#matt murdock oneshots

[jahayla-writes]

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[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the abandoned tie

a/n: this man... this man, this man. i've missed him so much. he has been on my mind all summer and now i finally snapped and wrote some yummy yum about him.

summary: It was terrible, you knew full well that he was your boss, but what had started as an innocent little crush the moment that you were hired as a secretary at Nelson and Murdock only grew and flourished the longer that you worked there. It didn’t help matters either that Matthew was a natural flirt, or at least was with you, always making you stumble over your words and blush like a damn schoolgirl. But even though it was the right thing to do, you just couldn’t find it in yourself to go on and actually quit, because if you did, then he wouldn’t get the chance to make your heart flutter on a daily basis anymore, bittersweet as it may be.

warnings: matt murdock x secretary!reader, smut, coworkers to lovers, kissing, office sex, clothed sex, ripping pantyhose, manhandling, oral, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, protected sex, alcohol consumption, foggy slutshames matt (as he deserves. he a hoe and we love him for it)

word count: 4144

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“Okay,” Foggy huffed out a long exhale, “I can’t look at this anymore, I’m going all cross-eyed,” he slammed shut the laptop on the conference table before him, “I gotta call it a night,” and as he raised from his seat, your head tilted up from the intimidating stack of paper your nose was buried in, “any of you up for a round at Josie’s?”

“Uhm, actually, I think I might stay here a little longer,” your thumb brushed against the corner of the pile before you, a mountain of perhaps the most boring paperwork you’d ever given your time of day, but the small chance that some tiny nugget hid in there, something that could help the firm on their current case, convinced you to volunteer to take on the job, “see if I can make a bit more of a dent in this.”

“Alright, fair,” your colleague eyed the papers, then shifted his glance to his partner, seated on the stool directly beside where you sat, “Matt? Come on, man. Don’t let your best friend drink alone.”

“I’m sorry,” he shifted slightly in his seat, then uttered in a tone that almost made it sound as if he was just making up his answer to match yours, “but I think I’m gonna keep going as well,” though the hope that he had changed his verdict to sync up with your own was a dream you’d never truly let yourself believe.

It was terrible, you knew full well that he was your boss, but what had started as an innocent little crush the moment that you were hired as a secretary at Nelson and Murdock only grew and flourished the longer that you worked there. It didn’t help matters either that Matthew was a natural flirt, or at least was with you, always making you stumble over your words and blush like a damn schoolgirl. But even though it was the right thing to do, you just couldn’t find it in yourself to go on and actually quit, because if you did, then he wouldn’t get the chance to make your heart flutter on a daily basis anymore, bittersweet as it may be.

“Workaholics the both of you!” Foggy groaned light-heartedly, conjuring an airy chuckle to bubble out of you, “well,” he puffed as he bent down to grab his bag and stuff his laptop inside, “then I guess I’ll just see you guys in the morning.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” Matt flashed his friend a smile as he crossed the threshold of the door to the conference room. 

Catching his eye through the windowed wall as he made his way out towards the exit, you waved, “night!” before he raised his hand to mirror your gesture. 

After silence had consumed the office once more and your eyes returned to their tedious scanning, a yawn soon forced its way out of your lungs. 

As your hand flew up to cup your mouth, Matt’s soaring fingers stilled over the braille on the pages before him and his head tilted up in your direction. 

“You sure you’re not done for the day?” he quietly asked. 

“No,” you uttered before the yawn was through, “I wanna stay.”

“Alright,” he breathed, “how about some coffee then?”

“Uh, yeah, sure, I can go make some–”

“No, no, stay, I didn’t mean for you to–… I’ll make it.” 

“Oh,” you blinked back at him, perhaps finding the role reversal a bit more staggering than you’d expected as you were usually the one making everyone else beverages, “y-yeah, that would be great,” before your gaze then shadowed him as he got up and crossed the small width of the humble office to the little kitchenette nook. 

You should have probably just returned to your reading as he stood there and waited for the water in the electric kettle to boil, but you just couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. 

When he returned with a steaming mug, he held it out for you to grasp, “here you go,” before he returned to his seat beside your own. 

“Thanks,” your fingers enveloped the warm ceramic before you took a small sip, one that was swiftly cut short as soon as the flavour enveloped your tongue, “wow…” 

“What? Is it bad?” 

“No, no, quite the opposite actually,” you glanced down at the coffee in amazement before your gaze flickered up to him, “it’s perfect,” you uttered, unsure if you were more shocked or just plain weak in the knees at the fact that Matt somehow knew how you took your coffee.

The evening however didn’t drag on for too much longer following the very last sip of your caffeinated beverage. You tried to return to your work, you truly did, but no matter how hard you tried to get back into the flow of things and make a proper dent in the colossal workload, you just couldn’t. 

You were too occupied staring at Matt. 

Gazing longingly at his burly forearms, exposed and framed by the rolled-up sleeves of his button-down, at his wide hands as they danced over the papers before him, nearly caressing them in the manner you always fantasised he would touch your goosebump-ridden flesh, and even at the slight furrow line that appeared betwixt his dark brows as his brain absorbed the texts he read, the little crease you so badly wished to soothe with a kiss. 

As your eyes continued to linger and your heart thumped in your chest at the way your mind ran wild, Matt’s right hand then extended in search of one of the items on the cluttered table, though before his fingers located the wanted folder, they first wandered so close to you that they grazed against your forearm resting there on the surface. 

Though the contact sent butterflies soaring throughout your stomach, the spark also managed to snap you out of your daze and jolt you back to your senses, though the realisation bolted through you so severely that in your haphazard and hazy attempt at both hiding any trace of what you’d let yourself do, as well as dive back into what you should have been doing all along, your clumsy ass twisted away in a manner that almost caused you to fall off your chair. 

Almost. 

You would have fallen face first on the cold office floor if a pair of swift hands hadn’t seized your waist. 

“Wow–, I’ve got you.” 

As your head tilted up, gratitude ready to drip off your tongue, it ceased and shrivelled as you realised just how close you now were to Matt. Your noses almost touched as his grasp didn’t move to unfasten their strong hold on you even though you were now completely out of danger. 

“You’ve got–…” you echoed hazily, “I-I–…”

As his breath fanned across your face, your eyes flickered down to his lips. You’d never been this close to him before, but now that you were, impulsivity swiftly seized your soul. 

Pressing your lips against his in a chased kiss, you soon sensed his grip shift as he kissed you back, his fingers gently digging into your sides to claw you even closer.

Though as you felt yourself melt away in the dream you’d always yearned for, a flash of sense sparked within you and caused you to plant your palms on his broad chest and push him back. 

“Oh my goodness…” your shoulders shot up towards your ears, “I am so, so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Please don’t fire–”

But no more fretful words managed to leave your lips as Matt then primally grabbed your face and shut you up with a kiss, a taste of hast tingled on his tongue as he let his own desire take over and rush for more instead of other civilised methods one could opt for in such a situation, he didn’t stop to put out the fire, only fanned the wicked flames and kissed you as if it was the last thing he’d ever do. 

It had caught you completely off guard and was only when he slowed his heated lips to smouldering pecks that you got the chance to catch up. 

“Oh my god…” you whispered slowly between kisses, utterly stunned and reeling in the reality. Your tone at first came out a bit timid as you still couldn’t believe what was transpiring, but as soon as his lips began to wander down the side of your neck and your eyes fluttered at the dizzying sensation, you felt yourself melt into the moment and echo, “oh my god…” though now in a completely different manner, one that dripped with the desire that you evidently hadn’t been the only one to keep bottled up for so long. 

As the lawyer soon rose from his seat, he dragged you up with him by the starved hold he had on your face, keeping you close and devouring your lips. 

Your fingers found his dark tie for support, the fabric of which had already previously been loosened slightly by his own fingers when they long ago drifted up to pop open the very top button of his collar. 

When his feet then shuffled and your backside bumped into the table’s edge, Matt’s palms coasted down your frame till they greedily swept over the pencil skirt you wore and cupped your ass, only letting himself cop a feel for a second before a small yelp bubbled out of you as he then lifted you up to sit on the conference table. 

As your fingers then untangled themselves from the silk hanging around his neck and swept up to the sides of his face, your eager touch bumped into his tinted glasses, which you swiftly removed and cascaded to the messy tabletop beside you where you sat. 

“Oh… Matt…” a small whimper rolled off your tongue as he then ducked down to plant sloppy pecks all along your neck, “please don’t stop…” 

His low voice then vibrated against your rapid pulse, “yeah?” 

“Uh-huh,” your head tilted slightly in a nod as your fingers stretched to weave in with his dark hair, “I–… I–…” you tried to fight through the foggy feeling he distilled in you, though ended up only offering him a short and desperate, “please.”

When you glanced down at him, fully expecting the lawyer’s lips to return to your own, you instead watched as they dipped down even lower, straying from your throat and wandering down to the sliver of skin on display in the neckline of your silky blouse. Your breathing was heavy as you watched your chest rise and fall beneath his hot pecks. Mouth agape, you stared intently as his kisses wandered even further south, his nose nuzzling against the soft material of your shirt as he dropped down to his knees. 

Planting your palms on the surface of the table for support as you watched Matt crack open your pantyhose-clad legs, his lips then dipped down to one of them as he plucked it up to rest it upon his broad shoulder, all the while a series of kisses smothered the sheer nylon clinging to your skin. 

Soon he had your skirt pushed up and bunched around your hips, fervently opening you up and peeling back your layers till he reached what he most desired. However when his touch finally did sweep up to graze against your covered centre, it didn’t continue on the journey up towards your waistband as you had assumed, but instead, his fingers pinched the sheer core of your stockings and tugged till a ripping sound rung out through the dark office. 

“Fuck…” he groaned as he finished tearing the hole, nearly making it huge enough for the nylon to just give up completely and split right down the middle, that’s how little he let remain intact before he moved on and reached for the underwear now accessible to him. 

His thumb stayed hooked in the soaked gusset of your underwear as he rushed to dive in for a taste of your divine. One of your hands shot down to gently grasp his hair as his tongue lavishly licked you up, making your whole body quiver from the way he made out with your cunt. 

Scooping a palm up to cup your tit through your clothing, Matt groaned, “shit…” his fervent rumble vibrating against your puffy pearl before he sucked down on it, “you taste so good…”

As you swiftly felt his kisses push you over the edge, your hips began to rock back against his efforts, grinding your pussy against the lower part of his face as he lapped you up, his fingers too raising to dent your thigh, both to keep your leg draped over his shoulder, but also to keep you steady through all of your squirming as you rode out your high. 

“Oh my–, fuck!” you gasped, catching your breath. Blinking down at him, you watched as he slowly rose back up, planting a few pecks in a sporadic pattern up your form till his lips again found your own. The taste of yourself was heavy on his tongue as you drifted a hand up to wipe your slickness from his stubbly chin. 

“Miss Y/l/n,” he smirked as you tilted away from his kisses to clean him better, addressing you with the same formality he only occasionally still withheld for you during your working hours together, “whatever would I do without you?”

Still in your haze, you thought too hard about the flirty comment and instead turned it into some kind of unnecessary riddle, “well, first of all, you properly wouldn’t have the evidence of what you just did all over your face, and second, then I also wouldn’t even clean it up because it wouldn’t be there, because I wouldn’t be here, and–,” but then, he simply cut off your words, frankly, as well as your brain, and pressed his lips to yours. 

“I fucking love how your mind works,” he grinned, a hand floating up to offer a feathery stroke through your hair. 

“Oh, I–,” a shiver ran down your spine as you blinked back at him, “thank you.” 

A gentle chuckle then rumbled in Matt’s chest as his fingers reached up to tug at his tie, “sweetheart, if you’re gonna thank me like that every time I pay you a compliment or talk dirty to you,” he yanked the loosened accessory over his head, “then I don’t know I’ll ever be able to stop,” and tossed the silky material to one of the dark corners of the dim room.

Tangling your arms around his neck, an amazed giggle bubbled out of you as you then settled on simply repeating, “thank you,” softly egging him on as your nose nudged against his own. 

Groaning lowly, “you little minx…” a smile tugged at his lips as he then leaned in to claim your lips once more.

As he kissed you once again, your legs snaked around his form, dragging up against his sides like a cicada in his arms.

And when he soon shifted a bit before you and extended an arm to something on the table, you breathlessly asked as your fingers floated down to undo his belt, “do you have a–,” but then you twisted your neck to see what he conjured from his bag, “oh,” you glanced down at the small foil packet in his hand, “you do,” you let out a relieved exhale, “good, because I didn’t, so here I was scrambling my mind for what other options we had.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirked, the sudden presence of his hands working at freeing himself caused your own to retreat, “and what did you come up with?”

“Oh, well…” you swallowed, conjuring enough courage to utter, “we could just touch each other…”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you hazily nodded, “or I could repay you the favour.”

“Yeah?” his hard length sprang free, “you’d suck my cock?”

Scarcely breathing at all, you stared as he swiftly rolled on the condom, “more than you know…” 

“But none of that’s what you really want right now, is it?” 

As his hand snaked around your hip to scoop you that much closer to the edge, you foggily shook your head, “no…”

“Tell me what it is then,” he uttered as he rubbed the bulbous head of his dick through your folds, making you squirm from the dizzying sensation, “tell me what you want.”

Though the mission of getting words out and offering him an answer seemed more difficult than you anticipated as his tip nudged against your swollen clit and made it near impossible for you to think, “I–… you. I want you,” your arms draped around his neck he inched back in for a kiss, “I-I–, Matt, please just put it in–”

Answering your prayer, he then slid his cock inside, slowly filling your dripping pussy up till his pelves pressed against your puffy pearl and the tip of him kissed a spot so deep inside of you that you felt as if you could scarcely breathe at all. 

“There you go,” his groan rumbled in your ear, “that what you wanted, huh?” though when you tried to respond, only whimpers flowed from your lips, “then be a good girl and thank me again,” he dared to request as he gently began to move, “tell me thank you for giving you exactly what you want,” and you moaned, eyes rolling at the way he dragged his girth out of you, so overwhelmingly slow that your cunt clenched around him so tightly that he had to carve anew when he finally thrust forward and filled you up once more, “come on, you can do it. Your pussy’s already doing it in her own incredible way.”

As his lips lowered to flutter against the side of your neck, you faintly murmured, “t-thank you–” 

Though the cocky lawyer only bucked into you harder, making you tremble in his grasp as he smirked against your goosebump-ridden skin, “what was that?”

“Thank you, M-Matt!” you successfully squeaked.

“Atta girl,” his hand slid up the column of your neck as your head began to lull, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

“Uh-uh,” you hazily shook your head as you clung to his broad shoulders. 

Lightly enveloping his fingers around your neck, just to keep you close, his other digits then reached down between your bodies to find your clit in a harsh rub as he dared to say, “then say it again…”

The words of gratitude then became like a mantra on your lips, incoherently flowing through your moans as he rocked into you so hard that the conference table rattled beneath you, fucking you till you both tumbled over the edge, though the simple phrase still kept rolling off your tongue even when he offered to walked you home afterwards and too when he pressed a soft peck to your forehead, whispering you goodnight before you disappeared inside your building. 

The cups of coffee you had nervously bought the very next morning were quite the task to balance in your hands. It would have been strange if you didn’t buy one for all of your coworkers, even though the brew truthfully had ulterior motives. 

It wasn’t just the regular kind and thoughtful round of coffee to start the day, but in truth was a thanks for the bang last night, oh, and by the way I am head over heels in love with you, I know I was too scared to tell you last night, but I’m terrified of fucking this up kind of coffee. 

It was a lot of pressure to put on a simple cup of coffee, you recognised that, but what else were you to do? 

Though when you managed to push open the door to the office without dropping or spilling any of the balanced paper mugs, Foggy was the first one to spot you.

“Oh, you bought coffee?” he grabbed one out of your arms, “thanks!” before he called over his shoulder, his voice flooding into the room to the left, “hey Matt! Y/n got a round of coffee!” 

It hadn’t been the suave delivery you’d hoped for, having Foggy force the mood in a purely platonic and professional direction as Matt appeared and casually seized the cup his friend caught from you and extended to him, instead of the fantasy that had tickled your mind all morning of effortlessly slipping into his office and sliding it across his desk with some clever line you hadn’t been able to come up with yet.  

Though Matthew still smiled and said as he raised the cup up to his lips, “thank you, Y/n,” and the mirroring echo of the words he’d made you repeat last night so many times that it lost all its meaning, caused your cheeks to heat up. 

“Uhh,” you blinked back at him, trying to shake the memory off of you, “y-you’re welcome…”

However, before you could part your lips, ask your boss for a private moment and finally make your move, Foggy opened his mouth once more and spoke. 

“Hey, remember how I put out feelers to Karen?” he began to saunter into the conference room.

As Matt began to follow his voice, you too shadowed them, all the while trying your best to keep the butterflies on your belly at bay as you returned to the scene of the crime, most of the papers on the table still in a mess from how little the pair of you had bothered to clean up afterwards. 

“Yeah,” Matt tilted his head, “she got anything?”

“Yup,” Foggy took a sip of coffee, “called me this morning and said she’d pop by later with the stuff she–, hey,” his sentence then took a sharp turn as his gaze found something on the floor that puzzled him enough for his brows to crinkle up. Bending down, he picked up a silky string of fabric and wrapped it around his fingers, “Matt, did you forget your tie here?”

“Uh, what?” the man beside you stiffened up slightly. 

“Your tie, this looks like the one you wore yesterday.”

“Oh, uhm, yeah,” he coughed, fidgeting lightly with the to-go cup in his grasp, “it just bothered me last night, so I took it off, must have forgotten to put it in my bag.”

As Foggy’s eyes scanned Matt’s reaction and too let his gaze wash over your flustered form and spot how the truth virtually poured out of your pores from the way your eyes grew, he simply hummed, “…uh-huh…” not believing his pal for a second. 

Sucking in a breath, Matt tried to extend his hand and asked, “can I have it back?” though his forced casual tone was utterly unconvincing. 

“Oh my god…” Foggy sighed before tossing the tie in his friend’s face, “you have a problem, man.” 

To your surprise, the man beside you caught it, though you were still just one step too far behind him to catch the way a smug smirk tugged at his lips, “what?” as he couldn’t for the life of him hide the pride of the discovery his friend had surely made countless of times throughout their friendship. 

“I leave you two alone for one night, one night!”

“…and to Matt for giving the closing argument of a lifetime and winning us this case!” Foggy raised his drink to the centre of where he, his colleagues and Karen sat around one of the small tables at Josie’s. 

“Oh, come on,” the dark-haired man beside you humbly tilted his head, “you were on fire as well–”

“Matt,” his friend cut him off by briefly planting his palm on his shoulder, “just shut up and take the compliment,” before he tilted his beer bottle back up and roared, “cheers!” 

“Cheers!” Karen, to the left of you, sang before the rest of you echoed, clinking all of your glasses together. 

“Thank you,” Matt gave in and smiled as everyone took a sip, “I couldn’t have done it without you all,” before he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “especially you…”

The sound of his low voice directly in your ear was enough to turn your knees into jelly, but as your eyes fluttered up to gaze at him, the personal space he had now eliminated betwixt you two caused you to positively melt. 

As you breathed out an audible smile, his lips stayed close as his breath once again tickled the shell of your ear, “so now that the trial’s done, I was wondering,” he uttered slowly, making you cling onto each and every syllable that flowed from his lips, “would you let me take you out on a real date?”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[inkdrinkerworld]

❛ come back to bed’ for Matt Murdock? I loveeed that stern Matt you just did, I can’t wait to see more of your stuff on him!

Hehe thank you! And thank you for requesting! Slightly suggestive themes so MDNI 18+only

You groan as you feel the bed for Matt and come up short. You know it’s not morning yet, Matt’s alarm would’ve gone off, and he’s been back from his Daredevil outings for hours.

His spot is still warm at least.

Groggily, you knuckle at your eyes and sit up on your elbow. The bed sheet falls off your shoulder and when the cold air hits you, you remember your nakedness.

“Matty?” He isn’t in the room and you sigh, draping the sheet over you as you go looking for him.

You find him in the kitchen, the fridge open as he gets a bottle of water.

“What are you doing up, sweetheart?” His words are quiet to compliment the night.

“Can’t sleep when you’re gone.” You’re past the point in your relationship where admitting a thing like that would make your cheeks flame.

Matt smiles, opening an arm out to you where he stands. “Is everything okay?” You ask him as he hugs you, the scent of rum and vetiver, soaked deep in his skin, envelops you both.

“Perfect, was just getting something to eat. Tired ourselves out for a bit there, don’t you think sweetheart?”

Your cheeks flame then and you know Matt can feel it. “Come back to bed.” You manage to get the words out before a yawn takes you over.

“Alright,” Matt reaches in the fridge again, pulling out another bottle water and then reaching into your little basket of protein bars for two blueberry yogurt ones. “Let’s go back to bed.”

You let Matt lead you to the bedroom, your face in his chest as you get there.

“Here,” he cracks the water for you the moment you’re sitting on the mattress. You take a few sips and accept the open protein bar he hands you.

“Thanks Matt.” Despite the snack, sleep has you in its clutches and refuses to let go.

Matt hardly finishes his before you’re curled up beside him, head somewhere near his side as you get comfortable again. “Don’t leave again.”

He coos at your words, stroking the hairs at your temple. “M’right here, sweetheart. Let’s go to sleep.”

[sarahisslytherin]

whatever you need.

matt murdock x reader

summary: matt murdock has enough problems. but when his upstairs neighbor is upset over her breakup, he can't help getting involved.

contains: talk of an emotionally abusive relationship. mentions of fem!reader. other than that it's all fluff.

a/n: am i trying to process my feelings through fanfiction? absolutely. am i ashamed? no. also so happy to be writing for my boy matt again! gif by @djo

word count: 0.8k

It’s been a long day for Matt Murdock. Work was shit, in spite of Foggy’s attempts to crack jokes and cheer him up. His body aches in too many places to count from the endless hits he took last night. So when he finally stumbles in through his apartment door, the last thing Matt needs is another problem. But as he cracks open a beer and takes a seat on his sofa, he can’t help but notice how the silence surrounding him is pierced by a ragged cry.

His head cocks to the side, listening intently to figure out where the sound is coming from. It’s the apartment directly above him, the one with the young woman he often would hear singing or laughing. That was until the boyfriend moved in. There was still laughter, but exponentially less of it. He recalls a lot more crying and fighting and slamming doors. It was like that for a while. He can’t deny that some nights the arguments had him itching to waltz upstairs and break that fucker’s nose for putting you through hell. But then he figured, it wasn’t his problem, and he had enough of those.

But it’s been quiet lately, and after putting two and two together, he’s realized it’s just you up there now. Just you, crying your heart out into the pillow before bed every night, scribbling in your journal in the morning, inviting friends over to distract yourself from the pain. The pain he wishes he could take away. He admits it, he’s grown fond of you. When you sing, he stops what he’s doing and drinks in the sound of it as if it were an angel’s song. He can’t help but overhear your conversations at times, can’t help but chuckle when you make a particularly funny quip. He doesn’t know what you look like, but he’s sure you’re as beautiful as you sound to him. How that ass couldn’t treat you right, he’ll never know.

He ignores your cry this time, the way he has for the last couple of weeks. But when he lays his head down on his pillow after another restless night on the streets and hears your whimpers, he simply can’t take it anymore. He throws on the first shirt he gets his hands on and a pair of grey sweats before racing up the flight of stairs keeping him from you. It’s only when he knocks on your door that it dawns on him he doesn’t have a plan.

His heart stops when he hears you shuffle inside, sucking in your breath and no doubt trying to conceal any visible evidence that you’d been crying. He hears the doorknob turn and the creak of the wood as he comes face to face with you.

“Hello.” you manage to say, your voice still a bit hoarse. “Can I help you?”

“Hi, my name is Matt. I live right below you.” he starts. He’s praying to every god that you can’t hear his heart panging in his chest. “I know this may seem odd to you, but I get the sense that you’re not okay. I mean, I used to hear some pretty crazy fights from up here with who I can only assume is your boyfriend-”

“Ex.” you interrupt him, arms crossed and eyes trained on the welcome mat beneath your bare feet. “Ex-boyfriend.”

Matt nods, taking a breath before continuing. “Right. The thing is, I’ve got a really good sense about these things. I don’t know, call it intuition. But let’s just say I’m not hearing any screaming matches anymore and, though that is a good thing, I can’t help but wonder if you need someone to talk to or just a hug or whatever you need.”

There’s a silence hanging in the air after he speaks. You watch him wring his hands together as he waits for your response. You also notice the way his sweet, brown eyes seem to look straight through you before you realize he can’t see you. 

“You want to give me a hug?” you ask, and Matt in your voice the way your mouth quirks into a tiny smile. “Because I’m crying over my asshole ex-boyfriend?”

“A hug, some takeout, a walk around town. Whatever you need.” he’s grinning too now. He picks up on the way you casually lean on your doorframe, arms still crossed.

“What are you, some kind of hero or something?” you joke, adding a faux air of suspicion to your tone. “Who sent you?”

Matt laughs openly at that, throwing his head back as he does. “No one sent me, I just don’t like to know there’s a pretty girl crying over some jackass in my immediate vicinity.”

“Not to be rude, but what makes you think I’m pretty?”

Matt just shrugs. “Call it intuition.” 

He definitely doesn’t need sight to feel the way your hand clutches his shirt and playfully tugs him through the door. It’s right then and there that Matt resolves on making your problems his problems as well.

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @deadfables @misshale21 @dragonsfictavern @sweetercalypso @sheraayasher

[echoes-of-a-dream]

mini me | matt murdock

matt murdock masterlist

synopsis: matt comes home from a long day of work only to get attacked and easily beaten up. luckily for his attackers, they're too cute to get the full wrath of the devil. unluckily for said attackers, he will have retribution--and it will be swift. or: a slice-of-life for matt, reader, and their kidditos.

established relationship | kid fic | married couple | literally just fluff | la lectora habla español por una frase (the reader speaks spanish for one phrase) | inspired by this post by @hellskitchenswhore and this post by @courtforshort15

Matt hears laughter before he gets to the door.

"Okay, bubs, great job," he hears you say. "Uncle Foggy is going to love these pictures."

Four heartbeats thud in the apartment as he opens the door, quiet in an attempt to not wake the slower-and-steadier-than-normal quick one coming from the crib in the bedroom. Three come from the living room, the two younger ones much faster than the older. He sets down his briefcase and removes his shoes, loosening his tie as he makes his way toward you three. Your back is to him and you're entirely focused on your activity of taking pictures of the kids, making this a perfect opportunity to surprise you; he wasn't supposed to get home this early, but the case wrapped up sooner than expected. It was more tiring than most cases, so he just came home rather than returning to the office, too tired to read through more legal documents. And causing you to jump three feet in the air? More than enough reward. Matt grins to himself, pressing a finger to his lips to make sure the kids don't say anything.

He gets closer and puts his hands on your hips, causing you to jolt--but not nearly as much as usual. He frowns as you merely turn your head, tilting it up for a peck on the lips he easily gives, calmly greeting him with a "Welcome home, babe."

There's no more time for conversation as he's jumped by his seven-year-old daughter, Jackie, named after his dad. "Daddy!" She yells as he releases you to catch her.

"Oh no! I'm being attacked!" He says as he 'fights' his oldest. To you, he adds, "You didn't jump." It's phrased as a statement, but you can hear the underlying question.

"Matt. Matty. Matthew, my love." He's pretty sure you're recording this. "Your children--fortunately for me--inherited your incredibly expressive eyes. I knew you were coming."

His huff of only half-faked displeasure at his surprise being ruined is interrupted as he lets out a little oof as a small hand punches his abdomen none-too-gently. Four-year-old-Michael, or Mikey (after Matt's middle name--you weren't a huge fan of the alliteration in Mikey's name, but Matt convinced you eventually) has joined the battle as a foot uses his as a futile step-stool to try to climb up him. He overdramatically doubles over with a groan, allowing Jackie to switch tactics and jump onto his back, hanging on his neck. There's a bit of restriction on his airflow, but he prefers it over, you know, having all his daughter's weight on one foot. It's not enough to make him pass out, at any rate.

"Mommy! Sword!" Jackie calls out as Matt drops to his knees, allowing her feet to touch the ground as she maintains the chokehold, so that it isn't as tight. Mikey continues pummeling Matt, no regard as to where he throws the punches but keeping them coming. He's not quite sure what the strange feel is from his son's hands, but is too caught up puzzling out the request for a sword to give it his attention. One of Jackie's hands leaves his throat to make a grabby motions in the air, and you're only too happy to fulfill your daughter's request, grabbing the plastic sword from the opposite counter--he can hear the shifts in air currents, locates it in his mind--and passes it to Jackie.

But Matt is faster.

"Sword?" He repeats as he unhooks Jackie and flips her onto her back, gently lowering her to the ground and pinning her. He tickles her, wracking his brain for information. Now that he thinks about it, he vaguely remembers you mentioning a costume birthday party for Mikey's best friend, Riley.

"She's-" You're cut off by a grumble from Mikey. No, not grumble. Growl. Or at least, as close to a growl as a four-year-old can get. He charges Matt headfirst, then, piledriving at top speed into his father and causing Matt to lose balance and land on the ground.

"Don' you dawe," Mikey says, register lower than usual. You're still working on pronouncing 'r's rather than 'w's, so it takes Matt everything in him not to laugh at what sounds like a four year old attempting the Batman voice. For your part, you have no such compunctions.

He allows Mikey to get in a few hits, feel like he's winning, while Jackie, no longer pinned, springs to her feet and takes the sword, pressing the point into his throat.

"Stay down, bad guy!"

"Yeah, s'ay down!"

"Oh, no! You've got me!" Matt grouses.

"Good work, guys," you input, smirking as you kneel beside your husband. He turns his head, sticking a tongue out at you. "What do we think should be his punishment?"

"Tickles!" Jackie, ever the ringleader, decides.

"Yeah, tickles!" Mikey agrees, ever the mimic.

Matt gasps in overdramatic horror. "No, not tickles! Anything but tickles!"

You click your tongue in mock sympathy. "Sorry, Mr. Bad Guy."

Matt has trained himself not to react, but for his kids, he'll gladly throw any training out the window, writhing far more than necessary for the delightful sound of his two oldest's giggles. He'd do far worse to get such a taste of what must be heaven. His pleas and 'no's, too, are theatrical, to the point that even you are laughing at his antics and there's no hiding that grin. After a minute, he's had enough, though. "You'll regret the day you messed with me, the horrible Mr. Bad Guy!" He threatens exaggeratedly, easily rolling over the kids and tickling them both. Jackie squeals and Matt winces as the sound seems to wake the littlest Murdock, Daisy, named for Sister Maggie, from her nap. Honestly, he's surprised she didn't wake sooner with all the ruckus.

"Help, Mommy!" Mikey cries.

"I would, but Mr. Bad Guy is too much for me alone, I need reinforcements. I'll be right back."

"No! No we-fowemints!" Mikey says, but it's too late--you're already gone. "N- no!" He gasps out, but is laughing too hard

"Da- addy, st- ahp!" Jackie tries, also fighting through giggles.

"Oh, yeah? What'll you give me?"

"In- in- infor- ma- ha- tion!"

Matt pauses, allowing the two to catch their breath. He hears Daisy quiet and you begin to make your way back to him. "Oh, really? What kind of information?" He hears you appear behind him, but pretends not to notice.

"Okay, Daisy-doo, there's Daddy, you're gonna get 'im, okay?" You stage whisper.

"Where Mommy is!"

"Oh, really?" He plays dumb.

"Yeah!" Mikey chimes in. "Wigh' behin' you!"

"Get him, Dais!" You say as you gently set your daughter on his back, one of Matt's hands coming up to support her there before you release your grip.

"No!" Matt calls. "My weakness! Babies! The cuter, the more lethal!" It's more a joke for you than the others, and he appreciates your snort at his attempt at humor.

"Tricked you!" Jackie sings as Daisy grips Matt's hair, mouthing at his back as if it's a teething ring. Matt "topples" forward, lowering himself between Mikey and Jackie in a one-armed pushup and removing his hand so Daisy can crawl around as she pleases.

"Yeah!" Mikey chimes in. "Twicked you, Daddy! Now you captuowed!"

"You'll never take me alive!"

"Sorry, darling," You say amusedly, turning his face towards you. "We found cure for Bad-Guy-itis. True Love's kiss."

"No, no! Please no!" He's given away by the curl of a smile peeking through.

You sigh heavily. "I'm afraid so." To Jackie and Mikey, you order, "Hold him down while I administer the cure."

Matt pretends to thrash while his oldest two comply, Daisy content to have moved mouthing at his back to gnawing toothlessly at the curve of his neck. His head stays still as you grin and lean in, pressing a kiss to his lips that he happily reciprocates, thrashing growing in intensity and gently bucking the kids around, who giggle as they hold on, before he stills. You pull away and he blinks slowly, as if waking up. "Wha- Where am I?"

Your serious tone is belied by the grin in your voice. "Welcome back, Mr. Murdock."

"You got sick!" Jackie chimes in as she climbs off, tired of not talking. "Mommy fixed you!"

"Yeah! Mommy kissed it all bettow!"

"Well, thank you," Matt says smoothly. He uses one arm to scoop Daisy off of his neck while rolling over, cradling her, as he sits up. "However can I show my gratitude?"

"Oh, it wasn't me," you deflect. "It was these other two heroes that saved you."

"Yeah! Saved you!" Mikey puffs out his chest proudly.

"Oh?" Matt's amusement shines through. "And who might they be?"

"Guess!" Jackie exclaims.

You laugh. "Jackie, baby, Daddy's got to feel it, remember?"

She grabs Matt's hand and yanks it to feel her jacket. "Guess!"

His hands run along the leather, over the fingerless gloves, jeans, and what must be a cotton t-shirt or tank-top. His eyebrows rise in confusion. "I thought you were a pirate?"

It was the wrong thing to say. Jackie huffs in frustration. "No!"

"If you're mad, use your words, baby," you chide gently. "Maybe let's let Daddy figure out Mikey's outfit, and then he can guess?"

Mikey excitedly thrusts a hand forward, accidentally smacking Matt's face. Matt snorts even as he coaches, "Calm down, buddy." He feels up the arm--a long-sleeve shirt, what must be... gauze? Why is gauze wrapped around his son's hands?

"Face, Daddy!" Mikey urges. Matt raises his hands and feels the mask and resists the urge to bust out laughing. He allows himself a large grin of amusement, a few more chuckles.

"I see I got brought down by the Daredevil," he observes. "Thank you, Mr. Devil."

"I'm the bestest!" Mikey agrees. "Bestest hewo in the whole wide wold!"

"No, you're not! I am!" Jackie argues.

Matt steps in before it can devolve. "However did I not recognize you? Thank you for your help, Jessica Jones."

"Sword Jessica Jones!" Jackie corrects vehemently.

"Right. Thank you, Sword Jessica Jones. And Miss Jones, Mr. Daredevil, I think there can be two bestest superheroes in the whole wide world."

Two responses hit him at the same time. "No!" "No, thewe can'!"

"How about you guys go grab Riley's gift and put on your shoes?" You divert. "Then we can settle who the best hero is."

Jackie takes off before yelling, "Last one's a rotten egg!"

"Hey! No faiw!" Mikey runs after her, having not gotten the same head start.

Matt turns to you as you offer a hand to help him up. Being the good, loving, exemplary husband he is, he instead tugs you down, moving Daisy out of the way so that when you land on him you won't crush your seven-month-old. "Hey," he greets.

You smack his chest lightly. "Asshole."

Matt gasps. "Mrs. Murdock! Such language, and around a child, too!"

"Matthew, I will divorce you."

He smirks. "Gonna need a lawyer for that."

"That's why I've got Fo- oh, no, you don't." You squeak as you avoid his pinch aimed for the sensitive spot on your side. He pouts, prompting you to give him a light kiss to turn that frown upside down. You turn to where your kids ran through, hearing bickering, and sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. "I really don't want to deal with this."

"I've got it," Matt offers, moving to push you off his lap and stand, but you resist.

"Just give me a minute, please." You don't want to move from the nice warm cocoon of being between his arm, wrapped around you tightly, and chest. "They've been at it all day, except for the two minutes I made them smile for pictures and just now, when the one thing that brought them together was destroying you."

"I'm glad I can be good for morale," Matt jokes, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Speaking of, how did...?"

"Sword Jessica Jones?" You finish knowingly.

"Yeah. And mini-me."

"Well, Mikey was actually the first on the costume front." At that, Matt makes a noise of pleased surprise. "Actually, let me correct myself. Riley was the first--she's going as Black Widow, her favorite superhero. So Mikey decided to go as his favorite, as well."

Matt lets out a hum, honored. Pride and fondness fill him, and he can tell from the sound of your smile in your voice that you feel much the same. "And Jackie?"

Your expression twists, a little more pinched. "She also wanted to go as Daddy. Which led to a fight and since Mikey came up with the idea first, I said he could go as Daredevil."

"How does Jess feel about being the second best option?"

"Very proud. She donated her leather jacket for the cause."

Matt chuckles. "I thought I smelled her. Figured she was just letting Jackie use it, didn't put the pieces together then."

"Yeah."

You're both silent for a moment, until Matt can't keep the question out of his head anymore. "So, what was up with the sword?"

"Jackie wanted to be authentic."

"And authentic means sword?"

"No." You tilt your head to gaze up at your husband. "Authentic meant carrying a bottle of booze."

"And you talked her down to a sword."

"And I talked her down to a sword," you confirm. Before you can talk further, Matt gently but efficiently moves you and stands suddenly, passing Daisy to you. It's just in time for you to hear a crash and get up in an instant, both headed towards where there is now the sound of crying.

"Mommy! Daddy!"

"A sword I assume she just used on her brother?" You ask, frustrated. It's been a long day and this just takes the cake.

"A sword she tried to use on her brother, who in avoiding it ran straight into the dresser. Knocked over the plant."

You enter the room to find, sure enough, the plant is on the ground, dirt spilled across the room and into the bag holding Riley's gift--which is also on its side. Mikey sits on the ground, cradling his head and crying, while Jackie stands there staring at him in horror. When she spots you and Matt, she immediately starts on her defense. "He started it!"

"Jackie," Matt admonishes, kneeling beside Mikey. In a gentle, quiet tone, he greets his son, "Hey, buddy, can you move those hands for me? Let Daddy check on that boo-boo?"

Tearily, Mikey complies, while you move towards Jackie. "Are you okay?" You check in first. She nods mutely. "Okay. Give me the sword, please." She shakes her head. You count down from ten, exhausted, fed up with the fighting, but refusing to take it out on her. "Jackie. If you can't handle having the sword, you can't have the sword. Give it to me, please."

"No."

"Jacqueline. I won't ask again. I will count down from three, and if I do not have a sword in my hand by the number three, you can stay home from the party with myself and Daisy, and Mikey will go with Daddy."

"No!" She stomps a foot. "How come Mikey gets everything? He gets to be Daddy! How come I don't get my sword?"

"Jacqueline Murdock." It's Matt this time, voice calm and even but not without soberness. He doesn't glance up as he affixes a bandage to Mikey's head. "Give your mother the sword."

She huffs but complies. "I hate you!"

You look to the ceiling. Señor, dame paciencia. "Thank you for giving me the sword, Jackie," you say. "I'm very proud of you. May I give you a hug?"

"No! I hate you! I don't wanna be with you!"

Okay, no hug then. "That's alright." You love your daughter, you love your daughter, you love your daughter. "I love you. Do you still want to go to the party?"

"No! You messed it all up!"

Matt presses a kiss to Mikey's head, having finished patching him up. "Jackie, please use kind words," Matt cuts in. "We can be angry, but we respect others even when we are angry, okay? They are still human."

Jackie ignores her father. "How come Mikey gets to have fun?"

Matt appears to have got it, so you stay silent. "You can have fun if you want, sweetheart. You just can't have the sword today. Would you still like to come to the party?"

Your oldest daughter hesitates before sullenly nodding. Tension leaves you as you mutter a Thank you in your husband's direction, who tilts his head in a silent you're welcome.

"I'm very proud of you," Matt continues. "Now, can you tell Mikey you're sorry?"

"'M sorry, Mikey." It's a half-assed apology at best, but it's an apology nonetheless.

You reintroduce yourself to the conversation. "Great job, sweetheart." Despite the encouragement--or maybe because of it--Jackie refuses to look at you. "Mikey?"

"I f'give you," he responds quietly.

Matt presses another kiss to the mop of his son's hair. "How late are we running?" He asks you.

"With or without cleaning this up?"

"Without."

"With this whole thing... about ten minutes."

"Okay. Jackie, please take Riley's gift to the car." At your look, he shrugs. "A little dirt never hurt anyone."

You lovingly roll your eyes and opt not to respond. "Can you grab Daisy? I'm bringing dessert."

"Yeah. Mikey, you mind following Jackie to load up?"

You stop your son on the way out, giving him a tight one-armed hug that he easily reciprocates, burying his head in your chest--larger than usual right now from breastfeeding--and causing you to wince slightly at the pressure. Matt smirks and mouths Like father, like son. "I'm very proud of you and I love you," you make sure to tell Mikey, faux-glaring at your husband simultaneously. You're a parent; multitasking is your profession.

"L'k like Daddy," he sniffles into your shirt.

"Yes, you do," you agree. "The blood on the mask makes it look more authentic. But next time let's go with fake injuries if we want to look like Daddy, okay? I don't want you getting as many boo-boos as really looking like Daddy would take." Matt coughs to cover a laugh at you pointed tone.

"Mkay," Mikey agrees. You squeeze him tightly, which he reciprocates, before releasing him and letting him take off after his older sister.

You brush your pants with your free hand and stand, exhaustion reigning. "They've been like this all day?" Matt asks.

"Try longer. More like all week."

Matt makes a noise of sympathy. "I'm sorry I wasn't-"

"No. You've been at court all day, every day. It's not your fault."

"It's just, sometimes-"

"Matt."

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I would not be married to a man who neglects his children. You have had an abnormally consuming case. If you regularly spent all week too busy for your children, I would have no qualms leaving. But you do not. This is an outlier."

"I still feel bad."

"I'm afraid you're actually not allowed to do that unless I approve."

"Oh?" His hand slides around your waist, other one coming to cradle Daisy's head. She coos at the contact.

"Yup. Had Foggy put it in the contract."

"Mm. I don't recall reading that."

Your own free hand comes up to the nape of his neck, working through the hair there. "We didn't put it in the braille version."

"I'm afraid that counts as fraud, Mrs. Murdock. I might have to sue you."

"That's okay." He hears the veiled laughter in your throat. "I know this really hot lawyer who can represent me."

"Sweetheart, if you say Foggy-"

"No, he's this blind guy, very sexy, very smart. You might have heard of him. Matt Murdock?"

Matt chuckles. "That might get a little confusing, representing two different sides. Pretty sure that might be called a conflict of interest."

"Huh. I guess you shouldn't sue me, then, if it's too confusing."

It's a full laugh, now. "Touché." Matt cocks his head suddenly, before dropping his head to your shoulder with a groan.

"Fighting again?" You ask knowingly.

His Yeah is muffled by your shirt. Like father, like son, indeed. He lifts his head. "You want to sit this one out? I can take them?"

You shake your head. "I need a break from elementary school speak. Some actual adult conversations." You pull away, and Matt lets you, taking Daisy and following you into the kitchen where you grab the cheesecake brownies you were asked to bring.

Matt's mouth and eyebrows quirk suggestively, voice lowering--not quite Devil-voice, more bedroom-level. "We could see if someone wants to have the kids over for a sleepover tonight. Have some... adult conversations of our own."

You grin back at him. "Renegotiate some terms of that marriage contract?"

"More like fulfill."

You laugh. "I could be amenable to such an idea," you agree. Your words cause Matt to speed up and you to laugh again, following him out. "What's got you in such a rush?"

"Easy." He gives you a peck as he locks the door from the townhouse to the garage. "Faster we get there, faster we can come back. I want a whole set of Avengers."

"That wasn't in the contract, dear."

"Maybe not in yours, but..." He winks. "It was in the braille one."

[cyripticchronicler]

Hiii I have a request for Matt Murdock I was thinking him with an reader who’s job has gotten more stressful and it starts to get to them they get dizzy and lightheaded but brush it off until it happens around Matt and he can sense that it happened and he gets all protective and caring

Preferably fem reader but gn is also totally fine so everyone can enjoy it !

If this isn’t your cup of tea I totally get that !

In His Arms

Thank you for requesting, sweetie. I kind of went off track a little and I'm sorry :( (If you want me to rewrite it I happily will!) But either way, I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Overwhelmed by your growing workload and the pressure to prove yourself, you keep your struggles hidden—even from Matt. When the stress leads to a breakdown, he pulls you back, reminding you that love means sharing the load.

TW: Panic attack, mentions of anxiety, pet names (I can't help it), swearing

Masterlist

Stress was a familiar feeling to you. Its sharp claws seemed always to be gripping onto you tightly. You’ve learnt how to manage the lack of air in your lungs and the painful squeezing of your heart whenever you go through a rough patch. 

That’s why the feeling of anxiety creeping up your spine was carelessly ignored. You regret that you shrugged the feeling away, too focused on your work. It’s much easier to calm your bones' nervous trembles before it worsens. 

But now it’s too late. 

You’ve been so distracted by your work. Your colleague had just gone on maternity leave after giving birth to twins. You weren’t sure what would happen to her workload, but you certainly didn’t think it would all be passed down to you. 

Now all your brain can seem to focus on is the deadlines coming closer by the minute. They flash in your mind each time you consider taking a break. You never take a break - this is your one chance to prove to your boss that you’re ready to take on more responsibility. The rumours floating around the office of potential promotions, motivating your hard work ethic. 

You’ve always been a hard worker; had always been distracted by what you consider important rather than what was essential- like eating, or sleeping. Each time you got away with it. You didn’t have anyone to look after you. 

Until Matt came along. 

He’s such an attentive man and would be even without his heightened senses. You knew he’d be worried about your desperation to complete your work, completely gone to the rest of the world as your stomach grumbled louder and your under eyes got darker. 

He’s a natural worrier. That’s what compelled you to keep your stress a secret. It’s hard lying to a human lie detector,  so you’ve taken to avoiding instead. It’s easy to avoid him when you’re so busy, anyway. A couple of messages per day seems to keep him subdued for now and you’re glad; it’s all the attention you could offer.

Your lip is pulled between your teeth, chewing hard enough to draw the taste of metallic blood. None of the words before you make sense through your blurry eyesight. As you attempt to read the same sentence for the third time, you angrily rip off your glasses and groan. 

Black spots take over your vision as you rub at your eyes aggressively, hoping the sickeningly dizzy feeling that’s making your throat feel tight will go away. It’s useless, yet you only allow yourself a second break before gulping down some water and returning to work. 

Your phone rings as soon as your fingertips touch the keys of your laptop and a curse slips out of your mouth before you can stop it. You hate yourself for the spark of annoyance that has your blood boiling when you read Matt’s name on your phone. 

He’d already left three messages from before. As well as a voice message that you hadn’t yet listened to; you were practically forced to answer the phone so as not to draw concern. You’re determined not to burden him with your issues - he’s a vigilante for God’s sake, he doesn’t need your petty problems on top of his own. 

“Hey, Sweetheart.” His deep voice crackles through your phone speaker. Instantly, your shoulders relax and your eyes flutter shut. He’s the bright sun during cold days, the flowers during winter; beautiful and everything you long to see.

“Hey, Matt.” You respond lazily, mustering up enough energy to open your eyes and read the words on your laptop screen. You use one hand to type while the other holds your phone to your ear. You can hear his smile in his voice. “I’ve barely talked to you all day. I thought you were coming to mine for dinner. Did you get my voicemail?”

Guilt nags at your stomach. “I’m so sorry, Matt,” the little sigh you can hear through the other line has your heart splintering, “I’ve just been so busy with staying on top of my work as well as Mara’s-”

“It’s okay. I know how busy you’ve been. I could come by with dinner. I can do some work while you do yours.” You hate to diminish the hope in his voice, but you know he'd be worried about your obvious stress as it shines through in your old clothing and unbrushed hair (not that he’d be able to see but feel). 

“Can we do a raincheck?” You whisper, guilt nagging at your stomach. His voice is so sweet. So understanding. It makes you want to cry. “Of course, baby. Try to eat, please. And take breaks. I’ll call you tomorrow; maybe we can go out for lunch.”

“Maybe,” If I’ve got enough work done, “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You drop your phone on your lap as soon as the call ends. For once, you’re thankful for the large amounts of work, as it distracts you from the guilt that claws and tugs at your skin. 

⚝⚝⚝

The second time Matt calls, you’re nose-deep in paperwork that was slammed down on your desk. ‘More of Mara’s work,’ your boss said before leaving you with the rasing anxiety in your chest. Thoughts of taking your lunch break didn’t even assimilate in the blurry haze of your mind. 

Only the shrill ring of your phone brought you out of your bubble of work. Sighing, you don’t bother to check the name before picking it up, as you already know who it is. “Hey, Matt.” Your hand still scribbles words on the paper, phone pressed awkwardly against your ear by your shoulder.

“Hey. I called to see if you wanted lunch, but you sound busy.” Unlike last time, his voice doesn’t soothe your racing heart. If anything he makes it worse. “I’m so sorry,” you hope he can hear the sincerity in your voice, “I miss you. As soon as the crazy amount of work has subsided, I’ll call you.”

“Is there any way I can help?” You can’t help but smile at his caring nature, wanting nothing more than to be with him. But you know if you went to lunch you’d be too focused on work to be good company. “Remember that I love you?”

His laugh makes your heart melt, anxiety melting away with it. “Of course. As long as you remember that I love you. I won’t call so I don’t distract you from your work, but please take care of yourself. I love you so much, honey.”

“I love you too.” You hang up the phone and instead of returning to work immediately, you just sit there in silence, staring at the piles of paperwork in front of you. The sting of unshed tears joined by a nervous feeling in your stomach is enough to make you want to throw up. You’re so tired. 

You should have listened to your body. You should have gone out for lunch and taken a break. But instead, you got back to work, ignoring the bright red signs of a panic attack on the rise. 

⚝⚝⚝

Having been diagnosed with anxiety when you were younger, you’ve learned to identify signs of an upcoming panic attack. First, you begin to feel dizzy, then a little lightheaded. Your heart begins to hurt, and your stomach starts to turn. Then you can’t breathe, and you’re scratching at your skin to give your lungs more space to breathe. 

Now, as you stand in your kitchen, staring at the piles of paperwork that cover the dining room table, it’s hard to ignore how your body reacts to the sight of the never-ending workload; the feelings you so carelessly ignored before forced to be brought to attention. 

Your eyesight is unfocused, and you are unable to concentrate on the hand you’re using to prepare a small dinner. Your hands violently shake by your side and feel incredibly weak. But that isn’t what worries you; it’s the lack of air entering your lungs that has your eyes squeezed shut. 

Feelings of worthlessness travel up your throat and block your airways. You’re having a panic attack. The realization has you sliding down the fridge and to the floor, tears running freely down your flushed cheeks. You bring your knees to your chest, hands scratching at your throat as if it would allow air into your beaten lungs. 

Your body feels so weak, you’re sure you wouldn’t be able to stand up if you tried. You’re lost to the darkness and anguish the past weeks have wrought upon you; lost to the cruel insecurities your mind created to fool you into this vicious despair. 

No matter how hard you cry, how hard you claw and scrape at your skin, you still can’t breathe. Hopelessness washes over your chilled skin, pulling you into its shadows. You can do nothing but let it take you as its own, the fight for air warring off as you succumb to the darkness that spots your eyes. 

And as your eyes flutter shut, you fail to notice the opening of the window in the living room. You fail to notice the hurried steps and the gloved hands that hold your face gently. Or the man’s desperate calls of your name. 

⚝⚝⚝

The first thing you notice when you regain consciousness is the exhaustion that wracks through your frail body. The second thing is the man who lays next to you on your bed. 

Matt. 

He’s sleeping peacefully, chest moving up and down in slow breaths. You frown, unsure of why he’s here. The last thing you remember was you freaking out about the workload and having a panic attack. You must have fainted from the lack of air, you consider then immediately cringe. How embarrassing. 

“What are you thinking about?” You jump at the sound of Matt’s deep voice, eyes shooting up to watch a small smile grace his face at your reaction. “Why are you here?” The question comes out ruder than you intended, but Matt’s smile doesn't waver. 

“I was on patrol,” he begins, pulling you into his warm embrace, “and figured I’d stop by to check on you. I wasn’t going to come in, just listen-”

“-that’s not creepy at all-”

“-then I heard you panicking. Your heart was beating really fast and you were breathing really heavily. You were already passed out from lack of air by the time I was inside.” He pulls you in tighter like the moment still haunts him. You trace your fingertips gently down his bare arm, ear against his chest as you listen to his heartbeat. 

“What happened, sweetheart?” He asks when it became clear you weren’t going to speak. You sigh. “I’ve been a little stressed lately. And I should’ve listened to my body but I didn’t. There’s just so much work and such little time. I can’t handle all of this workload.” The familiar bite of tears has you shoving your head in Matt’s neck, letting him hold you tightly and reassure you that everything will be okay. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could have worked through your stress together,” He questions quietly and you shake your head in response. “You take the burden of everyone else’s problems, and still go out every night to face all the bad guys- I just didn’t want to burden you with my problems on top of all the rest.”

He pulls away and you try not to frown at the lack of contact. Slowly, his fingers move under your chin and compel you to look into his beautiful, unfocused eyes that sparkle in the city lights shining through your windows. “You are not a burden. Your problems are not a burden. I want to be here for you. I want you to tell me what’s going on in that smart little head of yours-” He flicks your forehead playfully before giving it a small kiss “-And I want you to know you can talk to me.”

You nod your head slowly, feeling like a child that’s just been scolded. “Okay.” He lays there in silence for a moment, seemingly contemplating his words before he speaks, “I think you need to talk to your boss,” you open your mouth to protest but he cuts you off with a gentle squeeze, “This amount of work isn’t healthy. I mean, why hasn’t the workload been separated and passed around to all of your co-workers? It’s fucking stupid if you ask me. She’s obviously taking advantage of your brilliance-”

“-Matt,” You cut him off with an amused smile. His eyes glint at the sound of your giggles as if that was his mission all along and he won first place. 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me. If anything I’m being selfish.” He grins cheekily, kissing your palm as it raises to cup his cheek. “And why, pray tell, are you being selfish?” Your smile is sly and knowing. 

“Because I’m doing this to get my beautiful girl back and into my arms. Foggy isn’t as good company as you, y’know.” You giggle, holding him tightly as your mind settles on a decision. “I’ve missed you too.”

Tomorrow you’ll call your boss and ask for a lessened workload. But for now, you’re just going to lay in bed with the man you love dearly and let him hold you tightly. 

[thinkinonsense]

what about a movie night with logan 🥺 n just soft cuddles and cute kisses

logan's day truly couldn't have been worse. none of the students listened to him, he was off his game while training, and a mission had gone south. all he wanted was to spend his evening with you in his lap and a cigar in his mouth.

when he finally returned to your shared bedroom, he found you half asleep with a random movie playing in the background. logan looked at you like you were a real life angel sitting upon his sheets.

"hi, baby." you let out this cute yawn that almost brings logan to his knees. "how was the mission?"

"shitty." he mumbled, trying to lit the cigar hanging loosely from his lips. "missed ya though, princess."

once the cigar was lit, logan crawled onto the bed and rested in between your legs. his head rested just above the waistband of your underwear, facial hair tickling the delicate skin on your tummy.

"missed you more." your heart fluttered at his words. "sorry your day was shitty."

logan shrugs, removing the cigar to place kisses on your hip bone. "don't matter anymore now that i'm here with you."

one of your hands tangled its way into his hair, playing with the little kitten tuffs you adored. logan traced shapes on your thigh while both of you finished the movie. at the end he crawls up to face you, setting the tiny bit of cigar on the nightstand before leaving kisses all over your pretty face. he couldn't have picked a better way to end his day.

[elixirfromthestars]

On Days Like This

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (established relationship)

Summary: The comforts of sick days with your boyfriend Matt.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warning(s): fluff / descriptions of mild sickness / sick + comfort

requested by anonymous

a/n: hello! i'm jumping between wips and i was able to finish this bingo request 💖 originally it was just going to be the first part, but then I got carried away 🤭✨ as always feedback is appreciated! and my writing challenge is still on going 💗

birthday bingo masterlist ♡ // main masterlist ♡

When He's Sick

“ Matt, don’t even think about it,” you warn as he reaches for the armrest of the couch. You know what he’s about to do and you refuse to let him do it. You’re not letting him move a muscle while he’s sick. 

“ I got it,” you add, rushing to the front door and answering the knock that rang throughout his apartment seconds earlier. Matt grumbles something under his breath as he sinks back onto the couch—a resigned sigh leaving his lips. 

Your boyfriend gets a little grumpy when he’s sick. He relies on his senses to see and it’s hard to do that when he can’t breathe out of his nose and has a constant ringing in his ears. The delirium of his ongoing fever further muddied his brain. The clouding of his senses was overwhelming to say the least and you were trying your best to help remedy that. 

You open the door and grab the items you instacarted to make him some homemade chicken noodle soup. You make your way back to the kitchen where you take the items out and start preparing the meal.

You peak out into the living room. Your boyfriend resembles a child all snuggled up into the blue cotton blanket you draped over him earlier. The slight hum of the television in the background casting a light glow onto him. 

He won’t admit it now, but he secretly loves being taken care of. Its not a feeling he’s used to, but when it comes to you he welcomes it. 

When you’re done preparing the ingredients, you pour them all into a pot to simmer. You wash your hands thoroughly and then make your way over to your boyfriend. Its time to take his temperature again.

“ Hey, how are you feeling?” You ask, your tone filled with a gentle worry. You lower to your knees to be eye level with him.

“ Like my head’s going to explode,” he groans quietly. You give him a weary smile, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead. You’ve done this so many times you can’t tell if his fevers gone down or not. 

“ Open up,” you request as you inch the tip of the thermometer to his lips. He does as told and you take his temperature. 

“ One hundred and two. Looks like that medicine is starting to kick in. You were at one o’three earlier,” you say, slightly optimistic. This does nothing to cheer your boyfriend up as he’s still in his sickly haze.

You kiss your fingers and then press it onto his lips,“ Soup will be ready soon. I promise it’ll make you feel better,” your voice brings him a comfort he direly needs. Coupled that with the indirect kiss and the way you’re brushing away the strands of sweaty hair from his face—he’s in heaven. 

“ Thanks, baby,” he manages to croak out. You brush another strand from his face and he leans into your touch. “ No need to thank me. I’m here for you,” you reply with a soft sincerity. 

Damn the medicine and the soup. All he needs is you. 

After about another forty minutes the soup is done and served in a bowl. You let it cool down a bit before heading over to the couch, setting the bowl down on the coffee table. Matt can faintly pick up the savory aroma in the air and he gently sits up. He intends to reach out to grab the bowl until you swat his hands away lightly. 

“ No. I got it. You focus on getting better. I’ll do the rest,” there’s a slight pout on his lips as you say this. You’re tempted to kiss it away, but you stop yourself. The last thing either of you needed was for you to get sick too.

You blow on the soup a bit before serving him the first spoonful. The warmth spreads throughout his body blanketing him better than anything else did. 

You were right. The soup did make him feel better.

When You're Sick

A content sigh escapes you as Matt massages the lavender scented shampoo into your scalp. His fingers are delicate, but working with purpose as he lathers every strand. Your body was already melting into the bath, but with the way his hands were working—you’d soon melt into him. 

There wasn’t a strand of hair left untouched by him. He gave every bit of it his full attention. Wanting to make sure he was doing things right. He had never done this for anyone before. 

The bath was Matt’s idea and his doing. When you came down with the flu and complained about your achy muscles and congested sinuses—he knew just what to do. 

Well, more like the internet told him what to do and what products to buy.

His every touch was gentle and soothing. The scent of lavender was calming to your senses so he left it in your hair to settle for just a bit while he worked on lathering a rosemary scented body wash into your skin. His fingers work in slow circular motions, applying just the right amount of pressure to pacify the ache. 

“ How’s that?” he asks, fingers gliding over your back as his circular motions continue.

Now you were completely melting into his touch, “ Perfect. That seriously helps so much,” you reply a little breathless, your eyes closing to focus on the feeling. 

Matt grinned, pleased that he was able to help you. He loves taking care of you as much as you take care of him. Being the one you can lean on, on days like this, means everything to him.

When You're Both Sick

“ Come here,” Matt’s quiet voice rings out in his dark bedroom. The slightest sliver of moonlight coming from his window. His arms are outstretched in your direction as you make your way into the covers. 

You sniffle briefly as you snuggle into his side, his arms enveloping you immediately. You clear your throat to hold back a nasty cough that is trying to fight its way out of you. 

Your bodies tangle under the blanket, trying to calm the chills that run through both of you. Matt’s head rests delicately on your head as your face nestles into the crook of his neck. 

The cold medicine starts to take effect as your eyelids get heavier. Matt’s breathing has relaxed signaling to you he’s on the verge of falling asleep too. 

“ Goodnight,” you whisper, tilting your head to plant a soft kiss to his jaw. 

“ Goodnight,” he whispers back, planting a loving kiss to the top of your head, pulling you impossibly closer to him. 

You fall asleep just like that.

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

A New Devil

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fisk!Daughter Reader, Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter x Fisk!Daughter Reader

Summary: The daughter of Wilson Fisk walks a dangerous line between power and passion in Hell’s Kitchen. When Matt Murdock confronts her in the bar of her father’s Presidential Hotel, warning her about Benjamin Poindexter—her latest entanglement—wearing the Daredevil suit and wreaking havoc, she refuses to play into his self-righteousness. Matt sees her making the same mistakes as Fisk, but she insists she’s always one step ahead.

Inspired by: @prince-septimus 's headcannon? oneshot? about this topic.

The city breathes like a beast beneath you—alive, hungry, always watching. Hell’s Kitchen was never yours, not really, but it wasn't his either. Not Murdock’s. Not Dex’s. Not your father’s. It belonged to the shadows in between, and you had learned to navigate them with ease.

And yet, even as you sat across from Matt in the sleek, dimly lit bar of the Presidential Hotel—now your father’s hotel—you could feel the weight of all three men pressing in around you. Your father. Your ex. Your... whatever Dex was now.

"You shouldn’t be here," you murmured, swirling your drink lazily as you avoided looking at him. "You shouldn’t have called me."

Matt smiled that infuriating little smirk of his, the one that made you want to either punch him or kiss him, depending on the day. "Then why did you answer the phone?"

You exhaled sharply through your nose, setting the glass down with a soft clink. "Say what you need to say, Murdock."

"It’s about Poindexter."

You went still. A slow blink. A measured breath. "What about him?"

Matt leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, lowering his voice. "He’s wearing my suit."

The words barely had time to settle before you scoffed. "And?"

His jaw tensed. "And he’s using it to tear this city apart."

You rolled your eyes. "Spare me the theatrics. You think I don’t know what he does? You think I don’t know what you do? The only difference between the two of you is a red suit and a self-righteous complex."

Matt exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "You don’t see it, do you?"

You tilted your head, challenging him. "See what?"

"You think you’re different from your father. That you’re smarter than him, better. But you’re making the same mistake. You’re letting a man who was made to kill whisper sweet things in your ear, and you’re pretending he won��t turn on you when the time comes."

A slow smile curled your lips, sharp and cruel. "Oh, Matty. The difference between my father and me is that I don’t pretend he won’t. I just plan for when he does."

Matt’s expression darkened. "Then you know how this ends."

You reached for your drink again, raising it slightly. "Everything ends, Matthew. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to enjoy it while it lasts."

Dex was waiting for you when you got back to your apartment. Sitting on your couch like he belonged there, a knife in his hands, flipping it between his fingers with that eerie precision of his.

"Was he convincing?" he asked without looking up.

You let out a breath, kicking off your heels. "He’s worried about you. Thinks you’re unstable."

Dex snorted. "Takes one to know one."

You smirked, making your way toward him, settling onto his lap without hesitation. He let you, hands immediately resting against your hips, firm and possessive.

"What do you think?" he asked, voice dropping lower. "Am I unstable?"

You ran your fingers through his hair, tilting his head back just slightly. "I think you’re dangerous," you murmured. "And I think I like it."

His eyes darkened, his grip tightening. "Careful, princess. You might start sounding just like your father."

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his, barely a whisper of a touch. "Then it’s a good thing I never wanted to be anything else."

Dex’s breath hitched just slightly before he yanked you down into a bruising kiss, sharp and consuming, as if he wanted to mark you from the inside out.

You wanted him to.

Because Matt was wrong.

You weren’t your father.

You were worse.

[halfway-happyyy]

It'll All Work Out

summary: you are casually involved with a one Mister frank castle, but still have unfinished business with one of his biggest adversaries, matt murdock. angst and soft feelings ensue.

warnings: brief mentions of violence

pairings: frank castle x reader, matt murdock x reader

You awaken in the morning hush to the familiar sounds of the city coming to life around you. Millions of dust particles dance and shift in a ray of 5 AM light from the crack in your curtains. A warm weight shifts next to you, and an impossibly toned arm circles your torso ever tighter. For some inexplicable reason before you turn, you half expect to find a shock of unruly umber hair and ruddy, stubbled cheeks beneath a pair of gorgeous hazel eyes. 

And then, a barely noticeable smile lifts Frank Castle’s lips skyward, and you’re back where you’re supposed to be, as if you’d never left at all.

“Mornin’,” He murmurs and lifts the back of your hand to his lips, brushing it softly.

“Morning, Frank.” You kean into his touch, craving more of it always, as if enough of it will make you forget the way that he felt beneath you.

Frank traces a deliberate fingertip down the bridge of your nose, his molten bronze eyes alert and shining brightly in the inky light of dawn. “Last night was nice.” He offers.

And he’s not lying.

You can still feel the scorching heat from his fingertips on every inch of your body; an inexplicably satisfying ache still exists at the apex of your thighs from being stretched a little too fully by him… “Every time with you is nice.” You take cover from his gaze in the hollow warmth of his neck. The low reverberation of his chuckle against the top of your head causes a tremble to wrack your body, and his hold on you tightens involuntarily. 

When you’re close like this- when there’s no telling where either of you end or begin, it’s entirely too easy to lose yourself in all of it. Your home has been a safe space the last six months. There are no cuts to be patched up, no ghosts in the shadows, no goodbyes.

No Matthew.

“You’re a million miles away.” 

His gravelly tone is teasing, but there is a hint of something else beneath it that causes tidal waves of guilt to ebb away at you and you swallow thickly before answering- “I’m right here.” It’s as much a reassurance for him as it is for you.

A sudden vibration pierces the imminent stillness of your bedroom, the sound of it foreign and unfamiliar, and you frown against the jut of Frank’s collarbone. “Who’s even up at this hour?” His voice is thick with the weight of recent sleep. 

The ringing stops, and you think with relief, that it’s the end of that, but less than a minute later, it starts again and you groan in unconcealed frustration. 

“Whoever it is needs you.” 

Turning in Frank’s embrace, you reach for the phone on your bedside table and blanch at the name flashing across the screen. 

MM.

Frank recoils against you; it’s so quiet in the bedroom that you can hear the particular hitch of his breath as it catches in his throat. He doesn’t have to ask what MM stands for. “Better answer it, sweetheart.” His tone is frigid, touching dangerously close to full-on hostility. He presses a final, chaste kiss to the rounded curve of your bare shoulder, lifts the duvet from his body and swings his legs over the side of your bed.

You watch the muscles in his toned back ripple and flex as he bends down to retrieve the pieces of his clothing abandoned in the searing heat of passion the night before. 

“Frank, I don’t want you to go.” And it's God's honest truth.

A melancholy laugh exits his mouth in the form of a huff, as he shrugs his shoulders. “I’d be lying if I said I wanted to leave, sweetheart.” 

So stay…

“He’s never stopped loving you.” His voice was a wine glass on the precipice of shattering entirely. “And maybe I was on my way there, too.” 

God, this was never part of the plan.

Frank clears his throat, trying in vain to rid his voice of emotion. “I’m confident in my feelings for you. Have been from the moment you poured me that damn cup of coffee,” The creases next to his eyes deepen as he revisits the memory. “But the fact of the matter is that he beat me to it. And as nice as the last six months have been, there are three of us in this bedroom and it’s getting a bit crowded.” Where you expected his gaze to be angry or accusatory, it’s anything but.

Tears prickle threateningly behind your eyes as you hug your arms tighter to your frame. “I’m sorry, Frank.” 

He’s fully dressed now and standing at your window, his hulking figure silhouetted by the breaking morning light is a sight for sore eyes. He shrugs after a while. “He needs you.” 

And what about you?  You want to ask. Don’t you need me to?

But it’s Frank Castle. And he hasn’t really needed anyone for a long time- at least not the way that most people do. 

So, he gathers you in his arms for a final time, presses his lips to your forehead, and takes his leave to go. But before he vanishes from sight completely, he hesitates on the landing of your stairway and turns back to you, his penetrating gaze still just as dazzling as ever. “Right person, wrong time.” 

Right person, wrong time. 

From where you are, you hear the sound of your front door opening, but miss the sound of it closing. Instead, an indecipherable noise emanates from Frank, followed by a humorless laugh. “Well, this is rich.” 

Your heart skips a beat as you throw on an old shirt and take the stairs two at a time. At the bottom, you’re met with a scene that’s still difficult to piece together. Matt is hunched up against the side of your house, beaten and bruised from what looks like a brutal fight. Taking inventory of the damage, you notice a violet bruise blooming beneath his left eye, a shallow cut on his cheek seeps crimson blood, and he’s favouring his ribs. 

“You always were a little too good at taking a beating, Murdock.” Frank spits. 

Matt shifts, wincing from the pain. “If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy.” 

“This isn’t funny, Matt.” 

He won’t look at you. Not yet. 

“Do you need a hospital?” Frank asks, finally. 

Matt shakes his head. “Just rest.” 

And it’s the look that Frank leaves you with as he climbs onto the back of his motorcycle; he needs you. He disappears at the end of your street and you find yourself missing his strong, protective reassurance almost immediately. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Matt’s voice is hoarse, and causes goosebumps in waves on your arms. 

“And yet somehow, you always manage to.” You sigh and slide down the wall next to him. Taking his hand in yours, you’re shocked at how cold it is and you turn to him, concerned. “How long have you been out here?” 

Matt clears his throat. “A couple of hours, give or take.” 

“You can’t keep doing this, Matt.” Your statement is quiet, almost lost to the white noise of the city around you. “It’s just too painful.” 

His unseeing gaze is focused on something ahead when a single tear cascades down the front of his cut cheek. It’s an unfamiliar sight; in the many years that you had known him, he’d only let himself cry once or twice. Placing an arm around him, you pull him to you and hold him as tightly as he allows you. When a light rain begins to fall, you tell him it’s time to go in. 

He reluctantly gets up, groaning in pain as he follows you back into your house. While the bathtub is filling, you get to work searching for the proper supplies to start patching him up. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” You ask, and take a step between his parted thighs. “Or shall I rely on my imagination?” 

He gazes up in the direction of your voice, and you can not help but lose yourself in his beautiful hazel eyes. “Lately, I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat,” His voice is low and raw with emotion. “And I worry because I don’t feel anything. I just don’t feel anything.” 

His eyes close and you feel your heart splinter.

Ripping open an alcohol swab, you take the back of his head in your hands and warn him that what you’re about to do will sting. You pass it over the cut on his cheek and he flinches against you, his body rigid with discomfort. 

“I get worried that I’ll stop feeling everything one day.” He grunts.

So, under the cover of darkness you become the devil of hell’s kitchen and start fights you’re not always sure you’ll win. 

“A valid fear,” You agree. “You did feel that, though.” You gesture to his cheek, and he only frowns in reply. 

Matt clears his throat, his expression suddenly earnest. “Frank-” You shake your head, your heart twinging at the sound of his name out of Matt’s mouth. The rest of the words fizzle and fade in his throat. 

“Stand up.” You instruct, quietly. And he does as he’s told. You take the hem of his shirt in your hands and carefully lift it up over his head. “Jesus Matthew…” You release a pent-up breath as you notice the smattering of fresh bruises that decorate his upper body like a warzone. He recoils when you pass a delicate fingertip over a particularly dark spot. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks, kid…” 

The sound of your nickname makes you falter. It had been years since you’d last heard it, and where it should have incited immediate frustration, you are surprised to find you’d missed it. Next to go are his pants, which pool on the floor around his feet. Stepping out of them, he shimmies the black boxers from his body and steps into the all-encompassing comfort of the steaming bath. 

Turning to make your exit, a fragile noise rips from the hollow of his throat before he asks if you’ll stay. After a couple of minutes of silent deliberation, you nod your head and take a seat on a stool next to the bath. 

Matt sits in silence for a while, the only other noise in the room is the subtle pitter-patter of rain on the skylight above you. Scars of varying degrees of seriousness decorate the expansive planes of his alabaster chest, and it’s all you can do to keep from reaching out and tracing them. When enough time has passed, you fill a jug from beneath the sink with warm water and pour it over Matt’s head. Pouring a dollop of shampoo onto his head, you work the mixture into a lather in his hair and rinse that out as well. When you’re finished rinsing out the conditioner, he stands up for you in preparation of the body wash. You watch, wide-eyed as water drops race themselves in misshapen lines down the length of his lithe body, and your mouth goes dry at the sight of it all. Taking the soapy sea sponge in your hands, you make quick work of his entire body. 

“Feels good,” He murmurs when you’ve poured the final jug of warm water over him. 

While he finishes up in the washroom, you make quick work of changing over your bed. He wanders in a little while later, his hair still slightly damp despite him toweling off. Lifting the corner of your weighted duvet, he sidles in next to you, and all of it is almost painfully familiar; like he’d been here all along, like he’d never even left at all. 

You both are nose-to-nose now. Every scar, every fleck of green suspended in a sea of hazel is on display for you, and any resolve you might have had before fades entirely. “I did mean what I said earlier, Matt.” 

He reaches a warm palm up to caress your cheek. 

“You pick and choose when it’s convenient for you to let me in and I just… I can’t keep doing it. You’re breaking my heart.” A single tear slips from the corner of your eye, and he doesn’t see it- cannot see it, but his thumb catches it and brushes it away. 

He’s never stopped loving you.

“You’re it for me, kid. I’ll never leave you again.” He doesn’t say what you both know is true; that he’ll never stop doing what he does to protect the city he cherishes so deeply, but there is a truth to those pretty words that simply wasn’t there before. “That is, if you’ll have me.” 

You capture his lips in a kiss that might as well be the last one you’ll ever have, and when you eventually pull away, you’re both breathing hard. Wordlessly, you guide his hand to the spot above your rib cage where your heart beats a slow, steady rhythm. 

“I love you, Matthew.” 

I love you, I love you, I love you

[neverthatsirius-jo]

december recs <3

— bucky barnes.

light by @sun-kissy

↳ reader moves in next to bucky’s and they likeeee each other, and it’s a sweet fic, and san wrote it!! <3

— matt murdock.

through your eyes i see, a smile you bring to me by @siriuslylantsov

↳ what is up with december and gift-giving guysss, this one also said: for jo 😔!! it’s mine but i’ll let you guys read it cause it’s that good. <3333 LOVVVVEDD IT SO MUCH ALISHA I LOVE U <3333

— remus lupin.

pahinga (rest) by @foodiegoogie

↳ rese ficccc!!! comforting remus after a full moon!!! wohoooo 🥳💗🧚‍♀️✨

— sirius black.

bags series by @777heavengirl

↳ have been reading this fic for some time and there’s only one chapter left and i’m not ready to let go AAAA :( said this last month in the recs list but this series is the best and you should go read it right now ! <3333

untitled by @iamgonnagetyouback

↳ i requested this one for her event and it was the sweetest thing i’ve read, ty for writing my request <3

— spencer reid.

mistletoe by @siriuslylantsov

↳ decorating with spencer reid <33333

tis’ the damn season by @parfaitblogs

↳ tis’ the damn season to read lia’s fics !! 🤨 go on !! (THE DIALOGUEE IN THIS ONEE <33)

love to keep me warm by @parfaitblogs

↳ sweet, sweet short fic <33

present enough for me by @parfaitblogs

↳ actually the dialogue in this oneee <333 i think i just love all lia’s dialogues tbh. lovely fic <333

— steve rogers.

tangled up in you by @elixirfromthestars

↳ GUYYS GUYSS GUYSS, this was dedicated to meee because mel is the best and the sweetest person on this planet and a great writer who comes up with the best fluffy fics. pure, pure christmas fluff and the best part is that it’s frIENDS TO LOVEEEEEEERSSSSSSSSSSS :DDDDDDD AND STEVE ROGERSSSSSSSS, still giddy thinking about this fic

back to fic recs list

[l0vergirlwrites]

✭ matthew murdock ✭

let me see you | matthew murdock x fem!reader (angst/fluff)

dancing in the street | matthew murdock x fem!reader (fluff)

intimacy | matthew murdock x fem!reader (fluff/comfort)

night in | matthew murdock x fem!reader (angst/comfort)

matthew murdock x gn!reader blurb

matthew murdock x musiciangirlfriend!reader headcanons

love & back rubs | matthew murdock x reader (angst/fluff)

overwhelmed | matthew murdock x fem!reader (angst/comfort)

shopping | matthew murdock x fem!reader (fluff/suggestive)

valentine | matthew murdock x fem!reader (fluff)

no pressure | matthew murdock x fem!reader (suggestive/angst/fluff)

exam stress | college!matthewmurdock x femstudent!reader (fluff)

you’re losing me | matthew murdock x fem!reader (angst)

wanna feel guilty | matthew murdock x fem!reader (angst)

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

if you could write something about matt murdock with

"My breath just made you quiver. Can you imagine what my tongue will do."

and/or

"Shh... just a little bit more."

i would eat that up :))

a/n: thank you, darling. i rarely get requests for matt, but it always lights up my life when i do

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“I–, u-uh…” you foggily blinked down at Matt’s head nestled betwixt your legs, “was that an actual question?” the tremble to your tone caused his grin to widen as he teasingly let the very tip of his nose ghost against the apex of your inner thigh, “I’ve never tried that before, you know having someone do that,” you timidly coughed, “but I mean, I do have a very vivid imagination, so I probably–, oh my god!” 

Your babbling was then cut off as Matt finally closed the last bit of distance, a groan slipping from his lungs as he let his tongue run through your glistening folds for the very first time. 

“Matthew!” your squiggly legs tried to tremble shut around his solid skull, “t-that’s–, oh fuck,” your body quivered as he slithered his burly arms up your frame, hooking your legs before he flipped them back open like a heart-racing page in a book he wasn’t quite done reading yet. 

“Shh,” his deep voice vibrated against your puffy clit, “just a little bit more…” as he greedily kept up his efforts even as you squirmed from the overwhelming sensation, “just one more taste and then I’ll fuck you,” you cast your gaze down past where his broad palms laid splayed across your abdomen, to where his lips, glossy from your want, barely lifted to make his murmur coherent, “promise…”

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[inkdrinkerworld]

Matt Murdock is the type of boyfriend who’s very stern, but not in the typical sense.

Sure he’s got an opinion, but he knows how to work his tone so you don’t feel backed into a corner.

Like when you’re up late, reading and you strut to the kitchen for another cup of coffee and another chocolate but Matt knows, he knows what happens. You won’t sleep because of the caffeine and sugar, so he intervenes.

“Sweetheart, how about a hot chocolate instead?” It’ll satisfy both your cravings, a warm drink, and something sweet, but will eliminate the caffeine and give you both a chance to sleep tonight.

“But Matty, that new coffee tastes delicious. Just one more cup?”

He shakes his head, stretching till his joints crack and then he stands from the dining table. He’d been going over some files for his and Foggy’s latest case.

“I’m sorry darling,” Matt comes up behind you, hands in your hips as he presses his lips to your shoulder. “We both know you won’t sleep if that happens. Let’s do the hot chocolate, baby.”

He’s a sneaky bastard. His lips coast your shoulders as he speaks, his sweet touches on your hips, and his rarely used ‘baby’.

Matt is a master at you, if he says so himself.

“Okay,” you sigh, but it’s all wistful and lovely. “But I’m having my biscuits.”

Matt laughs, “Oh, I could never deny you, sweetheart.”

[sarahisslytherin]

hands like magic.

matt murdock x nurse!reader

summary: after a long shift at the hospital, you come home to find matt in need of some medical attention.

contains: allusions to violence, allusions to sex, nudity.

a/n: so apparently warm baths aren't good for healing wounds? but i ain't a doctor so anyways... this one's for you anon. gif by @djo

word count: 1.2k

The sounds of Hell’s Kitchen ring in Matt Murdock’s ear like the soft chime of a bell. The hollering of street vendors closing up shop, the honking of cabs, the screeches of the alleycats; it all turns to white noise when he hears the tired pad of your sneakers up the building steps. He swears his heart skips a beat when he hears you fumble with your keys, eyes probably straining to see in the dim light of the hallway. He saves you the trouble, striding for the door and opening it before you can get the key anywhere near it. 

“Honey, I’m home”. you groan, dragging your feet as you enter the dark apartment, illuminated only by the neon blue lights reflecting off the next building. 

“Long shift?” Matt asks as he shuts the door and trails behind you. You mumble something that sounds vaguely like a “yes”. You had been seeing your cute, lawyer, downstairs neighbor for nearly a month, and this might be the worst state you’ve presented yourself to him in yet. You can’t help the guilt that creeps up your spine as you realize you are a little grateful that he can’t see you like this; baby hairs sticking out every which way, purple bags under your eyes, a lack of a will to live glaringly obvious to anyone who cared to look. 

You’re so deep in your thoughts that you only come back to life under Matt’s touch, his gentle hands kneading softly into your shoulders like dough. Those hands that had dragged the sharpest cries out of New York’s most dangerous criminals, now handling you as if you were a porcelain doll. You can’t help the borderline obscene moan that leaves your lips, and note the way Matt tenses up shortly after. You whip your head around, positive your cheeks are already a bright pink. “I’m sorry, that just slipped out!”

It soothes you to see a smile grace Matt’s features, a boyish laugh escaping him as he runs a hand through his ruffled hair. “I’m sure it did.” Your brows etch together at that, and you deliver a playful punch to his stomach as way of retaliation. But he’s not laughing anymore. He howls in pain, eyes squinting closed and a hand coming up to press on the injury.

“Matt, are you okay?” your eyes go wide as you lift the cotton material of his shirt, guilt sinking like a stone to the pit of your stomach. His abdomen is all shades of black and blue, heaving up and down with his shallow breaths. “What have they done to you?”

Matt is quick to yank his shirt back down, pressing a chaste kiss to your hair before making for the bathroom, but you’re right on his heels. You say nothing as he attempts to shut the door, slipping in and immediately rummaging through his medicine cabinet for the first aid kit you’d left him when he first told you of his nightly occupation. You’d laughed in his face at first, not buying a single word. But you soon learned Matt Murdock was a man of integrity, even if it gets him nowhere but bruised and battered over the bathroom counter. 

“Come here, Matt.” you sigh. His lips part to spill out whines of protest but you won’t hear any of it, not this time. “Shut up and let me fix you.” You turn the handle on the bathtub faucet, warm water rising steadily as Matt undresses. You know you shouldn’t stare, not with him in this state. You’d told him you wanted to take things slow with him, scared you might give away too much of yourself just to have it all handed back to you in the end. Right now, though, you silently curse yourself for having said such a thing. 

“Like what you see?” Matt smirks cockily as he sheds the last of his clothing. You feel your cheeks flush as he does so, whipping your head towards the nearly overflowing water. You twist the handle, wishing you could shut off the rush of your thoughts with the same ease. Matt’s next words come with a darkness that wasn’t there before.

“Look at me.” he rasps. So you do.

You drink in the sight as if you might never see it again, and he lets you. He meets your eyes with a devilish grin that can mean nothing but trouble. And tonight, trouble is the last thing Matt needs. “Get in the water, Murdock.”

“Yes, ma’am.” he chuckles as he pulls you in by your waist and presses a desperate kiss to your lips. “But as soon as I’m better-”

You roll your eyes at his antics and fail spectacularly to suppress your shy laugh. It seems you’ve accessed a part of him that had been reserved up until now, and he wasn’t going to let you get away that easily. “I said get in the water!”

And he does exactly that, hissing as his wounds come into contact with the water. He lets his head fall back onto the cool tile wall behind him, and you get comfortably perched on the edge of the tub. Matt reaches for the soap but you’re quicker than him. He rolls his eyes at you but lets out a soft chuckle that reverberates in his throat. “Can’t believe it took a brutal beating for you to finally help out around here.”

You playfully smack his head, earning another laugh that sounds like heaven. 

“You know,” he sighs, a more solemn tone taking over his voice. “I really do wish the first time you saw me like this could’ve been under better circumstances.” His deep, brown eyes stare off into nothing, and you wonder if he knows any circumstance involving him is a good one to you.

“Yeah, well, if it makes you feel any better I could show you mine in exchange- oh, wait.” 

Matt’s large hand leaps out of the water, splashing you in the process and scoldingly squeezing your thigh before going back to his side. You yelp at the action, unable to stop the fit of giggles that overtakes you. He throws his head back like a child as he laughs. 

Then he lays his head on your thigh as fatigue seeps into his body, his fluttering eyelids growing heavier with each passing minute. You stroke the wet baby hairs clinging to his forehead and he hums as he tells you your hands feel like magic. You learn that he’s recently bought himself some coconut-scented shampoo because the smell reminds him of you. He lets the fact that he loves you slip out and you actually mean it this time when you say it back.

When he gets out of the bath you’ll take a better look at those wounds, put that first aid kit and medical degree to use. But for now you think you might just sit here a little while longer, wishing you could bottle this moment and keep it forever.

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @deadfables @misshale21 @dragonsfictavern @sweetercalypso @sheraayasher

[shadowbriar]

Matt Murdock - Scratches

Pairing : Matt Murdock x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 2.2k Warning : Injuries, nothing graphics. Matt being dumb that he inflicts injuries to himself. A bit of angst I think. Synopsis : The lack of knowledge about her wellbeing is doing everything but put his mind at ease and Matt wasn’t sure how long he could live with such torture. Notes : Special work for my precious @basementsoup. I hope you like this Alex! ♡ If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

Matt hated it.

He hated having to admit that he still needs her. That even after months of separation, the many helping hands he found and friends he could’ve come to, he still found himself scrambling back to her apartment. He hated that in the lowest moments in life, her soothing touch and gentle words were the only thing that helped him stay afloat.

But nothing beats the hatred he felt when he finally managed to get inside. He hated how there’s a new pot of sunflowers placed by the widow. He hated how the pictures on the walls are now gone, replaced with what seems to be mirrors and other wall decorations. He hated, the most, how his scent no longer lingers in the air.

Before he could drown himself deeper into the wallowing, the sound of keys jingling and door knob twisting were heard. His heart paced for a split moment. A short period of regret washes over him. Perhaps he shouldn’t have barged in tonight.

“Matt,” She called, surprise was evident in her tone. Her heart skipped a beat and Matt wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the reasoning for it; is she glad to finally see him again or is she hating their reunion?

“I broke your pot,” He says instead “I didn’t realise you'd done some redecorating.”

“Yeah, I, uh.. I needed a change of setting.” She answers as she takes off her coat, tossing her bag to the floor once she realises his bruised face “Oh, God, not again.”

Matt tries his best to suppress the blooming smile on his face as he feels her fingers examining his face, “It’s just a light scratch.”

“You always say that,” She protests “I can find you on your deathbed, bleeding away, and you’ll still say it’s just a scratch.”

“Has it ever been more than a scratch?”

Matt knew that she must be glaring at him right now. The change in her breathing is clear for him to tell that he’s bruised her patience. But even with annoyance and vexation boiling her blood, her care and worry for him will always overshadow it.

“Come, I’ll clean your wounds.” She says as she holds his arm.

A small kaleidoscope of butterflies flutters in his heart. She knew that he could navigate himself to the sofa. He only broke the pot because he wasn’t expecting any change of setting in her apartment but now that he knew, he’ll be sure to be more careful in moving around, so there’s truly no need of her to guide him this way. Yet again, why would he complain?

“What is it this time?” She asks as she went to the cabinet to get her aid kit “Fisk? Castle? Some thugs?”

“Would you believe me if I say I fell off the bed?”

She turns and eyes him with a glare.

“Alright, not the bed then,” He jests “Stairs. I fell down the stairs.”

“Not funny, Matthew.”

“What, can’t a blind man fall from the stairs?”

She lets out a sigh. Matt could sense her defeated shoulders from the way she dropped the aid kit, “You wouldn’t come here if you only fell from the stairs, Matt.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

Truth is Matt has tried his hardest to stop himself from seeing her. He’s fought every urge to jump out of bed at night and come to her. Every little thing in his life pushes him to get closer to her. Like a magnetic force he couldn’t seem to escape. He wanted to ask her what tea he should get from the grocery shop. He wanted to ask her if he should wear the blue or the red tie for the court trial the next day. He wanted to ask her if he could borrow some sugar though the trip to the grocery store is far closer than having to walk to her apartment.

Anything that happens in his life, he wanted to share it with her.

“I don’t want to have this conversation again, Matt.”

“I know,” He nods, licking his lips as he tries to show an apologetic smile “I’m sorry.”

Matt could feel the sofa shifting when she took a seat next to him. He could smell the water from the bowl on her lap and the rest of her aid kit that are now laid on the table. This feels painfully nostalgic. To have her tend his wounds yet for the first time, he knew that he won’t be getting the one true cure he needs — her kisses.

“Are there any other bruises or wounds than the ones on your face?” She asks as she begins cleaning his skin “One of these days you’re gonna need to get yourself a real professional help. Like a personal nurse or doctor. I won’t be here forever to help you.”

“Won’t you?”

“You’re not exactly the easiest patient to tend to,” She answers with a teasing smile “I’d say the chance is pretty high.”

“But I’m your only patient. You need a comparison to say that I’m the worst of your patients.”

“No one can be this much of a pain in my ass than you, Murdock. You know that.”

Matt only smiles at her remarks. He wanted to bask in this moment. To suffocate himself with her gentle touches. To hear the beat of her heart that has become his personal ballad. To know that no matter how far the distance between them grows, she will forever be his true north.

Her movement was put to a short halt when her fingers bruised his lips. He can’t see her but he hopes that the longing in his face is mirrored on her. That she misses the feeling of their lips touching. That she misses the feeling of his lips whispering sweet nonsense in her ear. That she misses him too.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” She says instead as she abruptly stands from her seat “If you don’t have any other injury, I think you’re good to go.”

Matt forces a laugh, “What just happened?”

“I don’t know, Matt, you tell me! What are you doing here?”

“I told you, I fell down the stairs.”

“Yeah, and you couldn’t have asked Foggy or Karen to help with your wound?” She asks, her volume slightly rising in frustration “Do you even feel those wounds? Because I know you have that superhero metabolism thing and I’ve seen you get worse injuries. You can’t just come here, spend half an hour to get to the other side of the city, just to get some bandaid for your scratches.”

Her heartbeat has gone frantic now. Matt could feel the frustration, the anger, the disappointment from all the words she uttered, but the most evident thing he could hear was how much she worries for him. How much she wanted to embrace him as she once did. How much she wanted to show him the love she hoards for him, even without saying it out loud.

It had been a few painful weeks leading up to their separation. He could hardly remember the last time he’s slept a wink. There’s always someone crying for help, someone screaming in agony, wailing in pain and despair that he just had to go out there and lend a hand. And even with all of his God gifted abilities, there’s only so much he could take before he succumbed to his demons. And unfortunately, this is one of the few battles he has to admit losing.

Even up till this moment, Matt still tries to convince himself that he didn’t regret ending things between them. It needed to be done. He had to make sure that the Daredevil and his business wouldn’t come between him and her. He needed to make sure that the enemies he made along the way would never find their ways to her. He needed to make sure that when the Daredevil himself had to make penance for his sins, he wouldn’t drag her along with him to hell.

And the only way he could save her is to cut the relationship clean.

But Matt is as much of a selfish man as the next person. He couldn’t keep away from her for too long. The thought of her moving on peels his skin when it should’ve given him the satisfaction and fulfilment. The way her shampoo no longer lingers on his pillowcase gives him nightmares. The distance that he thought would be her safety net soon turns into a limbo of anxiety and worry. The lack of knowledge about her wellbeing is doing everything but put his mind at ease and Matt wasn’t sure how long he could live with such torture.

“I didn’t lie when I told you I fell from the stairs,” He explains softly “I— I’ve been wanting to come and see you but I just— I don’t know how.”

Her heartbeat slows, completely focused on his words now.

“I thought about purposely messing up my laundry and calling you for help. I thought about using that wrong detergent for our— my blankets, but I know you’d never forgive me.” He confesses, a pathetic chuckle escaped his lips “I mean, I wouldn’t want to ruin those blankets, to be real. They’re precious to me. We use them for our movie nights.”

“So you figured you just fell down the stairs?”

He shrugs, a small embarrassed smile curved on his face, “I had to make sure you won’t kick me out and slam the door on my face.”

“You’re an idiot, Matthew.”

“I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” She seethes, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves and running a hand through her hair in frustration “You— You can’t just end things between us and suddenly barges into my apartment, begging me to clean your self-inflicted wounds. That’s not how things work, Matt. That’s— That’s cruel.”

And that’s when he feels it. The foul taste of salt from her tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. The night just keeps getting worse and worse, so it seems. It was never in his intention to make her cry though he’s got to admit that he’s done that one too many times. He only wanted to see her, to feel her touch one more time, not to cause an even greater pain to their gashing wound.

“What do you want from me, Matt?” She painfully asks, her voice cracks from the heartache “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Is that what you want? For me to leave you alone?”

A bitter laughter escapes her lips, “I want you to love me, but that’s clearly not on the table, so I suppose being left by you would be the best option.”

Carefully, Matt stands from his seat and walks toward her. He reaches for her face, feeling the wetness of her cheeks under his calloused fingers. It pains him to see her this way. To know that he���s caused her more pain than happiness. All because he thought he knew better when clearly he didn't.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you,” He confesses “It’s because I love you that I ended things between us.”

Matt could feel the skin on her forehead scrunching, clearly from the confusion of his words.

“It was becoming unsafe for you to be with me. I made too many enemies, too many people that wanted to avenge their anger to me and it was only a matter of time before they knew about the one thing that would hurt me most and I can’t— I can’t risk that.”

“So I’m, what? A weakness?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you are my weakness,” Matt says with a nod “And I couldn’t care less about having a weakness, believe me I don’t care about my soft spots, but you..” He pauses, cupping her face gently as his eyes become glossy “You.. You, I cannot ignore. Just the thought of someone, laying a hand on you, hurting just a strand of your hair.. It drives me nuts. I care more about you than anything. So if staying away from you is the only option I have, if it’s the only way I can minimise the risk of harming you..”

A tear finally rolled down his cheek. It feels liberating to finally confess all of his reasoning, to finally let her know the cause of his discourteous actions, but there’s still no solution to their problem. There’s still a huge question mark for them to tackle and he wasn’t sure if he’s ready to reach that point yet. He wanted to still feel her touch, to hear her calling his name even if they’re filled with her venomous tone.

“Matt—”

“Tell me,” He cuts in, trying to recollect himself from the turmoil “Do you want me to leave? Would it be best for me to leave you be?”

“No, no I never want you to leave.” She answers as she pulls him for a hug, burying her face to his chest and wetting his shirt with her tears “Don’t leave me, please.”

Matt welcomes the embrace in no time. He pulls her close, making her stand on her tippy toes as he lifts her. He misses this. The warm scent of her perfume, the pressure of her on his body, the feeling of her heart beating against his chest. This feels like home. She feels like home.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers to her ear “I’m sorry for everything.”

“I don’t need your apologies, Matt. I just need you to promise you’ll stay this time.”

He nods eagerly, pulling her impossibly close to make sure that she hears him, “I promise.”