,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. “I’ve got a big day tomorrow thanks to you.”

You bit your lip to contain your giggling. “You’re welcome.” 

Matt’s hand found the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair. 

You leaned into his touch. “You’re right, though.” You pulled away from him, smirking. “We really should get some sleep.” 

His head fell back against the couch, a deep chuckle rumbling from his chest. Matt listened as the zipper of your sweatshirt, the fabric brushing over your skin as you took it off, walking toward the bedroom. 

“Are you coming or not?” You asked. 

In a blink, Matt was on his feet and following. 

-

Tangled limbs, sweat-stained sheets, and the memory of sighs filling the space enveloped you as you fell asleep. Matt kept his arms around you, as if afraid you’d run off and do something stupid. Not that sneaking out was ever an option with him. The problem with dating someone with enhanced senses. An overprotective someone who didn’t like it when you did your job because it occasionally put you in dangerous situations. Dangerous situations that you were perfectly capable of getting yourself out of. 

These were the thoughts running through your head as you stared up at the ceiling, Matt’s head against your stomach, his arms draped around your waist. 

Then, Bartman crept into your mind. And with him, came Fisk. 

Fisk. 

Bartman could have papers, maybe even whole files tying him to Fisk’s operation. But they would be at his apartment. The apartment that now lay empty with its inhabitant locked up. But Fisk would send someone… if he hadn’t already. 

You sat up slowly, trying to keep from moving Matt’s arm too much. 

If you could get to the apartment first, if you could find something, anything that could incriminate Fisk, you could wrap this up tonight. In and out under the cover of dark. Easy. 

“Where are you going?” 

You flinched. Maybe not so easy. 

Matt sat up beside you, kissing your shoulder. “Hmm?”

“My apartment?” God, even if he didn’t hear your heartbeat, that was unconvincing. You started to stand, but Matt gently grabbed your arm. 

“You want to go over there,” he said softly. 

You sighed. “There’s a lot of information just ripe for the taking.”

“So breaking and entering, theft, and pissing off a guy who beats his tenants into leaving is your plan?” 

“Well, I think we’re well past the pissing him off stage,” you said. 

Matt frowned. 

“All the more reason you need to stay here.” He moved closer to you, but you stood up. If he held you, you would let him. And you needed to work.

“I can’t just let this lie, Matt. He hurt people. Innocent families. And he did it all for Fisk.” You ran a hand through your hair, gathering and putting your clothes back on. “We have a chance to take them both down.”

Matt stood as well, putting his hands on your arms. “You’ve done enough. You helped them catch Bartman. Let the detective do the rest.”

You pushed him away. “You mean let you do the rest.” You crossed your arms, keeping just out of his reach. “You don’t get to lecture me about being safe when you go out there and do the exact same thing.” 

“Because I know how to take care of myself, Y/N,” Matt fired back. “You go out there, unarmed and unprepared and you might as well be digging your own-”

“I am not helpless!” You screamed, cutting him off. “I don’t need protection, I don’t need to be coddled, and I don’t need you.” 

As soon as you said the words, you felt them sink in, watching Matt’s face fall. He took a breath, squared back his shoulders, and his features hardened again. 

“Fine,” he said, concerningly calm. 

You were shaking from the raging mix of emotions inside you and it infuriated you to know that he could tell. He knew every tick, every clue to how you worked. And you knew so little about him. 

 “Fine,” you snapped. You turned, grabbing your keys. 

“Y/N, wait-” Matt started, his voice tinged with worry. 

But you were already gone. 

-

The sun hadn’t yet risen and the streetlights gave the world a menacing, muted yellow glow. You walked with your arms crossed over your chest, hands tucked under your arms to ward off the cold, and your sweatshirt hood pulled up. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being followed and it made you shiver more than the early morning air. 

“I swear to god, Matt,” you muttered to yourself, but, of course, there was no answer. You kept walking, head down and eyes searching. It wasn’t hard to find Bartman’s apartment again. You’d gone over it so many times with the detective that it felt like you’d been there a million times, even if you had never set foot inside. 

You went down the list, pressing each buzzer until someone let you in. It surprised you a little. After everything Bartman had put his tenants through, you expected them to be a little more cautious of who they let in. Maybe they didn’t have the energy to care anymore. After all, if the evil comes from within, what outside could be worse?

Going up the stairs, that creeping sense that made your hair stand on edge never went away. It was like someone was following right behind you, breathing down your neck. This wasn’t Matt. That was for sure. When he followed you, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, you knew it was to keep you safe. It wasn’t overbearing or dark. As annoying as it was sometimes that he didn’t trust you could take care of yourself, you always felt warmth in his presence. Like nothing could happen to you. 

This feeling wanted to hurt you. It wanted you scared. It wanted you to run. 

You picked the lock to Bartman’s apartment quickly and slipped inside. 

Everything was dark and the heater rattled and sputtered, doing little to warm up the frigid room. Many of the light fixtures lacked bulbs, probably to save on electricity. He was cheap with his building, so you weren’t entirely surprised to find he skimped on his own living situation. Besides, Fisk probably promised him a palace compared to this place. 

You turned on the flashlight on your phone and swept over the various, disgusting surfaces. You didn’t want to know what most of the stains on the tables and counters and floors were. When Fisk found men to do his dirty work, they certainly were dirty. 

Through the mess, you found what looked like it could have been a desk in another, cleaner life, and started going through the drawers. All you needed was something, anything that could connect Fisk’s companies and accounts to Bartman. Even if it was just a simple check, it could be enough for a warrant or at least an investigation into Fisk. 

As you rummaged around, the door clicked open and shut behind you. 

“I was hoping I’d get to see you again.” 

Your shoulders tensed. Your hand slowly reached for the taser in your pocket. 

“It was a clever trick, you know.” Bartman stepped toward you, flicking on one of the lamps that retained their bulb. “You look like her.” He took another step. “You’ve got that same bitchiness when you walk. Like you’re better than everyone. Better than me.” He ran a thumb across his bottom lip. “Still… you just happen to be my type, sweetheart.” 

“Stay away from me, Mr. Bartman.” 

“You pretended to be my wife, you can at least call me by my first name.” He held out his hand with a mocking grin. “Jerry Bartman. I would say it’s a pleasure, but it won’t be for you.” 

You backed away, but your back hit the desk behind you. 

There was nowhere to run. 

Shit.

“Who made your bail, Mr. Bartman?” You asked pointedly.

He just chuckled, looming over you. “I’ve got friends in high places, little girl.” His eyes fell behind you to an envelope sticking out of the bottom drawer. 

Bingo. 

“Thank you,” you said, regaining a little of your confidence. “For being such an idiot.”

You jammed the taser into his side, listening to it crackle against his flesh. He yelped and stumbled backward, giving you enough time to grab the envelope and dart for the door. 

His hand caught your ankle first, yanking you to the hard, uncarpeted floor. You landed on your right arm and felt something crack. Your scream was cut off by a kick to your stomach. 

“You…. little… bitch…” Bartman gasped out, holding his side with one hand and pulling back for another hit with the other. 

The door opened. 

Bartman looked up. 

The shot.

The blood. 

The body landed on top of you with crushing force, knocking the scream out of your lungs. 

As the tears cleared from your vision, you saw the man standing over you, dressed in black, with an indifferent expression painting his features. You scrambled to push Bartman’s lifeless form off of you. 

“Shame,” he said. He sounded bored. Like your life was little more than a nuisance he had to deal with. “And you’ve been so helpful getting him out of our way.” 

He raised his gun. 

Not knowing what else to do, you ran towards him, ramming into his ribs with your shoulder and making your arm scream from the secondary impact. He grunted and the second gunshot echoed through the apartment, finding its mark in the lamp bulb, shattering the only light in the apartment. 

You were plunged back into darkness, but so was your attacker. 

Remember what Matt taught you. Feel the air move. Listen to the smallest sounds. And never, ever let your guard down. 

A stumbling step signaled you to the man’s swing, allowing you to dive out of the way before his fist could collide with your already sore ribs. 

“What the hell?” He hissed. He reloaded his gun. 

You kept low and moved quickly, holding your throbbing arm against your torso. Judging by the thundering steps and the sound of him stumbling into things, Bartman’s killer was completely blinded by the dark. 

You ducked into the hallway and found it almost as dark as the room before. Someone had shut off the lights to the whole building. The only light was the EXIT sign at the end of the hall, tinting everything in a deep, menacing red. You could hear Mr. Trigger Happy still coming after you, and debated between your two escapes; down the stairs to hide on one of the lower floors, or out onto the faster fire escape, but left you exposed. 

You ran to the red sign. 

A quiet scream escaped your throat, a hand grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the exit. Your mouth was covered by a hand before you could scream again. Your back hit something firm behind you and an arm locked across your chest, holding you tightly. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay it’s me,” Matt whispered, his breath hot against the back of your neck, breathing heavily like he’d run here. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.” 

You whipped around, his arms wrapping around you, caging you safely in his embrace. 

“Matt,” you gasped, voice low so only he would hear. “They killed him. Fisk. He sent someone. He killed Bartman.” You shook in his hold, turning your head to try and look down the dark hallway. “There has to be more of them. We need to get out of here before they come.” 

Matt gently pushed you back, one hand firmly on your shoulder, the other gentle, softly tracing down your cheek. He could feel your heart racing, your broken bone scraping against itself, your cracked ribs creaking with every scared breath. Every sound only amplified in his chest. 

“Where is he?” He growled, feeling his anger bubbling over. 

“He isn’t important,” you said, a small smile breaking through your panic. You held up the envelope. “I think I found something. Bartman didn’t want me to find this and, clearly, this creep didn’t either.”

Matt shook his head, the black fabric of his mask molding to his hard expression. 

“Did Fisk’s man see you?” 

You swallowed. 

Your silence was enough. 

Matt moved you behind the wall, concealing you in a dark corner, and started back toward Bartman’s apartment. 

“Stay here,” he said. 

“Like hell,” you snapped. Tucking the envelope into your back waistband, you hurried after him. 

Matt turned, jaw tensed and tone dangerous. “Get out of here, Y/N. Go home.”

“What, so you can beat the shit out of some guy who shot at me?” You put your good hand on your hip. “I’m not going to hide. I want to finish this. Nancy Bartman deserves to stop being afraid. We all do.” 

Matt pushed you behind him. 

You grimaced, the spreading pain in your arm worsened by the sudden movement. 

“Really?” The hitman scoffed. “If I had known you’d be joining the party, I would have been quicker with the lady.” He smirked at you. “Friends in low places, huh?” 

“Fisk has you,” you glowered, stepping out from behind Matt, “I have him.” 

“Two birds-” He aimed at Matt’s head. “One stone.” 

Matt moved like a bullet, knocking the man back, twisting his arm to an unnatural angle, and kicking the gun across the floor all in one fluid series of actions. 

You didn’t waste time, picking up the gun and turning it on its former owner. Matt kept him on the ground, knee between his shoulder blades. You pressed the barrel against his temple. 

“Why did you kill Bartman?” You asked. 

“You know, if you wanted to get me going, you didn’t have to bring your friend.”

Matt dug his knee down. 

The man cried out. 

“Why did you kill Bartman?” You asked again, already knowing the answer. 

The assassin glared up at you, his eyes glowing in the red light. “Loose end. Just like you.” 

“Why does Fisk want this building?” 

“He made a deal.”

“So you do work for Fisk?” You pressed the metal harder against his skin, a small victorious rush coursing through you enough to ignore the screaming in your arm. 

He jerked suddenly, lunging for you. 

Matt slammed the man’s head against the carpet once… twice… The man stopped moving, though you could see his chest rise and fall faintly. 

“Did you hear that?” You exclaimed. “Of course, you heard it.” 

Matt didn’t say anything. He just grunted as he got the man up, pulling him back to the apartment and laying him beside Bartman’s dead body. 

“Call the police. I’ll make sure they find him here.” 

You did as he asked, saying that you were a neighbor and heard all the noise. He called Claire so she could be at the apartment to treat your arm. Then, you followed Matt up the roof where he could listen for the police to come. He didn’t say a word to you the entire time.

You could feel the anger tensed up in his shoulders and it wasn’t from the fight. This was a different anger, one that wasn’t violent or loud or could be worked out by hitting something. This was anger that came from one thing: fear. 

“I didn’t think they would come after him tonight,” you said softly, “let alone pay his bail and send him home.” 

Matt’s covered face stayed turned away from you. 

You took off the mask. “Matt, please.” With a hand on his cheek, you made him face you, staring into his beautiful, unstarring eyes. There were tears in them. 

“When I heard the second gunshot…” He whispered, voice cracking. 

A shot of guilt splintered through your chest. 

But you weren’t going to back down. 

“I know you think you are the only one who can face all of this, but you aren’t,” you said gently, but firmly. “You aren’t alone, Matt. We have to be partners if this is ever going to work.” 

Matt sighed. He listened to your heartbeat, reminding himself that it was still beating. You had made it through, even if he thought he’d been too late. You did that. He slowly brought your lips up to his, careful not to move your arm too much. 

When you both eventually pulled back, a small smirk spread across his face. 

“You know, when you were standing there, gun against that guy's head, even I was a little intimidated,” he chuckled. 

“Right? I can be a badass when I want to be,” you snickered, laying your head on his shoulder. You turned so you could see his face, lightly kissing his jaw. “We make a pretty good team. Maybe you should let me go out with you…”

Matt laughed, the sound turning less amused. “Don’t push it.” 

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you held your injured arm in your lap as he held you. The two of you sat and waited for the sirens and lights to break through the dark of the night. 

-

Hey look, I remembered the tag list this time!

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascall; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks; @kendahl0216; @yellowbubblewrap

[dameronology]

be still (matt murdock)

summary: matt is the only one who he'll let get close when he has a bad day

warnings: just language ig

sorry for dropping off the face of the earth for months and not writing a single thing. this might be my comback, or all you will get for another year. we'll see! love u all.

To the rest of the world, Matt Murdock was hard to read.

To you, he was like your favourite book. One you’d read a thousand times; with a plot line you knew like the back of your hand. Every bump on his skin; every raised scar and jagged red wound from his night shifts; you knew the story behind them all. The long pink line on his back was fall out from a fight with the Yakuza two years back. The deep, sunken jag on his right hand was from an unfortunate incident when he was chopping up some vegetables two years ago. I might have super senses, he’d joked, but there are some things you just need sight for.

Matt’s emotions were no different. There were days when even Foggy wasn’t sure what he was thinking – whether his stony face was from boredom or anger, or whether his smile was happiness or just a slightly misshapen grimace. With a life as complicated as his, it wasn’t surprising that Matt came with the feeling to match. In the early days of your relationship, it was something you’d struggled with, but now you knew his signals and his tells. You could see a bad mood coming from a mile off, almost like a thunderstorm on a summer day. Equally, you knew his good moods from the way he would greet you brightly in the morning, or his anxious ones from the way he held your hand. They weren’t always easy to forecast but at least it made things a little more predictable.

A cold Tuesday morning in the fall was no different. September had just come, bringing with it shorter days and colder nights. The tension in your bedroom was high from the moment you woke up – actually, it had been since the small hours of the morning. Matt had come crashing in without a word, gear ditched to the floor. Any questions of his wellbeing or how his night had been ignored as he passed out beside you, back turned the other way. His snores had been the first thing you’d heard from him that night – not a single word, not even a grunt. You could feel an invisible line down the middle of the bed. It wasn’t one you wanted to cross.

You woke up naturally with the daylight- perks of it being a Sunday, you figured (though not a silver lining. Today didn’t feel like a day to be looking for those). Matt was still, tired body heaving with deep breaths as he slept. It was hard to shake the feeling of anxiety that had snuck its way into your stomach; butterflies now felt like wasps and any previous inclination you’d had to reach out to him had died with the hope of him waking up before you and apologising.

“Dickhead,” you muttered.

(You knew he would hear you).

Still, you knew something was up. Even if he’d projected it onto you by swatting your hands away last night and completely blanking you, something was up. It took a moment of building up the courage in your head, but as Matt let out a yawn and rolled over, you quickly moved to snuggle into his side. His hands were on his front, so you made a second attempt to tangle your fingers with his. He didn’t comply, but he didn’t resist either. You stayed like that for a moment, until his dark eyes shot open, and he let out a heavy sigh.

You could have pretended to still be asleep, purely just to avoid dealing with the situation, but who were you fooling? The man was like a human sonar. He would know immediately from your breathing that you were awake. Plus, your not-so-quiet insult just moments earlier didn’t exactly align with something you could brush off as sleep talk.

Matt sat up, blinking for a moment. Any other morning, he would have pulled you into him; pressed a kiss to your forehead and held you tight. Not today, though. He snatched his hand away from yours and shrugged you off, pattering across the wooden floor out the bedroom and to the bathroom. The door slammed and a second later, you heard the spattering of the shower.

You stayed there for a second, heart thumping in your chest and heard swirling with thoughts. Why was he being shitty? Was it your fault? No, you told yourself. It wasn’t fair on you to jump to those conclusions. If he had a problem, it was on him to tell you. You’d made it clear from day one that you hated guessing games. Guess Who was one thing but Guess Why I’m Angry At You had no winners.

The water eventually stopped. Rather than coming back through to the bedroom as he normally would, there was silence. You frowned for a moment – what the fuck was he doing? Was he actually that intent on avoiding you?

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, swinging your legs out of bed and heading out of the bedroom. Matt was the first thing you saw in the living room, skin still covered in droplets of water from the sofa, butt fuck naked. He had a file open in front of him, callous fingers following over the braille as he read it, barely pausing to acknowledge your presence. You could have made a comment about him getting your thousand-dollar sofa wet, even a joke, but that didn’t feel like the right play.

“Hey,” you said.

No answer.

“I have to ask,” you continued, crossing the room and taking a seat beside him. Not close enough for your legs to be touching, but close enough that he knew you were there. “Have I done something?”

“No,” he murmured. “I’m just tired.”

His voice was barely above a whisper – barely even there. Something was seriously wrong.

“Okay,” you hummed.

You stayed like that for a moment – even though you could predict Matt’s mood, you couldn’t always predict what he wanted. If you touched him, would he flinch, or would the front come down? It was like hugging a nuclear bomb, even if the idea of his temper coming out on you was unfathomable.

“Do you want a coffee?” you gently asked.

Another pause.

“Yeah. I could do with a coffee.”

Trying to keep your nerves feigned, you crossed the room to the kitchen, hands working automatically. Kettle filled, turned on, two mugs out. One sugar and a tiny bit of milk for Matt, and then two sugars and no milk for you. He liked the blue mug, because it was easier to hold, and you preferred the purple one because it was the same shade of violet as the dress Taylor wore on the front of Speak Now. You’d brought it in a clearance sale when you and Matt just started seeing each other, and it was one of the first things you actually kept at his apartment.

You returned to the sofa, placing the coffee on the table in front of you. There was still no word from Matthew – not even a hm in place of a thank you.

“You’re worrying me,” you murmured.

Blanked.

Rolling your eyes – and finally getting sick of his head – you whacked the file out his hands and collapsed into his side. He didn’t immediately respond, but a moment later, his hand came down to touch your thigh. He gave your leg a squeeze, and you felt a minute bit of tension rise from the room. Not all of it, but the physical touch was enough to know that things would be okay.

You stayed like that for a moment, before wrapping your arms around him completely. You fell back into the sofa, letting Matt collapse into your chest. His hair was still wet from the shower, skin sticking to yours from where he was still drying, but you didn’t give a shit. You just wanted to hold him, hands roaming over his tense back, stopping on his shoulder blades and using your grip to pull him closer.

“Let’s go back to bed,” you said. “Just for a little while.”

He didn’t resist as you took his hand, tangling your fingers together and leading him back to the bedroom. Matt was hot on your heels, like a lost puppy now, and there was barely a second between you falling back first onto the bed and him following you. His entire body was on yours, legs tangling into a web and arms digging underneath your torso to hug you, head buried in your shoulder. He was limp – almost completely void of emotion.

Whatever barrier Matt had been putting up was gone, because as soon as you tangled a hand in his hair you could feel his hot tears on your skin. He’d only cried in front of you once before and that had been when you’d nearly died after a minor mishap (though he’d argue it was probably more). That meant that whatever had happened on patrol last night must have fucked him up a little – you didn’t want to ask, but you didn’t want to him to think he couldn’t talk about it.

“I’m here if you need,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “If you just wanna lay here or you just wanna talk, I’m right here.”

“Thank you,” his voice was still quiet. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“Don’t apologise,” you shook your head. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied.

You tightened your grip on him and he tried to shuffle closer, even though it wasn’t physically possible. You were completely skin to skin and chest to chest, his forehead flush with your collarbone. It was raining outside now, the sound of water hitting the window filling the room with where tension used to be. That was gone now – maybe it hadn’t been there at all, just a figment of your anxiety.

You felt Matt’s eyelashes brush against your skin as he closed your eyes. Sleep was good. It was probably what you both needed, and with his warm, heavy body on yours, it was also hard to resist.

(All you could do was hope that you didn’t need to pee any time soon).

[maroonmusings]

To Hear a Heartbeat [m.m.]

Fandom: Daredevil (Marvel) Pairing: Matt x reader Word count: 2.7k Warnings: angst, but fluff :), religious imagery/references bc it's matt

A/N: takes place during/after the blip in which Matt tries to cope without you

Five years had passed since Matt Murdock lost his heart. Ripped straight from his heart with an electric fist, leaving in its wake a barely there shock which erupted daily. Hourly. By the minute, by the second.

Every time he thought of you. The milliseconds of his mind infiltrated by you, seizing his being. He went through every day feeling as if a hand laid on his throat, skin sewn close to his. Each day, the fingers around his jugular would squeeze tighter, and tighter. He had forgotten how to breathe the second you left.

He had forgotten how to do a lot of things since the day you were taken away from him.

Like how to tilt his chin heavenward, when his head pressed into your lap so he could feel your warmth, a setting sun, tickle his face. Now, it only hung forward, as if an anvil chain suspended from his neck.

Or how to make the muscles in his cheeks cramp from smiling too hard. When he was around you, surrounded by your presence, he didn’t think it was possible not to smile.

That day, he didn’t just hear over a million heartbeats cease in their thumps at once.

He heard yours stop, too.

Skies became darker after that, an overbearing chill creeping into the air that, once it settled into his bones, it never truly left. If he didn’t know any better, he’d suspected that, when you left, the sun followed after you.

Or, better yet, that you were one and the same.

Tuesday after Tuesday. Friday after Friday. They were all molding into the same day, difficult to depict separate images of—like a subway taking its blurry flight through a tunnel. That specific observation had always felt ironic to him, as the days scrawled by much slower than that, as if by boat. Something slower than that, even. A dinghy. Canoe.

Sundays didn’t even happen anymore without you around. No sweet caress of your voice in his ears, delicate cursive manuscript on yellowed parchment. Your laugh, angelic and loud, kickstarting his heart over and over again with its repeated staccato. Your touch, sweet and kind, a delicious spread of fire to his veins, despite its inability to pass the threshold of platonic. 

Having known you and loved you for as long as he can remember, you had come close many times. Fingers tracing fingers over the pretense of passing papers in the office. Hands gracing shoulder blades or backs, a communicative maneuver around one another in the kitchen. Dancing around one another in graceful twirls and side steps to triplets in triple meter.

Even on his walk home from work, Karen and Foggy on either side of him, a protective forcefield from further heartache, his mind couldn’t detach itself from you. As if chemically connected. His axons only activated if they tilted in the axis of your heart.

“Matt, buddy, back me up!” Foggy’s voice shot through his muddled thoughts like a laser through metal. Matt tried to conceal how it had startled him, how he had been caught drifting away again. “Would you please tell Ms. Page over here that Liar Liar is one of the best films of all time?”

“You sure you’re not a bit biased, buddy?” He asks, referencing the occupation of the film’s main character, same as their own. Though the chuckle he emits is forced, the smile comes a little easier at the absurdity of the conversation.

“Thank you!” Karen exasperates in a shriek, heels producing a hollow click against the concrete. “Foggy, don’t deny that your favorite movie would be literally any other movie if your profession were different.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your favorite movie then? Come on, hit me.”

She hesitates. “Sleepless in Seattle.”

The howl that leaves Foggy is borderline barbaric, Matt clutching his friend’s shoulder as an uncontrollable sputter of laughter skips past his typically pouty lips. “Foggy, you’ll wake up the whole neighborhood.”

“Meg Ryan is literally a journalist in that, Karen!” The blonde man babbles on, pointing an accusatory finger at Karen. “You are literally going home after working with us all day to work on another project for Ellison!”

“Well, I’m a bad example!” She giggles.

Shaking his head to himself, Foggy turns back to Matt to acknowledge his previous remark. “Buddy, it’s Saturday. It’s not like anyone has to work tomorrow.”

Matt huffs out a laugh, nodding in agreement, even though he does have to work tomorrow. He doesn’t expect Foggy to remember that, however, as you normally need to tell someone something in order for them to remember in the first place.

Karen knew, but only by mistake, that Matt had picked up a second job in order to pay your rent while you’ve been gone. Begrudgingly, he had accepted her help in exchange for sealed lips. 

Though he never wanted either of them to know. He didn’t want them to know that he was delusional enough to think that he’d ever hold you in his arms again. Finally whisper those sweet words of admission in your ear, standing before you in your apartment, lips parted, words on the tip of his tongue, before your heartbeat vanished.

Foggy and Karen, they were there for him, and he was trying his damndest not to push them away in his grief. He knew he hadn’t been doing a great job at keeping them close when they offered to start walking him home after work each night. Whether they worried about him stumbling around the dark streets of Hell’s Kitchen in a hazy, drunken stupor, or the simple image of him, alone, they were there. Laughing, and talking. And breathing.

Though it was proving difficult to hear laughter if it wasn’t coming from your tongue. To hear a heartbeat, healthy and alive, and right in front of him, if it wasn’t attached to you. 

He hadn’t noticed that he was drifting away again until he was face to face with his apartment door. Karen and Foggy, tucked away on either side of him, like always. They’re always here, he muses. I wish I could be, too.

“Good night, Matt.” Karen’s voice is sweet and comforting, hand squeezing his shoulder briefly, before backing away. “Try to get some sleep.”

“Text or call if you need anything, man.” Foggy throws the words into the air, like he does every time, hoping that one day Matt will be there to catch them. 

“Yeah, of course,” Matt answers, like he does every time. The offer tumbles between his fingers like sand. Today, like all the others, isn’t going to be that fateful one day where he catches them. “Thank you, guys. Really.”

Then he’s alone. Body filling the mold imprinted in his couch, still in his clothes from the day, as he stays awake and awaits your return. Like he does every night. Until his eyes begin to slip close from pure exhaustion, rather than content with the present day and an eagerness to do it all over again tomorrow. A fresh layer of tears help to seal his eyes for the minimal amount of sleep he will inevitably grant himself.

It’s the next morning that feels different from all the others. Conscious mind rescuing him from the nightmares of your absence, Matt jolts awake. His eyes almost hurt to open from the dried tears, a taught tension in his brow from the emotional night behind him. He readjusts his glasses, having jostled to a crooked stance on his nose.

His alarm clock goes off in his bedroom, a faint, melodic thump that brings a crease to his brow. 

He never set the alarm clock for today.

That’s when he hears it. Like an uproar of a million souls, scattered, but standing together. A rush of different sounds, different voices, painting the otherwise dull canvas of Hell’s Kitchen with its gradients of radiance. 

He can taste the tears of a mother and son just outside the apartment complex, reunited with their husband and father. Three bodies smashed together in a tight communion.

He can feel the relief of an elderly man from a block away, as his wife reappears beside him on a park bench. Her hand intertwined with his, as if she’d never left his side in the first place. 

He can smell the coffee, spilled by a startled secretary on the first floor as an interested renter from five years ago is suddenly seated before her again. 

He can hear the heartbeat, blood bringing oxygen to the pumping organ of a warm body two floors above him. Their shuffling feet, unsure of their trek. His name dangling from their lips, a concerned vibration of mystery.

Matt chokes on a sob, because, even though it’s been five years, spotting your heartbeat in a sea of millions came easier to him than brushing his teeth. Your name desperately dribbles down his tongue like a prayer, and it turns into an under-his-breath chant as he fights against hypoxicated lungs to make it to you before your heart has to take another beat without him. Newfound rejuvenation tugs on his already loose tie, tugs him up staircases, past reconnecting families, until he’s at your doorstep.

Clouds swim around his head as he struggles to find his breath. He wanted to say his heart stopped beating the second he heard yours again, but he knew that would be a lie.

Because his heart didn’t start beating again until yours fluttered into his eardrums today. 

The door opens before he can even raise his fist to knock, and he’s quickly overcome by all things you. As if capsized, overturned to drown in your elegant waves. Be washed away by your captive touch. Float amongst the chuckles of your laughter.

“Matt?” Your voice, thick with unshed tears and concern. 

Suddenly, breathing’s never felt easier.

He could hear your heartbeat, healthy and alive.

And right in front of him.

Ushering him inside, hand furtively locked around his wrist, your skin is etched upon his like a tattoo. This is when the dam shatters, broken sobs clawing up his esophagus until they’re free. He clutches onto your forearms as he sinks to his knees, taking you with him. You draw him in so tightly you worry that he’ll pop, hands carding through his hair as he cries into your collarbones. His fingers clutch your body as if you could disappear again, and he’ll be damned if he lets it happen again. They can take him, too, so long as he doesn’t have to spend another five years suffocating without his lungs.

“I’m here, darling.” Soft coos drip from your tongue, sweet honey, as you hold onto one another tighter. Resting your head on his, you sway his body gently. “I’m right here.”

“You’re here,” he repeats with a rasp, more of a reassurance to himself than an attempt at conversation. Pressing his forehead to your chest, where your heart now beats vividly against his ears, he mutters around a dry cry, “right here.”

Reaching down to intertwine your fingers with his, you raise your connected fists and press a series of kisses to his knuckles, watching a smile slowly tug at his lips. Your fingers depart from his to caress his cheek and jaw, and he leans into your touch, pressing his lips to your palm. He holds onto your wrist, skimming the skin gently.

“I know you’re confused,” he says, kissing your palm again. “And I promise I’ll fill you in, but I need to finish what I was gonna say five—before.”

“Of course,” you say, and he wants to bottle up the sound, so used to your voice, yet so deprived of it at the same time. He presses a kiss, slow and gentle, to your forehead, your eyes momentarily sliding to a close from the gesture.

Sliding off his glasses, he places them on the cold wooden floor beside your warm bodies. His fingers find your face, brushing your soft skin tenderly, slowly, as if memorizing your features all over again. A trail of heat travels across your face, beginning with your brow, and ending with your lips. For a second, you think he’s going to kiss you, pouted lips just barely grazing yours before he stops himself.

He takes a deep breath, since he can actually do that now. Voice soft, he goes, “you know, growing up, I was taught to keep my faith. No matter what. Because, if I don’t have my faith, then I won’t have salvation. ‘You always gotta stay faithful, Matty,’ they’d say. ‘It’ll hold you together, even as you feel the rest of the world crumble around you.’ And I believed them.

“Until I held onto that faith with a tighter grip than I’d ever known, with a grip tighter than I know even God himself doesn’t possess, only to turn up empty-handed. Because I still didn’t have you. You’re my entire world, Y/N. I’d compare you to the sun if it could even hold a candle to your warmth. Your humility. Your generosity.”

A deluge of tears glide down your cheeks, and Matt is quick to wipe them away. His face is closer to yours now, whispering this next set of words so softly he has as well be breathing them into your very being. Inflating your heart with every exhale, and shrinking it with every inhale, until your breaths become one. “I don’t deserve your love, and I don’t even know if I have it yet, but I'll be damned if I don’t fight for my chance at salvation.”

“That’s the thing, Matty,” you sniffle, laughing into a sob. For a moment, you just look at him. Taking him in. This man, who would go through Hell or high water for you. He who makes you feel safe, and grounded, and cherished. Who makes you feel so crazy with love and adoration that you’d trail the streets of Hell’s Kitchen until everyone in the damn city knew about just how loved this man made you feel. Despite ever having said the words out loud, until now. “You’ve always had it. With every beat of my heart, Matt Murdock. I’m yours.”

His laugh is breathless, as if sent to the heavens to float amongst the clouds. To soar high in the skies on a bird’s feather. It’s pressed into your cheek, just as the faint rumble of his chest transcends to yours, and you swear it kick starts your heart to beat in tandem with his. “And I’m yours, sweetheart.” Swiping the tip of his nose against yours, a gentle side-to-side motion that has you arching into him, lips craving his own. “My heart was only created to beat beside yours.”

When his lips collide with yours, you feel lightheaded, thoughts turned to vapor under his warm caress. His fingers, brushing into your hair from the base of your skull, tug you closer to deepen the connection. A soft moan settles in the back of your throat from his passionate touch, heat dusting your cheeks with pink stardust as his hands trace the path to their hue. They end their descent at the column of your throat, gently curved around the skin, to feel the impact of his closeness. 

The proverbial fingers around his own throat slither away, like the snake in the garden of Eden. As if they knew he was not to be tempted when his temptation, his salvation, was already right in front of him. An ethereal glow cascades the expanses of his face, from his hairline to his jaw. Like all the colors of you chose to shine, just for him, reflected through your stained glass and orange, yellow, and red.

Even when you part, you remain close, Matt’s nose pressing into your cheek to cough out a laugh of disbelief. You grin, captivated by the ethereal beauty of his happiness.

“What day is it?”

You’re thrown off by the stamina of the question, pushed in one breath with an eager lilt. Recalling the date you had seen on your phone, you answer, “um, Sunday. Why?”

Letting out a quick breath, an almost knowing grin grips his cheeks so hard they begin to hurt. “No reason.”

Once again, his ears were tickled by the quiet, steady thumps of a heart.

This time, it was his own.

[writings-of-a-demigod]

“I highly doubt aliens wanna wipe your brains out.” Matt said while walking holding his stick in one hand and your arm in the other to guide him.

“Yeah Y/n you have to have a brain first.” Foggy said while chuckling causing Matt to chuckle too.

“Ha ha that’s not funny. What I don’t get is why they want to come to Earth? I mean seriously have you met us?” Y/n replied then took a pause holding Matt’s hand to ask him to stop until the light turns green so you can cross the street.

“Well that’s just low dude.” Foggy made a frowny face at you.

The light turned green and you guys started your walk to cross over.

“No think about it, this whole ass universe and they choose the lowest lifeform there is to visit? Something’s not right with this.” You said resting your case.

“Maybe they run out of other planets and they decided to come to Earth?” Foggy tried to reason with you.

You turned to your left and gave Foggy a look “Seriously dude? That sounds stupid.”

“I’m sorry have you even heard the conversation you two are trying to have?” Matt questioned the both of you chuckling.

*gif doesn't belong to me*

[sgt-morgan]

Angst related to season 2 with elektra coming back and current gf struggling with insecurities regarding her relationship with Matt

Deserving ❤️‍🩹

Summary: You and Matt are in a situationship, and Elektra seems to spell trouble for your budding romance.

Warnings:AFAB & Female identifying reader, angsty, hurt comfort. I am not super versed in the art of angst, and I don’t know what to tag. If you want a warning here it is.

A/N: I hope this satisfied your ask, I want more of them! I hope this is what you wanted!

Daredevil Masterlist

Jesus sweet Christ. She was back. Long black hair, Hot as the ninth level of hell, knows how to kick ass, clever, rich. Not a lot to compete with there, you supposed, she’s just… hotter? It just… didn’t make sense to you, if Matt had access to all… that. Why in the name of all hell was he choosing to date an obnoxious, mouthy, poor, accident prone lawyer with no notable features to mention. It made exactly no sense. You weren’t that serious you supposed, you sort of dated, three real dates, patching a lot of bruises, snuggles on couches, you supposed that you were considered his girlfriend. Maybe not though, I mean Jesus, she is both named and dressed like a mortal combat character. On a good day all you could compare yourself to was someone from street fighter two. How were you to compete? Someone was clearly winning here, and you didn’t feel like it was you.

They had totally fucked too. The body language, the smiles, the communication? They knew each others bodies. No denying chemistry. You were confused about all your feelings too. Was this jealousy? No, it felt more like… resignation? Like okay, hot boyfriend has a super, SUPER hot ex, there’s very obviously some unrequited feeling, you are a worm and they’re bald eagles. Eagles don’t date worms, they consume them then fly off to their hotter eagle-y girlfriends and sometimes maybe reminisce about how good the worm was, before remembering how much cooler their girlfriend was. God, this sucked. But, then again, you remembered them dating in college, and she made Matt miserable for a time. You remembered stories from college, you remembered how long putting Matt back together took for you and Foggy. You remembered how hard he fought being loved. Remembered his belief that he was a terrible person. Remembered the long road back to happiness. Surely, you thought, surely there was no love lost there. She just needed his help, Daredevil’s help. They didn’t want each other. They were like oil and water. It would be fine. You decided to give Matt the benefit of the doubt.

You two worked and acted as if nothing was wrong. However, while for you it was an act, for Matt, he saw it as a sign that he could lean in on what he was trying to accomplish with Elektra. It was taking its toll, but Matt was yet to notice. It was horrible, you felt miserable, and you had no other choice but to simply wait it out. You knew he would make the right choice eventually, but when?

Sometime in the middle of this you’re approached by Jeri Hogarth. It’s a good offer, smart, pays good, right in your wheelhouse, and with a shining endorsement from Jessica Jones. (Or as shining anything Jessica says can get.) It seems tempting, but you don’t accept. You can’t, not when you Foggy, and Matt have built so much. Then he doesn’t show to court.

“Mathew! You can’t just bail on this case! There’s no way we can do it if you’re not-“

“We’re sorry, you’ve run out of time.”

“Damn it!” You slammed your phone down and continued to pace, waiting for Matt but he never showed. You knew about the Roxxon Gala, but with him putting all of your necks on the line for Frank fucking castle, you expected him to show. Not only that, but he’s bailed on dates, she’s staying in his apartment, she looks at you like you’re garbage and Matt just… lets her. Jeri’s offer weighs. It gets more attractive by the hour.

“I’m here!” He cries, finally bursting through the first set of doors, you usher him in, and witness the whispered argument between him and Foggy and don’t really think much of it. One time mistake, he will do better, besides, we’re saving the world here.

Things keep spiraling though, and you’re having to do friendship triage. You have to take the brunt of his and Foggy’s headbutting. It’s obnoxious, when you built this practice, you did it to make your lives better, not ruin your friendships. It’s weighing on you. Matt can tell, and the guilt he feels is unmatched. He just can’t stop. This feels too big too… important. Then one ninja battle too far puts you over the edge.

“Matt! Are you here? We need your he-“ there she is. In his bed. In your clothing. “Oh.” Your voice comes out strained and small. Matt has never heard it that quiet. That defeated.

“Honey it’s not-“ but he doesn’t get that far. Your whole body just… deflates. He can hear the silent tears, feels the shuddering. You’re done. This was the last straw. He can tangibly feel you slipping through his fingers, hears the shatter of your heart and that’s when he knows he’s been a fool. “Oh. Oh my love.” He coos, reached for you, desperate to put back all that he’s broken, trying to stop the sand spilling out the hour glass. You flinch away. His whole heart shatters. Breaks to a million pieces and falls there at your feet.

“Matt I-“ you shrug, a mirthless laugh shudders through your tears. “I don’t even know what to say here.” He drops his head and nodded, properly scolded.

“No. I- I don’t blame you.” He nods, gesturing towards the bedroom. “She was stabbed, it was poison- I… It’s not about that though. I know.”

“Do you?” You sniffle. “I don’t think you do. Matt I-“ You sighed and gathered your things. “I had to help put you back together with my own two hands Matthew, she ruined you, and you’re letting her do it again. I don’t even recognize you anymore. That’s sad Matt, because I was just starting to love you. I’m… I’m done.”

Then, you were gone. Your letter of resignation was on their desks promptly by 7 am, you accepted the job with Jeri Hogarth, and that was it. Matt fucked it all up. He kept fighting, but there, all day every day was this immense pain. He has lost You. You, the woman who every day smiled at him, and made him a coffee, and joked about his night life, you who never once required him to give up a part of himself to save your friendship, you, who had loved him. Loved him completely. He’d lost it all. Then, he lost some more. Frank castle had disappeared, and they had lost the case. Foggy and Karen left, Elektra died. He was all alone.

Then like the warm sun after a long winter, you came. It was the day of Elektra’s funeral.

“You’ve gotta let ‘em all go Matty. It’s time. I’ve told you, over and over, going have to let go of your emotional ties. You’re weak with them.” Stick shrugged, “without them, you could accomplish so much more.”

Matt chuckled bitterly, “No. You’ve taken too much from me already, but you won’t take my heart. Elektra is dead, we defeated the hand for now, but I never would have even thought it was worth it if it weren’t for them. For Elektra, Karen, Foggy. They are worth it. My love for them is worth it.” He shook his head, and tears welled in his eyes. “Y/N was worth it too, and you took that from me, you and Elektra and your little games. You took it from me, and Y/N may hate me. God! I hope she does hate me! She was the one good thing I had Stick, she put back together all those little shattered bits, and built me back into the man I am today. Then, I repay her with this.” He gestures to Elektra’s grave, to the city at large, to himself. “She was beautiful, and kind, and perfect. She made me happy. She made me want to keep fighting for this stupid city, and now Elektra is dead, you’re still here ruining my life, and Y/N hates me. Even with all that, it was worth it. Because if for one second, she is safer than she was before I made this sacrifice. Then fighting to the death, for this city, for her, is worth it. I love her Stick, that’s the only thing that keeps me going. I love her, and now she’s safe. Safe from the hand, safe from Frank Castle, and she’s safe from me. Knowing that Y/N has a chance to flourish and grow, that’s what makes all this fighting, this pain, the devil. It makes it all worth while. If I give that up, what is it all for?” Then he sat in silence, and stick went away.

At first, sitting there at Elektra’s grave, he thought the smell of your perfume was a hallucination. Another stray temptation, another ghost of a memory come to haunt him. He treasured it though, even the idea of you was a beautiful thing. He embraced the memory, though it was painful. Then he was enveloped on it, the smell surrounded h, then he realized he was no longer alone. He froze. Then his senses started to catch up to his reeling mind. The smell, the faint taste of the sweat of your brow in the breeze, the sound of your breath. You were there. You were there, sitting and staring at Elektra’s grave, holding flowers. Then you reached out a hand, and stroked his cheek. He pushed his face into your palm, starving for your touch. He whimpered, the tears he was holding finally let loose. Then you were speaking.

“I don’t hate you Matt. I couldn’t if I tried.” You sighed and bundled him to you. Placing the flowers on the bench and holding him as he cried. You had heard everything.

“I never got the chance to tell you.” He cried, “you were gone- I let you go. But I never told you.” His sobs wracked his body, and you ached with their severity.

“Tell me what Matty?” You shushed, drying tears and attempting to coax him to an answer.

“I never told you I loved you.” He sighed and clutched your face in his hands. “It’s you, it’s always gonna be you. I love you, I love your humor, your laugh, your smell, the touch of your hands can cure my every wound. It’s always been you. I was just too stupid to see you slipping away. I never wanted to loose you. You’re my everything, I just never said anything because- because you deserve so much better than me. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh Matthew,” you began to cry as well, “My sweet, imbecilic devil man. You always deserved me, every day you throw your life on the line for us, for this city. I always thought you deserved me, and I deserve you. I didn’t see that at first, and I should have fought for it. I left you when you needed me, and I’ll never forgive myself”

“No!” He cried, pressing your foreheads together frantically. “You will never take the blame for this. I was wrong you deserved the best of me, and I didn’t give it. I gave up? I was a fool.”

You laughed and nuzzled your noses closer. “Then let’s call it a draw and say we were both foolish. We can be fools together. We deserve each other.”

[certifiedskywalker]

A Set of Closing Statements - Matthew Murdock

If you had a nickel for every time you and Matt Murdock had to work on closing statements together but never finished, you would have two nickels. It isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice!

WARNINGS: swearing

You were nearly nose-to-nose. His breath caressed your cheeks, tantalizing and taunting. It felt purposeful, the proximity, the too-close-closeness. Yet, you let him wield his heat, let it lash against yours. You would allow it with no one else, no one but him.

With a shallow breath, his low voice reminded you of what little space remained. “The question at the heart of the matter is-”

“Is it just?” You finished for him.

“Exactly, and, philosophically, it is not.”

“That is quite a black-and-white perspective, Mr. Murdock.”

“Laws demand such objectivity,” he pressed, “they are, as Socrates says, a contract citizens of a given state agree to honor by continual habitation of said state.”

You leaned back, smiling to yourself. “However, then the question of justness shifts. Is it just to let a state remain if the citizens determine its application of the otherwise objective law is unjust? In this context and in his death sentence, Socrates is being singled out. The law has become a weapon to stunt the evolution of the state, its laws.”

“You’re over-elaborating Crito’s argument.”

“Or maybe you’re under-analyzing Crito’s argument.”

Matt leaned back in his seat, taking his heat with him. Though, you were much too preoccupied with how his mouth was opening and closing, trying to close his lips around the right words. All he caught was air and the silence of the classroom. Your smile widened. Before you could bask any further in the sunshine feel of victory, Dr. Drake cleared her throat.

“We will leave our debate on Plato’s Crito there for today. Come back to class on Thursday with your closing statements prepared for your respective perspectives.” Steely grey eyes seared your skin as the professor gave a pointed look in your and Matt’s direction. 

You offered her a softer smile that was only slightly apologetic as your peers hurried out of the lecture hall. A rustling at your right averted your gaze. Matt was gathering his binder of translated-to-braille readings and shoving it in his shoulder bag. The opening of which was still half zipped-closed. Instinctually, you reached over.

“Here. It’s still caught.”

“Oh, thanks,” he said as you leaned in close. You felt his heat again, your shoulder brushing against his chest. At the almost touch, you felt your original smile return.

“It’s the least I can do.”

“It is,” Matt said as you unzipped his bag the rest of the way. When you leaned back, you saw he was smiling too. “You think I under-analyzed Crito?”

“I think you under-analyzed the need for a radical revolution.”

“I think you guys forgot that you were on the same side! Again!”

You turned around to face Foggy. His long blond hair was rattier than usual, likely from the party the night before. But his eyes were bright with a mischief that was fresh from this morning’s debate. You rolled your eyes and quickly packed up your own readings and notes.

“Not my fault Matt is so steadfast. Stuck in his ways.”

“Ouch,” Matt placed a hand to his chest, “attacking my character? Thought we agreed on no mudslinging this time?”

“I’m not attacking your character,” you said with a tilt in your voice as you pulled your bag over your shoulder. “I’m just…encouraging you to entertain other views.”

“I’m no revolutionary.”

“You’re no saint either,” you fired back, linking your arm in Matt’s.

“Ugh,” Foggy groaned, pressing his hands to his temples as he led you and Matt out of the lecture hall. “We get it: you’re smart. Too smart. Two smartasses, the both of you.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “Dr. Drake did give us a look.”

“A look?”

“Everyone was giving you guys a look!” Foggy started as he darted down the stairs. You guided Matt’s first step with your own. Once he found a rhythm, the descent was smooth. “Barely anyone else had a chance to talk, you nerds.”

“I thought we were smartasses?” Matt asked and you could not help but catch the contagion of his wide, boyish grin.

“Yeah, you are.”

The warm air of Spring trickled along your skin as you and Matt followed Foggy outside of the Cooper Building. Foggy continued to spout on about what attributes constituted a smartass as you all walked across the quad towards the library. Your arm remained tightly linked with Matt’s. He could have switched to his cane, you realized. Though, you were glad he hadn’t. You liked his heat, the smell of coffee and birchwood that seemed to always stick to his clothes.

“I can’t argue against that evidence.” Matt’s voice broke you from your little reverie.

“Yup, and you won’t. ‘Cause you’re a smart…ass. Smart. But an ass. You’re stubborn but you know when you’re beaten and you admit it in that know-it-all tone-”

“He doesn’t know when he’s beaten,” you interjected and Foggy’s tirade fell quiet. “Why do you think he’s always arguing with me?”

You looked across the sidewalk, across Matt, and met Foggy’s gaze. His light eyes sparkled with a sudden, new-wave of eagerness. With a jester-like jump, he walked backwards before you and Matt so he could face you. Wide-eyed, you watched him nearly trip up the steps of the library. Passersby took in the scene frightfully before disappearing inside.

“Well, I mean…”

“Are we at library?”

“Can you smell the fear of people Foggy is scaring?”

Matt chuckled, the gravelly sound reverberating in his chest. You felt it in his arm, even as it slipped from yours. He fumbled with cane for a moment before it snapped open with an airy crack like a stiffened snake. A rattle came from the ball tip as Matt rolled it against the pavement tiles. He flicked his head to the left then the right. It was his ‘going somewhere’ dance.

“You’re not studying with us tonight?” You asked, peering into the dark lenses of Matt’s glasses.

“I actually promised to help someone with Spanish tonight.”

“Anyone we know?”

“Nance Tracy?”

“From the writing center?” Foggy gripped the library stair railing for support, the thought of Nance Tracy apparently weakening his knees.

“Turns out she struggles with grammar, just not English grammar.”

“So, I won’t be seeing you back in the room tonight?”

You shot Foggy a furrowed brow glance and he mouthed ‘What?!’ in a manner that made you scowl. 

“Why? You having company over later tonight, Foggy?” Matt teased, leaning lightly on the handle of his cane. 

“If by company you mean a bag of pizza rolls, then yes.”

“I’ll be sure to be quiet then,” Matt quipped back. “Happy studying.”

Your heart sank slightly at the sight of him walking off on his own. It felt far too reminiscent of last year. Desperate to alleviate the ache that accompanied the sight, you called out.

“Let me know if you want help with your closing statement!”

“Smartass!” Matt called back and your chest swelled with heat, a full, warm hope. A stretch of silence followed his departure, that was until Foggy spoke up.

“He seems better.”

You glanced over at him. “Yeah, but he’s still…”

“Yeah, I know. Elektra really fucked him up.”

“She did,” you agreed before pushing on his shoulder, “and cracking jokes about sleeping around might not be helping.”

Foggy didn’t miss a beat, it was why you always knew he would make an amazing lawyer. “Not helping Matt or not helping you?”

“Did you prep a closing statement?”

“I emailed you a text copy this morning.”

“You did?”

“I did.”

Panicked, your rustled through the papers splayed out on the table in a wild-whirl search for your laptop. With a collection of new paper cuts, you found it and cracked it up. The screen illuminated and, after a few sharp clicks, revealed your inbox. You scrolled but found only spam messages about discounts and deals.

“Subject line?”

“CS: Threat of Department of Damage Control.”

“I’m not seeing it, Matt. All I have is the email Foggy CC’d me in on about how to bill Spiderman. Speaking of, did you ever get paid for that?”

“Hard to bill someone when you don’t know their billing address…or name,” he sighed. “You can check my drafts. Maybe I just didn’t send it.”

You darted to Matt’s side of the desk and leaned over his shoulder. Heat kissed your skin, even through the button-up your wore. The warmth was followed by the familiar scents of Matt. Coffee. Birchwood. Copper, that tang of blood.

Quickly, you looked down at Matt, his shoulder. Through the white of his shirt there was a bloom of crimson. Quickly, you pulled back and rested a hand on the back of Matt’s head. “What?”

“You’re bleeding,” you murmured, tilting his head to the side. With your free hand, you fiddled at his collar, pulling it away enough for you to look beneath. “Matt.”

“I must’ve forgot to change the bandage before I left.”

You sighed and started towards the office kitchen of Nelson, Murdock, & Page. “Where are the-”

“Upper right cabinet. Second shelf, behind the granola bars.”

Reaching up, you rifled through the snacks and felt your finger find a Tupperware container filled to the brim with medical supplies. The first aid kit. Careful not to knock down Foggy’s array of Cheez-It boxes, you manuevered the container free from the cabinet. When you strode back into Matt’s office, he was already fiddling with the buttons at the collar of his shirt.

You forgot yourself for a moment, forgot that Matt, while blind, could see in other ways. Some part of you still believed in his need for his cane, that emblem of your shared college days. Some part of you still ached for him to see you how you had always seen him; still heard the echo of Foggy’s teasing questions. And that part of you let you linger in the doorway, watching.

The startings of chest hair were just entering your view when the spell broke. “LIke the show?”

“I-”

“I’m kidding,” Matt cooed, “but I am still bleeding.”

Hurriedly, you made your way to Matt’s side. The splotch on his shirt spread with a little trickle tracing down his back. You slowly peeled the material back from his skin. A blood-soaked bandage was slipping off his shoulder and you gently pulled it the rest of the way free.

You quickly tossed it in the little trash bin by Matt’s desk and reached, with your clean hand, for the first aid kit. Careful not to place your bloodied hand down anywhere, you pulled out a towel and pressed it to the wound. Matt hissed softly and you murmured an apology. 

“Can you put pressure on it while I get the bandage?”

“Yeah,” Matt replied, and you guided his hand to his shoulder. With a light touch, you pressed on his fingers, denoting where he should press too. “Thank you, for this.”

“It’s no problem. Just hope you weren’t bleeding in front of clients. It’d stain your image.”

“Wow,” Matt chuckled, “if I wasn’t already in pain-”

“Laughter is the best medicine, right?”

“Not when you have broken ribs.” Matt’s tone dipped into the heaviness of a memory you did not share, into a haunted thing. Your own joy fell at the thought.

Instead of trying to save the feeling, you prodded at his hand. He lifted his fingers and you saw the wound once more. You wiped gently at the excess blood before you stuck the fresh bandage on. The crisp white pinkened at the contact, but did not immediately soak through. The bleeding was slowed.

“If it’s like that tomorrow, go to a clinic for stitches,” you said, pulling Matt’s sleeve back up. “I also think this shirt is essentially ruined.”

“I have one Hell of a dry-cleaner,” he quipped back, but the levity was gone. Matt saw it missing without seeing at all. “Are you alright? You’re…quieter.”

You shook your head. “Just, you’re hurt. Broken ribs. It’s nothing Foggy, Karen, and I haven’t said before. I want you to take care of yourself. I’m not saying stop, just help me by helping yourself not bleed out anywhere.”

As you spoke, you packed away the medical supplies and closed the lid on the container. The heat of Matt’s body emanated, pressed against your own in that wonderful way it always had. You nearly jumped when you felt it intensify, when his hand closed gently around your wrist and pulled you to face him.

His glasses were off then, brown eyes exposed and warm, flitting across the general shape of your face. “I’m going to be okay.”

“You’ve said that hundreds of times,” you sighed, “but the bruises get bluer and the worry gets worse. I think about you getting your ass kicked a lot, Matt, too much.”

He smiled, that charming grin. “Ya know, sometimes, I’m the one kicking asses.”

“I do know. I just wish…” you trailed off, pressing your lips in a thin line. The thought that haunted your senior year of college resurfaced in a eviler shape and Matt must have heard your heart pounding.

“What is it?” He squeezed your wrist softly, “tell me.”

“I blame her for this sometimes.”

“Who?”

“Elektra.” 

Matt shifted in his seat, the unbuttoned portion of his shirt slipping open slightly. “I was already doing it. I was always going to find my way here, to the Devil.”

“I know, you stubborn smartass. I know it’s unfair, to you and to her. But she hurt you so bad, Matt and then this really picked up.”

“You and Foggy pulled me out of it the first time, just like you did the last time.” He stood then, hands cupping your elbows lightly as if to keep you standing in front of him. 

“I was hard seeing you like that, both times.”

“But you saw me anyway,” his hands rested on your upper arms then, “and I’m…I’m sorry I put you through that, that I didn’t tell you everything. I wanted to but I thought you wouldn’t like what you saw.”

“Then you couldn’t see me, and you didn’t.”

There was a paused and Matt took a breath, one that tickled the skin of your neck with how close he was. “And it was a cycle.”

“Operating like a corruptive state.”

It was impossible to look at anything but Matt. He filled your vision and invaded your other sense. There was that heat again, stronger than ever before. It only burned brighter when he smiled again.

“You think we staged a revolution radical enough to break it?” “Did we?” Your question was a challenge, as your questions to Matt often were. 

This was one he did not hesitate to accept. 

His hands roamed up and cupped your jaw to pull you in. Plush lips met yours and the skin of your chin was scratched by scruff. Your hands clutched at his ruined shirt and pulled until his heat became yours. There would be time for closing statements later.