#daredevil x gender neutral reader

[hellsburners]

thin walls

summary: this new york city apartment has terrible walls! pairing: matt murdock x gender neutral!reader word count: 934 warnings: 18+ warning, masturbation, perv!matt, eavesdropping, mutual masturbation kinda?, sex toy use, neighbor!matt a/n: was writing for a request but this prompt came to mind lol.

masterlist | more matt murdock

Matt Murdock let out a yawn listening to his screen reader, neck aching, lids half-hooded at this point. It was well beyond the night for this lawyer of Hell’s Kitchen. It was definitely nothing new, taking hours doing research for a case. The week has been busy for him, balancing pro-bono cases and bigger cases to pay for the bills, this didn’t even include his nightly duties to the Kitchen. 

Matt was in his dining area with his laptop and tons of paperwork, one earbud on as the robotic voice of the reader blurred in his tired brain. He pauses the audio and rests his face on his hands. The sounds of his neighborhood started to flood his senses, the dogs barking, the couples fighting, the crying babies, it was all making his head hurt. He tries to breathe his way into silencing the noises, purely focusing on blocking them all out when he hears a moan and buzzing sound from the unit next door. He knew who you were, you’ve exchanged greetings before, you even gave him packed food on Christmas day. It was a warm gesture, something that rarely happens in this neighborhood he loves to protect. 

With Matt tuning his senses to the sounds coming from your room he hears what you’re doing clearly. You were on your bed, he heard the way the bed creaks and the way the cotton sheets brush on your shirt, you were completely naked waist down, the vibrating toy in between your legs teases you sex. It was a gift from your friend, you told them it was embarrassing and that you would never use it anyway, but here you were holding the six-inch pink vibrator in your hands. 

On the other side of the wall Matt could hear you spread lube on the vibrating device. He furrowed his brows and removed the earbud to fully listen to what’s happening. Matt knew it was wrong, he purposely intended to only use his hightented abilities for good, not for eavesdropping on your neighbor masturbating. He loosens his tie from the heat starting to burn inside him, unbuttoning the first two buttons from his shirt. He hears your soft moans from you teasing your sex with the vibrator, you try to increase the intensity and you suddenly shudder from the shock of pleasure. At the same time, Matt could feel his own erection form. 

Your mind wandered to the hot neighbor you had, with his red glasses, unkempt stubble, and his soft lips. You wondered what it would feel to have those lips on your skin, the softness of his kisses with the roughness of his facial hair trailing down your body to your center. Your eyes closed as you dive deeper into your fantasy, moaning while your thighs move closer. You were reminded of that time you saw him take a package left on his doorstep with the name “Foggy” written on it. He was only clothed from the waist down with worn out sweatpants with the hems tucked into old cotton socks. You marveled at his toned body, his big arms, his broad chest and his abs. You couldn’t help but stare as he bent down and his muscles contracted into deeper lines making them more defined. 

“Fuck,” you said as you started to put the vibrator in your sex, feeling your muscles tense and give into the sensations. The lube added more ease to the thrusts you were doing to your center. You gripped the sheets as you moaned. In your head the pleasure wasn’t from a toy but from the man in the unit next door. 

Behind the thin wall Matt Murdock was also in the middle of pleasure. He had opened his trousers and was pumping his dick to the sounds from the other room. Your voice starts to pitch higher from the immense pleasure. You muffle your moans with your other hand as you continue to fuck yourself. In a twisted use of his abilities, Matt could single out the  moments the vibrator would go in and out of you. He used that chance to pump his dick in the same rhythm to yours. 

Come on, sweetheart, let me hear your moans, he whispers under his breath, his chest rising and falling. He spits into his cock to give him some lubrication so his thrusts could be faster. You were a whimpering mess, your hand leaves your mouth to play with your nipples. You wanted to call for his name. The name of the man next door. Matt was it? Your orgasm was close. Your body slightly convulsing, tears pooling in your eyes. You wanted him so badly, want to feel his cock as it thrusts inside you. You want to feel him lose himself in your arms. A carnal desire looms over the both of you.

“I want you so bad, Matt,” you moaned. Matt was shocked to hear you moan his name, and how you wanted him. Wanton lust pulses through Matt’s body as he cums. His senses focusing on your beautiful noises, his cum pools on his abdomen as he climaxes.

The tension inside you loosens as you give out your release. You give out one last moan before you fall back to the mattress. You turn off the device and take it out of you. You lay there in your bed, ashamed of what you’ve done. The same way Matt feels. Sin won tonight in Hell’s Kitchen, wherein you and the devil lost yourselves to lust. Matt wondered if it would happen again tomorrow night. 

He grins.

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

[demigoddessqueens]

“I’m going to watch the new Daredevil for the plot”

The plot:

[courtforshort15]

Sooooo somehow I hit 700 overnight (!!!!) and felt the need to celebrate with all of you lovely people. I wrote this as a thank you❤️

Slice and Dice

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 2,000

Summary: Reader reacts to Matt’s haircut.

Trigger warnings: none, it’s just fun

Masterlist

"...and I'm just saying," Foggy's voice echoes in your ear as you round the corner to your apartment, criss-crossing in and out of the throngs of people on the sidewalk who are far slower walkers than you would like, "that he was a little self-conscious about it when Karen said something. I tried not to laugh, but you know Matt, he'll pick up even the slightest giggle, and once he turned towards me, I lost it."

"Great, Foggy," you say dryly, eyeing your building that sits just half a block up. "Such a great friend."

Foggy's laugh floats from the earbud you have shoved in your ear. Thank God for bluetooth, the technology allowing you to balance your purse in one arm, grocery bags in the other, as the man fills you in on his day at the office. "You'll understand when you see him later."

"Is it really that bad?"

"Ehhhhh…it could be worse. I mean, I’ve actually seen it be worse before, so it’ll be fine. Just…be nice to him. And maybe don’t mention that I found it hilarious.” Foggy says with another laugh. 

“I’m always nice to him,” you argue, smiling as you shift the weight of your purse so that you can pull open the apartment building’s door and step inside. You head straight for the mailbox, setting a few things down before shoving your key inside and pulling out the envelopes within. 

Bill.

Bill.

Credit card offer.

Pizza place coupon. 

Bill.

Foggy snorts, and the sound causes a laugh of your own as you toss everything but the pizza coupon into the trash. All of your bills are automated, no use looking at a paper statement that’s just gonna remind you of the money that settles in your bank account for a day before it’s whizzed off to cover the cost of utilities for the month.

“You enjoy giving him shit just as much as I do, so I will affectionately call that a lie.”

This laugh bubbles louder in your chest and out of your mouth. You shove the coupon into your purse, pick up your items, and make your way to the elevator. “This is a completely honest and fair statement, Mr. Nelson. And you all love me for it.”

“We do,” he says cheerfully. A woman’s voice sounds on the other end of the phone, and Foggy responds to the other speaker before he turns his attention back to you. “Karen said hi. Anyway, text me later. I’ll need status updates for your reaction.”

“Will do, Foggy. Will do.” 

“Ta ta for now.” 

“Dork.”

The phone call ends just as you’re stepping inside the apartment, and with another laugh, you set your keys on the table that sits right inside, kick off your shoes, and make your way down the small hallway. Once things are put away, you head to the bedroom, desperate to take off your work clothes.

You’re not home for long before you hear the front door open, the sound quiet and familiar as you stir the dinner you’re making at the stove. You listen for the normal signs of his arrival, the sound of his cane being folded up and put onto the table in the hallway, jacket hung on the coat rack, and by the time his footsteps have rounded the corner, you’re already turning away from the stove to face him, hand setting the stirring spoon onto the counter.

Your mouth can’t help but part in surprise, and at your silence, Matt stops his trek into the kitchen. He looks borderline like a deer in the headlights, all senses turned one hundred percent towards you as he pauses. It’s almost like he hadn’t known you were home, which you know for a fact isn’t the case, but the way he has stilled at your attention is amusing.

“Matt,” you say slowly, eyeing his ensemble up and down with a barely contained smile, “why are you wearing a baseball hat?”

Matt grimaces, mouth twisting at the corners, as he finally moves again and removes his suit jacket, laying it across one of the chairs that sits at the kitchen table. He looks utterly ridiculous, dressed in a full suit with a Yankees hat perched on top of his head, and you can’t help but swallow down a snicker.

He gives you a look, knowing exactly the sound you've forced down, and the pout that sits on his lips still manages to be charming in the way that only Matt Murdock has ever been able to pull off. His red glasses are peeled away from his face and placed onto the table in front of him, and you can’t help but soften as his eyes are revealed to you, amusement fading momentarily. You’ve always been a sucker for his hazel eyes, especially when they’re lit up by the light still filtering in from the windows like they are right now.

“You know why,” he says with another frown, slowly beginning to open up the buttons at his wrists, preparing to take his collared shirt off. Which, yes please. “I’m sure Foggy or Karen called you already. Probably Foggy; he never knows how to keep his mouth shut.”

You snort. “It was definitely Foggy.”

Matt blows out a breath, face turning to the ceiling as he settles his hands on his hips, pausing the removal of his shirt, as if the next words were difficult to say. “And so he told you that…that the man at the barber-”

“A man at the barbershop absolutely fucked up your hair.”

He huffs out a laugh, face lowering so that it was turned towards you once again, mouth finally pulling into a quick grin. “That is an accurate telling of the story, yes.”

You take a few steps towards him, placing a hand on the counter, the other on your hip, observing the man in front of you. “Are you going to show me?”

“Thinking about it.”

Laughing, you continue to watch as he slowly resumes unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, and you can’t help but hungrily eye the expanse of his chest that is slowly being revealed to you. He sends you a smirk, obviously knowing the type of reaction he’s having on you, and he slows down the motions, almost teasing you with the pace.

“Taking off your shirt won’t distract me,” you say dryly, though the drool pooling in your mouth is anything but. You cross your arms over your chest in a false display of defiance.

“You sure about that?” His smirk takes up his entire face now, dimple appearing on his cheek, and finally, finally, the shirt is off and joining the suit jacket over the chair. 

Your resolve crumbles, though you’re not exactly surprised. His chest is a thing of dreams and glory, and monuments should be built in its honor.

“Yes? Maybe? No. You got me.”

With a laugh, he steps the rest of the way towards you, and pulls you into him with a warm arm around your waist and a hand on the back of your neck as he kisses you hello. When he pulls back, his bare chest is pressed against the front of you, and you can’t help but sigh into him.

“Hi sweetheart,” he says with a smile, tilting your head back to kiss your forehead, as he always does when he greets you. “Have a good day?”

“It was much better than yours was, apparently.” The look he gives you causes another laugh. “But I’m still waiting to see the haircut.”

With a groan, he backs away, determining he was unsuccessful in distracting you. “Don’t laugh.”

“No promises.”

His hand reaches up to pull off his hat, and he only hesitates for a brief second before the hat leaves his head and is tossed onto the table. Your eyes take in the sight in front of you, and a hand is covering your mouth a split second later.

“Oh no,” is all you can manage before a giggle rips its way up your throat and out of your mouth. “Matt–”

With a frustrated growl, he runs his fingers through his hair, pulling lightly at the roots. “I know it’s bad, you don’t have to say anything.”

“It’s not…awful,” you tell him, and you’re being completely honest, because while it doesn’t look great, he’s still the sort of man who can pull any look off, much to your amusement. “It’ll grow back.”

“Not fast enough,” he replies, his voice sounding too forlorn for your liking. “It feels way too short.”

You step up to him, reaching up to tilt his head down so that you can run your fingers through his hair, the soft strands still feeling like silk, regardless of the length. The hair is too short, seeing as how Matt usually likes it a little longer on top, but it’ll be fine. Pulling his head further down, you plant a soft kiss to the top of his head before releasing him and stepping backwards.

“What happened?”

He sighs and shuffles his feet, looking like a kicked puppy even while he stands shirtless in the dining area, scars and bruises proudly on display. “Andrew was out, and they didn’t tell me until I was already there. But I wanted it cut before I met with Peter Parker, and I figured I was already there, so I just went with the other barber they had available. I have, unfortunately, learned my lesson.”

A sympathetic noise came from the back of your throat. “It happens to the best of us. Bad haircuts happen.”

“I could literally tell as he was cutting it that it wasn’t going to turn out well. I could hair almost every strand hitting the floor, could hear the way he was taking too much off of the top, but I didn’t know it looked that bad until Karen said something.”

“That woman is ruthless,” you say in amusement, watching as a smile slides across his face again, because yes, he’s well aware that Karen Page takes no prisoners. “But maybe she thought she was doing you a kindness by letting you know.”

“And then Foggy laughed in my face.”

“He wouldn’t be Foggy if he didn’t.”

Matt’s mouth twitches into a wider grin, and you breathe a sigh in relief, glad that this was something he wasn’t going to focus on too harshly, despite the small blow he’d taken to his ego. 

“Seriously, Matt. It’ll be fine. He parted your hair wrong, but that’s easily fixable,” you tell him, reaching up to run your fingers over his scalp again, already focusing on how to fix the way his hair had been angled, but he catches your wrist and places a kiss to the inside of it.

“You know what running your fingers through my hair does to me, sweetheart.” His voice has dropped to the lower register he tends to use while he’s got you underneath him, and the heat immediately settles in your skin. “Don’t start something you’re not ready to finish.”

You can’t help but snort even while the look he’s giving you is dripping in sin. Goddamn this man. “How long have we been married now, Matt? You should know by now that I’m always ready to finish it.”

The smirk that slides back onto his face is dark and hungry, and it’s easy to take your eyes off of the poorly executed haircut and focus instead on the pretty mouth that’s still dangerously close to your skin. He opens his mouth to say something, no doubt something that will be warm and devastating to your self-control, but before he can say anything, the growl in your stomach interrupts the moment. Laughing, he pulls away, already unbuckling his slacks as he makes his way to the bedroom, no doubt ready to change into some sweats.

“Dinner first, then you can play with my hair all you want,” he calls out, voice ringing through the apartment as he steps out of his pants and throws them in the hamper. “Though, I won’t be held accountable for my actions after that.”

“Deal,” is all you say as you turn back to the stove, immediately grabbing the spoon and stirring the pan. “How did the meeting with Spiderman go?”

The apartment goes suspiciously quiet. Your head turns slightly back towards the bedroom, eyeing your husband curiously as he stands in the doorway, another grimace on his lips.

“Yeah, no, I fucked that one up, too.”

[localspiderboy]

My Darling, My Baby. || Matt Murdock x GN!Reader

Summary: Before the stresses of the day can plague Matt Murdock’s mind he gets to spend his early morning listening to your breathing and the way your heart beats steadily, content in knowing that you are safe next to him. The kisses you place on his skin remind him that it’s just the two of you and for now, at this moment, there is nothing to worry about.

Flag the tag lace spidey if you don’t want to see my nsfw posts!

Category: Fluff, Smut 18+

Word Count: 2,598

Warnings: MINORS DNI, No pronouns or specific genitalia terminology used for the reader and no use of y/n, PLOT(?) OMG exposition at the minimum, morning sex, pet names “darling, love, baby”, kissing, matt holding onto your neck while kissing, you loving matt's eyes, body exploration? Wandering hands, cuddling, fingering, giggling during sex, light-hearted sex + making jokes, penetrative sex we’re using a condom y’all! Practice safe sex, I Love You's, slow intimate sex.

My darling sweetheart baby I know. I know. The past haunts you. I know. Let me kiss your fears away. - Unknown

A/N: This was requested so long ago so sorry it took so long. I tried to find the originator of that quote but I couldn’t :( Do I think this is my best work uhh no, but I think it's one of my favorites. It's been a while since I've written anything but I hope you enjoy it! Please give feedback :)

It was a rare occasion that Matt Murdock woke up before you on a weekday. Well, you would think it’s rare since he often pretends to be asleep so that he can wake up to your kisses and he’s stopped using his alarm since you’ve started living together. Being late to work is always worth spending extra time in bed with you. Today was one of the days where he didn’t pretend to be asleep, it was a rare morning where he wasn’t waking up sore and hurting. The previous night wasn’t filled with you patching up his wounds while holding back tears, instead, it was the two of you laying side by side talking, laughing, and having fun. It made him sad to admit but it’s been a while since you had done that, had fun. Too long since you just basked in each other's company. He knows what he does makes it hard for him to love, which makes him even more grateful that you have made it clear that you’ll always be in his corner and you don’t want to give up on what the two of you have.

Matt doesn’t think he’s ever felt more appreciative in his life. He can feel that you’re alive and safe and well. With you laying on his chest like this your heartbeat reverberates through his body and into his soul. You’re calm, you’re happy. For months even in your sleep, he could tell you were carrying so much weight, there was so much you wanted to say that you felt like you couldn’t. You don’t have to worry about that anymore. He held you closer placing a lingering kiss on the top of your head, breathing in deeply, you smelled of mint-scented shampoo and more importantly him. He loved that. Matthew was so focused on thoughts of last night's talk he almost didn’t notice the shift in your breath and the natural increase of your heartbeat, telltale signs that you were waking up. Almost. But even if he did miss that Matt definitely wouldn’t miss the soft press of your lips against his skin. Right over his heart. Your heart is more like it. 

“Matthew, do you have any idea what time it is?”

He had to chuckle at that, your voice was hoarse and you sounded the slightest bit annoyed. It was music to him, he loved it. “No I hadn't checked, I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

“Too early, the one time we don’t have a bunch of adrenaline to keep us up is the time you decide to wake up early.” 

“Bad timing. I know.”

“Horrible.” You’re smiling.

“The worst.” He’s smiling.

“Well you, my darling, are so so lucky that you have such a charming face because it’s too early;

You stretch out like a cat, a groan escapes past your lips as you plop back down onto Matt’s chest.

the sun is barely even up Matt.” 

The tone of your voice betrays your words, you’re not that upset. More like delighted, actually. It was hard not to be with Matt when you have moments like this. 

“Not like I could tell.” Matt knows he might get in trouble teasing you so early in the morning but he truly cannot help himself. When can he ever? 

“Matt.” The sigh you let out was tired but playful, you were more than willing to put up with his teasing. 

“You are ridiculous.”

“You love it~”

He’s right; you do. You really do. 

“You’re lucky I do.” 

I am lucky. He thinks. Incredibly so. 

You shuffle off his chest and onto the space unoccupied on your queen bed. It’s cold from being unslept on and it makes you shiver. Almost immediately he’s chasing after you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he moves onto his side. He doesn’t pull you but it’s glaringly obvious You’re not leaving, he knows that but he wants you back where you were. You stay where you are on your side beside him. Your hand approaches his face brushing softly at the crease between his eyebrows that never seems to leave. 

“I’ll let you waking up at such an ungodly hour slide since you seem so happy to see me.” Your hand is on his cheek now and you scooch closer allowing no space between the two of you.

He was. “I’m always happy to see you, pretty.” 

“How would you know, hm?”

He smiles, turning his head so he can kiss the palm of your head. “I can tell.” 

“Ridiculous.” You’re teasing him back. He knows that but he wants you to know he means it. 

“It’s not ridiculous.” 

“I know love. I know.” You kiss underneath his jaw, in the place you know he’s just the slightest bit ticklish in an attempt to hear him laugh. He does. He always does. You keep kissing him moving your way slowly down his neck. You stop for a moment and then you’re laughing. 

“It is just a little bit though. How you know whenever someone is good looking.” 

“I do not!” He denies it, of course, he does.  Matt’s acting shocked but he’s not. It’s not the first time you’ve questioned Matt’s uncanny ability to identify an attractive person and it probably won’t be the last. 

“Matt Murdock you absolutely do.” Your words are intertwined with your laugh. He can feel your shoulders shaking against his chest and he loves it. Loves the sound, loves the feeling. 

Matt doesn’t agree or disagree. Instead, he responds with a comment about how you’ve been hanging around Foggy too much and you argue that there is no such thing as too much Foggy Nelson and that he agrees to. 

By now your kisses have traveled down to his chest and one lingers just a little longer over his heart and he’s basking in the feeling of your lips against your skin. You glance up at him and a warm feeling fills your chest. If you hadn’t felt his hands moving their way across the expanse of your back you would have thought he was asleep. His eyes were closed and he looked nothing less than relaxed, a rare feat for a man like him. 

“Baby~” You call, voice light and airy. He hums, as an acknowledgment that he heard you. Your hand travels down his body to the partial erection you had been feeling against your thigh. While not wholly erect it’s prominent enough to feel through his briefs  “Nice to know more than one part of you is happy to see me.” 

He jumps slightly, not expecting your sudden touch. Matt recovers quickly and soon he’s leaning into it as you stroke him over his underwear. “Every part of me is always happy to see you.” 

 You gently push at his shoulder moving him to lay flat on his back. “Oh yeah?” Hovering over his face you lean in close lips barely an inch away from his. 

“Yeah..” He whispers leaning up to close the gap between your lips but you pull away. You tease. He thinks. Matt’s about to let you know what he thinks but instead, a hiss leaves his lips as you’ve moved your hand inside his underwear and grasped his cock. Your hand feels cold against the sensitive skin but it isn’t unwelcome and it prepares him for when you pull him out of his briefs. 

“Every part of me is happy to see you too ~” You whisper against his ear before you begin to travel down his body again. There’s no question what you’re going for but he stops you. Your attention is called to him as he grabs your arm gently and he shakes his head. As much as he loves the feeling of your mouth where he needs it most he wants you to stay up here with him. You obliged and made your way back up. This time you kiss him; he makes sure you do, practically ambushing you as soon as you’re in range. Matt has a firm yet gentle hold on your neck just under your jaw, fingers pressed right against your pulse point. 

You’re stroking him how he likes long and slow with your finger occasionally catching on the tip and it time it does it makes him gasp against your lips. The sounds Matt makes as you stroke him are music to your ears low and from his chest. Slowly you move to straddle his hips and even through your underwear he feels heavy against you and it makes you groan. His hands move to your thighs and he encourages you to move your hips. This time he’s the one kissing your neck, moaning against your skin as you grind down onto him.  In true Matt fashion, he knows how to work that mouth of his. Open-mouth kisses trail down the side of your neck coming to a halt just above your clavicle. He’s chosen his target, taking the skin in between his teeth sucking and licking until you bruise. He’s cutting it close to the rule you have about no hickeys above the collar but at the moment you don’t mind too much. His lips move to that spot you love oh so much and it makes your breath stutter and your hips buckle.

“Matty.” It doesn’t come out as strong as you want it to but Matt knows exactly what you need. 

“I know baby. I know.” Matt then flips you on your back pulling your underwear off in a smooth motion Matt’s crowding your space and you accept it happily. The feeling of his weight on top of you is more than welcome but you choose to tease him anyway. 

“You’re heavy.” You groan and push at his shoulder with no real attempt to move him which only prompted him to put more of his weight onto you. 

“Bear with me for just a moment baby.” He chuckled and before you could reply he was touching you right where you need him most. Your head drops against the pillows and you moan his name breathy and quiet. Matt reaches over to the bedside table and grabs a bottle of lube from inside the drawer,  you hear the cap open and close before his hands are back on you. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He repeats it in a whisper as his lube-covered fingers prod at your entrance. You clench around him as he eases two fingers in.  He spreads his fingers wide drawing them in and out slowly. “That feel good?” You nod vigorously reaching out you wrap your arms around his neck pulling Matt in close. “Need you, Matty. Please.” You whispered breathlessly. 

“I got you baby.” Matt continues to work you open his fingers pushing into you deep exactly where you need them, stretching you wide until you’re whining and your nails are digging into his back. 

 “Need you inside.”

“Yeah, babe? Fuck…” And suddenly the waiting is too much for him as well, he needs you as much as you need him. He pulls away from you only for a moment to slip on a condom but then he’s back, hands grabbing at your thighs and cock prodding at your entrance. You both groan as he slips in the stretch of his cock isn’t unfamiliar to you. He finds all the right places right away. He sinks his entire weight into you and it makes you whimper just how full you feel. 

Matt’s thrusts are slow and gentle but they reach deep. You’re not going anywhere there’s no need to rush. 

“Yeah, you like that? Sound so good baby.” He leans in close for a kiss and you nod against his lips. Words lost upon you. Matt’s everywhere, he’s invading your senses, and all you feel is him. It’s overwhelming but it’s also perfect and you think about how it must be like for him living like this twenty-four-seven, ten times more intense. You think if you asked him he’d say something charming and cheesy like It’s the life I’ve always lived but you make it so much easier. The thought makes you laugh and of course matt notices. 

“You know giggling at a moment like this isn’t usually a good sign.” He jokes and he’s got that smirk on his face that you know very well.  “What's going on in that head of yours huh?” He kisses the side of your face, across your cheek, and down your jaw as you had done earlier. 

“Thinking ‘bout you Matt.” It takes you a moment to find your voice, it’s heavy as if you weren’t expecting to have to speak and it makes him laugh. 

“Something good?”

“Always.” 

“Good.” He whispers and continues his ministrations. When he feels your grip around him tighten and he knows he’s got you where he wants you. He pulls his hips back slowly and thrusts in sharp and quick. It makes you gasp and squeeze your eyes shut in pleasure. He continues that rhythm the tip of his cock hitting right where you find the most pleasure. Your moans are light and airy and it’s driving him crazy. “Right there huh? Make that sound for me again baby.” You couldn’t stop it if you wanted to he draws every little moan and whimper out of you.

You wrap your legs around his waist and tug at the short hairs at the back of his neck. “Oh baby, please go faster. Please.” How can he deny you when you sound like that? Matt obliges to drive his cock into you faster, forcing his arms under your body, wrapped around your back face buried in your neck. His nose pressed up right next to your pulse point. 

“God you feel so fucking, good darling. Take my cock so good, you're squeezing the life out of me baby.” His words only make you clench harder and it draws a groan from his lips. “Matty…please..” You moan into his hair. Matt’s words caused heat to spread throughout your body and you can feel your orgasm fast approaching “You gonna cum pretty? Go ahead baby, I got you. I got you.”

Matt’s thrusts get more intense and you’re right there. Everything’s not enough until it is and you drop over the edge. Your body convulses, hips gyrating as your orgasm passes through your whole body. The moan you let out was loud, probably too loud for how early it was but you simply couldn’t hold it back. Matt’s movements don’t stop he fucks you through it but you clench down on him so tight it makes it hard to move. Very quickly he’s right there with you muttering curses under his breath. He keeps thrusting until neither of you can take it anymore and you both just have to lay there basking in each other’s company, breathing heavily and out of breath. 

After a moment, when you’re a little more okay and a little less starstruck you pull his face from your neck. “Let me look at you baby.” You take his face in your hands and hold him close noses touching, his eyes are open and even though you know he can’t see Matt always has a way of looking into your soul and you love every bit of it.  “So pretty Matty.” Matt isn’t one to get shy easily but you can see the way his ears flush red and how he sinks deeper into your touch. He kisses you 

“Love you, Matty.” You whisper into his ear. 

“I Love you too darling.” 

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[silversweetpea]

Stitched Up

Word Count: 4422

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: The Devil get cold too sometimes, and it seems a shame to toss out perfectly good fabric...

Warnings: Offscreen violence heavily implied, Reader has a panic attack at one point in the story but Matt talks them through it. 

Author’s Note: Hello, welcome back to Petal being self indulgent with their writing again lmao. I’m a sucker for five and one stories and that’s pretty evident from the structure of this guy (although technically it’d be better called three and one but semantics). I also have no idea how fashion college degrees work so please excuse that I just wanted an excuse to write about giving our guy a gift.

❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿

“I’m not afraid of you,” Your voice doesn’t shake, which is the part that scares you more than the man in front of you.

“You should be,” The devil of hells kitchen responds.

He’s beaten and bloody and bruised beneath the suit. you can see cuts in the fabric from whatever the beginning of the night held for him. Still, despite his presentation. you know him as much as any other resident does. There's a reason the man who had tried to corner you had dropped his gun and ran when the horned shadow stretched over the alleyway and there's a reason you stayed besides the shock.

Daredevil doesn’t hold back against criminals, but you’re just a civilian on their way home from your friend’s house.

“Thank you," Your hands tremble but you try to convince yourself its from the biting autumn wind. The Devil barely nodded before moving to leave. There’s an interesting dichotomy in your head as the part of you that remembers your test in the morning and stranger danger rules screams at the top of its lungs to hurry home where you can hide under the blankets and call your friends. It had been a while since you caught up with each other’s lives, hadn’t it? Wouldn’t a friendly voice be good to hear right now?

“You can thank me by getting off the street,” it’s a gruff response but not particularly unkind and it only fuels the whispering voice that urges you after him. 

You can’t help but blame that whisper for the fleeting idea that he has a nice voice as well as the way that your feet follow him. Your eyes drifted to the red suit and the nasty gashes in the fabric as he walked along the sidewalk. You wondered for just a second what the pair of you must look like, you laden with bags of fabric and shoes to repair and the devil of hell's kitchen desperately trying to speed walk away from you.

“Do you have someone who can stitch up your suit?” The vigilante didn’t stop  but he did visibly roll his shoulders in frustration at your continued presence. You couldn’t be sure why he didn’t just scale another building like the one that he had dropped down from, but if you were a gambler you would put money on the gashes along his back and arms.

“What?” 

“Your suit. It doesn’t look like it’s made of the best material,” Words spill out like an unmanned faucet left to run, nerves had always made you more chatty. “I mean it looks good on you don’t get me wrong but I was just going to say that I could stitch it up for you, if you wanted.”

Your face feels warm when he finally does stop and the gruffness has more bite this time. 

“Go home.”

Your feet feel rooted to the cement as you watch him go. It only takes a minute or two for him to disppear down an alley way but it feels longer given how much time you spend standing in the dim lighting of the street lamps. 

The shock of the night lingers long enough to make it hard to remember how you got home, and you blame the paranoia you experience the rest of the night on being shaken up as well. You had no reason to believe that there were eyes on your back the whole way home, after all. 

And the next morning, finding yourself on the couch surrounded by sketches of hypothetical potential winter appropriate superhero suits for hypothetical heroes and your favorite show on the telelvision where you had left the reruns the night before, you tried to put it out of your mind. You had known the risks of living alone in Hell’s Kitchen, and it had been just another day hadn’t it?

The whisper doesn’t agree. Your classes push forward but your free time is spent prototyping jackets. Fashion had always meant to be fun, it was your passion and your way of expression, so focusing on practicality was a bit harder than you were expecting. The Devil is still active, you hear the reports in the morning on the news just as loudly as the rumors on the street. Your friends ask if you want to move in with them and you think of a man’s back covered in gashes and rips when you say no.

Early fall grows late by the time you see him next. Leaves that had just barely been dusted with color now dripped with it in piles on the ground beneath the empty trees. One of which was where you had caught sight of him, perched in the bare branches like a strange bird native only to the kitchen. His black suit had been swapped out for a simpler black you recognized from blurry photos online. It’s not as flashing and the material looks worse for the wear but you know its him nonetheless. 

Not only because of the wrappings on his hands or the way he held so eerily still, but because you knew by now that no other hero was brave enough to stick their nose into his territory.

Your backpack feels heavier than it had when you left this morning as you stood there. You had packed it for a reason, just like you had spent all that time on prototypes for a reason, but the thought of handing over your work to someone never became less daunting.

“Go home,” You jump nearly a foot in the air at the words. The night had been so quiet - or at least as quiet as Hells Kitchen ever was - that the sudden noise felt deafening. In between your thundering heartbeat though you can hear that his voice is thick with annoyance, but thicker still with exhaustion. 

“You said that last time too,” Daredevil sighs but doesn’t leave when you take your bag off and begin to root through it. “Why did you switch your suit?”

“Do you expect me to answer that?”

“I was kinda hoping you would, yeah.” The man doesn't respond verbally this time, just drops from the tree with a solid thud and begins walking off. It takes all of two seconds before you’re able to swallow your nerves and chase after but the distance between the two of you feels like it’s been way longer than that. “Wait, wait I’m sorry. I’m not good small talk.”

“If I wanted small talk I’d head to queens.” The lights of the neon signs and smoke make him look like someone out of a comic book. You wonder what you look like to him but you can’t focus too much on that train of thought without loosing your nerve completely. 

“Right, sorry. I just,” There’s bile rising at the back of your throat from the way that he’s looking at you. Or you assumed he was at least, his eyes were still just as covered as they were in his usual suit. “well I have something for you.”

He finally stops and you nearly run into him given that you’re so focused on trying to catch up. The jacket in your hands suddenly feels littered with mistakes and there’s a distinct screaming to try and shove it back in the bag and tell him it was all a lie. Daredevil doesn’t move from his spot but he does turn around and even in the dark and the limitations of his suit you can read his confusion clearly.

“Its getting cold out and I don’t know how thick the fabric of your suit is so I made you a coat. There’s no tracking or anything in it if you’re worried about that, I’m not good enough with tech for that sort of thing.” It had occurred to you as you were working on it that he may have said no to you repairing his suit because he was worried about his secret identity. Your hand shakes thinking that he may not accept this offering due to similar reasons.

“You made me a coat.” The Devil’s voice isn’t as harsh as it has been, almost like you’d surprised him enough to break his version of a customer service voice. It fills you with just enough warmth to take another step forward and force the jacket into his hand before you can back out and run home.

“Yeah. It’s not the most fashionable but it’s pretty streamline because that seemed kind of important to being able to fight and there’s lots of pockets because those seemed handy. I don’t know how well you can see in there but it’s just black with red detailing. I didn’t want to get the wrong shade of red and have it clash too much and-” You hadn’t realized that you were speaking as fast as you were until you had to stop to take a breath. His posture is just as stiff but his hands are gently exploring the feel of the fabric in a way that makes you feel like you did something right. “I’m sorry. You don’t really need to know all that it’s just that, uhm, well I talk when I’m nervous.”

Daredevil doesn’t comment on why you would be nervous and that alone makes you think that he has more mercy than many would consider. The silence lingers for a moment or two longer before he clears his throat and speaks again.

“Thank you.” For the first time he sounds kind, his lips don’t quite reach a smile but there isn’t the harsh set to them that there was at the beginning of your conversation. 

“No problem.” The words sound breathless because they are. Your lungs suddenly can’t quite fill all the way up with the smoke heavy air and when he slowly slips into the jacket they loose all their air completely. “It looks good on you.”

That one gets a smile and it’s brighter than any of the signs around you. 

“It’s late. You should get going.” He’s still smiling, still wearing a jacket with your label on the inside collar, even as he ushers you off into the night again. The weeks of sewing and scrapped patterns and pricked finger tips suddenly doesn’t seem like that bad of a price to pay to burn the image of his mouth into your brain.

“Yeah, Goodnight.”

You leave first this time, giddy in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. The walk is shorter than it’s ever been and you all but fall into your bed when you reach you apartment. 

When you check twitter the next morning there’s a single, dark photo of him mid jump from someone trying to ask about his ‘new costume’ and you’re quick to save it to your phone. 

It’s still there the next time you see him. It’s later than you’d like but three run ins with the devil of hells kitchen is three more than most people would get. 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” His hand is on your arm but you can barely feel it. Everything around you is spinning, your fist clenched tightly around the taser that you had sworn you would never need to use. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

You can hear him, you know you can, but it’s hard to focus on what he’s actually saying. 

“Of course,” the words are as solid as any other you could have said but the grip on your arm tightens just barely. You’re not looking at him though, eyes still locked on the brick wall across the alley from you. You hadn’t picked this alley to hide in while Daredevil took care of the would be assaulters, whatever that had meant when he left you here to catch your breath. If you had, you’re not sure if you would have picked one that had a graffiti work of an angel and a devil looming over you.

“You should sit down, you’re in shock.” There’s a pull, not hard enough that you can’t pull away from it yourself, but enough that you know the Devil is trying to get you to sit. Your eyes still don’t leave the mural on the bricks, you know the ground is wet though with this morning’s rain. 

“I’d rather not. New pants. Dirty alley way.” Was it normal to feel guilty for self preservation? You didn’t know what would have happened had you not lashed out to protect yourself, you could say that with certainty, but the way the man had dropped to the ground-

“I’ll pay the dry cleaning bill, sit down.” When he pulls you this time, you allow yourself to sit. There’s cars in the distance that you can hear honking from and somewhere nearby there’s the sound of music. Daredevil is crouched next to you, arm still in his grasp, when you realize that he’s in the same position of the winged being behind him. His colors are different and the angel doesn’t have horns, but the hold and the concern in the way they both lean towards their companion are identical.

“Did the coat work?” You ask after a minute. Anything to stop the line of thought in your head. 

“Yeah, it’s great. My friends keep asking me where I got it so they can get one.” Your smile feels watery and weak but its there and he must see it through his mask given the way that his hold loosens on your arm before finally dropping. As if he’s no longer afraid that you’re going to drift away without something to ground you.

“I’m really glad. I hadn’t seen photos of you wearing it in a while so I just kinda assumed it wasn’t warm enough.” The mention of photos should make you embarrassed, and surely when you think back on the situation tomorrow you’re sure it will. Right now though you’re just focused on the way that he smiles again, almost laughs, like the thought of you looking for paparazzi photos of him is funny to him. 

“I was in a bit of a rush to get to work one day and grabbed it without thinking. Figured it might raise too many eyebrows if I kept wearing it on patrol after that.” It’s more information than he’d ever given you before and for good reason. Still, having that sliver of information feels like finding your favorite hoodie fresh from the wash. It’s something to clutch to your chest and carry with you. 

“Oh. I’m sorry.” This time he does laugh, a short sound but one that you think would make a wonderful ringtone for your phone. It makes you finally understand why artists sample their loved ones’ voices in songs, you want the whole world to hear Daredevil’s laugh and know that he’s not all that bad. 

“You’re a bit odd,” It’s not wrong exactly but something about the way he says it makes you want to bury your head in your hands and scream out laughing at the same time. You settle for something in between and rest your head on your arms which rest on top of your knees. Face not quite hidden yet but only a moment away from doing so if the need arises. 

“You’re the one in a costume.” Daredevil doesn’t laugh again but his smile is still so bright it makes your eyes water. 

“You’ve got me there.” His voice is quiet, soothing. Your pants are wet from the pavement and you can feel the chill seeping in through the fabric but you can’t quit bare the thought of getting up yet. 

“Thank you for staying.” If you asked to hold his hand would he laugh at you? Would that be crossing a line?

“Yeah, well, I figured if I left you’d make me another coat.” It’s nice to be teased, taser heavy in your pocket but not your hand. It’s nice to have someone talk with you as if you hadn’t just hurt someone else for the first time.

“You’re right and now I’m gong to have to make you two new coats.” It’s nice to tease him back as if he’s just another friend and not a vigilante. It’s nice to pretend that you’re arguing over how many christmas presents to get each other this year.

“How about just a hat, hard to find ones with holes for the horns.” You’re pretty sure he’s trying to make you laugh again but you’re too focused thinking on how silly that must look. 

“Two hats and a scarf?” He could make christmas cards out of the papparazi photos, especially if you went with a green color scheme. 

“One hat and a set of mittens.” The devil holds out his hand and you hum for just a moment, letting it stand before taking his hand in yours again. It’s warm and you try not to think about how well the two of you fit together. 

“Deal.” Even after a gentle shake you don’t let go and your friend, you think at least, pulls you to your feet. 

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

That’s the last time you see him for a while. Your fault, you know, you don’t walk much after dark anymore and Daredevil never seems to be active during the day. Weeks go by and finals begin to loom just as snow begins to fall. The approved hat and mittens and unapproved scarf you decided to make with the leftover fabric sit untouched in tissue paper in your bag.

You think, most days, that perhaps that would be the last of it. That you had had your three times to befriend him or learn more about him and you had blown it with panic attacks and nervous rambling. And then one of your friends asked you to deliver a package for her on a day off. 

The building was small and definitely had seen some better days, but at least it was shelter from the bitterly cold wind. All you wanted was to drop the suit off, call Jasmine to remind her to bring the doughnuts you liked from the campus bakery when she finished classes for the day, and curl up with a silly feel good movie and your phone. 

In fact you’re so busy mentally picking out what pajamas you’re going to change into when you get home that you almost miss it completely when you walk in.

“Hi I’m looking fo-” your voice catches in your throat when you see it. There’s a woman at the desk, probably the one you’ve been sent to find, but there’s also a man standing next to her. 

It’s not his neat shirt and pants that catch your attention or his dark hair and indoor sunglasses. It’s not the white cane he’s leaning on or the familiar tilt of his lips as he talks to the woman next to him. It’s the fact that he’s wearing the jacket you stitched together.

“Hello?” It takes far too long to realize the greeting is directed towards you and when you do you can feel the warmth that gathers in your face as you clear your throat.

“Hi, sorry, uhm, I have a package for Ms. Page? It’s from Jasmine if that helps jog your memory at all.”

“Oh! I wasn’t expecting you until later! Thank you!” Her smile is warm and friendly, and you feel bad that you don’t want to look at it. Not when the man is suddenly standing stock still and the smile has slipped from his lips. 

“It’s no problem, really. She wanted me to let you know that if there’s any issue with the inseam to just give her a call she couldn’t remember whether you two had decided to round up or down on the decimal.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, thank you. I’m Karen,”

“(Y/n),” she blinked and looked at the man behind her briefly before shaking her head with a polite laugh.

“You wouldn’t happen to make jackets would you?”

“I’m back and I bring coffee!”

“I should go, I have a couple other things to drop off before I can head home and that cold is killer.” You don’t linger long enough to even introduce yourself to new man in the doorway or say goodbye to Karen, too afraid of tipping your hand too much. 

You weren’t lying about one thing at least, the cold is killer especially as you sit on a bench half a block away trying to adjust to the potential bombshell you just had dropped in your lap.

“You never sent me your dry cleaning bill.” You know who it is before you turn around. Your heartrate doubles, the organ working overtime at the thought that you had messed up somehow.

He's smiling when you turn around. It's the same one he gave you in the alley and yet it feels brand new. There's snow landing in his hair and spotting his coat, your coat.

“You didn’t need to follow me I’m not going to tell anyone.” It takes longer than you would have liked to answer and for the first time when talking to Daredevil you sound afraid. You are though, not of him, never of him, but of the embaressment of being scared of the dark? Or the potential questioning of how you found him? Hell even the idea of having slipped up and spilled too many clues somehow and Karen had been able to grill him for information afterwards was a nightmare.

The man's brow furrows just a touch, head tilted ever so slightly as the smile slips into something more confused.

“That’s-” He cuts himself off with a small clearing of his throat. Daredevil's posture shifts slightly and you notice the cane in his hands again. It looks startlingly similar to the cane you had seen people with visual imparements use. “Good to know.”

“Really. I couldn’t tell people if I wanted to, I don’t know if you’re Nelson or Murdock or just some random client that walked in looking for counsel.” The smile is gone completely now, even as he nods. Still he raises a hand to gesture to the bench you're on.

“Can I?”

“Oh, yeah, of course!" It's almost a certainty that you sound incompetent as you shuffle sideways on the bench. You almost wished he was in costume again, at least that way while you would be nervous you wouldn't have to know he was cute while you embaressed yourself.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” His voice is soft around the edges, a verbal olive branch woven into a basket in which you can put as much trust as you'd like.

Unfortunately you'd already placed all your trust in the pockets of the jacket he wore, had it sewn into the lining.

“What?” Daredevil sighs, his fingers tapping on the cane in front of him.

“I can tell you're nervous," The man's voice is still carefully slow. Each word sounds purposeful and careful as it leaves his lips.

"Yeah, I'm nervous but not because i think you'll hurt me! I would never think that!" He seems unconvinced, but more so there's a sense of uncertainty. It sounds silly, everyone feared the Devil even other heroes. When you thought of him there should be a shiver down your spine and a quicker beat to your steps. You can't bring yourself to be afraid though, at least not more so than you are of any other hero. In fact if you had to choose between talking with him and talking with any of the other locals you'd choose Daredevil in an instant. None of the others had helped you or your loved ones in the dark corner of the city they pretended didnt exist. None of them had laughed with you or walked you home when you were scared. "Really, I'm just nervous because I didn't want you to think I was stalking you or anything."

It's true enough for some of the tension to leave his posture though and that feels like a victory worth celebrating regardless of the unspoken parts of your confession. The pair of you sit in quiet for a moment and you try not to stare at him too hard.

You're pretty sure you're failing though. It's too hard to look away when his expressions are so emotive. You didn't think that seeing his cheeks or forehead would influence how easy it is to read him but it's like looking at a whole new person.

“It’s Murdock.” There's a pretty good chance you jump when he speaks, especially since the smile comes back to him so fast.

“I'm sorry?"

“You said you didn’t know if I was Nelson or Murdock. I’m Murdock. Most people call me Matt though.” Matt. It fits him nicely. “Nelson was the guy with coffee you brushed past who is, by the way, now convinced you’re an ex I never told him about.”

The nervous laughter comes before you can stop it, but when you bury your face in your hands you can hear him give a small laugh of his own.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” the laughter doesn't stop when you look at him, face burning with heat you're trying desperately to hide despite being equally as desperate to see him and know what he's thinking about the matter.

“Admitting guilt isn’t usually something people do with lawyers.” The tease is enough to force your gaze back into your fingers. It was strange how open he was without the suit, how much kinder he was. "You should probably be heading home.”

“You’re always trying to get rid of me, aren’t you?” it's hard to tease Matt back when you're still flustered yourself but it's worth the effort to see the boyish grin.

“It’s cold out," There's a pause and in it you can hear an almost laugh slip out again. "And now that you know where to find me maybe you’ll come back with my mittens.”

Your heart skips at the proposition.

“Would you be okay with that?” it's hard to talk around the frog in your throat, almost convinced he's just joking still.

“Well, it might be easier to convince Foggy that you’re not my ex if you’re also there.” Matt hasn't turned towards you but you still feel like the center of the world when he tips his head in your direction. “Maybe not though.”

[itwasthereaminuteago]

A tiny bit of Matt fluff for you.

Our boy works so hard, even at Xmas 🥺

He lets his back lean against the warming tiles as the hot spray of water chases the blood and dirt from his skin down the drain. He can't bring himself to reach for the bottle of shower gel, not just now. As he tips his head back the water plasters his hair to his head, and it runs like a thick, temporary rushing curtain over his ears, muting everything. A rare oasis of peace.

Tiredness hits him suddenly like a volley of fists to his body, the muscles in his legs giving up like wet spaghetti. He slides down to sit on the floor of the shower, knees up almost around his head.

He doesn't hear you come in, only reacting to your touch with a quiet hum when you climb into the shower with him. He's vaguely aware of the smooth soft motions of your soaped up hands over his chest and arms, and he hears your pleased response as he moans when you massage his scalp with the shampoo.

Everything is dreamlike as you're suddenly drying him with a warm fluffy towel, and the next moment he's wearing flannel pajama bottoms and you're tucking him into your soft bed. 

He feels the soft warmth of your lips, fleeting but tender on his forehead, and he's just conscious enough to move his lips against yours as you kiss him there too.

"Happy Christmas Matt."

.

@phoebe-danvers @saintmurd0ck @mindidjarin @castlesnchurches @peterman-spideyparker @pastafossa @mattmurdocksscars @mattmurdockspainkink @marvelswh0re @munsonownsmyass

@hellskitchens-whore @pedrito-friskito @sweetieswiftie @briefcasejuice @shedaresthedevil @freshabogados @e-dubbc11 @father4giveme @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @imperfxctly-me @stress--relief @murnsondock @stupidthoughtsinwriting @whistle1whistle @tea-and-wine @emiemiemiii @imherefordeanandbones @m0nster-fvcker @creatingjana @echos-muses @babykaz @lazyxsquirrel

[briefcasejuice]

a bad soap opera masterlist / AO3

author's note: matt, canonically, doesn't have a crooked nose — he's scarily perfect, actually — but there's no way he's been daredevil for this long and doesn't logically have one. anyway, one thought led to another and now there's this. enjoy! word count: 1093 pairing: matt murdock x gender neutral!reader summary: post-patrol interactions with matt differed from night to night, largely depending both your moods and how patrol went; tonight was no different, giving you both a quieter ending to your days. content: nostalgia, food eating, (domestic?) fluff.

You didn’t stir as Matt dropped through the skylight in the living room; your heartbeat gave a bare indication that you detected his presence, it’s sure beating slow and steady — with comfort and the safety of home — only interrupted by a slight jump.

You were eating cereal by the kitchen island, its lukewarm milk indicating that you’d been sitting there for a while as you chewed slowly, distracted by a show on your phone where it was propped on the bowl of fruit in the centre of the slab of marble. Tearing your eyes away from the screen, you took another spoon full of cheerios, the honey and dairy milk mixing to fill the air with a scent that reminded Matt of Saturday mornings when he was younger — waking up to his father watching reruns of football games or boxing matches he’d missed while out that week, migrating to the kitchen when Matt would ask him to pour his cereal for him.

Your feet swayed back and forth under the stool, an absent habit stirring up air currents and hints of your ‘scentless’ body wash, a strange manufactured smell, wafted towards him. You’d showered not too long before you’d grabbed your bowl of cereal and he smiled thinking of what songs you would’ve sang in there, another habit he’d grown to love. He almost chuckled thinking about how annoying he thought it was at first before you’d gotten a song stuck in his head and he’d found himself (read: foggy pointed it out) humming it at work. It was like having a little piece of you there with him and suddenly it wasn’t so annoying anymore.

Coming up behind you, his left hand kneading a sore muscle in his abdomen, you made a noise of acknowledgement, raising the spoonful of cheerios to his face. He went to eat it, his mask rubbing against his cheek strangely as he stuck his head out to take the milk and soggy hoops of cereal into his mouth. He bumped his face against the side of your forehead as you went to take another spoonful, a clumsy attempt at a kiss with a mouthful of food that had you murmuring, “Yuck, you’re sweaty. Go take a shower.”

He swallowed and chuckled, giving you a proper kiss on your forehead and trailing down your face, branding your skin with his lips. Your left eye closed when he made his way past it and you licked at bits of milk in the corner of your mouth before he could kiss there.

“Can’t hang out with you first?” he asked, his voice intentionally dropping an octave, intentionally low and enticing where his lips remained by your ear. Seasoned Matt-sitter, you shook your head, chewing on your cheerios as you erected a hand over your full mouth and spoke anyway.

“Nuh-uh- I showered and I don’t wanna shower again,” your voice was muffled by cereal but a small smile played on your lips. He groaned, the sound full of sarcastic pain and layered over a whispered, “Damn,” before he walked backwards towards the counter where you’d left the box of cereal out. Going back to your show, you tapped the left side of the screen a few times for the bits you missed while dealing with Matt’s tomfoolery. He opened the fridge for some milk, bathing the otherwise dark room in a harsh white light that had you squinting.

“What’re you watching?” he enquired, his back still turned as he poured milk into his cereal.

“I dunno, some random show Jessica ‘n Luke recommended,” you mumbled, not looking up, “Never trusting their taste again. I think being parents has ruined it.”

Matt let out a sudden little ha, “I’ll be sure to let them know.”

“Don’t! Jessica’ll kill me,” you put all the sarcastic fear you could into your voice, earning yourself one of his larger laughs, his head thrown backwards.

Putting the milk back in the fridge he joined you at the only other stool at the kitchen island. You watched as he sat beside you; with the apartment dark — save for the lights that came with living in New York, flooding through the glass walls of this borderline penthouse along with the light from your phone, dimmed by a white light filter — you could understand how people could be afraid of daredevil, his silhouette large and looming. Despite your realisation, your body didn’t skip a beat, affection running so deeply you smiled when you caught a strand of fiery hair peeking out the top of the mask.

Going to poke him in the abdomen as he passed you, he swatted at your finger before you could even unhinge your elbow to reach out to him.

“Not when I’m holding my dinner, thank you very much,” he said a-matter-of-a-factly.

“You need a better diet,” you shot back.

“And risk comfortable nights like this? No chance.” he said, sitting down and scooching over closer to you before wiggling atop the stool, getting comfortable. Once situated, you pinched the edge of his mask and pulled it off, setting it on the counter in front of you — not missing the way his shoulder muscles tensed up slightly at the contact. His hair was a mess, it’d grown long enough to push behind his ears but he didn’t make any attempt to in the moment, the larger amount of it hanging down in his face. He went to take a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, using the back of his palm to toss it over his head and when it laid there so perfectly, almost styling itself, you rolled your eyes.

He was still listening to the show you had on, his eyebrows raising as it got to its climax and it was only when he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with it, that you noticed you were staring and looked away.

“Had your fill, hm?” he teased.

“Shut up,” you grumbled, setting your chin in your palm, your elbow planted on the counter top, “Your nose is crooked, y’know.”

“And yet you still call me pretty everyday,” he hummed, taking another spoonful into his mouth. You leaned forward and took his chin between your fingers, kissing the side of his nose, right beneath his eye. It was clumsy but he smiled, his cheeks full of cheerios. He’s adorable.

“Those facts can coexist,” you spoke against his skin, “I love your crooked nose.”

He swallowed, humming. “And I love you.”

You raised your eyebrows and nodded before sarcastically adding, “You tell me everyday.”

all feedback/criticism is appreciated! i do not give permission for this or any of my fanfiction to be reposted or translated without my consent.

[gooddaysmeanwritingdays]

I Have ADHD

Fandom: Daredevil (MCU) Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (gender neutral) Warnings: none? Bit of swearing and dangerous driving, basically just author indulging in self-indulgent writing Word Count: 1643 words Summary: You're late to an ADHD consultation appointment and you're terrifying the shit out of your boyfriend Matt by driving like a maniac.

A/N: So this is 100% a self-indulgent fanfic. I just got diagnosed with ADHD and it was genuinely one of the happiest moments of my life. So I decided to share this joy with anyone who wants to read it. I couldn’t stop smiling when I wrote this, just like I couldn’t stop smiling (and crying and laughing) when I got my diagnosis.

A/N 2: This has no relation to the show Daredevil at all (besides Matt being there) so you don’t need to have watched it to enjoy this fic. I honestly don’t expect many people to read it because this is pure indulgence, but if any of you do, I hope you enjoy 💖

A/N 3: I’d like to give a huge shoutout to my wonderful friend and beta-reader @221birl1823 for reading this and for being a huge support in this journey for me. Thank you for everything; this one’s for you.

“I’m late. I’m late. I’m fucking late.” You swerved through the traffic and flapped your hand at the car behind you when they slammed on their brakes and leaned on their horn. “Shit sorry sorry.”

“Killing us isn’t going to get you there any earlier,” Matt remarked dryly.

“Not helping.” But when you turned to glare at him, you noticed the death grip your boyfriend has on the dashboard and the slight green tinge to his cheeks. You eased up on the accelerator a bit and sighed. “Sorry, baby. I’m just stressed. I’ve been waiting for this appointment for six months and I’m late.”

You glanced at the clock again. 11:58. Your appointment was at midday, and you were still ten minutes away.

“I know.” He reached over to grip your hand in his, before ripping away to grip the dash again as you sped through a yellow light. “Just please get us there alive.”

Reluctantly, you did as he asked. Anyone else you probably would have told them to suck it up, but for Matt you’d do anything. Even be later than you already were. Plus, you couldn’t imagine it was fun being blind and being at the mercy of a speeding maniac. There was a reason he rarely let you drive—and it had nothing to do with living in New York.  

When you were finally at a sensible pace again, Matt reached over to slide his fingers between yours. “Hey.”

You glanced over, squeezing his hand to let him know you were paying attention.

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

You furrowed your brow. You’d expected some kind and loving words, not him asking you to dredge up all your anxieties. But he had that earnest look on his face you never could say no to.

“Well, they could tell me I’ll have to wait longer which will only make me stress more. Or they’ll cancel my appointment for being late without notice. Or they’ll kick me out for good saying I should have gotten there earlier because they’re a fancy private fucking practice and they could do that!” As you listed all the worst-case scenarios you could, your anxiety started rising once more. You slammed on the brakes to avoid running up someone’s arse and flicked them the finger when they beeped at you.

“Okay. Well, if you have to wait longer, I’ll be with you to calm you down. If they cancel your appointment for being—” he checked the time “—six minutes late, then we’ll book it for the very next time we can, or demand to see someone else.” He tugged on your hand for your attention again. “And if they throw you out permanently, we’ll sue them.”

You snorted, leaning into him as you waited for the lights to turn green. “It’s a good thing I happen to know two great lawyers.”

He kissed your forehead. “Definitely a good thing. But I don’t think you’ll have to worry about it at all. You’ll be okay. It’ll go perfectly.”

You didn’t let go of him as you slammed on the accelerator and overtook a truck, and he gripped your hand tighter as you did.

You glanced at the clock again. 12:07. Anxiety stirred in your throat at the sight, but you took a deep breath and focused on the circles Matt was drawing on the inside of your wrist.

Everything’s going to be okay, you reassured yourself. It doesn’t matter that I’m late. It’s not the end of the world. If I have to wait longer that’s okay, and if they try to kick me out, I’ll glue my ass to that seat until someone’s free.

You took another breath, calming down before a car suddenly swerved in front of you. You tore your hand from Matt’s with a curse and swerved to the other lane, narrowly missing a motorcycle.

“You fucking asshole!” You glared at the other driver as you passed her. “Where’d you learn to drive? The fucking moon?”

She flipped you off without looking and you snarled as you rounded a corner.

“Are you talking about yourself?” Matt asked faintly.

You snorted, your mood rising instantly, and you pried his hand from the dash and wrapping it in yours. You pressed a kiss to the back of it, only smiling a little. “What are you saying about my driving, Murdock?”

“That you’re a menace.”

You grinned. Turning into the driveway, you slipped into a free park. “We’re here.”

“Next time we’re taking a cab.”

“A cab can’t make up for lost time like I can. If we’d gotten a cab, we’d have been late.”

“Later than we already are?”

You poked him in the chest, outraged. “Too soon.” You locked the car behind you and headed in.

Before you got to the door and your nerves could rise anymore, Matt grabbed your hand. “Hey, you’ll be okay. This is an ADHD clinic. They’re used to dealing with people with poor time management.”

You let out a shaky breath. “So I guess it’s a point in my favour that I’m late to a consultation where one guy decides if I meet the criteria another guy made up?”

His smile was a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Come find me when you’re done.”

With that he headed towards the coffee shop two doors down and you headed inside to face the music.

~~~

“We’ll start you off slowly, half a tablet today, two halves tomorrow, one and a half on day 3 and then two from then on. Try not to take them after midday as they could keep you awake later in the night.” The doctor folded his notebook. “Any questions?”

“Ah yeah, one.” You rubbed your fingers, squeezing the tension out of them. “So when I walk out of that door—” you gestured at the closed door to his office “—I have ADHD? Like I’m officially diagnosed with ADHD?”

He smiled. “Yes. You have ADHD.”

The air left you in a rush. “Okay. Right. Thank you.”

He nodded, turning back to his computer, and started typing up your script. You pressed you hand to you mouth to cover your laugh as you replayed the words in your head. You have ADHD. You have ADHD.

You blinked the tears from your eyes, dabbing at the corners. Holy shit. I have ADHD.

You grabbed a tissue from the box beside you, dabbing the corner of your eyes before you could make a fool of yourself.

The doctor glanced at you. “Are you alright?”

You breathed out a laugh. “Yeah. I’m just so relieved.”

He smiled kindly. “It’s often a relief to finally get a diagnosis.”

“So much.” You squeezed the tissue in your hands and sat back in the chair like your muscles couldn’t hold you up.

“Here’s your script.” He handed it to you. “You can get this filled at any pharmacy, and you can start taking it this afternoon, if you like. Just remember to follow the schedule I gave you.”

You nodded quickly. “Of course. Yes. Thank you so much.”

He stood up and you followed him to the door. “You do look relieved. And lighter than when you walked in.”

“So damn relieved.” You laughed a little. “Thank you so much.”

“Have a good day.”

When asked later, you couldn’t remember much of what followed, of paying, of booking a follow up appointment, of anything but the thoughts: I have ADHD.

It wasn’t until you were outside that it finally hit you emotionally and you couldn’t stop the tears streaming down your cheeks. You stumbled blindly to your car, tears pouring down your cheeks and laughter spilling from you.

“Hey.” Twin familiar arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “How’d it go?”

You spun around to face your boyfriend. “You didn’t hear?”

He shook his head. “Of course not. I wasn’t listening. I didn’t want to intrude on that.” Matt reached up to cup your cheeks. “You’re crying…and you’re laughing. What’d he say?”

“I have ADHD!” You threw your hands up in the air, smiling the biggest smile you ever had.

“Yeah?” Matt pulled you close and a grin bloomed on his face to match yours before he spun you in a circle. “That’s fantastic! Congratulations, sweetheart! I’m so happy for you!”

“Me too!” You grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck when he didn’t put you down. “I have ADHD! Officially! Actually! It’s not in my head! I’m not lazy! I’m not making this up! I have ADHD!”

“I never doubted you for a second.” Matt pressed his forehead to yours, smiling so hard his cheeks must have ached. “I can’t believe you finally got it!”

You laughed, biting your lip. “I finally got it! After all these years and all the assholes saying I didn’t, I finally got it. The confirmation I needed!”

He spun you in another circle and you let out a shrieking laugh before you stopped. “Wait. I have to tell Megan!” You pushed at his shoulders until he let you go. “They’ve been with me every step of the way! I have to tell them the good news! Ahh! They’re going to be so happy for me!”

Matt let you go with a laugh as you ran into the car park, your phone out and your smile so wide your cheeks ached. He blinked when you stopped and spun around to face him again.

“Almost forgot.” You leapt into his arms, knowing he’d catch you as he always did. Being in his arms always felt like the safest place on earth. And right now, it was the happiest too. You cupped his cheeks and pulled him in for a soft kiss. Pulling away, you rested your head against his, smiling like mad as you said, “Thank you, baby. Thank you for helping me through this and being there for me whenever I needed it.”

His eyes crinkled in the corners, and he leaned into your touch. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

You have ADHD. The words ran through your head, and you felt so giddy you wanted to scream and laugh and leap for joy. “I have ADHD!” you whispered.

“Yeah, you do, baby. You have ADHD.”

A/N: Like I said, purely self-indulgent. I just want to add, my experience of ADHD and diagnosis isn’t universal. This fic is purely about me expressing my relief and happiness over finally getting a diagnosis that has been slowly wrecking me for far too long. I honestly still can’t believe it. And I can’t stop smiling!

Comments and reblogs are much loved 💖💖💖

[martyrmurdock]

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐘!

♡ note: the picture above is one of my fav images ever <3 it was created by @/catcrumb!

♡ pairing: matt murdock x gn reader

♡ word count: 1k

♡ tags: fluff, sweetheart used as a pet name for reader

Matt Murdock knows you’re standing outside of his apartment before you even have an opportunity to knock on his door. He recognizes the pattern of your footsteps, the rhythm of your heartbeat, the scent of your shampoo and conditioner, the sound of your periodic inhales and exhales- he recognizes it all. The only thing that Matt does not recognize is a scent accompanying you. Fresh and light and floral, Matt can hazard a guess, a pretty accurate one at that, of the origin of the scent, but he’ll be able to confirm his thoughts once he lets you inside.

By the time you knock on his door, exactly three times in an easily identifiable sequence, Matt has already stood up from his seat at his dining table, away from the array of documents and case files that cover its surface, and crossed the room to the entrance of his apartment. He undoes the lock and turns the door handle, opening his door wide open for you. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Matt greets, a smile growing on his lips. Smiles come to him easier when you’re around. His hand rests around the hard edge of the door, fingers pressing against the smooth wood. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, Matty!” you warmly say in return, reaching forward to squeeze the crook of his elbow in an affectionate manner. You retract your hand, but the warmth of your palm lingers. “Well, I was in the area, and since I was around, I wanted to swing by and see you. Sorry for not giving you a heads up,” you sheepishly say, and Matt can hear your blood rush towards the surface of your skin.

He nearly frowns- you shouldn’t feel bad for dropping by unannounced. Sure, he would appreciate you informing him that you’d visit him before you actually did (so he could have ample time to tidy up his living space), but having you stop by is a surprise that he happily welcomes. He acts quickly to rid you of your worries. “Don’t feel bad about that, sweetheart. I’m happy you stopped by. I needed to take a break from work anyways,” he assures you. Upon hearing Matt’s words, your heart rate begins to even out and the burning warmth of your skin cools - outcomes that Matt hoped would occur.

You laugh lightly, and the corners of Matt’s lips tug upward. 

“Matt Murdock taking a break? That’s practically unheard of,” you tease as Matt steps aside, allowing you room to enter his apartment. He closes the door behind you, making sure to lock it before he follows you further into his living space.

“That is not true. I take plenty of breaks,” Matt says, raising a hand up in protest. You stop in the middle of the apartment, in the space between his couch and dining table, and go silent, your doubt loud and clear in your quietness. Matt amends his previous statement. “Sometimes, I take breaks.” With your continued silence and the feeling of your eyes boring into his head, Matt speaks up again after a brief moment. “Okay, maybe, occasionally,” he finally concedes. You huff in mild amusement.

“Now, that sounds about right,” you say, clearly taking pleasure in poking fun at Matt. He shakes his head at you, but a smile stays present on his lips. 

“What were you doing before this?” Matt asks as he moves towards his kitchen. He opens up a cabinet, takes out a glass, and fills it up with water as he waits for you to tell him about your day before coming over to visit him.

“Not too much. I was just running around, doing a few errands I needed to get done today, but that reminds me!” You cut yourself off and walk over to where Matt’s standing. He sets down the glass of water he filled up for you on the kitchen counter and faces you. The floral scent that he could smell earlier is much stronger now, filling the air of his apartment with its sweet aroma. “I got these for you,” you brightly say as you push something against his chest. Matt’s hands wrap around it, crinkling paper in the process.

It’s a bouquet of flowers. 

“Flowers?” Matt hesitantly asks. He adjusts his grip on the bouquet, lifting it closer to his face and inhaling its scent. It’s a relatively mild scent- delicate and sweet and not overwhelming to Matt’s sensitive sense of smell. He’s not familiar enough with flower species to be able to know what flowers make up the bouquet simply based on their scent.

“Yeah, I passed by a flower stand when I was walking around, and when I saw these, they caught my eye.” You place your hands over Matt’s, your fingers easily slipping into the spaces between his own. You gently squeeze, mindful of how fragile the bouquet in Matt’s grasp is. “They reminded me of you.”

Matt raises a brow.

“How so?” 

“Oh, you know,” you say, the smile evident in your voice. You move a hand off the back of Matt’s and gently rub your fingers against one of the bouquet’s flower petals. “They’re red just like your glasses, which is why they caught my attention in the first place. But the shopkeeper told me that they’re specifically red amaryllis. Do you know what they symbolize, Matty?”

Matt shakes his head. “Can’t say that I do, sweetheart. Botany was my weakest subject in school,” he jokes, eliciting a spark of warm laughter from you. 

“Red amaryllis symbolize,” you start saying, wrapping your arms around Matt’s shoulders as you speak. Matt winds his arms around your waist, careful to not accidentally crush any of the flowers you gifted him. “Passion,” you continue, dragging your fingers through Matt’s brown hair, scratching at his scalp with the edges of your nails. “Attraction.” Your chest is flush against Matt’s, and he can feel the thumping of your heart vibrate through his body. “And love,” you murmur against Matt’s lips.

Matt tightens his arms around you. “Really?” he says, lowering his volume to match your soft one.

“Mhm.”

Matt smiles.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Matt says- quiet and reverent- before he closes the little distance between you and presses his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. The flowers are forgotten for the moment, but later, Matt will place them in the only vase he owns and display them on his dining room table, smiling to himself whenever he inhales the sweet mild scent of them and his mind floods with thoughts of you.

[literaila]

beauty, faith, imagine. 

matt murdock x reader 

first part.

summary: someone clears their throat next to you. and then he accuses you of being a criminal. 

warnings: just fluff (okay there’s angst but you won’t even notice) 

*

"we're not doing this," matt says. 

his voice is rough. his breath is quick. deadly. the very idea of his existence turns you inside out. 

you almost laugh but manage to form it--the very hysteria of it--into a smile, teasing. 

matt is saying one thing, but his lips speak volumes more. 

at your pulse, the tip of your chin, the edge of your ear and a place that you hadn't even known existed, and-- 

"that's what you said before," you get out, tilting your head up as matt tastes every inch of your skin. 

you're not quite sure how you've gotten here. 

it doesn't matter. 

none of it matters. 

an inch of nothing fills up at the edge of your throat. matt kisses it away with just inches of space. with his lips so close and too far all at once. 

he's irrationally addictive. 

irritatingly confident. 

"no," he whispers, and you think that maybe he doesn't know what he's saying at all. 

still, you take the opportunity of his thinking to push him off, to wrap your legs around his and do your own tasting. 

matt is pushed back against the mattress before you can even think about it. 

you smile anyway. 

kiss his lips, just once. 

"we are doing this," you say. 

matt is trying to hide his smile. but you see it. 

him. 

*

it's maybe a week later. 

it's maybe too many phone calls and too many nights of frank just "checking up on you." 

it's maybe too much. 

and it's possibly why you've ended up at this bar. why you've crossed the bridge between your own neighborhood and never being spotted again. 

shame is a funny thing. 

brothers are not. 

and this bartender, well. some part of you is absolutely in love with her. 

which, you guess, is the effect she has on everybody. 

not that she's told you that. or done anything to... indicate it. 

hysterical minds, you know, are funny little things. 

especially this late at night, when you're just avoiding calls. 

"josie," you say, giving her your best smile. your most invigorating tone. "are you hiring?" 

she gives you a look--the same look you've been getting a lot of lately--and walks away. 

so much for charity. 

you blow a breath out. contemplate the possibility of moving somewhere else and changing your name. 

but these ideas--fabulous ideas--are interrupted. 

by a quick tap on the counter next to you. a clearing of throat that can really only mean one thing. 

"job hunting?" a voice next to you asks. 

you glance over, eyes half blurry with something you would not like to mention--exhaustion, fury, embarrassment--and see a blob of a face. 

it soon clears into something much more interesting. 

"fancy seeing you here," you say, but your voice says anything but. 

matt laughs, maybe surprised. "i grew up here." 

you blink. "...in this bar?" 

he's sitting down. he's staring at you, towards you, looking at something that you wish you could see. 

"almost," matt says. "if josie would've adopted me." 

there's a laugh from the other side of the bar. 

you look over to josie, surprised. "you'll adopt him but you won't hire me?" 

you're maybe just a little bit too loud. 

josie glares at you. looks away. 

you turn back to matt, who is still smiling. still fiddling with his glasses. still tapping his fingers on the counter. 

"can i buy you a drink?" he asks. 

"you'd waste three dollars on me?" 

matt's lip twitches. 

"i wouldn't call it a waste," he says, "the drinks aren't completely terrible." 

"you said you grew up here, right?" 

matt nods. 

"so i don't need to explain how false that statement is?" 

he laughs. 

his voice is quiet, soft. you're looking around, trying to find out if he came with anyone. 

"how's the, uh," matt tilts his head. "...trespassing?" 

your brow furrows. "how'd you hear about that?" 

"people talk. foggy especially." 

"isn't there like a kind of lawyer-client confidentiality?" 

"not when you've got two lawyers. or none, in your case." 

you wince. look away for just a moment--not that matt knows that. "sorry." 

he laughs again. it's a bit pitiful. "it's okay. foggy doesn't like to associate nelson and murdock with criminals, anyway." 

"hey!" 

matt laughs again, and you find yourself following. 

you find yourself jumping off of the edge of the cliff, just cause he says so. 

you try and wipe the smile off of your face. "it wasn't exactly illegal." 

"because 'not exactly a crime' is a good excuse in court." 

you scowl. "i'm not going to court." 

"straight to jail, then?" 

you lean back in your stool. cross your arms. "don't you have a job or something, murdock? what're you doing here, spending time with us criminals?" 

"i think it's just you." his lip is quirked up. you can see the edge of his brow above his glasses. 

a couple of raindrops fall on your skin. 

matt clears his throat. sits up a little bit. "but it's good that josie hates you," he says. 

you glare at him. "she does not hate me--" 

"the last person that was employed by her mysteriously disappeared." 

"what's the implication behind that sentence?" 

matt smiles. "that you should get a different job." 

you laugh, small. look down at the bar. play with the straw of your water. "yeah, well. it's not like i've got much of a choice. have to take whatever's available." 

matt is still looking at you. he still hasn't moved an inch farther from you. 

if you reached out, just a little bit, you might be able to feel the heat of his skin. 

"if you can't find anything," he says, pleasant and controlled. "i'm sure we could find some use of you at the office." 

you blink. "are you going to hand me your business card now?" 

matt opens his mouth. closes it. "smooth." 

you laugh. "don't you already have an assistant?" 

"i didn't say that you'd be a good use." 

"so you're offering me a position as your janitor?" 

matt nods, so serious, so stern and still and completely beautiful. "like you said, not much of a choice right now." 

you look up at the clock. look at matt and try to guess the color of his eyes. 

"i have a feeling that you don't get paid much," you say. 

matt chuckles. "we do get a lot of fruit." 

"does your janitor get free lunch, too?" 

"only if said janitor has a criminal record." 

by the time you leave later that night, you've almost forgotten about the phone call with frank. 

*

matt is almost pouting at you. 

"what?" you as him, pecking the edge of his lips. 

"this is a trap." 

you smirk, let your hand go up his hair, let the other trace the line of his jaw. "you should've realized that a long time ago, murdock." 

"i was distracted." 

his voice is so soft. is so full of emotion--something that you would like not to consider. is so everything that you've ever wanted to hear all at once. 

matt is trying not to smile. he's trying not to breathe. 

you're doing the same. 

like you might get intoxicated by his very presence. 

"oh yeah?" you ask. "and why was that?" 

you kiss along his jaw. taste his feelings, his skin like you've been starving for years. 

like nothing has ever tasted so sweet. 

matt is vibrating. he is every sensation. 

"that, for one." 

he tries to move away from you, tries not to squirm as you tickle the edge of his neck. 

"i'm sorry," you say. "my fault." 

"your fault," matt confirms. 

he is smiling at you. 

he is so goddamn beautiful. 

you feel another layer shed. feel the boundaries of your skin get even thinner. 

you feel him, digging in. 

his eyes are so warm, such a perfect brown that you could've never imagined. 

"we're not doing this," he says. 

and he's lying. 

* 

my masterlist here. 

taglist:  @moonlarking @v1ci0us @hellskitchenswhore @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @amurderofcrowsinatrenchcoat

[hellsburners]

intoxicated

summary: you left your sweater and matt murdock's erection has a plan. pairing: matt murdock x gender neutral reader word count: 628 warnings: 18+ warning, masturbation, perv!matt, matt is frustrated you left him with an erection

masterlist | more matt murdock

You just left his apartment. He was sitting there, dick hard from teasing you. He pleaded with you to stay but you were already late for work. He sat in the living room uncomfortable. The head of his throbbing cock brushing against the fabric of his underwear, a bead of wetness saturates the garment. 

“Fuck.”

He stands up to get a cold shower, to ease away the heat burning inside him. The hardness in between his legs pointing north, tenting in his sweatpants. Matt scratches his scalp in disbelief. He takes a deep breath and he smells it. Left on the chair in his small kitchen was your favorite knit sweater. It didn’t help Matt’s problem. His cock throbs more from your scent. The musky notes of your perfume and the subtle sweetness to it. 

Matt huddles towards the sweater. He touches the soft fabric and brings it near to his face. Your scent, god, your scent. It reminds him of the way you’d hug his naked torso in the bedroom, or the way you’d hide your palms in them when the apartment gets cold. But most and foremost, the way his hands would go underneath them and feel your soft skin when you two kiss in the living room. 

He goes back to the living room sofa with your sweater. If he could he would’ve buried his head in it. He contemplates his next action. 

“Fuck it.”

He removes the knot in his sweatpants and pulls them down with his underwear. The garments pool in his ankles. His cock stands tall and thick. He pulls your sweater to your nose while his other hand starts stroking his dick. The please rushes throughout his whole body bringing him into euphoria. He moans calling out your name as pre-cum drips down his cock. He starts to run his hands across his abs, thinking of you touching him. He takes his fingertips to his hard nipples. He shudders from the sheer amount of pleasure. He pleaded on taking his phone to tell you what he was doing, how perverted he was masturbating to your scent. He wanted you to tease him more, drag out the orgasm for him, to edge him while you’re at work. 

Sweat drips down from his nape. The heat enveloping his whole body. More pre-cum drips down from his tips making his strokes more slippery. He moans loader from the pleasure. Wanting to feel more he takes off his shirt and lays your sweater next to him. He feels the orgasm coming. He tightens his grip on his cock while his other hand teases his nipples. He wants you, so bad, he thrusts into his hand thinking of your body. He wants to feel the heat of your hole, the sound of your moans begging for him to fuck you. He fucks into his hand harder and harder until his thrusts become erratic. He bends over and cum shoots everywhere landing mostly to your sweater drenching it in his seed. He sits back panting, his wrist sore and wet. 

“I guess I won’t be bringing my sweater today,” you said, standing near the kitchen counter.

“Love? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to,” he said, still naked on the couch catching his breath. 

“Well, I came back for it but I guess not,” you chuckle, walking to sit next to him. “But I guess I could be late for one more hour.”

You take his soft cock and start stroking while you bend down to kiss him. It starts to harden again as you straddle his thick thighs. 

“No, go call your boss and tell him you won’t be coming to work today, sweetheart.” he pulls you into his embrace as he takes your clothes off.

[demigoddessqueens]

My husband has returned from the war

[courtforshort15]

Not the Same

Pairing: Matt Murdock x GNReader

Word Count: 2900ish

Summary: You don't like her, this woman who enters his life just as suddenly, just as savagely as she leaves it. You know Matt is deserving of so much more than she gives him, and it breaks your heart.

Warnings: none really. Slight angst with a happy ending.

Masterlist

You don't like her.

In fact, you hate her.

You know hate is a strong word; one reserved for the most vile of people, the ones who hurt and maim and destroy innocent, unsuspecting lives. Ones who take take take, without giving anything in return.

But honestly, hate is exactly what you feel for her, and it takes years for the feeling to go away.

It takes years for the curse she leaves behind to slowly begin healing. She is a glacier; cold and stubborn and incapable of sustaining life in the cracks and crevices between sheets of ice. Years go by before things unfreeze, though the process is slow even then.

It's not the fact that she makes Matt happy, or the fact that Matt is so clearly in love with her, as much as it pains you to admit, loathing the way it's her and not you tucked into his side and under his arm. It's the fact that she hones in on every one of his vulnerabilities, every one of his insecurities, and exploits them. You struggle watching the two of them together, aching with the thought that Matt deserves love and happiness and good things.

Because Elektra, despite her designer clothes and polished accent and sharp, all-knowing smile, isn't a good thing.

You don't hate her in the beginning. You certainly aren't a fan, but given that you've never seen Matt smile so much, you force yourself to at least give her a half-hearted chance. You give her several chances, if you're being honest. Several chances to prove she's not as awful as she seems to be at first sight, several chances to prove how much she loves him, several chances to be a positive thing in his life.

But she's doesn't take those chances, doesn't even acknowledge them, and you hate her for it.

You find yourself wishing, praying for her to be better than she is. You need her to be better than she is. At least then Matt would be with someone who almost deserves him, someone who is almost as good as him. Loving this man from afar rips your heart to shreds, nothing but blood and scraps of muscle held loosely in your hand, but at least you would be able to rest easier if you knew that someone was taking care of and loving him the way that he needs.

Instead, you are left with the knowledge that she is not worthy of him, and you hate her for taking this man's heart, knowing he could have the world if he asked for it. You don't know Elektra well, but you've observed her enough that you know she would never be willing to give it to him.

But you would. 

You’d give him every damn corner of the universe, every strategically arranged atom that could make up anything he could ever want, and you’d kneel at his feet while placing it into his gentle hands.

She is selfish, and she yanks him along for this ride of hers, uncaring of any sort of trouble she could lead him into as she amuses herself. He follows her so willingly, to your ever-present misery, ready to do her bidding for whatever she needs. He hardly lets her lift a finger, carrying all the weight of the relationship on his shoulders, even while he refuses to acknowledge how she so clearly dances ahead of him, as if she’s already aware that she’s going to leave him behind.

You watch in confusion as Matt changes almost immediately, almost overnight, and he doesn't change for the better. The man sitting next to you in class is someone you don’t recognize, someone who is distant and so wrapped up in this woman that he becomes unaware of everyone else who considers him one of their own. He’s a far cry from the man who holds your hand through panic attacks or shares his french fries with you after you swear you aren’t hungry.

Matt has always been effortlessly charming, wide smile beautiful and enticing, dark eyes lit up in humor when you make a stipid comment or when you trip over your own two feet. But now he has shifted into something aloof and disinterested, and the flicker of annoyance that crosses over his face when you ask if he wants to grab coffee between classes absolutely cuts you to the bone.

The people in his life are so suddenly forced to go on without him, absolutely reeling with the realization that Matt could just drop them so easily, so unconcernedly.

(“Don’t push us out. That’s not fair.”

“But she loves me.”

“We love you, too, Matt.”

“It’s not the same.”)

It…kills you. It’s like you’re a used toy placed in a box and shoved away, something meant to provide vague memories years down the line.

You've been in relationships before, so you understand the giddiness of new love. You understand how exciting and how breathtaking and how wonderful it is to find someone who might fit into your life so perfectly. You understand how focus shifts to this new person as you devote yourself to learning as much about them as possible, focusing in awe and wonder as you soak up every single cell that makes up this person you’ve fallen in love with.

But this isn't that.

Years of friendship has given you insight to the inner workings of one Matthew Murdock, so you can see that he is completely, all caution to the wind, in love with her. And you can grudgingly admit that you see slivers of affection on Elektra's face when she looks at him. But it's more than that.

It's obsession.

Matt spends all of his time with her now, every spare moment, and she acts if she is the sole gate-keeper of his time. She is vicious, territorial, and uneasy to work with, demanding that every little second he has to be spent in her presence. He starts missing classes, starts skipping your weekly study dates, stops showing up at his part-time job at the disabilities resource center.

If it was just those things that had changed, you'd probably just call him out on his shit, knowing how much school has always meant to him and not wanting to see him quit. But ultimately you know it's his choice, and if he wants to ruin his grades and chances of success, that's on him.

And if it was just his friendship with you that was affected, you might have let it go. He’s still your friend, even if it doesn’t feel like right now, and you’re acutely aware of the fact that you'd forgive this man for anything and everything. It might break your heart in the process, but you know that you'll spend the rest of your life trying to make him happy, even if it's from the sidelines as he loves and promises himself to someone else.

You somehow manage to scramble your broken pieces into your clumsy hands from where they currently sit at his doorstep, desparate to get to a place where your hatred for this woman does not batter against all the corners in your mind. And even as you mourn for the man that had once been so kind and soft with you, your heart breaks further, sadly aware that he's hurting Foggy, too, and that it's not something you can easily push aside.

Foggy is the kindest person you've ever met. Made of glee and dad jokes and sunshine in a bottle, and he definitely doesn't deserve the way he's being treated. Your fingers twitch at your sides, wanting nothing more than to hit him with one of his heavy textbooks and tell him to snap out of it, and you're absolutely positive that Foggy would be second in line.

You hate Elektra. Not because Matt loves her, but because she's pushed aside everyone else Matt loves...and he's let her.

When she abruptly leaves, cutting herself so completely out of Matt's life with rusty shears meant to hurt and maim and destroy, it's you and Foggy who help put him back together. Even with as much pain as he's caused, as many tears you’ve shed, you fight tooth and nail for him in his depression, even while he fails to fight for himself.

(“She left me.”

“We’re still here, Matt.”

“It’s not the same.”)

It's years before you learn how Elektra had managed to get her claws into him so deeply, cutting down to the bone and staying there, regardless of any pain it may have caused him on their way down underneath his skin. She had loved him in her own way, not because of all the good she was able to see in him, but because she had seen and welcomed and matched the darkness in him.

Matt is the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, he reveals to you one day. And even while you seethe and scream and cry at him, you get it now. He is a man that you know has so much light in him, the kind of light that is white and blinding and warm, yet he sees himself as a man doomed to only live in a world as black as the nothingness that is his lack of sight.

He doesn't need to tell you in order for you to understand the appeal of Elektra and the way she had captivated him, though now he admits that he hadn’t been drawn to her like a moth to a flame, but rather like a stray cat to a wealthy home. He doesn't need to tell you how desperate he'd been for someone to see the darker side of him, how desperate he'd been for someone to see that side of him and love him for it.

At some point he begins to understand how toxic she was for him, how manipulative, and you’re there by his side as the realization finally sets in, the trauma of it burning him so harshly it causes blisters and leaves behind missing patches of skin and muscle. You do your best to hold him together through it, because as awful as the scar she's left behind is, a piece of him mourns her when she's laid to rest for the first time, and then the second.

The true horror of the situation comes from the fact that you know there’s a tiny part of him that wishes he had been laid to rest, too. You know there’s a tiny part of him that will always be buried with the dust and rock and ash that lays underneath the new building on 44th and 11th.

It takes time for him to heal. Years and years of abandonment trauma is difficult to break down, difficult to break through, and you make sure you prove day in and day out that you're not going anywhere, despite how much he may throw at you, despite how much he tries to test you and shove you away with hands bloodied by the gashes gaping open in his heart. But all of his efforts to keep you away are futile, because staying by his side is still the easiest thing you've ever done.

(“Aren’t you tired of having to pick me up off the ground, over and over and over?”

“That’s what friends are for, Matt. To help when needed.”

“Yeah, when someone is having a rough time at their job, or fighting with a partner. Not cleaning up after a vigilante who can’t get their shit together. It’s not the same.”)

You help guide him into a new chapter in his life, though sometimes he remains frozen in the one behind him, feet glued to the ground even while he tries to force them forward. Gradually, though, he begins to spend less and less time focused on the past, more on the present, and eventually, more on the future. He finally reaches a point where he achieves balance, in a way you've never seen him existing and thriving in before.

Nelson, Murdock and Page flourishes, he begins to trust in the way law enforcement has been flushed of any crooked officers, and at last he allows himself to rest here and there, at last he gives himself permission to slow down, if only for a moment. Peace is all you have ever wanted for him, this beautiful man who has always struggled to find harmony within himself.

Peace changes him.

And in changing him, it changes you, and changes the way you fall into each other. It alters the way he begins to orbit around you, finally, finally, echoing the way you've always orbited him. He becomes the force holding you up after you’ve spent years doing the same for him.

It takes a good long while for him to understand the love you've always felt for him, initially puzzled that someone could accept him so completely and ardently, without question and without asking for anything in return. And it takes even longer for him to realize that this love is for both sides of him, not just the side that exists between sun-up and sun-down.

Once the full weight of your love for him is at his feet, once he feels it settle in his chest, it's as if a dam bursts, and he suddenly finds himself willing and able and hungry to grasp it and return it in its entirety, and then some.

Your first kiss is as turbulent as he is, reflecting both his desire to be gentle and savor the moment, and his need to take what he wants, consequences be damned.

This unconditional love is something he never thought he'd have, he says. Something that he had known, deep down, was missing with Elektra. It's an idea that has unexpectedly moved from nonexistent to abstract to tangible, and he tells you he's in awe of it, in awe of you.

He’s had your heart in his hands for over a decade, and you cry when he finally hands you his.

He has always loved you, he mumbles into your ear one night, legs tangled together on his soft silk sheets. But he doesn't lie to you and tell you that his love for you has always been there in the same capacity as yours has been for him. You both know that he had only ever seen you as a friend until recently, and even though you tell him not to, he regrets all the time he spent looking for something that was right in front of him the whole time.

Elektra had come along and understood him in a way he'd never dreamed of, and she had been willing, and selfishly eager, to accept the pieces of him that he'd always felt he had to hide. Though he sees now how his love for her had almost damaged him to a point of no return, he is grateful, he says, believing she had freed him from a life that wanted to chain him into inaction.

Day after day, night after night, he tells you that he loves every piece of you; he loves you for your laughter, he loves you for your willingness to help others with no thought of yourself, and he loves you for your ability to think first and act later. It's something he has never quite managed, he admits with a quiet laugh.

He loves you for the pieces of you that never give up on him, the pieces that never let him push you away, the pieces that love him, even while he can't always love himself.

But your favorite part is when he tells you that he loves the way you accept every piece of him without thought, without fear, without judgment, and that he vows to love and accept every piece of you the same way.

(“I love you.”

“You loved her once upon a time, too, Matt.”

“But not like this, sweetheart. Never like this. It’s not the same.”)

And it's enough. It's more than enough.

You find yourself struggling to move past the hatred you feel for her, the hatred for what she did to him. But eventually, you accept the truth that she freed a part of this wonderful man; this man who is so good that it breaks your heart to know he doesn't see it in himself. She freed the part of Matt who, without it, might have been shackled to a world in which he would never have felt complete. She was the one who gave him the encouragement he needed to embrace this side of him, embrace the Devil, embrace the part of him that could do more.

He doesn't use that freedom and darkness in a way Elektra would have anticipated, or in a way that she would have felt matched her own dark desires and intensity. Instead, he chooses to channel his anger and skill into a way that helps people just as much as his hard-earned law degree does. He fights with both his fists and his words, and you love him all the more for it.

You remind yourself, every day, that Elektra once upon a time had been the one to give him what he needed, though she had ripped it away brutally when she realized she wasn't going to get out of it what she wanted. But you are what both Matt and the Devil need now, what he will always need, as the pair of you move forward together. You both know it, both revel in it, and are now unable to pick apart the pieces that are you, and the pieces that are him.

You've taken years to get here. It may have been bittersweet and painful and full of truths that went unspoken, but he is the love of your life, and you believe him when he swears to you that you are his.

Hell's Kitchen doesn't deserve him. The neighborhood doesn't deserve the blood, sweat, and tears he willingly sacrifices for it, but you know he will never give up on it and the people who call it home. You aren't quite sure if you will ever deserve him, either, but you know you will spend the rest of your life trying.

[uponasoapboxb]

do y’all think matt murdock would get overwhelmed if someone had too many different artificial scents going on? like if your perfume/cologne, lotion, and body wash were all different would that bother him? i think it would but he would never admit that to you.

imagine though: changing all your body products to be the same scent/unscented the minute you catch on to the fact that it overwhelms him. he would be so taken aback because you did something??? for his benefit????? because you care about him????? a foreign concept to that fucked up (affectionate) man

[rogueonestan]

lazy mornings

pairing: matt murdock x reader

word count: 1.5k

summary: the feeling of matt’s skin on yours has always been a comfort to you, especially in the early hours of the morning.  

main masterlist | ao3

Lazy mornings with Matthew are rare.

For as long as you’ve known him, he’s always been on the go. His mornings usually begin pretty early when he has to get ready for work, or there’ll be something else he has to do, so mornings like this never happen. Today was the rare exception. Today, you both were able to enjoy each other’s company.

Neither of you had anywhere to be this Saturday morning. No phone calls, no texts, nothing could interrupt this peaceful moment between the two lovers. The only thing you have to pay attention to this morning is the man you’ve longed to spend more than a few minutes with in the morning, the man who lies next to you in the same bed.

For as long as you’ve known Matt, one thing you’ve grown to love is the feeling of his skin against yours. It’s a great comfort to wake up to. You could have had the absolute worst dream you’ve ever had in your life and the feeling of his hand encased in yours could be the feeling of bliss you need at that very moment. It doesn’t matter whatever you’re feeling on the inside because the feeling of your boyfriend’s skin on your skin makes any day better.

Even right now. You only woke up less than five minutes ago and there’s already a lazy smile spread across your lips on the day that had just begun. The morning light coming from the nearby window is already brightening up the room. Soft snores are coming from the man next to you. Throughout the night, you weren’t able to get that far away from him thanks to the loose grip he has on your frame. Everything about this moment is perfect. You wouldn’t change a single thing about it.

You pay no attention to the sounds coming from the outside world. Not to the married couple who lives a couple of doors down who seem to begin their morning with a screaming match, or the music that seems to be blasting somewhere nearby, or the cars honking in the streets below. You can’t seem to bring yourself to bring any attention to any of it- the only thing your mind is occupied with is intertwining a free hand of yours with the hand of your lover that is currently resting on your stomach.

Memories from the night before play on replay in the back of your mind as your fingers mindlessly fool with your now intertwined fingers. Nothing spectacular happened the night before. After getting off of work early, Matthew phoned you and asked if you could come over. You accepted, of course, you would happily accept any opportunity to spend with the man you love. Once you arrived at his place shortly after, you found that an impromptu date was already set up: two plates were already out, the smell of your favorite meal from your favorite nearby restaurant spread throughout the room, and soft music was coming from Matthew’s record player.

Everything was perfect. A gasp left your lips as soon as you saw the scene in front of you. When you asked Matthew what the special occasion was, he simply told you he wanted to spend an evening with you without a single distraction. He admitted that he’s been so busy lately and he never meant for the two of you to not see each other as much, and you reassured him that you knew he would never intentionally make you feel that way, but he wanted to make up for the lost time regardless.

Everything about that night was perfect. Not only were you able to spend an evening with Matthew, but he also had promised you not a thing could drag himself away from you this entire weekend. For the next forty-eight hours, the only thing he would dedicate his time to is you.

“Sleep well?” The sound of a deep voice booming off of the bedroom walls breaks the sweet silence in the air.

“Very much so, yes.” You answer honestly.

Now that you think about it, last night’s rest was probably the best you have had in the past couple of weeks. You didn’t have to worry about Matthew going out late at night or anything from work, the only thing you had to think about is the wonderful evening you had and nothing else. After the night you had, sleeping was easy.

When you asked Matthew the same question he asked you, he admits too that last night’s rest was the best he’s gotten in a long time. There was not a single thing he had to worry about- the only thing he had to worry about is if you would like the scene you would come home to, and it turns out that you did, being the one thing the two of you needed.

It was just the beginning of the blissful weekend you would spend together. Minimal words are exchanged between the two of you for the remainder of the morning. Time passed by so quickly just enjoying each other’s company that an hour seemed like a couple of minutes. It seemed like time stood still as neither of you moved a single muscle while staying in bed, enjoying the morning you were gifted with.

Everything about this moment seemed perfect. Either you or Matt would break the silence after a while, saying what came to mind as the other would respond, then silence would linger in the air once again, not that it’s a bad thing. The silence only added to the laziness felt in the atmosphere. No words needed to be said. Nothing has to be spoken for the other to know how much you enjoy the company of the other, the soft gazes exchanged tells each other that, the kiss pressed on the knuckles of the other physically shows the admiration you have for the other.

You would be telling some story, some random thought that came to mind, and the one thing that would stop your train of thought would be the feeling of Matt’s lips lingering on your skin. It doesn’t matter where- your intertwined fingers, the exposed skin of your bare shoulder, your neck, your cheek, his lips would linger anywhere and everywhere they could reach. It wasn’t distracting at first. It would halter your sentence for a split second then you would just continue with your story, but the longer it continued, the longer his lips would linger on your skin, the harder it became to finish your thought.

Even after being in a long-term relationship, Matthew still has the same effect on you as he did when the two of you went out for the first time. The same giddiness, the heart racing inside your chest, the loss of breath thanks to the butterflies that now appear in your stomach- everything about this moment is still the same as the day you first met.

Matt doesn’t even have to use his enhanced abilities to know he still has the same effect on you as the day you first met. The sound of the heavy breaths leaving your lips, the only sound that can be heard in the entire apartment tells him that. A small smirk appears on his face as you try to finish whatever you were talking about, but you completely forgot what the last thing you said was.

You fumble upon your words, and just listening to you trying to remember what you were talking about is absolutely enduring to Matthew. A soft chuckle bubbles in his throat.

A soft laugh leaves your lips as well. “What?” You ask.

“Nothing.” He says, a sigh leaving his lips in the process. “It’s just, uh, I missed this- us.” He admits.

“So have I.” You admit as well.

Moments like this don’t happen often between the two of you. The most time you’ve been able to spend together lately is either extremely early in the morning or really late at night, never just enjoying each other’s company, in bed together, on a random morning.

It’s nice.

It’s a feeling neither of you realized you both missed.

The idea of making this some sort of tradition pops up in your mind. The already small smile on your face grows at the thought and when you glance at your partner to suggest this idea, you find Matt’s eyes are now shut with the smile still spread on his face. Later, you tell yourself. You can always tell him later. You have all the time in the world anyway.

Following the action of your partner, your eyes fall shut within seconds. The grasp Matthew has on your waist tightens as he gently tugs you closer to him, if that were possible. The little gap that was in between your bodies disappears as your limbs mold together- your arms now wrapped around each other, your legs wrapped around each other as well. Your head also manages to crawl from resting on your pillow to the makeshift pillow of your lover’s chest.

Sleep slowly begins to creep into both of your systems.

The lingering thought in your mind can wait until later. The one thing you want to do at this very moment is to fall back asleep to the wonderful memories Matthew has given you within the past sixteen hours.

[abbyhaslongshorts]

Lighter

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Gn!reader

Author's note: Hello!! So, this is my first fanfic I'm posting! I was compelled to write a vent piece one fateful Sunday a few weeks ago and of course Mathew Murdock had to be my source of comfort. It is edited, but if there is any mistakes message me and let me know. Hopefully you enjoy and find at least some comfort when reading!

Summary: You are no longer alone. Matt Murdock is by your side, hand in hand, ready to share the weight of the past with you.

Content: Catholic guilt, guilt, Christianity, comfort brought to you by Matt Murdock.

Sundays growing up had always begun the same. Wake up. Ignore the yelling. Ignore the dreaded weight of guilt nagging in the back of your mind. Brick by brick, it would weigh you down. Feet dragging as you get dressed in your Sunday best. 

If church was supposed to be a place of comfort and peace, then why had you always felt the opposite of that? Instead, it was silent chaos in a place of refuge. Walking through the heavy wooden doors, minutes before the priest and the clergy would walk down the aisle, the guilt, responsibility, and pent up rage would begin to pile on your shoulders, waiting for you to collapse under the weight of it. Even if the church caused pain, its familiarity would wash over you; the smell of incense, the colorful lights bleeding through the stained glass, and the redundancy of mass.

As time passes, the priest's words would mull over in your head, then be thrown to the side like a used rag. There is only so much you can do to avoid the extra weight that would inevitably fall upon your consciousness.

Then on one fateful morning, there it was, the light separating you from the darkness. The dark veil crumbled, suddenly you could sit up straight and breathe easier. You had found your savior in the depths of hell. That crushing burden of responsibility and guilt was now shared. You no longer had to endure it alone. He no longer had to endure it alone. Each stitch sewn into his skin and each smirk he threw your way intertwined your hearts with one another. His unfocused hazel eyes would comfort you through opaque red lenses as you walked into the old church that smelt of incense and wine. Hands clasped, both of your hearts bare, set on the foot of the altar that is your love. Soothing fingers circled your pulse. He would flash you a soft smile as your heart rate briefly increased. He squeezes your hand lightly to let you know that he is there and you both are no longer alone. 

It’s not easy for either of you to be there, stand in a church that housed haunting memories; in the church that housed the love of your life during his darkest times. But you are there together, and both of your shoulders have never felt lighter. 

Mass goes by faster. You sit with him, shoulder to shoulder, hands never leaving each other. A playfulness falls over you, perhaps even getting comfortable in the colorful house of God. You kick each other's feet as quietly as possible, sometimes trying to make the other slip up while singing a hymn, or suppress giggles as he tells you that a person on the other end of the church farted.

He often says you saved him, that you are the angel that guided him back from the depths of hell, but he saved you too. Your fallen angel, Matthew Michael Murdock, saved you from the overwhelming loneliness and guilt that had built up over a lifetime. Your St. Murdock, on his knees for you, bringing justice to those who can’t do it themselves, welding the name of a figure you both once feared.

So now when you find the time in between jobs and patching up the devil to make your way to church, you're not alone. Matt Murdock is by your side, hand in hand, ready to share the weight of the past with you. The bells chime, and the organ begins to play, yet you have never felt lighter.