What If
Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader
Summary: Family Planning w Matt Murdock
warnings: mainly fluff, maybe some angst? not really, mentions of pregnancy,
A/N: short little blurb that absolutely nobody asked for this but oh well!! I want it!!
It was calm in the apartment for a Friday night. The smell of Josie’s was confined to the hamper of dirty clothes in the corner while hints of lavender scented body wash permeated the bedroom. It was calm. Peaceful.
It was a nice change; your nighttime routine including Matt, for once— there was something homey about it. Domesticated. He was there, just around the corner, pulling the sheets back and adjusting the pillows to your liking before you would both climb into bed and recount your days to one another as if you had been married for years.
You were afraid that if you verbalized the thought, told him you enjoyed not sharing him with Hell’s Kitchen for once, that the illusion of peace and routine would snap. That he would snap, and you would go back to the familiarity of falling asleep alone again, only to be awoken by a bruised and heavy body falling next to you.
Some things were better left unsaid, so you kept quiet, brushing your teeth in circular motions until you noticed the blood dribbling from your lips.
You almost didn’t hear him, his question drowning behind the gargling water in your throat.
“What if it’s not enough?”
Enough?
“What’s that?” you yell into the sink before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Did you say something?”
The bedroom was dark, your side of the bed bare, the comforter pulled back as an invitation. He was concentrating on something, his brows noticeably furrowed even as your eyes adjusted to the darkness.
“What happens when it’s not enough?” He followed the question with a kiss to your temple as you positioned yourself into the side of his body.
“When what’s not enough, sweetheart?”
“Daredevil.” The stunned silence speaks for itself. “The firm. You. Us.”
Us.
You.
Me.
Your body stiffened at the thought of being lackluster to him. That your life together was somehow incomplete.
Dread quickly spread throughout your body, practically pulling you away from his body, untangling just enough so you could prop yourself against the headboard.
“Well,” you cleared the knot in your throat. “I would ask you what ‘enough’ means.” The chipped paint on your fingernails stole your attention. “What does ‘enough’ look like? Did I do something wrong?“ He was blurry when you finally looked at him.
“No!” God, what an idiot. “No, you didn’t do anything at all!” He was quick to hurry you into his chest, internally damning himself for being the cause of the lump in your throat.
“Then what’s wrong? You just said I wasn’t enough—“
“It was a poor choice of words, that’s my fault, I’m sorry.” His heart galloped in his chest, just beneath your ear. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“But?”
“Everything is good— great right now,” his grip against your frame grew tighter.
“But?”
“But it still… it still doesn’t feel like it’s enough.”
“Then what can I do to help? What do you need, Matt?”
The confusion began to transform into a mild frustration, and you were grasping at imaginary straws, trying anything to answer his impossible questions.
“I want more.”
The air became stagnant in your lungs as you held your breath.
“No, wait,” he stammered. “I want more of you! I want more of us.”
“I’m not following.”
“I want to start a family.”
The air left your lungs in an impressively long exhale, long enough for you to untwist from his grip and lean against the headboard, suddenly forgetting how to breathe.
“A family?” The mattress dipped beneath your palms and your neck groaned with the weight of your head. Your stomach churned, from both relief and anxiety.
He waited patiently, pushing himself next to you. His breathing was steady, an inconspicuous cue for you to follow his lead, and he gave you both physical and emotional space to process what he himself had been grappling with the past several days.
A baby.
“A family?” You repeated, desperate to read his face.
He was unable to conceal a soft smile, and you softened in return, inching your hand closer to his so that your fingertips barely touched.
“With me?”
“Only if you want to.”
His fingers interlaced with yours, the pad of his thumb rubbing melodic circles into your skin.
You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of starting a family with Matt before. He would be a wonderful father, that you were certain of, and there were times where you would catch yourself holding onto your stomach, fantasizing about how your appearance would change with a growing belly.
Many of your closest friends were having children or had already started their own families, so it wasn’t that out of the ordinary to think about your future with Matt, but you never allowed yourself to think that way or to go that far, given the implications of his second job and moral obligations.
“What about Daredevil?” Your voice was unwavering, much to your surprise.
“I have it under control,” he said with a lighthearted smile.
“Under control? What does that mean?”
“I got some help. It’s taken care of.”
“Taken care of?” His voice was so steady and matter-of-fact that your eyebrows raised automatically. “Did you just happen to pick someone off the street?”
“He’s from Queens, actually,” he laughed.
“Right,” you huffed in tandem, not fully understanding the connotations, but enjoying his ease nonetheless.
The room grew with a bloated silence, and for once, you allowed yourself to wonder. How does maternity leave work? Would he take paternity leave? Would you breastfeed or bottle feed? Are there any good schools in Hell’s Kitchen? Who would watch the baby while you go to work? Why aren’t there any cute boys clothes? Will a crib fit in the room? Would they look more like you or him? What if you dropped the baby? What if you’re not a good mom?
“Sweetheart,” he called, bringing your hand to his lips, as if leading you away from the cacophony of what ifs and hypotheticals.
“Hm?”
“You okay?”
“Yeah! Yeah. I’m just—
“Thinking.” He finished your sentence and you deflated automatically, resting your head against his shoulder.
You weren’t sure of how long you sat like that. Inhaling and exhaling. Inflating and deflating. Slowly sinking into the mattress, disappearing beneath silk sheets.
“You’ve really thought about this then?” You whispered, afraid to jinx something so precious so soon.
“More than you know.” He kissed your temple, emphasizing his sincerity.
“I have one requirement.”
“Go on,” he stretched an arm behind his head, enjoying the simplicity and ease of the conversation.
“Call me old fashioned, but I want to be married first.”
His laugh mimicked a bark, and for a second you were almost embarrassed by your reservations.
“Sweetheart,” he turned onto his side, somehow towering over you, before meeting your lips with his own. “I am Catholic, you know.”
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I don't know if it's because it's been too long since I last watched Stranger Things, but I genuinely don't remember a happy Nancy scene post Barb...
This is such an interesting thing to think about because it's not as if Nancy looks miserable in most scenes of the show. In fact, she often looks determined and occasionally excited even. She has smiled before, but excitement about progress in a case, something she's passionate about because of Barb, isn't necessarily happiness. So this is something you have to look beyond face value for.
Nancy suffers quite plainly with survivors guilt and with a lot of trauma. She isn't healed from what happened in Season One, and I don't think she even let herself really start until after season three. Not with so much unresolved. She also hasn't had the help she really needs either. However, Nancy has experienced happiness since Barb's death. There are moments she forgets. It’s only healthy that she's not so obessively mired in her misery that she can't have moments to breathe.
It's been a while since I've watched the show, too, so I can't say if there's a Jancy scene where she's just happy. Their get-together scene was very in the middle of Barb trauma, the wake up together scene is very stressed and rushed. Jonathan has been good to her, but all their scenes are a very mixed bag of emotions with happiness not really being the predominant one.
There are three small scenes from season four that come to mind. The first is Lucas's game. Nancy is quite genuinely proud and happy for Lucas in that moment of success. It's such a small shot, but it's one of a few scenes that show us that Nancy cares a whole lot more about Mike’s friends than she ever says.
The second is the scene with the dog, right before the plot plummets Nancy right back into her guilt complex. She's starting to live, and she lets herself be, for just a second, when she steps away from a murder investigation to just play with a dog. This is the first real evidence that her passion for her work is not just about Barb anymore.
The last scene is the officially friends scene with Robin. It's simply a moment of establishing connection, and both girls are just so warm in that moment. It's another sign of Nancy starting to actually heal. She's happy to have a new girl friend, not scared or guilty like she would have been before.
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