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#matt murdock x fem!reader fluff
peterman-spideyparker · 3 months
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Drunk on You (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)
Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Court, aka @chvoswxtch, is a talented genius amazing superstar talent whose fic "ours." has consumed my mind all week and has inspired me. I hope I've done you proud, and I hope you like it! :)
Summary: Yours and Matt's relationship is still relatively new, but it's different in every conceivable way, and it's amazing. His plans for a nice romantic night in, however, get thrown for a loop before you arrive, and all he can think of is you.
Warnings: Fluff, Foggy and Karen being Foggy and Karen, shameless smut (talk of birth control and side effects, f!receiving oral, fingering, m!receiving oral, protected p in v sex, failed attempt at bondage, dirty talk, praise), swearing, these guys are basically soulmates, okay, they're in love and have thought about a future together and there's a whole detailed world for them in my head
Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, Karen Page
Word Count: 3,586
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Matt’s hands slide over his watch face for the time. “Do you guys think you can handle things here for the rest of the day?” he asks his friends.
“I think we can handle it,” Foggy hums, taking in the quiet office space around them. “You have a date with that girl, don’t you? Or is it a different one?”
“Nope, it should be the same girl,” Karen says. “It’s still within the time frame.”
Matt furrows his brows as he turns toward his friends. “Time frame?”
“Do we really need to go over this again, Mr. Serial Dater?” Foggy sighs. “How many girls did you see last year alone?”
“I don’t—.”
“Ten,” Karen supplements. “I mean, technically, it was nine because you dated the same girl twice, but they all fizzled out just as soon as they started. None of them lasted over two months.”
“And that’s not counting hookups we don’t know about. If my math is right, we’re almost at the two month mark in—.” Foggy turns to look at the calendar hanging on the wall to confirm. “—about a half of a week.”
“Thank you for the countdown, Father Time, but I don’t see that happening with her. She’s different.”
“Do we at least get her name? Since she’s so different than the others, that is,” Karen tries hopefully, and Matt can tell she’s eagerly biting her lip.
“(Y/N),” he concedes. “Her name is (Y/N). (Y/N/N).”
“Ooh, full name and a nickname. Are you treating (Y/N) to a fancy night out?” Foggy asks.
“Nope,” Matt grins, sliding on his jacket.
“Oh?” Karen hums. “Finally going to bring her to Josie’s?”
“So you guys can just happen to stroll in? No,” Matt continues to smile. “Not that it’s any of your business, but that’s where we met.”
“So, no fancy restaurant, no Josie’s . . .”
“I’m cooking for her at my place tonight. Happy now?”
Foggy and Karen ooh at him like a bunch of fifth graders.
“Well, here’s hoping she’s a heavy sleeper in case you hear a bank robbery across town and need to suit up.”
“Well, she knows.”
He can tell the way that they look at him, absolutely stunned. “Knows?” Karen repeats.
Matt puts his fingers up by his head to mimic his devil horns.
“EXCUSE ME?” Foggy shouts.
“It’s a long story, guys, and I have a dinner to prepare.”
“Let us know when the wedding is!” Foggy shouts as Matt leaves the office. “Knows . . . She knows! . . .”
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Matt finishes plating the food before lighting the candles on the table, blowing out the match as he freezes in his tracks. His senses are good—he can always tell when you’re near, even though you haven’t been seeing one another long. But this time, even though you’re about a block away, it feels like you’re so much closer. Your scent is much stronger than usual. It’s not perfume, shampoo, or detergent clinging to your dress—it’s you. Matt can practically taste you on his tongue when he lets out a deep breath through his mouth, and it drives him wild. His thoughts are fuzzy, and all he can think of is how he wants his hands on you, dragging over every dip and curve of your body right until he’s between—.
Matt practically jumps out of his skin when you rap at his door. With one more deep breath and a quick adjustment to his pants, he makes his way to the door, swinging it open and greeting you with a warm smile. As soon as the door is even open a crack, you drown his senses. He feels almost drunk, and he just wants you.
“Hi,” he smiles, leaning in for a kiss. You meet him halfway, pressing your front flush against his, resting a gentle hand on his waist. He pulls you in even further, desperately trying to deepen the kiss. You smile and giggle into the embrace before you lean back and look up at him.
“Hello to you, too,” you smile. “It smells really good in here, and you look like quite the chef with your sleeves all rolled up and a towel over your shoulder.”
“You like the look, hm?” he teases, closing the door close and kissing your neck some more as he walks you into the loft.
“I do. I like it so much, I almost dropped the bottle of wine I brought, especially if you keep kissing that spot.”
He pulls back and kisses the top of your head. “Well, I’m glad you’ve both survived this far.” Matt, on the other hand, is barely holding on. Every second that you’ve been here—the whole 90 of them—he’s had to restrain himself from jumping on you the way he so desperately wants.
“How about we sit first?” Matt hums, giving your arm a squeeze.
“You’ve plated everything. I’d hate for the food to get cold. This looks lovely.” You lean over, kissing his cheek. As your lips leave his skin, he turns into you, kissing you deeply before dragging his embraces down your neck and up to the sweet spot behind your ear, humming in delight as he takes you in and kisses your skin. You let out a soft moan, your knees buckling slightly as you lean into him and hold onto his body.
“‘m pretty sure that this is supposed to happen after dinner,” you swallow, your fingers desperately holding onto his arms.
“Dinner can wait. You smell too good,” he murmurs into your skin, taking the wine from your hand and putting it on the island.
“I—!”
You suck in a breath in surprise when his hands travel low and squeeze at your hips.
“You smell good,” he repeats, his voice dipping low. “Better than dinner—better than it tastes.”
Your hands have a mind of their own, moving up his arms, letting your fingers rake through his hair.
“Matt . . .” you breathe. He can sense how your heart races as you hold him close. 
“I can stop if you want to,” he hums, dragging his kisses down along your collarbone. “But I really don’t want to angel.”
You let out a sigh that goes straight to his cock. “I-I don’t have anything,” you tremble, and Matt notices a slight edge of something else in your voice. You sound a little nervous, but it’s not like the two of you haven’t had sex before. There’s been a few times where you’ve done just this—throw your date plans out the window to just spend the night exploring one another’s bodies over and over until you’re both so worn you turn into a tangled mess of limbs in bedsheets. And then it clicks for him. Your smell being extra strong, your elevated temperature, your racing heart, and now the slight nervous tremble in your voice. You’ve been together for two months, and he’s been with you around the time of your period, and even during your period, but as he wracks his brain to work on timelines, he’s positive there’s only one solution.
You’re ovulating.
And you know it.
Matt pulls back slowly, his hands still on your hips as you face him. He desperately works to find your eyes, even though he knows he’ll never be able to, not in the way he wants. 
“And you’re . . . you’re not on . . .?” He doesn’t want to finish the sentence—it makes him feel slimy asking that, but he wants to hear you say it rather than conclude based on assumption, even if that assumption is rooted in everything your body is telling him.
“I-I’m not,” you confirm. “The side effects and stories I’ve heard from friends . . .” You shrug. “It didn’t seem worth it. As contraception or a way to help with periods.” He senses another shift in you, but this one is different. You’re embarrassed, ashamed even. 
“Hey,” Matt says softly, kissing you tenderly. “It’s your body. You need to do what’s best for it.”
You nuzzle into his touch, and he lets out a little hum. “I just hate to have killed the mood. Especially since I smell so irresistible, apparently. And those kisses were pretty damn nice.”
Matt can hear how you smile while you speak when an idea comes to his mind.
“What’s that face?” you smirk, holding onto him adoringly.
“We can still keep the mood going. I mean, I have condoms, but, if you don’t want to use them, I have another idea. All you have to do is sit down and look pretty for me.”
You eagerly bite your lip, making Matt chuckle. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your lips before leading you to his bedroom.
“Sit down for me, angel,” he hums. “And spread your legs nice and wide for me.”
With a smile, you do as he asks as he softly kisses up your thighs, moving back and forth between each leg until he’s the apex, pressing a large open-mouthed kiss to your covered core. You take in a sharp breath as he slowly kisses and licks at you. For just how badly Matt wants you, he’s surprised and impressed with the restraint he’s showing. You whimper and moan as he begins to set his pace, one of your hands moving to his head and tugging on his hair, urging him to get closer. Between your arousal and his mouth, your panties are absolutely soaked within minutes. 
“Hey,” you whine as he removes his mouth from you. “I was enjoying that.”
“I know,” he grins, sliding his hands up your legs until his thumbs hook around your panties and slide them down your legs before tossing them up behind you on the bed. “Those are mine, now.”
You chuckle, your laughs turning into a moan when he reattaches his lips to your dripping core. Your sounds are louder, more unrestrained now that his lips are on your dripping ones. The way you squirm against Matt’s face only eggs him on, the rotations of your hips are only helping drive your scent further into his nose, injecting pure you into his body. Wet sounds fill the room, even with his face as buried deep as it is, and he can sense the way you lean back more and more until you’re flat on your back on the mattress, still managing to pull at his hair while he eats you out. You’re done for as soon as he slips two fingers in you. You tremble with an intense orgasm as you cry out so hard, Matt can tell it hurts your lungs a little. You squeeze his head with your thighs, and Matt uses his free hand to grip onto your hip and hold you closer, bringing him on the verge of suffocation by pussy—which wouldn’t be the worst way to go, if he’s being honest.
Matt continues to lick and slurp up your juices, pushing you into overstimulation territory, your mews still music to his ears but with a tinge of discomfort, but not before you cum again and coat his face with your delicious release. Moving his lips off of your clit, he gently licks up your mess, pressing kisses all over your pelvis before lifting his head up above the skirt of your dress.
“Better than anything I could’ve cooked,” he grins as he proudly wears your slick on his face. “So good, I want to go back for seconds.”
“You gotta give me a second, tiger,” you breathily laugh, caressing the side of his face, and he desperately turns his head to kiss your palm. “Maybe while I recoop, you can get some condoms? Or at least put the dinner in the fridge so we don’t get poisoned when we get around to actually eating it.”
Matt smiles and pounces on you, caging your body beneath his before holding your face in his hands as he kisses you. You giggle and chase his lips happily, and Matt slips his tongue into your mouth to let you taste yourself even better. You squeal in delight as he presses you into the mattress, and he feels like a giddy teenager in love.
Shit. He loves you. 
He was pretty sure he did—from the moment he met you, he didn’t want to even think about dating anyone else. And call it the pheromones he’s undoubtedly drunk on right now, but he doesn’t see himself being with anyone but you for the rest of his life. 
“What’s on your mind, pretty boy?” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair, and he can tell you’re looking at him as if he’s all the stars in the sky.
Yeah, he loves you.
“You,” he hums. “I got lucky, getting you in my life.”
“I was just thinking the same thing.” This time, it’s your turn to pull him down for a sweet kiss, and Matt feels as if his heart might explode.
“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs against your lips. “Stay just like this.”
“Kay,” you hum.
Matt presses one more kiss to your lips before he scurries out of his room, blowing out the candles, putting the plates in the fridge, and grabbing a box of condoms from his bathroom. When he comes back into his room, he finds you in the same spot he let you, pure relaxation covering you from your head to your toes. 
“You’ve got the stuff,” you smirk, and Matt can’t help but do the same. 
“I do,” he hums as he walks back to you, sitting on the mattress, leaning you up to snuggle into his side. “Are you sure you want to do this tonight? Because trust me, as much as I want to do this with you right now, I can wait until a better time. I don’t mind sticking my head back down between your legs and spending the rest of the night there. I’ll be just as happy there.”
Your eyes flutter shut, leaning into his body and kissing him. “I’m sure. And trust me, if that’s what you eat pussy like when I’m ovulating, I can’t wait to feel how you fuck me. No way I’m waiting to experience that.”
The last part seems to slip out past your lips before you can realize it, and you both know what it implies. A small smile pulls at the corners of Matt’s lips, and he leans forward to kiss you again before you have a chance to feel embarrassed, resting his forehead on yours. That’s not a conversation for tonight, but he’s touched that you’ve even considered it. “Alright, if you’re sure,” he whispers. “But you need to open the package.”
“I will, but first . . .” You straddle his lap and push him down on the mattress. “I think I need to take care of that painful looking bulge in your pants.”
Matt licks his lips in anticipation, listening to how you work yourself over him. You lean over, kissing and sucking a little mark into his neck before you unknot his tie and unbutton his shirt. 
“Do you trust me, Matt?” you ask.
“Completely,” he smiles. 
Taking his tie, you gently move his hands up above his head and begin to knot his fabric around his wrists. 
“Is it too tight?” you ask, brushing hair out of his face as if you’re clearing his line of sight. 
“‘s perfect,” he assures. “So are you.”
He can sense how you blush before you lean down and kiss him, softly dragging embraces down his exposed skin until you get to his pants, undoing his belt and sliding it off, and taking care of his pants, sliding it off his hips, leaving him exposed. He’s painfully hard—he’s surprised he didn’t cum in his pants while he was up to his eyeballs in (Y/N). He sucks in a breath between his teeth when your hand wraps around him, giving him some gentle pumps before you lean down and start to use your mouth. You press feather-light kisses on the underside of his shaft, licking his frenulum and gently caressing his balls. You get the tip of him in your mouth, so warm and wet, he swallows hard. 
“Wait,” he begs. “‘m not gonna last if you keep going like that.”
You smirk as you bring your mouth down toward his base before you let your hot breath spread over him.
“We both know that this isn’t the first time you’ll be cumming tonight, Matty,” you hum. 
You lick along the vein in his shaft until you’re back at the tip, opening your mouth and going down on him. Matt cries out at the top of his lungs, his hips bucking up as he lets out his release. He breaks out of the satin restraint, his hands moving to the sides of your face, not to force you down, but just to have his hands on you. When you finish sucking him dry, you pull off, licking your lips before you swallow.
“I’m offended. You broke out of my knot,” you chuckle. 
“Sorry,” he says with a blissed, dopey smirk. 
“No, don’t apologize. It was hot. Like, really hot. Like, we’re going to have to do something like that in the future hot.”
“Are we now?”
“Mmm. Now, where’d you put that box of condoms?”
Leaning over, you grab the box and pull out the foil package, tearing it open while he gets up and takes off the rest of his clothes before you carefully slide on the latex.
“Sweetheart, I think you’re a little overdressed,” he hums as his hands slide up under your dress. 
“What’re you gonna do about it?” you grin. 
His hands grip the zipper, pulling it down the track before sliding it off of your body, his hands then deftly moving to remove your bra. 
“There we go,” he smiles before leaning in and taking one of your breasts into his mouth, letting himself get lost in the soft, supple flesh. You both roll around in the bed until you’re under him, Matt sliding into you.
“Aah!” you cry out, your fingers grabbing a bruising grip onto his shoulders. It gets stronger the further that he pushes into you. Even with two orgasms and plenty of your arousal dripping from between your legs, you’re still so tight.
“That’s it,” he hums. “That’s it, you’re taking me so well, sweetheart.”
“Fuck!” you cry out, throwing your head back as you scratch angry red lines down his back.
“A little more, angel, you can do it. You can do it . . . Good girl, just like that.”
You both let out a grunt when he bottoms out in you, taking a moment to adjust.
“Just say the word for me, and I’ll start moving.”
“I-I need you,” you say almost immediately. “Matt, please, start moving. D-Don’t hold back.”
He takes your face in his hands, kissing you deeply before he starts thrusting. He does as you ask, not starting slow like he has in your past sexual encounters. Your moans and cries are music to his ears, spurring him on to go even faster, making you cry out louder. 
“Matt!” you cry with a guttural moan. “Yes! You’re so deep!”
“Made f’me,” Matt growls as he throws your legs up over his shoulders and folding you in half. “Mine.”
“Yours! I’m yours!”
Matt slithers a hand up your body, mapping out your soft skin with his touch until his hand is around your neck, holding your jaw, fingers spread before giving it a light squeeze. He listens to how your body reacts immediately, your warm, wet, tight cunt squeezing his cock as a response as you moan and bite your lip.
Matt’s going to have fun with that fact.
“Are you ready to cum, sweetheart?” he coos as he slams into you so hard, he’s pretty sure that your cunt might be permanently stretched and remolded to match the shape of his cock. “Can you cum around my cock for me?”
“Yes,” you whimper, one of your hands dropping to his forearm, giving it a squeeze. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop! Make me cum—make me cum hard! Just don’t stop!”
Matt lowers himself to kiss you deeply, your bodies a tangled, squished mess as he keeps pounding into you. You hold onto his face desperately, deepening the connection and the kiss until you open your mouth to let out an unbridled cry of pleasure. It hurts his ears, but what a sound to go deaf to. His hand slides from your neck, moving to higher up on your waist as he kisses you through your high, his sweaty forehead eventually falling to the crook of your neck as he experiences his own release.
The two of you are a panting, sweaty mess, tangled together and coming back to your senses while he softens inside of you. A few minutes pass, and he finally musters the energy to pull out of you, tying off the condom and throwing it in the trash by his bed.
“If you’re gonna fuck me like that every time I ovulate,” you pant, kissing his cheek before resting your forehead on his temple. “I’m in for a real treat.”
Matt chuckles, enjoying the taste of your skin and how it mixes with your sweat. In that moment, everything is calm, quiet . . . everything makes sense. 
“Oh, sweetheart,” he hums, his hands roaming your body. “We’re not done yet.”
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Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger​ @steampowerednightvaler​ @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles​ @toozmanykids​ @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop​ @itwasthereaminuteago​ @peter1ismybrother@hellskitchens-whore​​ @dpaccione​ @catnip987​ @blackhawkfanatic
Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters @loves0phelia
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yarrystyleeza · 1 year
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Always So Good With The Kids, And Kids Absolutely Love Him
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Requested by @munsonownsmyass
(so my thoughts on this are soft!matt with the ship dynamic: childhood friends with love interest in each other)
Word count: the range of 1,185 words, utter toothaching fluff like a birthday cake! <3
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You loved volunteering for Saint Agnes church, the place you grew up at, as you were raised catholic, you usually went to church on Sundays, and attended all events usually scheduled during the week. You got to know a lot of people, from the children your age to the elderly grandpas, and made a lot of good relationships and connections with them.
You had your own job — which was working perfectly fine for you, but you loved sticking around with the children of the orphanage, their poor small innocent hearts deserved all the care and pamper — that was always your thought about them, and it never changed.
Because you were close with one of them once, growing up, as you attended events with your parents, you got to know the kid who never left the place, Matt Murdock, the blind boy. His father, Battlin' Jack Murdock, died when Matt was only 11, and he had no other place to go, so he was staying at the orphanage attached to the church.
He was the same your age, and he was so locked on himself, but only you managed to get him out of his bubble and open up to you about what he feels about the loss of his father, and the loss of his sight, — by then you've become friends, he found comfort in your company.
He even told you about the abilities he had kept for himself, about how the world felt from his perspective, the way he could hear electricity within the walls, and the sirens on the other side of Hell's Kitchen, how he can always smell your golden retriever on your sweaters, and the lavenders your mother grew by your bedroom window, or how he could taste each chemical the tap water contained; and that was fascinating to you as a kid.
Matt grew up to be a defense attorney, and you pursued your dream of being a journalist, and though your routes went sideways, you still remained friends after all those years, pick up a couple of drinks at the bar, or meet up at a diner in the afternoon.
He kept all his secrets with you, even the darkest of them, he told you about his secret identity, his super abilities, Elektra, and the Hand, — and you were always a keeper, you always listened and understood him, and never judged him, that's why he always looked for you when he's in trouble.
You loved spending Sunday evenings at the orphanage — among children, reading them stories and playing with them, you taught them how to bake and draw, and do the little house chores they can do, — and Matt loved to join you sometimes; he loved children, they were "angels on earth" to him, so he loved being around them, brought them presents, and played with them, — and he admired watching you doing something you loved and cherished.
But this Sunday was special, because it was your birthday, and the idea of spending that day with your little friends was something you would never put down.
The kids surprised you by rounding you in a big circle, singing "Happy Birthday miss y/n" and dancing around you, with little candles held in their little hands, they baked you a heart shaped cake with the help of the sisters, and made little drawings and paper boats as your birthday presents.
You sat on the floor and they sat around you, after crowning you with the glittery golden paper crown they made for you. They gave you their wishes. "miss y/n, I wish you can be a princess!" one of the little girls said, you kissed her temple, "well, katy, I couldn't be a princess, for there's already one here!" you replied as you pointed at her, and she turned into a ball of blush. "I wish you and Mr Murdock get married and have children!" a little boy said, it was your turn to blush, unable to articulate any understandable words out of all the laughter that choked you, you and Matt? Well, this was always on your mind. "umm... thank you, Eddie," that was the only sentence you could say. The kids sat silently with their legs crossed, and had their index fingers on their mouths as a hush, their little hushs rumbled around you. You were confused, about to tilt your head to see what they're staring at, "look at me, miss y/n! I have a present for you!" Eddie yelled at you, he ran to your arms and gave you the biggest hug his small arms could do.
"nice move, Eddie," before you could speak, he had cut you off with a kiss on your cheek, "happy birthday, sweetheart," he rounded you with his arms in a very warm embrace, a one you could sink in and sleep soundly. Matt playfully patted Eddie's chin, "I did what you asked me, Mr Murdock!" he chuckled and kissed Matt on the cheek, "oh, boy, you did!" Matt kissed his head.
"Mr Murdock!" the kids shouted, they hugged him and each gave him a kiss on the cheek; Matt have been always so good with the kids, and they absolutely love him, they even team together against you in games!
"what a great surprise, Matt. Didn't you have plans today?" you stated, as he fixed his posture next to you, folding his legs, "how could I miss a day so precious to me?" he answered with a question and a cocky smile, you huffed a chuckle and rolled your eyes.
"this was my plan for the day" he unwrapped the gift he brought to you, it was your all time favorite novel, signed by the author themselves, you swallowed a gasp, "Matt, you..." your words got stuck in your throat, "how could I forget something like that? You've always talked about how much you love that book, and let's say I had to meet the author privately, for him to write you a message..." you couldn't help but jump at him with a hug, and he secured you in his arms, "maybe you wanna go out with me tonight? Discuss Eddie's suggestions?" he soothed your cheek, drawing circles at your chin, "I'd love to," you pecked his lips quickly, and all the kids went "Yuck!!" and "Ew!!", you both laughed and continued on the little celebration the kids held, ate the cake, and sang together.
At the end of the day, the kids gathered around Matt, he kissed each on the crowns of their heads, "thank you for watching out for my girl, Eddie," he squatted to reach the boy's height, "you're welcome, mr Murdock... Are you bringing your baby next Sunday?" Matt chuckled, "that would be a great idea, right, y/n?" your eyes widened, "Matt!" you yelled, face red flushed, he giggled, "I guess she liked it."
The years went by and you and Matt got to have your very own children, but you never stopped going to the orphanage together, just to watch the little innocent hearts grow, and make new memories with the new kids.
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Ayyyy, I'm so sorry for the late posting on this one, like I mentioned in an earlier post my internet connection was wobbly and I couldn't blog my own long posts (fics specifically) but now that the problem is fixed, here's your request...
Tell me what you think about this! And thanks for dropping the prompt! <3
Feel free to submit a prompt from this list in my ask (I only write for Matt Murdock)! <3
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saberlight1 · 3 months
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pretty boy — matt murdock
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pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader.
warnings: language, fluff, established relationship, standard daredevil warnings.
authors note: hiii! since rewatching daredevil, my matt and frank obsession has been back up n running (not that i’m complaining). and this is based on this request, thank you anon <3. i love this little fluffy fic, i hope you enjoy this!
masterlist
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You watched the snowflakes fall with a calm smile on your face. You had always adored this time of year, especially when it snowed. It was just something about how the never ending buzzing of Hell’s Kitchen would just stop for a moment— just peace and quiet. It never failed to calm your nerves, whatever worries that were on your mind washing away with the snow hitting the ground.
You were sat on your boyfriend’s couch wrapped up in a blanket with a book in your hand, soaking in the tranquility that this type of weather brought you. Matt’s apartment was always one of your favorite places— it was always so quiet and the big, open windows granted you a sight to Hell’s Kitchen. Even with the bright build-board right outside, you still loved it. Most of all, you loved it because it was his. Everything in the apartment reminded you of Matt, thats why you spent as much time as possible here.
“Sweetheart?” Matt’s call broke you from your thoughts, and your heart swelled at his voice. You stood up immediately, walking over to where he was kicking off his shoes and jacket by the door.
“Hi, baby,” You smiled, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders as his hands wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer.
“Hi,” He whispered as you took off his sunglasses. The second the lenses were off his eyes, the man brought his lips to yours.
Your smile only grew against his lips as you dug one of your hands into his hair— the man before you only growing more greedy against your lips.
You pulled back for air, a teasing look on your features. Matt may not have sight, but he could always tell when that look crossed your face. “Someone missed me, huh?” You cheekily teased.
His cold hands dove under the material of your— his shirt, causing a yelp to leave your lips as you attempted to get away from him.
He smiled brightly at you. “Of course I missed you,” His cold hands only traveled further up your back, and you knew the sneaky fucker could probably hear the goosebumps rising on your skin.
“Stop!” You giggled, trying to fight your way out of his arms, but you knew it was fruitless.
“Okay, okay,” He chuckled, relenting his cold hands from your warm skin. “‘m sorry, you’re just warm and it was fuckin’ freezing out there.”
You playfully rolled your eyes, your hands grabbing his own from your hips and wrapping them within your own in an attempt to warm them up. “I told you that this morning. Just because you’re the big, bad Daredevil doesn’t mean you don’t get cold, my love.” You joked, interlacing your fingers and leading him to your shared room.
He rolled his own eyes with a smile at your remark, you never failed to tease him for his vigilante ways— even when he came to you half dead and you had to patch him up, you still found a way to crack a joke to see his smile.
“Here,” You turned to him with a hoodie and sweatpants in your hands. “Get out of that suit so we can cuddle on the couch.” You left a kiss on his lips before turning on your heel and walking towards the kitchen.
Matt shook his head with a laugh, but did as he was told regardless. Once he was settled, he made his way towards where you were in the kitchen. You smiled softly when you felt his chest against your back and his arms slither around your waist. You leaned your head back onto his shoulder as he left small kisses along your neck.
“Hot chocolate, huh?” He murmured against your neck.
You rolled your eyes playfully at his use of his senses. “Yep, might help you warm up, Frozone.” You joked.
“I know you did not just compare me to that dude from Incredibles.” He scoffed, feigning offensiveness.
You giggled. “How do you even know that?”
“Honey, my ears still work.” He pinched your hip lightly. “When that movie came out all the kids at the orphanage loved it. Had to hear it at least three times a day,”
You grimaced at the thought. “That must’ve been torture, havin’ to constantly hear the plot of that movie.”
“It was.” He agreed.
“Don’t tell me you hate that movie, though.” You looked at him from over your shoulder, holding up a finger. “‘Cause that was my favorite Disney movie for a while..”
He started tickling you immediately, a loud squeal leaving your lips. “Oh, my girl has a basic taste in Disney movies?” He teased with a smile, talking slightly loud over your laughter. “Who would’ve thought?”
“Matthew!” You wheezed out, thrashing in his grip. He finally relented as you laid against him while you attempted to catch your breath. “Didn’t know you were so passionate about my taste..”
“Well, I gotta let you know if it’s a basic one.” He shrugged, a smirk on his lips.
“If it’s so basic, then how’d I pick you?” You bit back with raised brows.
A breathy chuckle escaped him, before he paused to lick his lips. “Fair play, honey.”
You only smiled in return, turning back to pour the pair of you a mug of hot chocolate. Matt let his eyes flutter shut behind you, resting his head in the crook of your neck as he relaxed to the sounds of just simply: you.
You smiled when you noticed what he was doing, one of your hands coming up to scratch his scalp. “It’s ready,” You softly said.
He pulled away from you to grab his mug. “Thank you, baby.” He left a kiss to the side of your head before wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you to the couch.
He placed both of your cups on the coffee table before lying down and dragging you into his chest, yet another yelp leaving your lips.
Your chin rested on his chest as you looked at him with questioning eyes.
“What?” He laughed. “I told you I missed you,”
You only smiled, leaning up slightly to bring your lips together. His hand immediately shot up to cup your jaw, the man also leaning up to deepen it. You’d never get tired of the way his lips chased yours, and how passionately he kissed you every time.
You pulled back for air, but not before leaving a couple small pecks to his lips.
“I love you.” He whispered.
“I love you, Matt.” You whispered back, leaving one last kiss to his lips before digging your head into the crook of his neck— the hot chocolate being long forgotten.
But in all honesty, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were perfectly fine just as you were, wrapped up in your lover’s arms during a snowstorm.
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bunmurdock · 3 months
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just working | matt murdock x f!reader
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summary: you’re trying to focus on work, but matt murdock has something else in mind. tags: softdom!matt, office sex, oral (f!receiving), piv, established relationship, (not-so) secret relationship, idiots in love. word count: 1.9k a/n: i wasn’t expecting to share a fic so soon after putting out the poll, but someone replied something lovely on one of my fics, and it really made my day and motivated me to put to paper a little fantasy i’ve had for a while. 😭
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“matt, we really shouldn’t be doing this here,” you whisper, giggling as you hide your face in his chest. you can feel his heart pounding as fast as yours, the thrill of the secret adding to the excitement.
“you started it,” he teases, his voice low and warm, the vibrations tickling your ear. you’re in his office, papers and files strewn across his desk with a half-spilled coffee on the floor, a testament to the workday that’s supposed to be happening. but right now, all that fades away. it’s just you and matt, alone in a bubble of your own making.
you look up at him. there’s a glimmer of mischief on his face, a challenge. “did not,” you retort playfully, trying to stifle another round of laughter. matt’s hand rests on your back, his touch light but firm, anchoring you to the moment.
“anyway,” you say, still fanning the half-dry coffee stain on your skirt. “seriously, matt, we need to focus.”
"i am focused,” he insists, the corner of his lip upturned in mischief. “focused on you.” he reaches out, pretending to adjust a nonexistent wrinkle on your shirt. the light touch sends a shiver through you, and you swat his hand away playfully.
"stop it,” you whisper, but with no real severity in your tone. matt just grins, undeterred.
"you know, you’re adorable when you’re trying to be serious,” he teases, leaning back in his chair and with an air of nonchalance. 
"i’m always serious,” you retort. 
he reaches for and grabs your arm, pulling you into his lap. he noses at your neck, the stubble of his chin teasing over your pulse point. his mouth opens to respond, but the sound of footsteps in the hallway jolts you both into stillness. matt’s head beams up, listening, and in a second his quick reflexes have you both stepping apart, looking every bit the consummate professionals as the door opens.
“got some fresh leads on the dawson case…” foggy announces, stepping in. “ahem, am i interrupting something?” he asks, his gaze flickering between the two of you.
"no,” you and matt both reply, a little too quickly. foggy raises an eyebrow.
“right,” he says, drawing out the words with a hint of skepticism. “well, i just came to drop off these files.” he places a stack of papers on matt’s desk, his eyes lingering on the two of you a moment longer before coming to rest on the coffee cup on the ground.
"thanks, fog,” matt says, his tone casual, but you can sense a slight tension in his posture.
foggy sighs, shaking his head slightly. “you two are about as subtle as a brick through a window, you know that?” he says.
matt turns away to hide a smile, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“foggy, we’re just working,” you reply, trying to sound convincing.
"sure, sure,” foggy says. “just remember, we’ve got a lot riding on this case. so don’t, uh—work—too much,” he says, with that, he turns and leaves, closing the door behind him.
as soon as the door clicks shut, you look at matt incredulously. “matt!” before you can chide him, he gets a goofy look on his face. 
“so, i uh, might have finished prepping this case last night.”
"you... wait, what?” you exclaim. the thought of him letting you ramble on while knowing the work was already done makes you shake your head. “and you let me go on about it all day?”
“guilty,” he admits. he stands up, reaching out his hand to you. “but i thought it might be nice to have an excuse to spend the day with you.” there’s something so pure and honest about his tone that it makes your heart flutter.
you shake your head but are unable to hide your smile. he holds a hand outstretched, nodding toward the exit.
you take matt’s hand, but right before you reach the door, he veers off course, pulling you into a small, rarely-used bathroom. he locks the door with a soft click, and his lips are on yours in an instant.
he picks you up with a soft grunt, sitting you on the bathroom island, hiking your skirt up until it bunches at your waist. he drops to face-level with your cunt and pulls your waist to the edge, nosing hungrily at your underwear.
“matt, are you su—” you begin, but then you stop. the small space amplifies your sound, each tiny breath and touch echoing off the walls. you instinctively cover your mouth.
as if a switch suddenly flipped in him, a low chuckle comes from between your legs, and it's him doing the chiding this time. “that’s right. wouldn’t want to get caught again, would we?” 
a rough finger pulls your underwear to the side and he playfully nips at your unsuspecting folds, then molds his lips around your clit and sucks. you whine into your own palm, your legs closing on instinct, but he holds them open, impossibly strong.
“mmphf— just a quick one before we get home,” he groans, arms snaking under your open legs to wrap around them like a vice. “c’mon, sweetheart, give me more,” he grunts against you, tapping your thigh twice with his hand. you’re not sure what he’s asking at first, but then he pinches your thigh, and you yelp. you grind into his face and he groans. you catch on, working up an erratic rhythm against his stubbled chin. it doesn’t take much for you to cum like this, his tongue suctioning torturously around your sensitive clit and darting into curl against your walls, eager for a taste.
it’s unrelenting. just like the rest of him.
after you come down from your climax, he helps you stand, holding out an arm for balance as you shakily step to your feet and let your underwear and skirt drop to the floor. he then drops his hand to his own aching erection, unbuckling his belt and stepping out of his slacks and boxers. you undo his dress shirt and pull it over his shoulder and down his arm, where they catch on the muscle of his biceps. 
cock freed, he shucks off his shirt, and helps you pull yours over your head, bra in tow. he pulls you near enough so that, for a moment, you’re chest-to-chest and you feel his cock pulses against your lower stomach. you’re about to lower yourself down, take him into your mouth, when he puts a hand on your waist, stilling you.
“spit on it,” he murmurs, voice impossibly low. his whole demeanor seems to have shifted in just moments, confined in a space that’s so filled with your intoxicating scent.
you comply, and watch your own spit dribble down onto his erect cock. he holds a hand under it, catching any spare saliva so he can work it over his cock.
“jesus,” he curses softly, and his other hand comes up cup your chin and thumb at your lips. for a moment, he just takes his cock and runs it across the supple skin of your stomach, the curves of your waist, then against the fat of your thighs, slapping it a few times, spreading the slick around. “you have no idea, do you? the things you do to me.”
you whine softly against the thumb at your lip. “matt, please.” you’re not sure what you’re begging for, but, as always, he knows exactly what you want.
“turn around,” he orders, and you waste no time. he nestles between your parted legs, spreading them further with his own and bending you over the counter, the head of his cock already pushing past your entrance. you gasp, pushing back but meeting resistance with his size.
“‘s alright. ha—’ he breathes. “we’re going to take care of you, kay,” he murmurs, hand guiding himself in slowly, the low timber of his voice sending shivers down your spine. he works an arm under you, and slowly bottoms out into you.
you hiss at the stretch, but before long, you’re bouncing in his lap, the sound of skin slapping on skin filling the space. he’s bigger than you, and every thrust punches another guttural sound out of you. you gasp and writhe, trying to catch your breath and adjust to the stretch and pace. you grab the counter, the sink, the mirror.
he murmurs something, but you don’t quite hear it at first.
“—push back,” he repeats, a little louder. you do, but the next thrust fills you so deep, you almost yelp out loud.
“quit running from it,” he chuckles, but his size and pace are so overpowering, your arm instinctually moves back to slow his thrusts. he grabs it instantly and folds it back over your chest. 
“push—back—” he grits, pulling your hips into his thrusts. when he’s satisfied, he groans into your ear, barely muffling the sound in your hair. and then rough fingers are rubbing over your clit, circling them.
“i know, baby, i know.” he croons softly against your ear as you bite down on your forearm to keep from moaning. “you—fuck—be brave for me.” 
“that’s right. you’re gonna get it nice and creamy for me.” he keeps an unrelenting pace.
“or else—“ he chuckles, patting your cunt a few times.
“i’m gonna slap this pussy raw.”
you barely mask the sob into your arm. “matt— please.”
“you can do it, you can do it,” he breathes, voice breaking and growing equally as desperate. “‘m gonna follow you, sweetie.”
you push back into him, holding your temple flush against his. 
“love you so m—,” you croak. “—much.”
“oh, i love you so much too— you’re mine, you know?” he breathes, and then he says your name, the final trigger.
you grab the counter in front of you, seizing up and crying his name inaudibly as you come harder than you’ve ever come. his arms hold you, your steady anchor at sea as you forget all your surroundings. 
it’s just the feeling of him coursing, thunderous and electric, through your veins.
he joins you moments after, groaning into the meat of your shoulder.
you don’t know if seconds or minutes pass. in this moment, it’s just the two of you. 
~
you both step out of the bathroom, adjusting your attire. the office around you is silent, the usual hustle of the day having ebbed away with the setting sun. matt pauses, his heightened senses scanning the environment.
“coast is clear. foggy and karen must’ve left,” he notes. "office is empty.”
"your heightened senses come in handy," you giggle.
matt’s hand reaches for yours, fingers entwining. "they have their perks," he admits.
matt pulls you close for a moment, kissing your forehead. surveying the aftermath of your impromptu interlude—the spilled coffee, the disheveled papers—he comments, “we made quite the scene here."
you glance at the mess, a playful glint in your eye. “just working, though,” you say.
“right, ‘just working’,” he repeats with a smirk.
hand in hand, you leave the office, stepping into the cool night. the city around you is alive with lights, but in this moment, they seem to pale in comparison to the excitement still buzzing through you. 
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Hello!
If possible could you write a fic with reader and matt in an established relationship and he hears something when he's around them and it starts driving him nuts and then he finally realizes is a tiny heartbeat bc reader is pregnant but doesn't realize it, and he's like overjoyed?
sorry this is my first time requesting lmao
hii!! this is very cute :( very happy to be first to write one of your requests☺️ thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌
HEARTBEATS.
matt murdock x fem!reader
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word count. 481
Recently, whenever Matt was near, he wore an expression you couldn't quite place, looking as though he was concentrating - like his brain was preoccupied. You knew he often had a lot on his mind, so you waited the questioning - wanting him to come to you when he was ready, though he never did. 
Another week had passed, and he continued to model that same sceptical face around you, still no closer to the route of his confusion.
-
You're lying on the sofa, basking in the early evening sunset, nursing your nausea and awaiting Matt to return home from the store. He told you he'd briefly pop out to pick up some things for dinner - that he'd get something to help with your sickness bug, something to ease the upset in your aching body.
You hear the keys jingle in the door, indicating Matt's return home.
"Hey, sweetheart," he calls out, closing the door behind himself. "Sorry about the wait. Was so busy out there," he continues, placing the bags on the counter. He makes his way to you on the couch and takes a seat on his knees in front of you. "How you feeling?" he asks, slipping his hand into yours.
"Gross," you simply reply between a soft breath, closing your eyes. You were starting to feel it again - like the room was spinning. 
His thumb circles over your skin, attempting to ease you. "I'm sorry, angel," he coos, speaking gently. 
Matt props himself higher on his knees, extending to reach himself over your middle. He places a light kiss to your stomach over the fabric of your top and then carefully rests the side of his head in that spot - trying to comfort you. He keeps hold of your hand and laces his fingers between yours, playing with your hand as if to distract you. 
You peek down at Matt on your stomach, watching his brows furrow, seeming like he was focusing - that same darned face again. You extend your spare hand towards his head and nestle your fingers in his hair, soothingly stroking over his scalp. "What is it?" you ask, your confusion mirroring his.
He faintly shakes his head and shushes you softly, a smile growing. 
"Matt?" 
"It's not the flu, honey," he beams at you, lifting his head from your stomach abruptly. "It's not the flu," he repeats, the words almost catching in his throat.
"What do you mean?" you question, following his movements.
"Sweetheart," he coos, drawing out the petname with a gentle nod - like he was trying to prompt you.
"No?" you whisper, speaking in disbelief.
He nods once more, his features softening and melting upon hearing the news. His grip tightens in your hand, and he brings it to his lips, placing another kiss where the last one dried. 
"We're going to have a baby?"
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
some reason when I was writing this it reminded me of when vision said “yes, my love,” to wanda when she got her baby bump🥲 now im sad
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bellaxgiornata · 4 months
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List of Installments for The Devil at Your Window
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader
Warnings/tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty
In the middle of a New York City blizzard, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen accidentally lands himself on your fire escape–quite literally. When he accepts your invitation to warm up inside your apartment, you're surprised at how well the conversation flows all night with the curious and attractive masked vigilante. He's intriguing, though what you find even more intriguing is his unexpected returns to your window after that night–and his flirting. But when it seems like you're not the only one beginning to develop real feelings, he pulls back and you're left wondering two things: Why did he disappear and who really is the mysterious Devil that you've inevitably fallen for?
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List of Installments
Part One: Snowed In
Part Two: Borrowed Scarf
Part Three: A Show of Trust
Part Four: One of the Good Ones
Part Five: Looking Out for the Devil
Part Six: Untitled {Coming Soon}
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thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 months
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the slow night
buttercup, chapter six
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a/n: he a hoe and I love him. thank you and goodnight.
summary: as the peck blossomed into something much more ravenous, a soft laugh began to billow out of you, “Mr. Murdock,” you tilted your head back as his lips began to flutter down your neck, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you came over here to seduce me.”
warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, smut, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, the black daredevil suit, kissing, semi public sex (at the bakery), clothed sex, dirty talk, hair pulling, oral, protected sex, penetrative sex, multiple orgasms
word count: 3244
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
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masterlist | join my taglist
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Leaning against the doorway to the small bakery bathroom, you watched Walter’s tongue poke out the side of his mouth as he flicked glittery stripes of eyeliner over his lids. 
“You sure you’re okay with closing up on your own tonight?” you heard Howard ask you as he sat on a low stool some space behind you, bending down to tie his shoes. 
“Yeah, I’m sure,” you smiled, glancing back over your shoulder at him, “you two deserve a night off.”
Staring out into space, your uncle leaned his tattooed forearms on his robust thighs a moment as he murmured, “you know, I don’t even remember the last time we went out…” casting a glance past you at the bald man in front of the mirror, Howard raised his voice, “honey, did you find out what queens are performing tonight?”
Popping the lid back on the pencil, the former club kid tilted his head approvingly in the reflection, “I think Holly Day still works Friday nights there, but other than that I have no idea,” he exited the bathroom, only to press a small peck to your cheek as he slid passed.
“Urgh,” you groaned with a smile, letting your inner child temporarily show as you dragged the back of your palm over the faint lipstick stain, “well, have fun you two!”
“Night, night, cupcake,” Howard blew you a few brief kisses as the pair scurried out of the shop, “don’t forget to feed the sourdough starter, oh! And mix a new batch of ginger maple cookies, portion them out and pop them in the freezing–, also–”
“Howard,” you interrupted him with a smile just as Walter pulled open the back door for them to exit, “I know what I need to do. I’ve done this countless of times before, I’ll be perfectly fine.”
“Alright,” he exhaled slowly.
“If it’ll help, I can send you a picture of the place before I lock up.”
A relieved smile then warmed up your uncle’s features, “thank you, sweetie.” 
Half yanking his husband out of the door, Walter offered you one last wave, “bye, Y/n!” before the solid door slammed shut behind them. 
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Bending down, you put the last one of the wide and clean bowls away on the bottom shelf of the metal storage system in the corner of the kitchen. 
The skirt of your dress swooshed gently around your legs as you straightened back up, like a summer breeze, fluttering against your skin. Reaching for a clean cloth, you briefly ran it under the tap before wiping down the aftermath beside the sink following your dance with the dishes. One of the tiny puddles of splashed water soaked your apron as you leaned over the steel table to reach deeper, turning it a darker shade of brown right over your belly button. 
Just then, from out of nowhere, “hi,” the voice of your neighbour echoed throughout the kitchen, thoroughly startling you and causing the rag to drop from your grasp.
“Ah!” you jumped, haven not even heard the back door creak open, “Matthew!” pressing a soothing palm to your chest as you spun around, a light giggle flowed from your lips, “oh my god, you scared the crap out of me!”
“Sorry,” he chuckled, leisurely leaning against the far counter close to the back exit. 
You already knew he’d be out on patrol tonight, but actually seeing him stand there before you was something else entirely. The black suit clung tight to his physic, and now that grave injuries no longer distracted and adorned his visage, the vision of the obsidian vigilante that stood in front of you proficiently provided you with a sinful shiver that trickled down your spine. 
“What are you doing here?” you asked, attempting to brush off the tingle that bloomed between your thighs. 
A bold smirk bloomed on his lips, visible below the dark mask, as he slowly stepped closer to you, “it’s a slow night,” gently tugging his gloves off and tossing them to the table he passed, an action you didn’t expect to find as seductive as you evidently did, goosebumps now blossoming all along your arms. 
“A slow night, huh?” you chuckled, tilting your chin as he neared. 
“And I was in the area,” he cocked his head as his hands settled on either side of your frame, leaning against the counter behind you.   
“How convenient,” you smiled, his light-hearted explanations not convincing you in the slightest. Matt’s fingers then found your chin, tilting it further up as he bent down to brush his lips against your own. Your knees nearly buckled as you felt yourself swiftly sink into the intoxicating sensation, your arms gliding up and over the black fabric that hugged him, till they were locked around his neck. As the peck blossomed into something much more ravenous, a soft laugh began to billow out of you, “Mr. Murdock,” you tilted your head back as his lips began to flutter down your neck, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you came over here to seduce me.”
Mirroring your own chuckle, he playfully tested, “and what if I am, huh?”
“Wait, really?” you giggled, your hands seized each side of his face and pulled him back a bit as his hot mouth worked wonders at making you lose your train of thought, “you sure you weren’t just hungry or something?”
“Hm,” his palms slid up to cup over yours as he cheekily said, “something, yeah…” peeling your fingers off of his stubbly cheeks, he placed a few pecks in your open palms, “I would fucking love a taste of something sweet.”
Tearing your gaze away from his onyx visage, you briefly cast a glance around the space, “uhm, I don’t really know what’s left over from today, but there might be someth–”
“Nuh-uh, that’s not the kinda treat I was thinking of,” he smirked brightly as he wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you in closer to his warmth as his fingers sneaked under the apron’s knot. 
Finally reading his obvious subtext, “o-oh,” you couldn’t help but giggle as he then leaned down to kiss you again, swallowing your laugh till it melted away into a low moan that vibrated against his lavish tongue. 
Scrambling closer, you damn nearly climbed him like a tree with how desperately you clawed at his mass. When his touch slid further down your frame and curved around your ass, he briefly offered you a squeeze that you swore soared all the way to the sensitive nerve endings in your throbbing clit, before he scooped you up and sat you down on the steel countertop. As he slotted his width in between your parted thighs, his teeth playfully caught your bottom lip. 
Fluttering your fingers further up, you cupped the sides of his face as the heated make-out slowly began to ease. The tips of your touch grazed the bottom of his black mask as you gently pulled back.
Blinking back at him through your lashes, your digits ghosted over the material as you uttered, “…can I take this off?” 
A faint smile tugged at his lips as he softly nodded, “mhm,” and let you peel the charcoal mask off of him. Letting it drop to the table right beside where you sat, you gazed back at him for a moment, his chocolate eyes gently crinkled up in bliss as you briefly traced a light caress over a few of his newly revealed features before you sealed your lips with his once more. 
Undoubtedly, your panties must have clung to your core at this point from how soaked they felt. 
Abruptly, Matt’s soft lips suddenly strayed from yours. Fluttering your gaze open, a giggle bubbled out of your lungs as you saw him slowly sink down to the tile floor beneath you. 
“Matty,” you beamed, your touch straying from his cheek as he settled down on his knees. 
Slowly raising a sliver of your hemline up to your knees, his lips grazed against your shin and leisurely roamed further north. 
Burying your fingers in the fabric of your dress, you gently began to hike it up till it, and the brown apron, bunched above your hips. 
Your breathing was ragged, and your mouth hung agape when his kisses neared your centre. One of his warm palms stayed planted on your inner thigh after he’d split your legs further to grant himself better access as you sat there, nearly dangling on the edge. 
A shiver ran through you when he placed a brief kiss to the soaked spot soddening your underwear, before his reach extended and hooked the cotton to the side, a sting of your slick clung momentarily to the fabric before snapping back against your core. 
“Fuck,” he let out a gravelly groan and you felt his breath tickle your cunt before his hand, the one not clutching your soaked panties, curled around your frame and tugged you towards him, closing the minuscule distance between his zealous mouth and your glistening centre.
Parting your petals with dizzying laps, Matt let out a moan as he made out with your pussy, the tickling vibrations caused your thighs to tremble beside his head. 
“God…” spellbound, he pulled back for but a second, “your pussy tastes like fucking heaven,” before he tilted his chin and enraptured your clit, fervently sucking down on it in a way that made your eyes roll in your skull. 
“Oh my god, I–, I–…” you panted, sensing yourself race towards the finish line, but even with how incredible his tongue made you feel, deep down within you rumbled a feral feeling for more. As your pelvis bucked lightly against his efforts, you gasped, “Matt… get up…” unsure if you’d ever felt so empty in your entire life, “get up right fucking now.” When he rose, the lower part of his face glinting with your want, he didn’t get a chance to say anything before you yanked him by his shirt and crashed your lips against his. With the intoxicating taste of yourself lingering on your mouth, your heavy breath fanned across his face as you desperately uttered, “in the corner behind you, on the hook beside where my coat is, my bag, the little front pocket.”
Breathlessly, his expression fogged up in soft puzzlement, “what?” 
“I went to the drugstore earlier,” you said, hoping that you wouldn’t have to spell it out for him. 
It actually took him a second for him to realise what you were talking about, “oh,” as if he hadn’t hoped or expected anything more than what you’d just let him do. Crossing the room in mere moments, a playful chuckle rumbled from his chest as he fished out the box of condoms, “this is a big pack… were you planning on seducing me?”
Rolling your eyes, you giggled, “oh, shut up and get back here.”
As soon as he was back in your reach, your fingers began to fiddle with his belt, impatiently freeing him as you virtually drooled seeing the imprint of his cock strain against the dark fabric of his pants. 
“Put it on, please, please, I wanna feel you so bad,” you begged as he ripped the foil packet open. 
“Oh, yeah?” 
“Yes, please,” your hungry eyes were glued to his breath-taking fist as he offered himself a brief pump before he hastily rolled the condom on, “Matt, if you don’t fuck me right now then I’ll lose my fucking mind.”
Sighs flowed from the both of you in unison when Matt sank into your drooling cunt. You almost felt drunk, that’s how wound up you’d gotten.
“Oh, you feel so fucking good,” Matt exhaled, letting his forehead melt against your own as he rolled his hips, getting impossibly deep before drawing back a bit and finding a rhythm that caused your legs to be like crickets, shakily rubbing against either side of his frame as fucked you, “sweetheart–, christ… you’re about to cum, aren’t you?” his lips tilted up into a smirk. 
“D-don’t you dare stop,” you panted, clawing needily against his torso. 
“I won’t, I promise,” he then sank a hand down between your frames to tickle your puffy pearl, “I could do this all day, baby.” 
You collapsed back on your elbows when your pussy fluttered around him and a lewd cry accompanied the high. 
Panting against the cool table, you hazily blinked up at him as he then uttered in the deepest sincerity. 
“God, I'm crazy about you, Y/n,” his expression was soft and dreamlike, “you know that?”
Your eyes went wide a moment, entirely forgetting how to fill your aching lungs, “really?” you then regained control rather gracelessly as you nearly coughed, “sorry... I forgot how to breathe for a second there,” the grin that bloomed on your lips nearly hurt.  
Snatching one of your hands up in his, he weaved his fingers with your own, “you okay?”
“Yeah… I’m amazing…” you gazed up at him, “I’m also completely and utterly wild about you,” you then tugged on his hand, drawing him down enough for your lips to graze against his. 
His hips instinctively rolled as your tongue flicked across his own, grinding briefly into your sensitivity before he noticed and went back to being completely still within you. 
But when your sloppy kiss then parted, you tilted your own hips a bit, slowly fucking yourself shallowly on his cock. As he gently offered you a tender thrust, gradually pulling out of your clinging cunt just a tad, you glanced down between the shy space betwixt you and spotted the ring of your cream that stained the base of his dick. 
“Fucking hell,” you whimpered as he straightened his spine back out and brought the back of your palm up to his lips, “I don’t get how I bounce back so quickly with you. It’s like you just have to smile and then I’m just–, oh my god!” you moaned as he changed his angle, brushing directly against a spot that sent a delicious shiver down your spine. 
“Oh, you like that? Right there?” he repeated the same lavish motion. 
“Y-yes–,” with your interlocked fingers, he then pulled you back up to a sitting position, the shift leaving you breathless, “fuck. You feel so good right now,” his hand let go of yours as it then snaked around your back, his burly forearm supporting your spine as the fingers reached up to weave within your hair, gently scraping his short nails over the nape of your neck.
Drawing you in even closer, your chest pressed against his as he kissed your cheek sweetly while he kept his pace meticulous and precise. 
Hugging onto his broad shoulders, your head dropped down to rest against one of them as you then muttered, “harder,” your gaze hazy on the kitchen behind him before your eyes fluttered shut. When he then snapped his hips forward a little more electrically, you weakly repeated in his ear, “harder.”
Slamming into your needy cunt so fiercely that the sound of your skin colliding echoed off the tile walls and a bit of drool began to stain his dark shirt as your cheek stayed smooshed against his width. 
“That it?” he growled silkily, “huh?” but when you couldn’t form any coherent words within the mess of moans that flowed from your lips, you didn’t have to see his face to know the grin that bloomed on his face, “aw, it’s alright, sweetheart,” his grip tightened in your hair, “you’re doing so good for me,” tugging intoxicatingly right at the roots, “just relax… that’s it… good girl…”
Keeping his pace rough, he lavishly slid out of you till just his bulbous tip plugged you up, before ramming his cock back in so feverishly that you could scarcely breathe at all, just tremble in his embrace, listening to the pure filth that he murmured in your ear, till you both tumbled over the edge. 
With his spent girth nuzzled against your tender pussy, faint hums of contentment flowed from your lungs as Matt gently stroked your hair, his other arm wrapped around you as well as he kept your sluggish frame close to his long after you’d both regained your breaths. 
As your fingers disappeared below his neckline and softly rubbed against the warm skin, your voice eventually found his ear, “okay, so I know that you didn’t come in here for a late-night snack,” the corners of your lips tilted upwards, “but now I’m kinda hungry.” 
With a gentle chuckle rumbling within his chest, he briskly tugged himself away and untangled himself from you, “one second,” his lips pressed against your hairline before you saw him turn around and wander out of the kitchen. 
As you watched him disappear into the front of the bakery, you tugged your panties back over your mess and pushed your dress back down, “oh, I'm not sure if there’s anything left out there–”
“Do you want a raisin bun or a very seedy one?” he asked and your brows flew up as you still hadn’t gotten used to how perceptive his heightened senses let him be. 
“Oh, uhm,” you blinked, completely blown away, “raisin.” 
Appearing before you once more, he handed you the speckled bun, “here.”
Smiling adoringly back at him, “thank you,” you sank your teeth into the pillowy treat before offering him a small bite, which he gladly accepted as a tender laugh rolled out of him. When you had consumed the sweet bun, a soft yawn promptly flowed out of you, “fuck,” his palms were warm at your waist as your arms briefly curled up beside your head, “I can’t wait to get back home and sleep.”
“How much do you have left to do till you can lock up?”
“Not too much,” your hands dropped back down and rested atop of his for a moment, “how about you? How long do you think you’ll be out there?” 
“Probably not too much longer either,” his head tilted gently before he leaned back in. 
“Alright,” you smiled, tenderly pressing your lips to his before he snatched up the discarded mask and tugged it back over his features. As his feet began to carry him towards the exit, he paused as soon as you said, “hey Matt?”
“Yeah?” the vigilante twisted back to face you. 
A bubble of nerves suddenly fluttered in your belly as you uttered, “when you get back tonight, could you maybe–, uhm… or maybe I could–…”
Swiftly getting at what you were trying to convey, Matt simply marched right back to where you sat and pulled you in for a kiss. Cradling your cheeks a moment longer as he slowly pulled back, he smiled, “there’s a spare key to my place behind the radiator in the hallway.”
Gazing back at him, you uttered, “okay,” feeling like you were floating on a cloud. 
“I'll try not to get home too late,” he breathed, pressing his lips to yours one last time before he backed up again. 
Calling after him, “be safe!” he stopped on the threshold of the back door for a second, silhouetted by the dark city as he flashed you a grin before he disappeared into the night, leaving you in the bakery alone, feet dangling off the table as a bright smile tenaciously lit up your face. 
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© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 
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babygirlmurdock · 3 months
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Confessions
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader
Summary: Foggy drops a very drunk Matt on your doorstep one night, which leads to confessions.
Word Count: 2.1k
Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption
a/n: Got this idea from the writing prompt: “You're drunk." "Yes. And hopelessly in love with you." - from @creativepromptsforwriting and I love a little “i hate accidents except when we went from friends to this” (iykyk). Also I was listening to You Are In Love by Taylor Swift writing this, although it doesn’t have direct correlation, I just love that song LOL. Please enjoy<3
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You were sound asleep until you heard a loud ringtone erupt from your bedside table. There’s only one person whose calls surpass your do not disturb.
Matt.
You saw his contact photo and answered groggily, “hello?”
“Hey,” this was not Matt’s voice. “Matt’s, uh, really drunk right now. Someone had the great idea to do shots tonight…” Foggy was trying his best to sound normal over the phone, but he was clearly not sober.
You sat up, scrubbed your hand over your face and glanced over to your clock. 2:17 am. “Foggy, it’s 2 in the morning, I have work tomorrow, you can’t get Matt back to his apartment?” You complained to him. Matt was your closest friend. Grew up going to the same church in Hell’s Kitchen. He was kind of the loner kid, so one day you befriended him and you’ve been close ever since.
“He keeps saying he wants to see you! He kept babbling your name, so we’re about a block away from your apartment now. See you in a few!” Foggy cheerfully said not really giving you a choice.
“Foggy wai—aaand he hung up. Great,” you said to yourself before putting your phone back on your bedside table. You put on the closest sweatpants you found on your floor and one of your sweatshirts. After you found your slippers, you putzed downstairs to retrieve your inebriated friend. When you got outside, you heard the boys laughing from half way down the block. You sat on your stairs leading to your apartment while you waited for your two bumbling idiots.
Matt slurred your name as he approached and almost ate shit half jogging to you. “Jesus christ, Matt be careful it’s dark out here,” you scolded him.
“It’s all dark to me,” Matt laughed at you.
“Alright I walked into that, dick. Hey, thanks for bringing him at least… here. I’ll hydrate him and make sure he’s okay for work tomorrow,” you gave a ‘you owe me’ look over to Foggy as he said goodbye to you. You and Matt made your way up to your apartment.
You closed the door behind you after Matt stumbled in, took his glasses off and put them in his jacket pocket then put his cane on the wall. “Thank you for taking me in tonight, you’re a really good person,” Matt said, pulling you in for a hug.
“God, Murdock, you wreak of tequila,” you pulled away from his strong hug. “I’m gonna bitch Foggy out tomorrow for getting you this drunk on a work night. Why don’t you try to take a shower, I still have an old boyfriend’s sweats in my drawer. They should fit you,” you heard Matt huff as you went to your bedroom to grab the sweats and one of his shirts you stole from him and never gave back.
You knocked on the bathroom door and shouted that you left the shirt and sweats outside the door when he’s done. You went to the kitchen to grab aspirin and make him a Liquid IV mocktail. You really didn’t care if he was going hate the taste of it, it’s nearly 2:30 AM and you want him to go to sleep on your couch quickly. You heard the shower shut off and the door open and close again assuming Matt grabbed the clothing you provided him.
“Your body wash smells girly,” Matt commented as he made his way over to the couch to sit next to you.
“It’s almost like I am a girl… here drink this, take these. You know how I get with people puking and I don’t need any of that tomorrow morning and I know how pissy you get when you have a headache,” you handed Matt the glass and put the pills in his hand.
Matt put the pills in his mouth and swallowed them with the electrolyte mixture you gave him only to have him twist his face in disgust. “What is this? This isn’t water!” Matt protested holding the glass out to you signaling he didn’t want anymore.
“It’s liquid IV, it’s electrolytes. Supposed to hydrate you faster, a coworker suggested them for me when I had the stomach bug. Drink it,” You sternly said. You swore taking care of drunk Matt was like taking care of a stubborn toddler that didn’t want to eat their vegetables. He rolled his eyes and took another gulp out of the glass.
“You know, you should come out with the firm. Instead of being a stick in the mud,” Matt suggested, leaning into you. You huffed out in annoyance.
“Sorry I like my 8 hours of sleep and I’m not my own boss, sue me!” You threw your hands up in protest, “which my sleep is being rudely interrupted by the way.”
Matt leaned in a little closer to you, “your voice goes higher when you get mad at me.” You felt his body get close to you in a way that didn’t feel platonic. “And you breathe faster.”
“Most people breathe faster when they’re inconvenienced, Matt,” you tried to steady your breathing, trying not to sound flustered.
You and Matt knew each other on such a deep level that no one else got you like him and vise versa. Matt trusted you with his secrets and you trust him with yours. You were his first friend in the church. Learning about his dad’s death, being the first one to know he got into his top law school and staying up with him to help him study for the Bar Exam. You’ve been through everything together.
You’d be moronic to think that Matt wasn’t attractive. This man pulls any woman that he wants and you have to be the one to hear about the women he brings home. Whether that be positive or negative. You never thought about your friendship with him other than strictly platonic. Other than that one time you were dared to kiss him when you were 9 on the playground but you both always said that never counted as a real kiss because it was just a peck anyway. But to you, it was your first kiss. You loved telling the other girls at school that you kissed sweet Matt Murdock under the slide at recess.
Seeing Matt date these other girls but never give you the chance seemed like you two were just platonic. Nothing more. Plus you’re not his type, you’ve seen the women he has dated. Supermodel type. Not you. So you buried that feeling deep, deep down and hoped one day it would never be dug up again.
“You know I can hear your heart,” Matt said your name in a husky tone. “And it’s beating awfully loud…” Matt’s face was dangerously close to yours. Mere inches away from one another.
“You know— you know I don’t like when you listen to my heartbeat without my consent, Matthew.”
“And I like it when you call me Matthew. I like the sound of your voice. Have I ever told you that?” Matt’s eyebrows rose up as he drunkingly smirked at you.
“Matt, you’re drunk. I’m going to bed,” you stood up from the couch to make your way to your room.
“I’m in love with you.”
Those words made you stop dead in your tracks. “You—huh?” You whipped around looking at him in disbelief.
“I am. In love with you,” Matt looked up upon you. “Have been for the past few years now. I just never knew how to tell you. And—and I went out with Foggy tonight and ended up drinking way more than I remember. He was the first one to know. He finally pushed me tonight to say something to you. That’s why I’m here. I didn’t want to tell you. I never wanted to ruin our friendship. You’re so special to me, I—I didn’t want to fuck this up.” Matt’s voice slowly started to gain sobriety the more he spoke.
“Matty– I…” you trailed off. Matt Murdock is in love with you. You never thought you’d hear the words you buried come from his mouth.
Before you could finish, Matt cut you off, “I understand if you don’t feel the same. But you have to tell me now so I can get over it. Get over you.”
“No I.. I just—I need to process this information. When did you start feeling this way?” You sat down in the arm chair across from your couch.
“Maybe a few years ago. I always thought you were one of the best people I know. But those platonic thoughts… eventually turned… romantic. Specifically when you came to me with nowhere to go when your ex boyfriend kicked you out after he found out that you were still friends with me and Foggy. God, I hated hearing about him. You deserved better. I learned that night, holding you, while you cried, that I loved you more than a friend. But then came more flings, then I realized you probably didn’t feel the same way. So those feelings were shoved down. Until now,” Matt’s head hung low, looking like he regretted everything that was spewed out of his mouth. Word vomit is better than actual vomit. Although, you felt like you were actually going to vomit.
You stared at him, your heart felt like it was going to come up out of your throat. You knew you felt the same way. But god forbid you dated, and broke up, you didn’t want to lose him. You cherished him so much. The dead air hung there waiting to be brought back to life.
“Please say something,” Matt begged you.
“Matt, I’ve felt this way about you for years. But being me, I never wanted to say anything because I feared losing you,” your voice cracked as your continued, “I feared dating you and potentially breaking up and never having you in my life again.”
You knew Matt could hear your heartbeat out your chest. Your mind was going a million miles a minute processing this. The wave of relief hit Matt like a tsunami. He looked up with his eyes glossy with tears. You got up, made your way to the couch and sat down next to him.
“I don’t want to jump into a relationship with you right away though. I want to be really cautious. I want to kiss you in the worst way but—“
“So do it,” Matt interrupted you.
“If you’d let me finish—“
“I will be doing plenty of that,” Matt smirked at you.
“Shut up and listen to me! I want to kiss you, but I want to take this really slow, Matty. My last long term relationship, as you know, tore me apart. And I’m still healing from that. Doesn’t mean I’m not over him, because I am. But I’m so scared of being kicked out of the blue,” you said looking into his eyes. Your heart was steady and loud. Which meant you were being really serious. You didn’t want to dive in head first and say to the world you were boyfriend & girlfriend.
“Okay. We can do that. Whatever it takes to do this right, sweetie. That being said, can I take you on a date? There’s a wine bar that just opened we can go to. I know how much you love your wine,” Matt teased you about your love for wine.
“Yes you can take me on a date, Matty. I’d love to. Saturday?” You smiled at him. Your first date with Matt Murdock. You’ve only dreamed about him taking you out on a date. “I feel like a teenager right now. My first date with you!” You said all giddy.
Matt laughed at you, “Saturday. It’s a date. it’s cute when you get all flustered. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that over the last few years.”
“What the fuck? I thought I was hiding that so well!” You exclaimed.
“You have to remember,” Matt leaned, inches away from your face, “I can hear everything.”
“Fuck, you’re making it so hard not to kiss you. Not until after the first date though,” you tapped his nose with your finger teasingly.
“Already breaking my heart,” Matt pouted and put his hand over his heart dramatically. You laughed at him. Everything started to look like it was in technicolor. It started making sense. All those years ago, Matt touching your arm lingering his fingers. Him always complimenting you in such poetic ways. None of it was accidental. He wanted you in the same ways all along. You were too oblivious to notice his actions. You couldn’t wait until Saturday to have your first date with Matthew Murdock.
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tags: @yarrystyleeza
I feel like this fic can potentially have a set up for a part to for our reader and Matt on their first date? 👀
All credit to the original gif owner!
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ellephlox · 7 months
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Head Over Heels
Summary: It's technically not your fault that you sprained your ankle, but Matt's annoyed with you anyway (at least, he pretends to be annoyed with you — but you know better).
Pairing: Matt x Fem!Reader
Warnings: A few swears, but otherwise just a whole lot of whumptober fluff!
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"You're going to hurt yourself."
"I am not."
"I just heard you nearly fall over in the bathroom—"
"Because I'm rushing, Matt, that's what happens when your partner holds you captive for too long in bed and makes you late for work!"
Matt was in the process of buttoning his work shirt, a task that you noticed was taking him nearly triple the time it usually took, because his attention was entirely on you. "No one at the presentation will care if you're not wearing heels, sweetheart."
"I care!" You jangled your keys, checked your pockets again for your wallet, and slipped on a jacket. "It's a fashion thing. High heels equal professionalism."
"I like to think that I'm a professional lawyer, and not once in my life have I ever had to wear high heels to court."
"You're overreacting. I'm like a gymnast in heels. Ready? Watch this."
Your stilettos clacking against the floor, you performed several twirls, rotating as though you were a ballerina. For the first few, Matt said nothing, but then he reached out and stopped you with a firm hand on your shoulder.
"The heels sound like precarious twigs," he said.
"They're not precarious and they're not twigs. They're pretty." For added effect you started to skip by him towards your purse.
"Just — please stop," Matt said, finishing with his last button and gesturing downward. "Walk like a normal person, at least?"
"Don't worry. I wasn't planning on skipping into the office," you assured him. "Look, I'll see you for lunch, okay? I've got to split."
"Twelve o'clock. And also promise me you won't twirl like that during your presentation," he said, and leaned in to kiss you before you left.
It was another of those impossibly busy days when you and Matt wouldn't be able to spend much time together. He was going to be in court the entire afternoon, and you had a major annual presentation for work, meaning that you'd both be out overtime and wouldn't get home until late. The bright side was that you both had an opening at noon to meet at a small diner in Hell's Kitchen and catch up over lunch.
You cursed your high heels as you tried to speed down the stairs of Matt's apartment. They really weren't conducive for someone who was running late. Halfway down, you lost your footing; the stem of the heel missed the edge of the step and you jolted downward.
And, mercifully, caught yourself on the railing.
Knowing for certain that Matt was listening to you and likely heard your misstep — as well as the way your heart was hammering from the adrenaline of nearly falling down a flight of stairs — you muttered aloud, "See? Everything's fine," and continued on your way. Shortly after, your phone vibrated with a text from Matt:
Are you trying to give me a heart attack?
Laughing to yourself, you stowed your phone back in your purse.
And the high heels did work out, for most of the morning. You gave your presentation and then buried yourself at your desk in paperwork, confined to work for the rest of the day on everything you'd fallen behind in while prepping for the presentation. You couldn't help but glance at the clock every ten minutes; noon was going to be the breath of fresh air in an otherwise stressful day.
Fifteen minutes to noon you got up from your desk and made your way out onto the street. The sun was shining, a soft balmy breeze carried the fragrance of blooming lilacs as you passed a small garden, and plush clouds drifted overhead idly.
And then, just as you were hurrying to crossing the street — technically the pedestrian light was red, but you had a solid seven seconds before the approaching car would actually reach you — there was an ominous snap, and you found yourself falling onto the pavement, your ankle rolling in the process.
Well, not just rolling. It felt more like your ankle was jerked down into a direction it definitely shouldn't have been in, accompanied by a soft pop and a flaring of sharp, throbbing pain.
The car that you would have easily made it past had to brake, honking angrily at you, and you waved vehemently in apology as you struggled to your feet — shit shit shit that hurts — and hobbled out of the street.
"Bitch!" the man shouted from his window as he accelerated by you, tossing a middle finger at you.
Usually that would probably be enough to ruin your day, being yelled at by a stranger, but you were much more preoccupied with the stabbing pain in your ankle. Did I break it? Should sprains hurt this much? You stared, stunned, at the broken stiletto that was half-dangling from your shoe. It had simply snapped in half, for no reason at all.
"Traitor," you muttered to it, taking shelter in the shade of a building to assess your ankle. Gingerly you tried touching it, but it flashed with pain as you pressed on it. Inhaling deeply and tilting your head backwards — do NOT cry don't cry don't cry don't cry— you began to continue your way to the diner.
Matt wasn't going to be happy about this. And you already knew there was no way you could hide it from him. You were limping so badly that it was difficult to walk; each movement felt as though you were tearing your ankle again. If you could arrive at the diner first and get yourself seated, then maybe you had a small chance of the injury going unnoticed, but your limping must have delayed you just enough, because you could see Matt through the window of the restaurant — he'd already arrived.
And his head was already tilted in a way that meant, yep, he's definitely onto me, he can already hear me.
"Hi," you greeted him weakly as you walked in, ignoring the fact that tears were spiking in your eyes. Matt was already on his feet, grabbing his cane almost as an afterthought and approaching you quickly.
"I didn't think it was you at first," he said, quietly so that other patrons in the diner wouldn't hear. "Your gait was so different. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, it's not so bad," you said, knowing he'd hear right through the lie, but not caring much in the moment.
"Let me feel it."
There was no sense in objecting; Matt, you knew, wouldn't be satisfied until he'd done his radar scanning of it so that he could know precisely what was going on in your ankle. "Okay," you agreed. "But let's use the bathroom. These people trying to enjoy their meals don't need to see you feeling up my ankle."
It was a single-user bathroom, fortunately. Matt entered first and held the door open for you, and only once it was shut and locked did he abandon his cane and stoop by your feet. You leaned against the sink as his fingers grazed your ankle.
"What's my diagnosis, Mr. X-Ray?" you asked, trying to come off as playful, but it was hard hiding the pain in your voice. It didn't help that Matt wasn't having it. He stood up, hands on his hips, jaw twitching.
"You fully tore the ligament," he said. "I told you that those heels would get you hurt."
"Whoa, excuse me. This was not my fault. I didn't trip. The heel just happened to snap on me, so it is one hundred percent, completely, utterly, not my fault."
"You knowingly wore dangerous shoes," Matt insisted.
"Stilettos aren't inherently dangerous, Matt! They're shoes! I just got a bit unlucky—"
"Unlucky? You can hardly walk."
"I'm fine," you said, a bit more firmly, and tried, recklessly, to do the twirl you had done that morning to prove it, but had to stop immediately because it sent a rocketing flare of pain through your leg. "Ow. Shit."
Matt steadied you instinctively. "You should take the rest of the day off and go to the doctor."
"No way. I'm so far behind in work. Besides, I'm good once I'm sitting, it's just walking that's hard."
Matt said nothing at first, but helped you get from the bathroom to the booth, one hand loosely holding his cane and the other supporting you as you leaned on him. You were grateful for his strength practically holding you up; already your ankle was swelling and walking alone would have made a scene. Still, it earned a few stares from several of the other people eating in the diner, but you ignored them.
"I guess I should clarify," Matt said, only once you were seated. "You are taking the rest of the day off."
You furrowed your brow, outraged. "You can't tell me what to do."
"And I'd really recommend seeing a doctor," he continued, "because—"
"Last week you—" You realized your voice was loud and lowered it to a whisper. "Last month you came flopping onto the bed at three in the morning, gasping for breath because you fractured a rib, and when I begged you to see a doctor, you said, 'I'm fine. Don't worry about me so much.' Don't you see how much of a hypocrite you are?"
"I don't care whether or not I'm a hypocrite, I care that you go to the doctor," he said, then added, "But if you don't, you're at least not going back to work. You need to rest, elevate the ankle, and ice it."
You bit your lip. "What if I simply refuse?"
"Then I'll call Claire and make her come pay us a visit tonight to check on you."
The thought of burdening Claire with having to make a trip out to Matt's apartment just for your sake was enough to make your cheeks burn. "You wouldn't."
"I would," he said. "Unless you at the very least stay home the rest of the day and ice your ankle."
"I can't believe you." You fell into silence, punctuated only by the waitress coming to take your beverage orders. Once she left, you tried to brighten things a bit, because Matt's mouth was curved in such an unhappy frown that it was beginning to stress you out. "At least it wasn't my favorite pair of stilettos. If it had been, I might be tempted to try super-gluing the heel back on."
It didn't seem to improve his mood, because Matt didn't smile. "I'd prefer if you just stuck to flats from now on."
"That's a lie. I know you love my heels," you said, impetuously leaning across the table to grab his hands. "You may not be able to see my legs, but I know you can sense them, and I know that stilettos make them, like, ten times sexier."
"You know what's not sexy? A sprained ankle."
"Wow. Thanks for really bulldozing my self-esteem." You paused. "If my ankle makes me so un-sexy, then maybe I'll just... sleep on the couch tonight instead. Wouldn't want you to be near me if I'm all sprained-ankle-ish."
"You're impossible."
"I have a better idea. I can be bait," you said, watching Matt's expression carefully. "I'll stumble out onto the streets tonight — you know, all 'Woe is me, I've got a sprained ankle' — and that'll attract every mugger in the vicinity, seeing a vulnerable girl alone. They won't be able to help themselves, they'll just be dying to come over and rob me. And then, lo and behold! Daredevil dives in and catches all of Hell's Kitchen's criminals in one fell swoop."
Sure enough, you could see an irritated amusement in Matt's mouth, the type that meant he was torn between smiling and getting annoyed. "I'll agree to that plan when Foggy learns how to meditate for more than five minutes at a time."
The waitress arrived and took your orders. You sipped on the water she had delivered, your eyes not leaving Matt's face.
"What is it?" he said, finally. "You're dying to say something."
"Yeah. I want you to admit that it's not my poor high heels you're angry with. You're just worried about me."
"Can't it be both?"
"Leave my high heels out of this and admit it, Matt."
"Fine. I'm worried about you. Does that make you happy?"
"Sure does," you said, squeezing his hands and smiling. "By the way... did I ever mention that I'm head over heels in love with you?"
"Oh, my God."
A/N: This was just a short piece inspired by two separate asks I received that fit together quite well:
Prompt 1: hi!!! could you do a hurt/comfort where reader breaks her heel and sprains her ankle while walking home and matt finds her??
Prompt 2: May I request a Matt fic? I've been seeing girls on YouTube that test their heels out by running around in front of their s/o, and I thought it would be really funny with a clumsy reader and Matt having an absolute heart attack. Thanks!
Just realized that I completely altered the first prompt by having them meet at a diner rather than Matt finding her, so I apologize! I hope it was still alright to read :) happy whumptober, everyone!
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devils-dares · 1 year
Text
Steal My Warmth
summary: matt lets you use him as a pillow.
pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader
warnings: none! fluffy fluff here
wordcount: 379
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The way Matt loved you was devastating. He ached when you weren’t near, and when you were he found his fingers were always reaching for you to come a little closer. His hands always found themselves wrapped around your midsection, the extra skin letting him steal an abundance of warmth and softness from you.
When you’d asked him if you could slip under the blanket with him on the couch, he told you you didn’t have to ask as he peeled away the thick fluffy cover.
“C’mere.” You try to slot yourself between him and the couch but he pulls you to lay on him directly, your head sinking into his chest as he tucks you in.
“Cozy?” You nodded, feeling his fingers caress your skin, his touch sliding lower and lower after starting at your waist.
“Watch the hands.” He laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He clicks resume on his podcast as you get comfy on his chest and scroll through your phone. Quiet domesticity takes over the apartment, your even breath mirrors his as the two of you soak in each other's presence.
“It should be a crime to be this soft and warm with that much muscle.” You say, poking his abs. He chuckles, pulling your body closer to his.
“Feel free to come steal some warmth more often.” You nuzzle further and he gasps at the feeling of your cold nose pressing against his bare chest. Your eyelids grow heavy and you glance up to Matt, who was listening to his podcast. He looked at peace, his fingers still moving, albeit slowly, across your skin while your head moved up and down gently from his breaths. You smile, your eyes shutting more and more as you finally succumb to sleep with comfort personified who is Matt Murdock.
His attention is drawn to you only when your phone lands face down on his skin, the glass screen chilling his body. He brings his hand up to thread through your hair, dull nails gently scratching at your scalp. With his other hand he pauses his podcast and drops his headphones to the ground quietly. He moves your phone away and pulls the blanket up a bit higher to cover your body.
“Sweet dreams, my love.”
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beyondspaceandstars · 2 months
Text
The Barista
Relationship: Matt Murdock x Reader Warnings: nothing. only fluff Summary: Although the barista at the local coffee shop never seems to be able to get Matt's order right, something keeps bringing him back. A/N: enjoy this quick little fluffy thing I whipped up in the notes app of my phone <3
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Matt winced after he took another sip of his coffee. You had added cinnamon to it this time. Cinnamon. He didn’t know how you managed to do that. His coffee was simple and, more importantly, never changed, but you—a barista at the local coffee shop—always somehow managed to get it just a little incorrect.
But, also, Matt wasn’t exactly keen on skipping his weekly coffee trips.
“What did she put in your coffee this time?” Foggy asked after having witnessed the face his friend had made.
Matt sighed. “Cinnamon.”
“Cinnamon?” Foggy laughed. “I don’t understand how that is even possible. Why do you keep going to that place?”
Matt did his best to his shrug casual, undetectable. “No reason. It’s not that big of a deal.”
Foggy gasped. “Oh my gosh.”
“What?”
“There’s a hot barista, isn’t there?”
Matt immediately started spewing out (weak) protests. “What. That’s… I— How would I—,”
But Foggy cut him off. “Don’t give me that again, Matthew. You do know. You can’t stop yourself from going to the coffee shop because you’re trying to get with a hot barista.”
“Okay,” Matt said in defeat, “maybe let’s not call her ‘hot barista.’ She’s just… She’s very kind. She makes silly coffee puns when I order. Sometimes we get to talking and… I don’t know. I like it. I like her, I think.”
“Even though she gets your coffee order wrong every single time?”
Matt blushed. “Well, I think I make her a little nervous. I may or may not have noticed some spikes in her heart rate.”
"Oh, that’s perfect," Foggy said with a laugh. "So, when are you going to ask her out?"
"I— I don’t think I can do that. That would be weird, right? Maybe she’s just being nice to me. I don’t want to be one of those customers."
"But you said her heart skips when you walk in."
"Sure, but maybe she’s just an anxious person—,"
Foggy scoffed. "Since when have you ever had this many reservations about asking someone out?"
"I don’t know," Matt admitted with a sigh. "I don't think she needs to get wrapped up in all my stuff."
"Actually it sounds like she very much wants to get wrapped up with you."
"Foggy…"
"Alright, alright, I’ll stop," he said, raising his arms in surrender. "I’m just saying, it sounds like she might be into you so I would at least think about it."
And so Matt did. He tried not to—he really did—but no matter how much he resisted it, your angelic voice and his best friend’s insisting words kept creeping up in the back of his mind. Even when he was out patrolling his city, the thoughts didn’t leave him.
In fact, it consumed Matt for an entire weekend. And he found himself back at the coffee shop bright and early Monday morning.
As Matt opened the door, he was immediately hit by your soft, sweet voice talking to another customer. You were kind and respectful as you interacted with them but Matt was quick to notice you didn’t share a coffee pun. He didn’t know why that made something in his chest warm.
When he approached the counter, he heard your heart speed up just ever so slightly, as if on perfect cue. Matt enjoyed trying to act clueless sometimes.
"Good—Good morning, Matthew," you said. "It’s good to see you again. I missed you a latte this past weekend."
Matt subtly tightened the grip on his cane. He swore you winced at your words, which he found adorable. "Good morning.” He couldn’t help but smile. "That was a good one.”
You giggled. And it nearly took his breath away.
“Thank you,” you replied. “I have to start looking up new ones. I fear I’m running out.”
Matt shook his head. “We can’t have that, can we?”
You laughed again. You were as giddy as ever around him. Maybe Foggy wasn’t completely bonkers, Matt thought.
"What can I get started for you today, Mister Lawyer?”
"Coffee. Splash of cream," Matt answered.
"Of course, of course," you muttered to yourself before waltzing around behind the counter. The sound of grinding beans and dripping coffee made Matt’s ears perk up.
"Busy day today?" You asked over the noise of the machines.
Matt shook his head. "Paperwork to do, files to review. The usual," he replied but his words felt jilted. Should he ask you? Would that be weird? Would you call the cops or something?
"Well, that’s good to hear! Your day will fly by," you said quite cheerfully. It made Matt feel really good—a particular kind of good that didn’t always come easily for him.
"It’s already off to a great start here," Matt replied, taking a little leap of faith. He swore he heard you gasp. "Um, you know, there is something I wanted to ask you."
You were now pouring coffee into a to-go cup. Matt didn’t think you had messed up anything this time but he couldn’t be sure. He was a little distracted.
"Oh, yeah?" You asked. Your voice was suddenly shaky. Your heart rate shot up. Not just a skip like before. It was pounding.
It could mean anything, really, he told himself.
"Yeah." Matt took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you’d like to grab dinner sometime. With me."
Something heavy hit the counter. "Uh, dinner? Like as a date?"
Matt chuckled. "Yes, exactly like a date."
"I’d love to." You didn’t even hesitate slightly. That made Matt feel really good.
"Great," he replied. He was sure he was keeping his composure from the outside but on the inside? He wanted to let out a sigh of relief.
You two exchanged contact information after Matt’s order was ready. He paid and you both kept it very professional, even when he noticed your hands were pretty much shaking.
The professionalism fell when he was bidding you a goodbye. You stepped around the counter to plant a kiss on his cheek and wish him a good day. It nearly took Matt aback but not in a bad way.
A permanent smile was etched onto his face for the entire morning—even when he went to take a sip of his coffee...
Vanilla. Matt could smell it, he could taste it. You had somehow added a splash of vanilla syrup to his cup of coffee. Matt laughed to himself.
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peterman-spideyparker · 4 months
Text
Labels (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)
Author’s Note: Hi! So, I've kinda put myself on a writing hiatus for a while and, in turn, have limited my time on Tumblr as of late. I was/still kind of am feeling uninspired in terms of writing and ideas, but this one came easily, and it needed to be written and shared before the excitement left me. I still have a million other stories and ideas I want to get going on, but for now, I hope you enjoy this one. :)
Summary: One evening when Matt tries to surprise you with a home cooked dinner date, he's stunned by something you've done for him.
Warnings: Sweet adorable fluff. No use of (Y/N), but it does refer to the reader being feminine/female-identifying
Other Characters: Karen Page
Word Count: 1,158
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“Hello?” you say over the phone, very clearly distracted by whatever is in front of you.
“Hi, angel,” Matt smiles, feeling a weight off of his shoulders when he finally hears your voice when you pick up your desk phone.
“Matt.” The way you say his name lights him up inside. It’s alway so warm, so inviting, so smooth—like when butter spreads perfectly even on a piece of toast. The gentleness of each consonant and vowel that escapes your lips never fails to chip away and brush off the stress of whatever is weighing him down; from his day job to his nightly activities, you—every last bit of you, is his solace.
“I was half afraid that I’d get your answering machine,” he breathes as he leans back in his chair, listening to how you move the receiver from one ear to the other.
“I’m sorry, Matt. Today has just been hectic. Meetings, email approvals, we rearranged some furniture because no one was responding to emails—.”
“Sweetheart, you don’t need to apologize.”
“I do if it means I worried you. I mean, I must have missed calls and texts on my cell from you if you resorted to my landline.”
“No, not worried. I was just curious if you wanted to go out to dinner tonight. Maybe try that new Italian place that opened up a few blocks from your apartment.”
“I didn’t know there was a new restaurant opening.”
“Yeah,” he lies. “It’s a small place. Intimate, nice.”
“Well, I don’t know how I could say no to that. It sounds like the perfect thing to make me forget today.”
“Take deep breaths, sweetheart. You’ll get through it. I’m here for you.”
“I know,” you breathe. “Listen, I need to get back to work, but I’ll see you tonight.”
“I’ll pick you up at six.”
“Perfect. I love you, Matt.”
“Love you, too.”
You exchange soft goodbyes before hanging up the phone, Matt sliding his cell back into the pocket of his slacks.
“Hey, Karen?” he calls out.
“Yeah?” she responds, sounding as if she’s lost in thought with whatever is at hand.
“What time is it?”
She pauses. “Almost 2:30.”
“You think that you and Foggy will be okay for the rest of the day?”
“I think so.”
“Great,” he says with a smile, standing up and putting on the suit jacket that was hanging on the back of his chair. “I’m heading out. I need to get some groceries to surprise my girlfriend.”
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Matt undoes the last of your door’s locks as the bag of groceries rests on his hips, relieved when the heavy piece of wood starts to swing open. For as frustrating as your day was, Matt secretly hopes that you won’t come home early and catch him in the middle of his surprise; it took him a lot longer to get everything he needed at the store, throwing off his timing. He’d be lucky if he got everything plated by the time you got home. Matt lets out a deep breath as he places the bag of groceries on the counter and takes his glasses off, centering himself to focus on the plan and not let his race against the clock shake him too much. After hanging his jacket on the hooks by the door, he rolls up his sleeves and throws his tie over his shoulder before taking out his phone, tapping at the screen until he finds the recipe he saved for tonight.
As his phone reads off the list of ingredients, he feels over what he grabbed, cursing when he notices that he’s missing garlic powder.
“She has to have some,” he hums. He knows you like to cook, always eager to try new recipes that you find while scrolling on your phone, and therefore always getting new spices and ingredients to make sure your kitchen is stocked for whatever the next interesting dish brings. Lucky for Matt, you two are always over each other’s place, craving one another’s presence, so he knows your apartment almost as well as he knows his own. Turning around to the skinny cabinet where Matt knows you keep your spices, he opens it up and prepares his nose for the strong mix of smells that are about to hit him so he can sniff out what he needs. As his hand extends into the cabinet, what he doesn’t expect to find is small bumps over each and every label. It’s odd, but familiar. Grabbing one of the spices in the front, he carefully takes it off the shelf and runs his fingers over the bumps once more.
Nutmeg.
Matt lets out a shaky breath, tears stinging at his eyes. He reaches up for container after container, running his fingers over all of the labels, finding that he’s able to read them all. By the time Matt grabs the garlic powder, the cabinet is practically empty and he’s crying in the kitchen.
“Matt?” he hears you call tentatively. He didn’t even hear you come in, and now you’re at his side, wrapping him in a hug and holding him close to soothe him. God, he loves when you hold him. Call it being touch-starved, but nothing felt better to Matt than when you have your arms around him. Sure, being in your apartment is comforting—your smell surrounding him and engulfing his senses, but nothing was better than the actual thing, your body against his, skin to skin. “Matty, is everything okay?”
“Uh, yeah,” he sniffles, holding you close and kissing your forehead. “It’s just, uh, well this.”
You pull back slightly from his hug and wipe away some of his tears before peeking down to see what’s in his hands.
“Garlic powder?” you try. “Is it bad?”
“No, no,” he smiles, wiping away some stray tears with the heel of his hand. “It’s great.”
“I thought we were going out to dinner tonight. But with all my spices out, something tells me you might have fibbed.”
“I did fib. I wanted to surprise you with dinner, especially after hearing about your day, but you’re the one that surprised me.” Taking your hand, he gently guides your fingers over the label to where the braille is.
“Oh.” Matt listens to how the blood rushes to your cheeks and how your heart rate picks up. “The label.”
“The label,” he echos softly.
“I finally found a good braille label maker that I liked,” you begin to explain. “I mean, we’re always at each other’s place. I wanted to make my home feel a little more homey for you.”
“You really love me, huh?”
He listens to how you smile from ear to ear. “So much more than you’ll ever know, Matty.”
Putting the garlic powder down, he takes your face in his hands and pulls you in for a deep kiss, your arms happily snaking around him and holding him close.
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Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters
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yarrystyleeza · 1 year
Text
Slow Dancing In PJs
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Requested by @itwasthereaminuteago
(so my thoughts on this are vigilante!matt with the ship dynamic: wounded/healer, established relationship (platonic to romantic), and the tone is angst (hurt/comfort) and pure fluff + mentions of blood and violence, stitching Matt like the good boy he is)
Word count: almost 2k! A really long one tbh! 😅
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The night you fished him out of the dumpster months ago, you knew this wasn't gonna be the last time you'd encounter the Devil Of Hell's Kitchen. He was covered in blood, slashes of a knife fight were scattered across his torso, luckily, they were shallow injuries, and you were experienced enough to stitch them up — being a well-trained scout leader. Well... Spending your Friday night on mending a wounded vigilante wasn't in your plans at all, but there you were, sitting on the chair facing him after you had finished sewing him back together.
He woke up terrified, blindly groping for the piece of black cloth that covers his face, you threw it in his direction, he caught it without facing it. "you're welcome, sir," you said as you stood up, heading to your kitchen were you took the teapot off the stove, pouring the tea into two mugs, "at least you should stay for tea, don't be ungrateful," you stated as you saw him walking towards the window.
He roared and clutched on his side, you put the mugs down on the coffee table and ran up to lead him back to the couch. "you know, they're not really that deep, but you have to take the night off, Mr Devil, they might get worse, and I'll have to send you to a hospital," you commented, sarcastic enough.
He sighed, accepted your tea, and settled down the couch for the rest of the night. He was so nice, unlike what Fisk was promoting for the last few years — you never trusted Fisk and you stood against him in every chance you had, and the innocence of the Devil was a sign that you're on the right side.
Ever since that summer night, the Devil Of Hell's Kitchen never stopped coming to your place, always knocks on your window glass to let him in after a long night of vigilant-ing. He never skipped a night, from the need for new stitches and bandages, to the excuses he made up just to be around you, he'd even call you during the day to check on you and assure you that he's doing well, too.
Within the first three weeks, you got to know who was the man behind the mask, a man who couldn't bear the darkness that dampened the city he loved the most, a lawyer who couldn't find justice in the light of the day so he seeks it under the shadows of the night, a blind man with an ability that never stopped amazing you, Matt Murdock, the attorney that was slandered for doing criminal acts while he was the one fighting against them. And you... You shifted from just being against Fisk to be Matt biased, if that's how you label it.
Soon enough, you moved from sitting on the armchair facing him to be next to him on the couch, and not long after, he had his head settled on your lap while telling you how his life was going as you play with his brown locks. It wasn't long before you shared your first kiss on the same couch, and cuddled in your blankets as the fall approached.
One snowy night in the middle of January — as you stood in the kitchen steaming milk on the stove to cook hot chocolate, you heard the fainting taps on the living room window glass, soft double taps, followed by another double, it's him.
You wiped your wet hands in your apron and turned the stove off, rushed to the window, you unlocked the deadbolt, "hi, angel," he greeted you with a quick peck on the mouth the second you opened the window, you kissed him back, "Matty, how was your night, baby?" he slid into your embrace the moment he slipped out the window frame. He didn't answer your question, you took your head off his chest and took the mask off his face. Oh boy, if this isn't the biggest bruise you've ever seen on his face, he kept a sealed smile, his eyebrows arched. "that doesn't look okay to me, what happened?" you took him to the couch, started to probe him thoroughly, walking your fingers over him and checking for his response.
"I got punched and hit my face on concrete, you know..." he stalled, "you should be more careful, Matty, your face is a mess and you have a day at court tomorrow," you rolled your eyes, you felt helpless, he sighed. For both your fortune — he wasn't really injured, only bruises were sprinkled around his body, and a little cut in his forehead to be fair.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you," your shoulders fell, "I'm just so worried about you, I don't want anything to make you feel nervous specially tomorrow, and showing up in court black and blue is not a good thing for you," you cupped his face, he silently kissed the palm of your hand. "so, how was the fight?" you asked as you walked over to the shelves to bring the first aid kit, "some jewelry burglars..." he started, you brought in a bowl of warm water, a clean cloth and a pack of ice, placed them down the coffee table, "how are they active now? The cold is unbearable!" you commented, he shrugged, "sorry, continue," you soaked the cloth with water, to delicately walk it over his bruised skin to wipe the dry blood off.
"luckily, they hadn't stolen anything yet when I got there," he shrugged, "they were all put down in a few minutes, but one of them really got into the fight with me... He punched me, I punched him back, there was blood splattering everywhere..." you watched his face shifting into a look of pity for himself, "I guess I wasn't focused... one hit I was thrown to the wall... The next I was on the ground..." you were stitching the slit in his forehead, you paused, "hey, Matty, you did so good out there, you always do, and you got them arrested too, baby, there's nothing to worry about," you scooped his jaw in both of your palms. "the moment I hit the ground all I thought of was you, I was scared that you're gonna be worried about me, and that if I don't make it out alive they might find a lead to you and hurt you," his waterfalls were streaming hot on his cheeks, you squeezed tighter, "oh, Matt," you didn't know what to say, Matt is so stubborn when it comes to convincing him, "you... You know no one can hurt me, I have you, Matt," you looked into the vastness of his brown irises, "you almost didn't tonight..." you swallowed your tears, you needed comfort yourself, you got scared to death when you thought about losing him.
"but you're here now, and we're sitting on my couch and I have your face in my hands and you have my whole body in your arms, we're sure enough safe," you had to fight the negative thoughts before it's too late, Matt would go into a breakdown episode and might lock himself away forever. "we're here, together, in my house, far away from all the bad things, and... we're almost to cuddle and drink hot chocolate, I think we're far from being in danger," you couldn't stop yourself from smiling as you imagined you two snuggled on the couch with Cocoa mustaches, "maybe you should take a quick shower, use some floral shampoo, girly scents, baby powder, it might help you clear your mind, right baby?" you kissed him on the cheek, he smiled, you exhaled a "finally!" and hugged him, "now, I'll finish stitching that cut, and you can go take a shower."
You were done in less than ten minutes, you kissed his stitched cut and quickly placed a bandage on it, he chuckled, "I don't have any other Matt Murdock, so I gotta keep mine safe and sound," you brushed your thumbs over his cheeks, "I love you," he whispered, "I know, Matty, you can't resist me," he chuckled, pecked your lips and stood up.
You watched him march to the bathroom where you had already prepared him clean clothes —you bought a couple of matching pajamas for you and Matt for the days he has to stay at your place— as you walked back to the kitchen. You turned the stove back on, and started to stir the milk in the pot. Not long after, the milk was almost boiling, so you added the rest of the ingredients.
As you stirred aimlessly waiting for the mixture to cook, your nostrils were hit by a wave of floral scents, and before you could react, you were bounded in his arms, he nuzzled into your shoulder, "thank you," his voice vibrated onto your skin, a grin grew on your face, you caressed his barely bearded cheek, "no need, I'm your healer, aaand your girlfriend," he pecked your cheek, "the best of the two."
"I knew pink is gonna look good on you," you cheered as you turned to look at him, the pajama was hoodie-like pastel pink with bear ears, and had a cute brown bear on the chest, he rolled his eyes, "come on, put the hood on, Matt, you're gonna catch a cold!" he shook his head relentlessly, "I won't," you huffed, "come on, Murdock!!! Don't be such a prick!!!" you aimed your grasps at the hood, he took a couple steps back as you marched towards him, and it turns to you running after him as he sprints around the living room, "you're gonna put it on, Murdock!!!" you stood on the couch and finally caught him, he let you win this time, otherwise you'd be still running around behind him losing breath, he chuckled at how you threw yourself on the couch after you've done your job. He looked absolutely adorable with bear ears.
He walked to the kitchen for his turn to serve the hot drink, you walked over to the kitchen counter and turned the little radio on, it started to stream old slow dance jazz music. Matt filled the mugs with chocolate, and the moment he let the pot down, you pulled him by the hand closer, "shouldn't I be the one pulling you this way?" he caught up with your steps quickly, spun you around, "well, one of us had to do it," you hung your arms over the broad of his shoulders, fingers delicately wrapped around his nape, playfully curling the little dampened dark locks on the ends of his hair.
He let his callouses fold your waist, guiding you around as he stuck his cheek to yours. He danced you around perfectly, swaying and sliding his feet across the wooden floor, "you're mastering slow dance, I'm kinda jealous," you mumbled into his hoodie, he smiled and kissed the side of your head, nuzzled in your hair for long, "what about we go out dancing this weekend, angel? Show you some of my new techniques," he cooed, you nodded tirelessly, "I'd love to, Mr Devil, I'd never say no," you pulled your head off his chest, still keeping pace with his smooth movement.
He leaned down to pull a kiss off your lips, you went along easily, he smiled his kisses on you. "you wanna drink the hot chocolate now?" he asked as he pulled away, still less than an inch between your lips, you smiled, "and cuddle in blankets as we listen to a horror podcast? I'd love to!" he pecked your mouth quickly and carried you to the couch as you picked the mugs up, he placed you down and snuggled next to you, scooping you in his arms, resting his head onto your shoulder. You listened to tens and tens of stories until eventually both of you collapsed into each other's arms, feeling safe and warm — and filled with love.
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I couldn't shake the n.4 prompt you sent me — off my mind, so I actually wrote it 😂🥰 it's actually one of my favorite requests, I put a lot of effort into it, I hope it'd reached your expectations 🥺💕
Tell me what you think about this! And thanks for dropping the prompt! <3
Feel free to submit a prompt from this list in my ask (I only write for Matt Murdock)! <3
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talesofesther · 8 months
Text
heartbeats
Matt Murdock x Reader
Summary: Matt could recognize your heartbeat from a mile away. Today, however, you are not alone. There's another heartbeat moving with yours; it's gentle, small, and different, but it's there with you.
A/N: A little cute story that I wrote on a whim. <3
Masterlist
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There was a time when Matt didn't think he could find happiness, maybe even considered himself undeserving of it. A time where he saw nothing but loneliness in his future; part of him was okay with it, saying it was safer this way; and the other part felt hollow, empty.
Unknowingly though, you put an end to that time.
You came into his life unexpectedly, unplanned, and quite suddenly. The day had been rainy—sun rising with a slight drizzle and moon appearing in the distance with a downpour—it was dark out when Matt was making his way out of the subway, the sound of heavy rain hitting the pavement overwhelmed his senses; and then, there was a soft tap on his shoulder. Matt had heard your heartbeat before you even touched him, it was steady, strong yet somehow gentle; when you spoke, voice sweet as honey to his ears, Matt figured your heartbeat was the most perfect he'd ever heard. You ended up asking if he wanted you to walk him somewhere, given that you had an umbrella and Matt didn't. He'd call it a bit of a cliche meeting, but maybe cliche was just what Matt needed. A few days later he asked you out for dinner, as thanks for your kindness, of course.
You entered his life suddenly, and then never left again.
And now, as Matt expertly chops vegetables on his counter, he smiles to himself at the memory from nearly a year ago. It's a Friday night and you'll be arriving from work shortly. Matt makes dinner on Fridays, you never ask him to, but he likes to hear the smile on your voice whenever you walk in and smell the fresh food in the air of his apartment.
The door downstairs is opened then, and Matt could recognize your heartbeat from a mile away. This has been your routine for quite some time now, yet every time Matt feels your heart coming closer to his, he feels this shiver running up and down his spine, this soft twisting of his stomach—maybe it's because he loves you.
Today, however, you are not alone. Matt lets go of the knife and vegetables in his hands, cleaning them in a towel before coming to stand in his living room; his brows furrow as he focuses his hearing. There's another heartbeat moving with yours; it's gentle, small, and different, but it's there with you.
Matt holds his breath when he finally hears you opening the door of his apartment, and he's already smiling when he hears you taking off your shoes and letting go of your purse—you feel at home with him, and his heart swells with joy.
"Matty?" You call for him as you round the corner and step into his living room. There's a mix of excitement and apprehension in your voice.
"Sweetheart, hi." His instinct is to immediately take you in his arms and kiss you until he runs short of breath, but he still hears that soft heartbeat accompanying your own, and he feels glued to the floor.
"Is everything okay?" Matt asks, his worry escaping him as he fiddles with the edge of his sleeves.
"Yes," you chuckle, and the sound lights Matt up. "But, as I was walking back home, I came across... something." You explain slowly, taking a tentative step closer to Matt.
Matt feels you taking hold of his hand, his thumb instantly runs over your knuckles to feel just a bit more of your skin. You're holding your breath now, and Matt doesn't know why until... his fingers buried into something soft, nearly velvety; it's fur, he quickly realizes as he moves his hand—carefully, gently—and reaches a pair of pointy ears and thin whiskers.
A cat. You brought home a cat.
"She's a stray," you explain in a near whisper, "she was all alone in the streets, terrified of the heavy traffic. I couldn't leave her there."
He's not sure why, but Matt feels the back of his eyes burning. Maybe it's because you're so purely good that the mere thought of any animal being in distress is enough to trouble you. Maybe it's because you brought this cat to his apartment instead of yours, and it reminds him that you spend nearly all of your time here nowadays. Or maybe it's just because amidst the soft fur, Matt can still feel your own hand holding onto his, and in some way, this feels like a promise; that you love him too, that you want to stay.
"What does she look like?" Matt manages to croak out.
He hears that beautiful smile of yours when you speak; "She has grey fur, with a few white marks around her body, and big yellow eyes. She's also really small."
"Yeah, I can tell," Matt's own smile escapes him again as he runs his hand over the cat, feeling the small frame of her laying on your arms.
You get on your tip toes so you can press a kiss to Matt's lips, his free hand instantly finds the small of your back, holding you to him just a tad longer. "We don't have to keep her, I just wanted to get her safe for the night and then we can take her to a shelter in the morning," you suggest.
Matt pouts, his brows furrowing comically, "but I'm already attached."
You're chuckling again and Matt knows that was the right choice. The cat, however, seems fed up with your excitement, she jumps from your arms and begins to explore every nook and cranny of Matt's apartment.
With your arms now free, you bring them around Matt's neck, placing little pecks along his jaw, "Good, because I kind of am too."
Matt hugs you close, tightly. He can hear the soft pitter-patter of paws roaming around his apartment, along with the steady rhythm of his favorite heartbeat. He thinks he can used to this; to happiness.
"She'll need a name, you know."
⋆* ☾ ⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚
Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3
You do not have permission to repost, copy or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.
Matt’s taglist:@milkiane @v1ci0us
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cowgurrrl · 8 months
Text
What's In A Name?
Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader
Author’s note: hey remember when I said I was rewatching daredevil
Summary: You settle on a new nickname for Matthew [1.3k]
Warnings: fluff, lawyer talk, brief mention of Jack, Daredevil things, June’s first time writing Matt so pls be nice, I think that’s it??
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He's realized it changes depending on the day. You refer to him in court as your colleague, Mr. Murdock, or even Counselor. You call him Murdock to get his attention or scold him for something. That Idiot in The Mask before you find out about his nightly escapades. That Idiot in The Mask after you find out about his nightly escapades. But more often than not, when he climbs into bed after a long night of being That Idiot, your eyes flutter open, and you murmur a soft "Matthew" before snuggling into him.
Foggy and Karen make fun of you for using his full name more often than Matt, which is undeniably faster and punchier. Every once in a while, you'll pull Franklin out to make Foggy cringe and accuse you of sounding like his mother. Their teasing does nothing to stop you from calling him Matthew. It's the name in your phone, the name you punch in braille in his birthday cards, the name you use to introduce him to others, everything. 
It also helps to conceal the specifics of your relationship from other lawyers who may get nosy and try to use your relationship against you in a court of law. What girlfriend wouldn't call her boyfriend by a nickname? The kind of girlfriend who went through seven years of school and refuses to have her JD called into question just because she went into practice with her boyfriend and best friends. 
The good thing is he doesn't seem to mind you calling him Matthew. It's very rare that the name doesn't grate on his ears, but when it falls from your lips, it's warm and welcome like the first sunny day after a harsh New York winter. The question, however, comes on a chilly October evening while sitting with socked feet on the couch and working through closing statements. 
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you have heard many pieces of information throughout the past few weeks. Many of them circumstantial," you read to him as you scribble the notes on a yellow legal pad. His hand is resting on your thigh, tracing patterns into your soft leggings, and cocks his head in your direction to show you he's listening. "However, you have also heard from my client-"
"Our client." Matt interrupts, and you look up at him. His tinted glasses are resting on the coffee table amid scattered case notes and copies of evidence, and his brown eyes are cast vaguely in your direction. When you first started dating, he told you people were uncomfortable with his bouncing, unfocusing eyes, and that's why he hadn't taken off his glasses in front of you. Since then, it's been a steady journey of reassuring him how much you love him, love all of him. The fact that all these years later, he's sitting without shame and without his glasses is enough to make your heart soar. 
"Is O'Reilly also the jury's client?" 
"No, but there are multiple defense attorneys on this case."
"Okay, so what if I gesture to you when I say it?" You ask, and the corner of Matt's mouth quirks up.
"'M sure that'll look very professional, sweetheart." He says, amusement in his tone, and you roll your eyes as you look back down at the paper. 
"I'm just gonna say 'my client.'" 
"Fine, but I'm telling Foggy."
"Oh, c'mon, we both know you've claimed clients and cases as your own. It's not a big deal."
"I have not!" 
"I will pull court transcripts right now."
"Maybe I should be the one to give closing statements." He teases and tries to reach for your papers. You rip them out of his reach and drop them on the floor when he tickles your sides. You laugh and try to fight against his strong hands, but he grabs both your wrists in one hand and tickles you with the other. 
"Okay, okay, that's enough." You beg between breathless giggles, and his merciless attack on your stomach stops as fast as it started. The apartment falls silent as he lays half on top of you with your legs bracketing his sides. His hair is soft and a little too long, flopping over his forehead and hiding a yellowing bruise, and his full lips are pulled into a perfect smile that you can't help but kiss. He hums against your lips and releases your wrists, letting your hands graze his waist, narrowly avoiding sore ribs. You feel a full breath fill his lungs before he pulls away and rests his forehead on yours.
"We're never gonna finish closing statements like this." He mumbles, his voice raspy, and you shrug.
"Prosecution barely has a case. We'll be fine," you say as you scratch his back. "Besides, I always make closing statements my bitch."
"Can't argue with that." He laughs, and you hum in agreement. It's getting late. The sights and sounds of the city have dimmed just enough to tell you that people have made it home from their work days, settling into dinner and bedtime routines with their families. A certain red suit hidden in the closet pricks at the forefront of your mind, and you take a deep breath. 
You knew what you signed up for when you met Matt in your legal history class during your second year at Columbia. You'd had several long-winded conversations with him about defending the working man, upholding the law, and the importance of order in a chaotic world. You knew dating him also meant sharing him with his job, no matter what it was. Still, you never expected his part-time job to be beating up criminals in dark alleys after you went to bed. 
"Wanna order Thai from that place down the block and keep working, or do you need to go?" You ask, and he shakes his head.
"'M good."
"You sure?" 
"I like working with you." He says sincerely, and a ball of light shines in your chest. You have to fight the smile threatening the corner of your mouth, and you know he can feel it. 
"Are you just saying that cause you want me to change my wording?" You ask, and he laughs. He ducks his head to kiss your jaw before straightening back up, not letting himself get too distracted by the taste of your skin.
"No, I'm saying that because I love hearing you make closing statements your bitch."
"Good answer, Matthew." You tap his side, and he kisses you again before sitting back to let you get up and retrieve your phone from the counter. You type in the restaurant's name, your mouth watering at the thought of Pad Thai, and walk over to the back of the couch. Matt leans into you the second you're close enough, and even though you don't have super senses like him, you know he's thinking hard about something.
"You know you may be the only person in the world who calls me Matthew on a regular basis?" He asks out of the blue, and you look up from your phone. His hand finds its way to your waist and tugs you closer until your hips are flush against the couch. You indulge in his sudden neediness by running your free hand through his hair.
"What'd your dad call you?" You ask quietly. A soft chuckle escapes him, and he tilts his head at you.
"Matty."
"Matty," you try to nickname on your tongue and smile. "Gotta give it to Battlin' Jack, that's a pretty good one."
"I'm sure he'd agree with you." He says, the gentle ache of grief settling over the space. You lean down and kiss his head in reverence, like you're thanking him for sharing the memory with you. The feeling dissolves once you get back into closing statements and arguing about wording over steaming piles of food, but the name sticks in your brain. His contact name in your phone goes from Matthew to Matty. You let yourself call him Matty a handful of times to test it out, and somehow, the transition between names doesn't faze either of you. It feels good, intimate almost. Something just for the two of you. 
Hell's Kitchen can have Daredevil all they want as long as Matty is the one coming home to you. 
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to-thelakes · 1 month
Text
exhausted
pairing; frank castle x fem!reader (mentions of matt murdock)
summary; after you lose your cool at matt and frank, frank comes to see you and helps you get some much-needed rest
warnings; initial angst, a smidge of hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic frank castle, soft frank castle, exhausted reader, insomniac reader, discussion of nightmares
notes; this one-shot is an oldie but a goodie, i keep reading back and looking at some one-shots i've previously written and i think this one is good enough that i can share it with the world, i wrote it initially with sharing it in mind so i might as well do it! also this one-shot thingie was inspired by a one-shot i saw here on tumblr, the beginning of this is pretty similar to the one i read so if anyone knows what fic i'm referencing, i'd love to be able to credit who inspired this! otherwise, this is just some comforting frank content because i am an avid insomniac and sometimes you just need the big scary punisher to help you fall asleep
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You weren’t entirely sure how it had happened but at some point between knowing Matt and Frank, you had become their nurse. Of course, you didn’t particularly mind. Matt had always been kind to you and you enjoyed his company. He was a little flirty but you were used to it and you could lament in your misery with him.
With Frank, he had saved you from some criminals months ago and you had been freaking out. He did his best to calm you down before walking you home and after a particularly bad night, Matt brought Frank to you to patch up. Honestly, you didn’t mind their company and you didn’t mind patching them up.
Ever since you’d moved on from being a Nurse, you’d refound your passion for caring for people but only if it was Frank or Matt. But you also hated taking care of them. Despite having a relatively normal life and sleep schedule compared to when you were a nurse, you were still woken up in the middle of the night by them.
It had been a quiet night for you. You’d finished work and curled up on your bed to drift off and you had. It had been a blissful sleep until you were rudely awoken by your phone ringing. You wanted to tell whoever it was to leave you the fuck alone but when you saw it was Matt, you answered. He asked if you could come over and help patch Frank and him up.
You - reluctantly - agreed since he was only a block over. You didn’t want them bloody up your apartment and so with a great huff, you got out of bed. You changed into comfortable clothes and then grabbed your kit for nights like these and headed to Matt’s place.
Getting in wasn’t hard even in your exhausted and sleepy daze. You managed to find your way up to the fire escape where the two men were sitting. Well, Frank was sat, leaning against the vent, cradling a wound while Matt stood. He was pacing in his Daredevil costume and he looked frustrated. It was practically radiating off of him.
They both looked pretty bruised and yet, they were still arguing. It took you a minute to catch on to the conversation but the second you did you sighed.
“You gotta let me do my shit, altar boy. I don’t give a shit what you can sense, I know what I’m doing and we would have been fine if you hadn’t stopped me from doing my goddamn job,” Frank raged as he stared up at Matt. His hand was pressed against the wound on his side and yet his jaw still flexed with obvious annoyance.
“If you had just listened to me then we would have been fine! You never listen, I can hear more than you can. I can hear their guns, Frank. If you had just shut your damn mouth for one goddamn second, it would have been fine!” Matt snapped in response. His annoyance was radiating off of him and you just looked between them. You weren’t entirely convinced that even of them had realised you were there but you knew Matt could smell you.
“I listen fucking plenty. I knew what I was getting my sorry ass into but you just have to be the fucking saviour, don’t you Red? Always a hero,” Frank scoffed. His tone was scathing and he winced when the pain only seemed to get worse. The irritation that Matt waking you up had began only seemed to grow as you listened to them continue to bicker back and forth about who was right and who was responsible for Frank’s wound. And why Red just couldn’t have listened to Frank for one goddamn minute.
It was probably five minutes of bickering and you had finally had enough. You dropped your kit bag onto the floor and suddenly, both of their attentions snapped to you.
“You are both so insufferable!” You snapped suddenly, glaring between the two men, “I get my ass out of bed after working all fucking day for you two to be bickering like three-year-olds over something that doesn’t fucking matter anymore. Take my shit and patch yourself up. I’m done with this.” Your anger only seemed to grow and you watched as both Matt and Frank’s face fell. You stepped back from the pair of them, “Ungrateful bastards,” You muttered as you headed back to the fire escape and towards Matt’s apartment.
“Hey(!), sweetheart,” Frank’s voice made you pause in your steps. If his next words weren’t an apology, you were going to scream, “Don’t gotta be so fucking moody. Didn’t even see ya.” That was it and you turned on your heel to face them again.
“I couldn’t give a shit if you didn’t see me Frank. I know sure as hell that Matt could smell me before I even got onto the fucking roof. And I’m sure his senses will tell him that I haven’t showered in three days because I’ve been so busy with my new fucking workload that I have barely had the chance to take care of myself. This is the first evening that I haven’t had to work late for my asshole boss and I finally managed to get some sleep until you assholes had to wake me up because you can never work together! I honestly don’t care what happens to you next time. If one of you gets bloody and bruised, don’t fucking call me. Lose my number, both of you.” And with that final word, you walked off the roof and down to Matt’s apartment. You felt like crying, the irritation had seeped into frustration and the tears were blurring your vision as you pulled the apartment door open.
“Sweetheart,” Matt’s voice was so soft as he rushed over to you in the doorway. Your head snapped up so that he could look at you or you assumed he was, you could tell where he was looking with that stupid mask on, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called,” Matt’s voice had softened significantly as he was looking at you.
“Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” You bit back. Matt’s lips turned down into a frown. He suddenly had no idea what to say. He had never seen you like this. Even when you were stressed and overworked as a nurse, you always had this sunny disposition to everything that you did. This was new, he hated it because he knew it was his fault.
“Please, how can I fix this?” Matt asked and you rolled your eyes. The apartment door still open in front of you.
“I told you, lose my number,” You snapped. Matt frowned but before he could even say anything, you were gone. He let out a frustrated huff and he listened as you walked to the elevator and disappeared down to street-level. He didn’t know what to do now.
-
The weekend eventually rolled around and you were relaxing for the first time in a very long time. You were curled up on the couch, watching trash TV with a pizza from your favourite take-out on the coffee table. It was the ideal day.
Well, that was until you heard a knock at your apartment door. A soft huff escaped your lips and you unfurled yourself from your cocoon of blankets to answer it. When you pulled the door open, the last person you expected stood on the other side. Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in Frank Castle in all his broad glory with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Your favourite flowers no doubt. You didn’t even know what to say.
“Ya said don’t call,” Frank began and then he held out the flowers, “So I came over instead.” There was a slight softness to his words and it made you let out a soft chuckle. You shook your head but took the bouquet from his hands.
“Thank you,” You mumbled before gesturing for him to come in. The trashy TV show you had on was playing as you grabbed a vase from under the sink and ripped the wrapping from around the flowers. You then grabbed some scissors from the drawer and Frank watched as you snipped the ends at a diagonal and placed them into the water before adding the packet of food.
“M’sorry about the other night,” Frank said after a few beats of silence. You shrugged and rearranged the flowers and when you were happy enough with them, you took them over to the windowsill to replace the faux flowers you had put there weeks ago, “I really appreciate everything’ ya do for me,” He said as he watched you move. You shrugged and wrapped your arms around yourself, moving to sit down on your sofa. You didn’t want to have this conversation.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” You said firmly. Frank sighed and he glanced at the door, not sure whether you wanted him to leave or stay. You glanced back at him expectantly and so he walked over, sitting down on the couch beside you. You grabbed a slice of pizza and offered it to him. He found himself smiling as he took it from your hands.
“M’really sorry, I didn’t-” But before Frank could get any further you put your hand up to silence him. Then your gaze turned on him and he looked back at you.
“Frank, I seriously don’t wanna think about it. Just eat your pizza and shut up,” You told him as you reached out for another slice for yourself. He grunted in response and you seemed pleased with that. You shuffled back, pulling blankets over your shoulder with your free hand before you took a bite out of the pizza. Frank was sitting on one of the blankets on the sofa but you didn’t bother to say anything as you ate.
Your gaze was fixed on the TV. There was about to be an elimination from the show and although you didn’t care for many of the contestants, there was one guy that you wanted to get kicked out. He had the most infuriating personality and had treated every girl like an object since he had been introduced. He rubbed you the wrong way and so, you watched with bated breath to see if he would finally be kicked out.
And he was. Frank noticed the victorious grin on your face as he leaned over for another slice of pizza. You let him grab it as you finished your slice off. Then you shuffled on the sofa and adjusted the blankets around your shoulder again.
“You’re not hurt, are you?” You broke the silence between the pair of you. The sound of the TV was the only thing that was filling the air until that. 
He glanced over at you before he shook his head, letting out a grunt of disagreement. You nodded and then pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulder, “I’ve had a really stressful week at work, I’ve not been sleeping well and I thought that when I quit my job at Metro General my late nights would end. That I would be able to sleep properly again. But you and Matt changed that and I don’t mind. I usually don’t mind at all but this week, I just- I couldn’t do it. I had dragged myself out of sleep which I had barely been able to get into and then you both just bickered. And I really don’t mind helping either of you. I like helping you both but I just can’t do it right now.” 
You were rambling, you knew you were rambling but you felt like Frank deserved an explanation. He was injured and you had left him to be stitched up by Matt. It felt cruel but you were also exhausted. Not even by them, just by life. 
“You don’t gotta explain,” Frank said after a beat. You looked up at him, he had a sorrowful look on his face. It was almost guilty-looking and you didn’t want him to feel guilty. A soft huff escaped your lips as you ran your fingers across your face.
“No, I do because I didn’t have to blow up at you guys. I didn’t have to be so rude. I could have just left but I made a scene and it wa-” Frank cut you off before you got a chance to finish your sentence.
“Ya had every right to shout. We dragged you outta bed for somethin’ that we coulda handled on our own. You were angry and shit, I woulda said worse. You can’t bottle that shit up, you know?” He responded as he looked down at you. You let out a soft sigh, running your fingers through your hair. You didn’t know what to even say.
“I’m just so tired, Frank,” You mumbled. It had been weighing on you all week and it was the first time you had let yourself admit it. You were so exhausted. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. The tension in the room seemed to increase tenfold at the submission and Frank was silently observing you as you reached for a pizza slice, hoping to distract your exhaustion-addled mind. It was too much.
“Lie down for a bit, yeah?” He said and you looked up at him, confusion etched across your features. Almost bemused by his words.
“I’ve tried that Frank. Plus, it’s too early,” You mumbled before you took a bite of your pizza. He shook his head and closed the pizza box on the coffee table. He then reached for the TV remote and he switched it off.
“Nah, enough of this shit. We’re gonna lie down and I’ll make sure you get some goddamn sleep. alright?” There was no room to argue with him and as he stood up, looming above you, you weren’t entirely sure you had the bravery to. So, you simply nodded your head. You placed the half-eaten pizza slice into the box and then got to your feet, leaving your cocoon of blankets on the sofa so you could go to bed, “You gonna brush your teeth?” He asked. You nodded your head. Even though you had just eaten, you had to make sure that they were brushed before you went to bed and so, Frank lingered in the doorway as you brushed your teeth, “Red’s gonna give you shit when he finds out about this, sweetheart,” Frank commented off-handedly. You spat some toothpaste into the sink before you glanced over at him.
“He can smell when I last showered, I think he already knows,” You muttered before you finished brushing your teeth. You grabbed the towel and washed the toothpaste off your mouth, washing your mouth out with water before you stepped back. You were already in pyjamas so you were ready for bed.
“Yeah, that’s what he tells ya,” Frank mumbled as you headed towards your bedroom. Frank slipped his boots off at the foot of your bed and discarded his jacket on top of your dresser before he glanced over at you.
“Are you sleeping in the bed too?” You asked tentatively. Frank turned to look at you, cocking an eyebrow.
“That a problem?” He asked curiously. You shook your head and he nodded, “You been gettin’ nightmares?” His question caught you completely off-guard and you just stared at him, dumb-founded from the side of your bed. He huffed out in mild amusement, “You were an ER nurse, gives its own scars,” He shrugged. You sighed and rubbed your hands across your face.
“It’s not nightmares. It’s just not dreams either. I can just hear flatlining and feel blood and I’m running down corridors, plagued by the clean smell of the hospital. It’s sterile and I wake up and I swear I can smell it,” You mumbled, trying your best to explain the experiences. You hated calling them nightmares because nothing scary happened. It was just your feelings and memories of the place you used to love.
“You wake up scared?” He asked as he walked over to the opposite side of the bed. You nodded your head, “Then it’s a nightmare. When did your dirtbag ex break up with you?” You didn’t seem to understand how that correlated but it had been only a month ago. It coincided with the exact time you began to have issues sleeping.
“A month ago. I’ve not been a nurse for months. Why is that relevant?” You asked as you decided to pull the covers back but you didn’t get in.
“You’re sleeping alone, sweetheart. Does things to you especially when you’re not used to,” He stated blankly. It seemed to dawn on you why he knew this and you just stared at him for a moment, not sure whether to apologise or offer sympathy but he didn’t give you a chance, “Now let’s get you some sleep, hm?” You smiled thankfully and slipped under the covers. Frank slipped under them beside you and you pulled them up to your shoulder.
Then you grabbed onto the pillow, adjusting it under your head. Frank was facing you, his hands resting in front of him as yours rested under your head. He watched you adjust and get comfortable before you let out a sigh.
“I always hated sleeping alone,” You mumbled after a moment of silence, “When I was a kid, my little brother would always get nightmares and so we’d sleep in the same bed. Then, by the time he had grown out of that habit, I was old enough that I was going to high school and my parents began to - reluctantly - let my partner stay over. Then, I went to college and I basically spent every night with someone in my bed whether that was a friend or someone I was dating. I never really got used to sleeping alone, I guess.” Although Frank didn’t have the exact same feeling as you as he had slept alone plenty of times while he was on tours, he understood what you meant. After he lost Maria, he found it impossible to sleep alone. The nightmares tormented him. It got better with time but never really truly better. It’s the main reason why he pushed his body to the point of collapse. Then he didn’t have to worry about trying to fall asleep alone. It just happened because his body didn’t give him a choice. You had started to do the same.
“Just try and get some sleep tonight, yeah?” He suggested. You nodded and you let your eyes fall closed. He shifted on the bed before he let his eyes close as well. You sighed and felt your eyes forcing themselves back open. They didn’t want to stay closed and after a few more minutes of desperately trying to keep them closed, you rolled onto your back.
And you stared at the ceiling like you had for so many nights over the past few months. You were never able to sleep, when you woke up from sleep, you just stared. You had memorised every crack in the shitty ceiling and now there was nothing new to look at. You didn’t know what was wrong with you but you hated it.
“Hey,” Frank said softly. It was so quiet that you almost missed it and then you turned your head to the side to look at him, “You gotta tell me what ya need if I’m gonna help,” You knew what you needed but you weren’t about to ask Frank for it. This was already crossing the bounds of your friendship and you felt almost disrespectful even doing this but he seemed insistent. His eyes were burning into the side of your head.
“My ex used to…” You trailed off, not sure whether to say it. Frank grunted in a somewhat encouraging way as he shuffled towards you, “They used to cuddle with me when I couldn’t sleep and they’d… God I can’t ask this of you.” You cut yourself off before you could finish your sentence. Your hands pressed over your face, embarrassment flooding your face in the form of heat crawling up your neck and across your cheeks. This was too much.
“Hey, hey, listen to me,” He brought your hands away from your face and you turned to look at him, meeting his soft gaze, “I don’t give a shit if it’s embarrassing, tell me.” His words were firm and you sighed, taking a deep breath before you turned over onto your side so that you could look at him properly again.
“They’d like hold me against their chest, like my forehead against their chest and then they’d run their fingers across my arm. It just always relaxed me,” You finally admitted. Frank smiled softly, not even caring what you were asking of him. Instead, he shuffled forward on the bed and brought you towards him.
“Come ‘ere,” He mumbled. You shuffled into him and with a tentative breath, you rested your forehead against his chest. One of his hands rested under his head while the other moved to rest against the back of your arm. He drew you closer and you gave in, letting your body mold against his. His fingers slowly began to trace along the skin on the back of your arm.
A soft breath of relief escaped your lips, the familiar touch cooled your nervous system in seconds. Your eyes fell closed, tension releasing at the movements as you moved your arms around Frank. Your hand draped over his hip as you felt exhaustion return to your body after you had fought it away all day.
“Thank you,” You muttered under your breath. Your voice was slower than before, sleep ready to take you as you relaxed into his hold.
“Sleep well, sweetheart,” He mumbled against your hair as he rested against you. His touch against your skin was the last thing you remembered before the bliss of sleep took you in.
<3
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