#matt was the humanity of the show

[1rsoldiersince2012]

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x Reader)

organized fanfic with links to chapters, for easier access (ongoing)

Summary:

You and Matt met in the courtroom. Now, you may think that Matt was a knight in shining armour and defended you in the name of all United States laws, but that was not the case. Matt was totally destroying your client, and you wanted to tear him into pieces right then and right there, because with Murdock as your rival, your head is on the firm's plate with each case. Did Matt care? No, he only cared about bringing justice, he was a human-machine, driven by the need to bring righteousness no matter the cost. Or was he just that? What happens when you get involved in Fisk's business and Daredevil's lies against your will?

Clash in the Court

The Losing Team

Start Of Something Better... or Worse?

Shadows of the Past

Not Again

Strange Thoughts

Into the Ring

Union Allies

Bitter Company

Innocent Get What They Deserve

Mixing Business

Coffee Delusions

Crack in the Walls

Back when it all made Sense

Karma is a...

Breaking rules is fun (and dangerous)

The Big Call

Unexpected Encounter

Things are about to change

Old Friends, New Beginnings

Jealousy, Jealousy

In the Blood

Smoking Day

Time is a Fragile Thing

King's Right Hand

Chasing Wind in the Dead of Night

Deadly Dance

Chasing Wind in the Dead of Night, pt. 2

World on Fire

I don't want to be a part of this

Grasping the Straws

Better if you Do

Lawyers, Guns and Money, pt. 1

Lawyers, Guns and Money, pt. 2

Man-Eater

Interlude

bad idea, right?

Poisonous Affair

Nelson v Murdock

running away is all I know

Guilty Crimes

Field Day

my world was falling apart

The ones we left behind

not the best lawyer, but a goddamn good criminal

Daredevil

All 'thanks' to the Devil

this might've been just a dream, right?

Another night in Hell's Kitchen

of first dates and men

Bang

[blackshadowswriter]

Always Here┃Matt Murdock

Summary: Even the Devil got nightmares sometimes. Luckily, you would always be there for him to pick up the pieces. Tysm to @cioemyr for the request! 🖤

Words: 1875

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, nightmares, dreams about losing a loved one, Matt's Catholic guilt that you have to slap out of him (not literally ofc, boi is traumatized)

AN: Guess who finally sat down and wrote out requests from months ago. I'm sorry it took so long, but it's here now! It is a little shorter than what I usually write, but I had to rewrite this several times, so this is the best I got.

That night, you awoke to a heartbroken plea from the Devil, echoing through the darkness.

When your eyes first shot open, darting around in the dark space of the bedroom, you couldn't remember what had awakened you for a few seconds.

Until Matt twisted in the sheets besides you with a shaken cry of "Foggy!"

You were shooting upright in a heartbeat, scooting closer to Matt's side of the bed and calling his name softly. Usually, you wouldn't have to move too far to find Matt in the bed since he normally spooned you like a giant, Devil-sized koala bear. However, tonight, it seemed that he had writhed away from you, plagued by the tortures of his mind.

This wasn't the first time Matt had been trapped in a nightmare, so you knew what to do. When he was like this, touching his hypersensitive skin was a great way for you to get decked in the face, courtesy of Matt's unfailing but rather violent reflexes, the first of which was to lash out at whoever touched him. It was something you couldn't exactly blame him for, especially when his nightmares usually involved being attacked or losing someone to an attack. This time, you were guessing that said someone was Foggy.

Instead of trying to touch any other part of his twisting body, you gently brought your hands up to his hair, carding through the damp strands slowly, hoping he could sense it was your touch. For a moment, Matt's body locked up at the new sensory detail, his anguished movements stilling to something a little more controlled—twitches running along the broad, muscular plane of his body.

Seeing him calm ever so slightly, you incorporated your voice.

"Matt," you called softly. "It's alright. You're okay."

In the faint illumination of the neon lights, spilling through his windows from that godawful billboard across the street, you could see Matt's face, shining with sweat and something you suspected were tears, contort in agony as his body shuddered again in his nightmare.

"It's just me, Matty," you continued, keeping your voice sweet and soft, knowing you didn't have to speak loud for his sensitive ears to pick up on it. You could only hope your voice was cutting through the fog of his dream-addled mind. "Come on, wake up, honey, you're safe here."

With a gasp, Matt's eyes flew open, and he bolted upright, clawing at the sheets, dark eyes darting around the room as if looking for a nonexistent enemy that he could not see. He tried to stagger out of bed, probably trying to go fight an invisible battle in his boxers.

"Hey, hey, hey, Matt!" you called, reaching out to gently catch his wrist. His head snapped towards you at the touch, but you weren't alarmed. You could never be afraid of Matt, and you knew that his erratic behavior was due to the fact that he usually had trouble orienting himself when waking up, especially from a terrible dream.

You said your name aloud, hoping the familiar word would break Matt out of his haze. "It's me, Matt. You're at home. You're safe. I'm safe. We're both safe, remember?"

Slowly, Matt relaxed in your hand, tension seeping out of his tightly wound form like blood washed away. He whispered your name in a shattered voice that sounded so vulnerable, so broken that your heart ached for him.

"Yeah, I'm here, Matt," you assured him quietly, dropping your hand down from his wrist to lightly entwine in his fingers. He clung to yours as though it were a lifeline in the whirlpool of his drowning mind. His body sagged back down into the bed and fell against you limply, no energy left in him. You caught his heavy weight as best as you could, gently shifting him until he could lay his head against your chest where you knew the sound of your steady heartbeat would comfort him.

"I got you," you murmured, adjusting the two of you so that you said with your back against the headboard and Matt's comforting weight across your front.

He kept his head over your heart for a few moments, breathing deep but shaky breaths before turning his face to bury it in your neck. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry—"

"Don't be," you said firmly. "Don't be sorry."

"I woke you up—"

"And I would gladly wake up a hundred times whenever you need me." You ran your hand through his sweat-slick hair, gently scratching that spot near his neck that made him purr. "The same way you wake up for me when I need you."

A shudder ran through his body, and you pretended like you didn't feel the hot, wet tears sliding down your neck for Matt's sake—the man was somehow convince that crying meant bothering you, and it had taken you months to assure him that no, Mathew, crying is normal, and I am very much fine, stop with the Catholic guilt.

"Tell me about it?" you asked softly. "If you want?"

You felt the warm air from his slow exhale skate across your collarbone and waited patiently for him to speak. If he didn't want to talk about what he had dreamt about, you weren't going to push him, the same way he had never pressed you for more details than you wanted to share on your own nightmares. But if he did need to talk, you were going chase out the stupid voice in his head telling him he deserved to suffer in solitude and make sure that Matt knew he could talk to you.

Eventually, Matt seemed to have found his voice. "Foggy," he croaked. "I dreamt about Foggy." He drew in a terse, shaky breath and pressed his face against the soft skin of your neck, taking in your comforting scent for a few moments. "He got—hurt, and it was my fault."

"I'm sure it wasn't—" you started to say, but Matt shook his head firmly, his hand fisting in your shirt.

"It was," he said hoarsely. "I wasn't fast enough—wasn't good enough to save him. They took him, and I couldn't do anything about it."

Silently, you took in his words while your fingers absently stroked the nape of his neck. You didn't bother to ask who "they" was, knowing the many enemies that hounded Matt's subconsciousness. It could have been any one of them, and who it was didn't really matter right now—only that Foggy had been hurt, and Matt blamed himself.

Of course, it was entirely possible that, in his dream, something he had done had either directly or indirectly caused whatever had happened to Foggy. However, it was equally likely that Matt had had nothing to do with it and simply blamed himself like he did with so many other things that were not his fault.

Without knowing exactly what had transpired (and Matt didn't seem too keen to share details), you were fumbling in the dark, unsure of how to reassure Matt.

You settled for the safest option. "It was just a dream," you soothed Matt, brushing your lips over his sweaty forehead. "Foggy is okay."

"I don't know that." Matt stiffened suddenly as if just realizing something. "I don't know that," he repeated, moving to sit up. "God, I need to go check on him—I need to make sure he's okay—"

You shushed Matt gently, tugging him back into your arms. "Foggy is okay," you reiterated quietly. "He sent me a meme about penguins at 2 in the morning, just 30 minutes ago. He's definitely okay," you told him in amusement.

Slowly, Matt sank back into your arms, apparently reassured by his best friend's rather irritating tendency to text you the most irrelevant things in the middle of the night. You resumed the pace of your fingers in his hair, and after a few moments, Matt went so quiet and still that you almost thought he had fallen asleep.

Until he shifted slightly and turned his face up to press a kiss against your jaw. "I love you," he rasped. "I love you so much. Thank you for...for putting up with this—putting up with me. I don't deserve you."

Oh, Matthew. My sweet, wonderful, dear, idiotic boyfriend.

You slid your hand underneath Matt's jaw and tilted his face up towards yours until you could take his tormented expression, face twisted with guilt. Even without hearing him speak a single word more, you could already hear the self-beratement running through his head.

"Matt," you said slowly, "I want you to listen very carefully to me. I know you can do that. So I want you to open those bat ears of yours and listen to me, okay?"

He cocked his head to the side slightly, evidently bewildered, but Matt humored you and nodded, licking his lips slowly.

"I do not put up with you," you said firmly. Matt's brows scrunched together (adorable, your distracted brain input), confusion blooming on his face as you continued. "I put up with my shitty coworker who hits on me every day. I put up with that ridiculously enormous rat that lurks outside your apartment and hisses at me every goddamn morning. I put up with the grumpy old woman who comes in every day to my work with an attitude dating back to 500 B.C."

You paused to watch the slight twitch of amusement on Matt's lips, glad you could cheer him up even that little.

"But," you said in the voice you used to take to your childhood dog when it misbehaved, "I do not put up with you. I take care of you when you need me to, the same way you take care of me when I need you to. Do you know why I do it?"

Matt let out a hoarse laugh. "That's what I've been wondering ever since you came into my life, sweetheart," he murmured in that self-depreciating tone you hated.

"Because I love you, Matthew Michael Murdock," you said sternly, smirking at the way he grimaced at the last part.

You just got middle named, Murdock.

You tilted your head down and kissed him softly, reveling in the way Matt sighed against your lips, practically turning into putty in your arms. "I love you, Matt. And when people love each other, this is what they do. You don't like the fact I get up in the middle of the night for you? Too fucking bad because I'm going to do it anyways. I fucking love you, Matthew, you hear me?"

"I hear you," he murmured. "And I love you too. This has to be the most aggressive declaration of love I've ever heard though."

You kissed him again. "Someone has to knock some sense into that Catholic-guilt-riddled brain of yours."

Matt huffed out a laugh against your lips, bringing his hand up to cup the side of your face. "You do it rather well," he decided. "I love you so much, sweetheart."

Kissing his hair, you nudged Matt and scooted the two of you down into the sheets until you both were more or less back in the same position you had fallen asleep him: Matt curled around you like your Devil-shaped teddy bear.

With a sleepy, content sigh, Matt nuzzled into your neck again, lips brushing over your pulse point gently. "I love you, sweetheart," he whispered again.

"I love you, Matt," you said quietly, reaching your fingers up to stroke his hair. "And I'll always be here for you, I promise."

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AN: I'm on a roll with these Matt fics, the brain juices are finally flowing! I have so much I wanna write now even if it puts me so behind on my homework. Oh well 😬

If you enjoy, please remember to like, comment, and reblog!🖤

My Matt Murdock Masterlist

[chvoswxtch]

every time I rewatch season three of daredevil i’m reminded what a bitchy little gremlin matty is

and why I relate to him so hard

[vintagelilies]

Fully believe Matt got that tattoo because Gus had seen kids drawing it literally fucking E v e r y w h e r e in the human realm and decided that it was cool and taught it to Matt and Matt just. Really wanted Gus to think he was cool.

Motherfucker was like “I gotta keep up my bad boy demeanor!!!! Ksnsjs if I’m not cool then what am I!!!”

[kiseopingu]

The Wildmother being so much more scared of Predathos than she is of The Spider Queen and thus being willing to "sacrifice" Opal as a champion of the Betrayer Gods I am THRIVING. @quiddie the DM that you are!!!

[bericas]

scott appreciation week (day 4) → i think it’s my fault

― Andrei Tarkovsky, Journal 1970-1986

[milimeters-morales]

i want acau matt to freak out so bad about Miles possibly not surviving something that he starts using his last resort and trying to convince god to let Miles into heaven anyway to reunite with his parents (he still thinks Miles’s parents are dead in this scenario) and he’s panicking so much that he takes a few minutes to realize that he doesn’t know if Miles is even religious and if his parents were. Yknow how Jerma kept saying “HEAVEN. HEAVEN. YOURE GONNA GO TO HEAVEN.” when his sims 1 family kept dying and his seaman was dying? That’s kind of the frantic and spiraling energy i want to have Matt give off as Miles’s heartbeat gets weaker and weaker and the doctors can no longer help

[aq2003]

do you think if ten existed in a modern au he'd just be called ten

[antiheroapologist]

I've been rewatching Daredevil and..

.

.

.

I can't help but laugh every time Matt does this.

Does he have a secret stash of more canes? Does he go back to find them? What do people think when they walk down an alley and just find a blind person's cane in a pile of garbage?

[blackshadowswriter]

Matt Murdock and blind reader. Maybe his girlfriend and they had been dating for years? And maybe she loses her ability to see due to some accident? And now he is with her in the hospital when she realizes she lost her sight? Her waking up, all in panic with him comforting her? I would totally love this.

World Gone Dark┃Matt Murdock

Summary: In your world gone dark, Matt is your comforting light.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, a few brief mentions of injury from a car accident, mainly glass shards damaging the eyes, my medical knowledge is shit so I made all the doctor-y stuff up

Words: 1,661

AN: Thanks for the request, @cioemyr! And apologies for taking so long to get this up, I tinkered with several different versions of this idea before settling on this one. Idk, I wasn't satisfied with how it came out, but that's probably because I'm shit at writing emotions unfortunately 💀

You awoke to a rush of noise abruptly.

A beeping noise somewhere to your right—a monitor perhaps—the low murmur of voices nearby, and the faint shuffle of feet and clatter of equipment, muffled as though it were coming through a closed door. There was smell and taste too: the sharp, bitter tang of antiseptics in the air and the distinct smell of latex gloves—you were in some medical environment. And you could feel as well: the cheap hospital sheets wrapped around you, the thin mattress you were laying on, and the strange sensation of something wrapped around your head—around your eyes.

But there was one sense conspicuously absent from the influx of sensory information that you awoke to.

You couldn't see.

The realization panicked you more than you would like to have admitted. After all, decades of living primarily through your sight had trained you to find comfort in familiar settings that you could see. Now, you were in an unrecognizable place with people you did not know because you could not see.

Faintly, you heard the beeping noise increase suddenly as your own heart rate spiked, sudden fear and an unexplainable sense of claustrophobia creeping up on you. Voices grew louder, but the rush of blood pounding in your ears filtered it all out. Your hands flew up from underneath the sheets to grope your own face, trying to figure out why you couldn't see.

Soft, scratchy material. Wrapped around your head. Around your eyes. Gauze, wasn't it? Around your eyes. Why was there gauze around your eyes? You tried to force your eyelids open, but they wouldn't cooperate. And oh, the claustrophobia only increased with the overwhelming feeling of your eyes not responding to you. Why wouldn't they just open?!

Gentle hands were suddenly covering your own, tugging yours away from where you had started to claw at the gauze over your eyes. Flinching at the touch, you drew back instinctively, afraid and unable to see who was holding your hands. Then, familiar, warm, and scarred hands were cupping your face with a tenderness that had only ever come from one person. A low, murmuring voice reached your ears, the familiar sound a soothing balm on your panic.

"Sweetheart," he whispered, his voice sounding oddly strained. "It's alright, honey, calm down."

"Matt," you croaked, wincing at how scratchy and hoarse you sounded even to your own ears. "What's going on—I can't see—there's something on my eyes—I can't—"

He shushed you quietly. "It's okay, baby. It's—" His voice hitched, cracking for a second before he cleared his throat and seemingly forced himself to continue. "It's okay," he repeated.

"What happened, Matt?"

"What do you remember?"

Your memory was still hazy as were your thoughts, but you strained to recall any prior events that would have landed you in the hospital. It came back to you in fragments: you'd taken a taxi back to your apartment. Distracted, you had been on your phone for majority of the ride, texting Matt to let him know you were coming home. Then, the last thing you remembered was looking up to see a truck barreling towards you, and a terrible pain consuming you before you blacked out.

With no strength in you to say all of that, you croaked out, "Accident. Taxi. Remember now."

Matt's fingers smoothed your hair away from your face. "You're lucky you're alive," he said quietly. In your muddled state, you thought you heard a tremor in Matt's voice. "They got to you just in time, the doctor said."

"Oh..." you whispered, "but...Matt, my eyes, I can't—"

He let out a soft, mournful noise. "I know, sweetheart. I know."

"What happened to them? Why—why—?" Why can't I see? you wanted to scream, that overwhelming feeling of panic and can'tseeit'stoodarkletmeout clawing at your throat.

Matt dropped one hand from your face to grasp both of yours in his larger one. His touch grounded you, distracting you from the terrifying darkness you had been plunged into. "The doctor said..." His voice wavered for a moment, compassion seeping into his words. "She said that when the accident happened, the—uh—the windshield...it shattered. And there was...a lot of flying glass. She said you're lucky none of it got lodged into your vital organs."

"Vital organs—but my eyes," you started.

"I know, sweetheart," he breathed. "I know."

Yes, you thought vaguely, yes he did know. If anyone else had tried to tell you that, you would have pushed them away, but it was Matt. Matt knew what this was like, he probably knew everything you were feeling right now. After all, he had gone through the exact same thing when he was only a child. Your heart broke for both you and him, imagining how much more terrifying it had to have been for a nine-year-old child to wake up without his sight.

If your eyes had not been shredded by broken glass, you were certain you would have been bawling your eyes out. As it was, a swell of emotion lodged in your throat until a small choked sob escaped your lips. At your little broken noise, Matt wrapped his arms around you, letting you press your face into the crook of his neck as he gently shushed you.

"It'll be okay, sweetheart," he whispered. "I promise it's going to be okay."

"Is—" you sniffled quietly. "Is it bad?"

A short, pained silence passed, and it told you everything you needed to know. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry," Matt said softly, cupping the back of your head where you'd burrowed your face against his collar, drinking in his familiar scent. His strong arms wrapped around you tightly, cradling you against him. You leaned into Matt, trying to soak in the feeling of safeprotectedokay as though it could ward off the fears of this haunting darkness all around you.

Matt shifted you in his arms, and you felt warm lips pressing against your forehead. "It'll be okay," he promised.

You shook your head against his shoulder. "I don't know how you do this," you whispered. "I can't—I'm scared, Matt. I just—I just wanna see you again." Your voice cracked, and you broke off.

"I know, sweetheart," he breathed. "I'm so sorry."

"Will—Matt, what am I going to do? I don't have—" your voice lowered "—super senses or anything, I can't be like you—what the fuck am I gonna do, Matt?"

He was silent for a long moment until he said quietly, "When I woke up in that hospital at nine years old...I was terrified. As terrified as I know you are. I wanted to see my dad again too. And the senses: everything was so disorienting and confusing. Even without the extra noise and feeling, just not being able to see anything anymore was scary."

Matt paused to brush a kiss against your temple, right above where the gauze around your eyes began. "I had this kind of gauze around my eyes too, you know. I couldn't see a thing, and I had never been more scared of the darkness than then." He huffed out a dry laugh, and you knew he was considering the irony, just as you were, of how he had now adopted the darkness as his vigilante's symbol.

"I can't fix this, sweetheart," he continued mournfully, his voice utterly torn as he said those words. You knew it must have been shredding him to be unable to fix this the way he always tried to do with all your problems—but this wasn't something he could punch or threaten. This was something much more fragile, something that you would have to figure out slowly.

Reaching for him, your hand fumbled around without your sight to navigate, basically groping for his arm until Matt, sensing what you wanted, caught your hand in his. You squeezed his hand tightly, both trying to offer him comfort and console yourself with his touch.

"It's not going to be the same," Matt whispered against your hair. "We can't get our old lives back. But we can move forward and work with what we have. I won't lie, sweetheart: it's not going to be easy, and it's going to be hard and frustrating and painful, but I'll be here with you every step of the way. That I can promise you."

In the beat of quiet consideration that passed, it took you a moment to realize that the burning feeling in your eyes for once wasn't pain from your injury or broken tears but another overwhelming lump of emotion swelling in your throat. The quiet but fierce determination in his voice stole your breath away at just how utterly committed Matt was to you.

Unable to speak, you just buried your face against his shoulder and clung to him as hard as you could. You were nearly dragging him onto the hospital bed with you, but Matt didn't seem to mind. If anything, he wrapped his arms around you even tighter, and you'd never been more grateful for how good of a hugger Matt was than at that moment.

"Thank you," you breathed. "I—I don't know how I would've done this without you."

"You won't ever need to," Matt promised softly. "I'll always be there for you. I swear, sweetheart."

It was still scary, of course. The pressing darkness all around you was still unknown and terrifying, a stark difference from all the vibrant sights you were used to taking in. Already, you were desperately recalling every memory you'd had, trying to engrain those sights in your mind lest you forget what the world had looked like with your vision intact.

But Matt was there with you, and that meant that you didn't have to be scared. Honestly, there was probably no one better in the world who could help you navigate this besides him. He was your light against your world gone dark.

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If you enjoy, please remember to like, comment, and reblog!🖤

Matt Murdock Masterlist

[bi4bisamjess]

i block people who hate karen page :)

[sashannarcy]

the thing is I could also just rant on and on about the brilliance of Amphibia's finale and how it couldn't have ended any other way without it being narratively confusing and unsatisfying. I don't even agree w the people who say it has problems bc the thing is it set out to do one thing and that is demonstrate that change is ever-present. and it literally did exactly that. what more could you EXPECT

[courtforshort15]

Tbh I'd binge watch the fuck out of a show that featured just the two of them doing something random like scrubbing the grout of a truckstop bathroom while roasting the shit out of each other

[shanefilan]

My Men of the Year 2023: 6. Matt Willis

[silverflameataraxia]

I love that Karen had enough self-respect to dump Matt's ass the second she saw another woman in his bed.

No, he doesn't deserve a second chance.

[milimeters-morales]

in the ACAU Matt honestly doesn’t really know where he stands with Peter (mostly because Matt doesn’t know how to handle the more animalistic side), and that’s why they aren’t actually “friends”. Peter randomly starts to threaten him or does things that put him in unnecessary danger (like playing Deadly Hide and Seek) and doesn’t actually see much wrong with it! Matt however thinks danger is just the norm for vigilante friendships, even though Peter’s his only vigilante “friend” here. At least he knows where he stands with Miles, who makes it clear he doesn’t give a single shit about Matt and won’t even try to communicate with him even if they ran into each other. Matt is struggling to decide whether or not he wants to go through all this just to have an ally or two as Daredevil.