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hellskitchenette · 5 months

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Ginger and Lemon II

Matt Murdock x Autistic!Fem!Reader series

Read it on AO3

Chapter II: Madame Butterfly

Summary: You overthink a lot about how to thank the sexy lawyer for his intervention at Josie's and end up baking a cake. How would he react when you appear in his firm's door?

Word count: 2,729

Warnings: Christmas Fluff!!!, Protective Matt Murdock, No use of y/n, no pronouns for reader, Matt Murdock is a Ray of Sunshine, Selective Mutism, Bad self-talk, Self-Hatred, Matt Murdock Gets a Hug, Matt Murdock is a Stalker, Mental Breakdown and Meltdowns!

A/N: More fluf for y’all! Annoying bestie is introduced here, the extrovert every introvert needs in their life. As a neurodivergent person, this is a love letter to the nice neurotypical s in my life that help me navigate this confusing world. anyways, hope you enjoy this! Was already up on AO3, but I figured I should update here too.

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“Are you blind?” He is totally into you!” Your best friend grabbed some chips from the bag making loud crunching noises.

“Actually, the one who's visually impaired is him, Cece.” You responded squeezing your eyes because of the annoying sound.

“What? A disabled guy?” She left her snack to grab your wrist with her greasy hand. “Is this another complex saviour crush? And be honest.” Cece was now staring at you seriously.

“No, I really like him.” You moved uncomfortably on the sofa while blushing. Cece had come over to have dinner a watch a movie, but the recent events were now more interesting than some Netflix Period Drama. “Besides, he was the one saving me, remember?” Your friend hummed and relaxed a bit against the back of the couch. She went feral about the possibility of someone taking advantage of you again.

“So this Mr Murdock seems like a true gentleman,” Cece said with an all-knowing smirk on her face. She really had an understanding of your taste in men. And that involved some old-fashioned chivalry straight from a Jane Austen novel.

“He truly seems like one.” And you blushed again remembering a cinematic low-motion version of the moment your hands touched.” What do you think then? What would be appropriate to thank him?” You fidgeted with your chopsticks in the half-empty bowl. Normally you’d enjoy your usual Thai food order, but your stomach today was just against food. Cece crossed her long legs and smirked suggestively, raising one of her curved brows.

“It depends on your intentions with him.” She said, and you bit your lip agitated.

“My intentions? I just want to thank him for his kindness.” You explained, mortified by the fact you couldn’t even say more than a monosyllable when he helped you so much.

“You sure darling? Or it’s because you want to stay in touch, and this is an excuse to contact him?” You shivered at the idea of seeing each other again, that was certain. Sometimes Cece was better at reading your feelings than you. And maybe this was one of those times.

“May...maybe.” You admitted quietly. “He said I could contact his law firm if needed, “You said optimistically, raising your gaze first time since this conversation had started. Cece rolled her eyes.

“I know you’re capable of suing someone just to have an excuse to see him.” You opened your mouth to protest but she continued her banter. “But this is not a legal drama, and you are already grown up enough to go head-on, so if you want to see him, suck it up and go.”

Her direct words made your heartbeat spike like crazy, and the chopsticks you’d been playing with slipped from your hands, landing on the carpet along with some noodles. You sighed, picking them from the floor. They looked like little worms in the grass. Just how you felt. Accepting you weren’t going to eat more; you went to the little kitchenette to leave the bowl and throw the “worms”. Cece followed you, munching her chips like a desperate woman when something caught her attention, making a high-pitched noise. She struggled to swallow before she could talk.

“You should bake him something!” She said pointing to the bell jar over the counter where you kept your last baking experiment: a deliciously looking plum cake. Then without asking for permission, she removed the glass bell to cut two thick slices and served them in your beautiful dessert dishes. “He’ll fall in love immediately.” Her affirmation was done while she took a good bite of the plum cake. To be honest, this was a recipe you were proud of. There weren’t a lot of things you liked about yourself. Your awkwardness made your life very difficult, social interactions were like a puzzle to you and you knew that sometimes you made people uncomfortable around you. Especially when selective mutism hit or when you spoke in an inadequate moment or tone. It was like every second spent around people you had to be hyper-aware about everything you did. And it was exhausting.

Cece helped a lot with it. She didn’t care about your quirks and was always honest, an attribute you thanked her immensely for. You were used to everyone being dishonest or having second intentions you couldn’t figure out. She was a relief from society. Her help was handy in moments like this when you needed help with some conventions that weren’t familiar to you.

So, the decision to bake a home-cooked treat was made and you started looking through your huge collection of recipe books with Cece’s patient help, who listened to all the baking facts you loved to chat about when you were in the mood. After discarding some sweets because of being too complicated— Cece commented you’d look like a try-hard—, both of you finally chose the Lemon Ginger Tart, since the fruit was an inoffensive flavour and Christmas was just around the corner. And maybe you could make extra dough and bring some Gingerbread cookies too. It was late when your dear friend’s cab arrived and you slipped inside your bed, incapable of sleeping because of your excitement.

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After the morning rehearsal, you planned to go straight to Nelson and Murdock and deliver your precious cargo. The theatre was close and doing it as soon as possible will save you a lot of overthinking. Your colleagues were surprised by the fragrant package you were bringing, and some questions were inevitably asked about the topic. After all, you were one of the most reserved members of the orchestra and even though you were friendly with everyone, nobody knew really about your life outside the concert hall.

” So you remembered my birthday, how nice of you.” Your gaze met the smug face of the cocky first violin, who was resting lazily against the dressing room’s door. Even you had noticed that the man had your eyes on you for a long time since he was nothing but subtle. You panicked when all eyes were suddenly on you and your mysterious cake. It was Monday morning, and everyone was up to some gossiping. Especially if that was around the most secretive member of the orchestra.

“I…I mean…happy…eh…birthday…” you didn’t know how to tell him the cake wasn’t because of him, and you were unable to meet his eyes.

“Harvey, stop messing with her.” The harpist interrupted your nonsense, aware that he was making you uncomfortable. “It’s not actually his birthday honey, ignore him.” And she squeezed gently your shoulder and smiled friendly way that warmed your heart. Harvey rolled his eyes and then resumed preparing his violin for the rehearsal.

Second time in a few days that someone else has had to step up for you, perfect.

As your brain was ready to engage in some bad self-talk, you had to make your cello ready for playing too, so after securing the tart in the shelf, you let your instrument out of its hard case and every other thing became unimportant. With your instrument in your hands, you were in your domain, one where words were futile and only the language of music spoke. Once you were comfortable with. One that didn’t let you down.

The rehearsal went well, and everyone left in a good mood. The premiere of the first Nutcracker of the season was going to be a success, and you were expectant Friday to arrive. Even though you have been doing this every winter, it was such a special moment of the year. This ballet was so close to your heart and transported you directly to your childhood.

“Hey, some of us are going to have hot cocoa since we finished earlier today, are you in?”

The harpist’s voice interrupted your thoughts while you were finishing gathering up your stuff. You looked anxiously to the tart waiting on the shelve. You’d managed to find a beautiful Christmas box to protect it that had holly and gingerbread houses printed on it. Your gaze returned to her, trying to focus on an answer. Your therapist had said you had to step out of your comfort zone but going out with your colleagues and your little expedition to Nelson and Murdock maybe was too much for starting.

“Oh, I understand you had plans.” She had an all-knowing smile on her face now, and her voice was sweet. “Next time then!” She was about to leave when you gathered the courage to speak.

“Hey, thank you for… for before and… for inviting me too.” You couldn’t meet her gaze when she turned but used the trick of looking between her brows and it worked.

“It’s nothing! But we’d love it if you could join us sometime.” She smiled again and you nodded in a silent promise and then you parted ways.

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Nelson and Murdock were just some blocks away and you were lost in thought while listening to your favourite opera podcast, tart in hand and the cello in your back. Becky— that was the name of the harpist if you weren’t wrong, even though you didn’t rely on a lot in your face recognition abilities— looked genuinely interested in you joined them that morning and although that made you happy, it raised some buried memories about your time in high school when the people you considered your friends were actually making fun of you. Your weirdness caught the attention of the bullies like a lighthouse, so your strategy since then was to limit the number of interactions.

But this is not high school, we’re adults now and someone is genuinely being nice for once.

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t notice the other person turning the corner at the same time as you and after you could do anything, your face was plastered against some stranger’s chest, making your headphones fly in the process.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry…” Your nose stung and you were so preoccupied that the tart wasn’t damaged by the hit you didn’t notice whose chest was. And you couldn’t locate your headphones either. There were a lot of people and that added to your embarrassment was making you dizzy.

“You’re gonna need a good lawyer to defend you because I’m suing you for this attack lady.” The familiar low voice was like honey over your nervousness, and you finally looked at his face. “It’s your lucky day though, I know a damn good one not far from here…” Matt Murdock was standing in front of you in all his glory, an irresistible smile curving his lips, both hands in his cane.

“Matt!” You were sure you were looking dumb grabbing the tart as if your life depended on it, caught completely off guard by the encounter.

He was supposed to be in his office, what do I do now?

Let’s say you weren’t the best when dealing with unexpected events.

“Yes, I think that’s his name and…” Matt tilted his head to his right pausing for a moment, and then squatted picking something from the floor. “ Madame Butterfly, an interesting opera choice.” He had your missing headphones in his hand when he stood straight again. You grabbed them from his large hand, brushing involuntarily your skin with his like when he extended you his business card the other night and managed to turn off the device.

“I know is not the public’s favourite from Puccini, but I feel it’s so moving especially when Butterfly sacrifices herself so her child can have a better life…” Probably it was the longest phrase you said to Matt, but you got carried away when you talked about music.

“It’s a beautiful opera, but maybe she should have considered her son’s opinion on the matter.” You noticed his expression turning darker for a moment and you wondered if you said something wrong, but it was gone in a blink and his gentle manner was back. “Excuse me for deviating from the theme, but something smelling delicious caught my attention.”

He then sniffed like a bloodhound, and you giggled, relaxing a bit.

“Yeah, about this, it’s actually…” You didn’t know how to start since your carefully planned speech was now useless.

“It’s ginger and lemon, isn’t it?” And he smiled wider. “Really Christmas flavoured.”

“You want a slice? In exchange for…running over you.” You didn’t know where you found the courage to say that, but maybe it was easier this way.

“Are you trying to bribe me, so I don’t present charges? Because it’s working.” And then he smiled charmingly.

Holy shit you’ll bake whatever this man wanted just to see that smile.

Maybe it was his soothing voice, the fact that you didn’t have to worry about looking him in the eyes, or the way he made you feel seen , as contradictory as it was, but the fact was that you were somewhere near comfortable around Matt Murdock. So when he noticed you were freezing and offered that you went upstairs to have a drink that warmed you up, you accepted gladly.

“Is that cake?” A blonde head appeared from one of the doors of the office the moment you both stepped inside.

“I thought we weren’t accepting more payments done with food Matt…” Another blonde appeared, this time a beautiful woman. She was frowning until she noticed you.

“Relax guys, she’s not a client and the cake is not yours to take Foggy, it’s hers.” The other man looked devastated by the notice, and the woman’s face became welcoming, a question floating in the air. “These are Foggy, then another half of Nelson and Murdock and Karen, our secretary.” Matt presented you to them and you shook shyly your hand while he folded his cane and went to prepare some warm beverages.

“Actually…” You put the box containing the tart on the table that looked like was used to eat. “It’s Matt’s tart, so you can eat if he’s okay with that.” You blushed visibly while Foggy’s eyes illuminated and Karen raised her eyebrows impossibly, looking at Matt and then at you. The lawyer returned from the little kitchenette with two smoking hot mugs. He looked interrogating too. “For the other day… the bar…”

“You didn’t have to.” A wide smile formed on his lips while he handed you the latte he had prepared for you. Foggy and Karen exchanged significant looks while you wrapped your hands around it, warming you up instantly. You fixed your gaze on it, not knowing what to say.

“Don’t treat me like this, so this means I can have cake or not?” Foggy’s pained complaint made all of you laugh and broke the tension that had been building up in your stomach.

The four of you ended up enjoying the tart together along with the biscuits you baked. You were afraid of being an intruder, but Karen and Foggy were as warm and welcoming as Matt. You ended up having a great time and when it was your time to part, they made you promise to visit again. Matt grabbed your cello chivalrously and walked you to the door.

“You know, it’s been a long time since I’ve been in a concert.” He commented while he helped you to put your instrument on your back.

“Well, New York is a city with an extensive cultural offering and…” He laughed heartfully and you didn’t understand why.

“What I mean is that I’d love to hear you play.” And his voice was like velvet when he said that.

Oh.

“Yeah… of course… I…” Your brain stopped functioning for a moment, but it rebooted, and you started to search in your bag. “This Friday is the first nutcracker of the season, maybe you can’t enjoy the dancing, but the music is beautiful…” You said nervously while you gave him the spare tickets the orchestra always gifted their musicians — and which you never used because of your lack of social life.

“I’m sure I’ll find my way of enjoying myself.” And the way he said it melted your bones while he grabbed the three tickets. “See you on Friday then.” He added and after smiling brighter than the sun, he returned upstairs. You started walking towards the bus stop, still processing everything.

It looks like this Friday is going to be the best performance of my life.

#matt murdock x autistic!reader #matt murdock #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil #daredevil fanart #marvel #daredevil fanfiction #charlie cox #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #Matt Murdock x gn!reader #matt murdock x fem!reader

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hellskitchenette · 5 months

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Changing Lights: A Ficlet

Matt Murdock x Gender Neutral Night Owl Reader

Summary: A snippet of your nights with Matt after patrol

Words: 565

Warnings: Blood, Hurt and Comfort, No pronouns, No Y/N

A/N: An ode to that billboard and all the night owls there!

You’d always been a night owl. That's why the enormous billboard in front of his apartment didn't annoy you. Precisely the opposite: the changing colours created a special atmosphere. It looked like every day was Christmas. When you sat to read a book in the evening, you won't turn any light on, the billboard being enough to let you decipher the text. It was soothing to look at the apartment under the familiar lights. It made it less lonely when you stayed waiting for Matt every night.

He'd told you a thousand times you didn't need to wait for him, and you'd assured him that you loved staying up late. He understood. He was a creature of the night after all, too. But he'd prefer that you went to sleep. Not only for your health, but also because he didn't want you to see him at his lowest.

Patrol wasn't beautiful. There were quiet days. A lot of them. But there were awful too, and Matt would arrive covered in blood, his or other people's. You’d turn down whatever you were doing and look at him in concern, but you never asked. He loved you for that. You'd just silently grab the med kit and help him out of the suit. That kind of nights, you ended up falling asleep in eachothers arms, your soothing touch helping him close his eyes after the horrors of the night.

The days he most dreaded weren't the ones he ended injured, no. It was when he had let the Devil out the times he was afraid to come home. To arrive at your apartment and for once, make that steady heartbeat of yours spike. To finally let you see who he actually was. He was terrified to see fear in your beautiful eyes. Fear of him. So he would ask you again and again, “please sweetheart, don't wait for me tonight”.

But you always stayed and one day, the feared moment came. He couldn't get rid of the rage before getting home. He had been too close. Those bastards, they had the kid and Matt…He had loosen it, almost killing one of them. It was surprising that he thought of you before his faith. Was he more afraid of disappointing you than his God?

He appeared at the top of the stairs, breath ragged and fist clenched. His head was low in shame. He had really tried to calm down and prayed that you were sleeping this time, but as always you were up. You closed your laptop at the sight of him, but he didn't move a bit, scared of himself. Slowly, as if you didn't want to startle a wild animal, you went up the old stairs until reaching him. You found his left hand first, totally covered in fresh blood, and carefully got his glove off. Then with reverence, you kissed everyone of the battered knuckles and repeated the same with the other hand. By now, Matt was shaking until he finally broke, the weight of the injustices of this city too heavy, finally crushing him.

Daredevil cried angry tears in the crook of your neck, both of you bathed by the billboard’s lights. As always, you didn't say anything, but your warm, comforting presence, the only thing he needed to come down from the high of his vigilante nights. Every night lighting up his way home.

#daredevil #matt murdock #marvel #matt murdock fanfiction #charlie cox #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt.murdock x gn!reader

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