Latest Posts by mattsauburneyes - Page 3

Matt Murdock’s Fic Rec

fluff and angst

bittersweet truth by @that-sarcastic-writer

treacherous by @elgrandeavocados

the last time by @allthatyoulove

when you’re sober by @ola-elaina

stitch by stitch, i tear apart and i’m only honest when it rains by @daremartyevil

ready to cry by @darling-i-read-it

soulmark @dyns33

loving you is easy by @claraswritings

closer by @pickabetterusername

risky notes by @phantomkindalikejaiden

upstairs by @mvtthewmurdvck

to hear a heartbeat by @maroonmusings

then came you by @leossmoonn

if you kissed me now by @matt-erialgirl

smut

show me how you sin by @frankcastlescumslut

the bakery by @lanadelreyscokewhor3

let me hear you by @stranger-nightmare

i’m going to ruin you by @aimerriarkle

the green green dress by @itwasthereaminuteago

need and salvation by @yourbucky084

temptation by @yourbucky084

wake up call by @eatommo

the devil of hell’s kitchen by @arahxdjarin

call out my name by @leossmoonn

good girl by @yourbucky084

series

love and ethics by @galaxysgal

secrets and papers by @enemiesandlovers

i hope you guys enjoy the fics, and congratulations to all the writers you are really amazing!

if i tagged someone wrong please message me so i can correct it!

Ready to Cry

Matt Murdock x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: stitches, injuries, lots of pent up emotions

Author’s Note: i miss him! I miss him! Why won’t marvel bring him back to me?!

Summary: You’ve thought Matt was dead for months, only to go to where he was staying and demand to see him. You’re reunited.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Matt put his head against the outside brick wall of your apartment. He shouldn't even be here. You thought he was dead and it should stay that way. As long as you thought he was dead you were safe. Safe enough. Fisk may still come for you either way but if you didn’t have any information to give, maybe it would be better.

But he could feel the blood seeping through his fingers as he held his stomach. He could go back to the church. Yeah. He would be avoiding putting you in danger and he could get stitched up there by Sister Maggie.

Matt listened to your humming for a moment more. You were cooking something. He could hear the oven on. You only hummed when you were cooking. He nodded to himself and hopped down onto the fire escape. He wouldn’t put you in danger today.

===

Matt had only been at the church for a couple of minutes when Maggie came downstairs to help him. He knew it was her by the footsteps.

“My side,” he muttered quietly. She walked up to him and usually would have made some quip about how he got hurt doing something bad but she was silent. He raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

“There is someone upstairs,” she said gently. “That is insisting she sees you.” He pursed his lips.

“Karen?”

“No.” He sat up straight. There was only one other woman who would come here to see him. He didn’t even think Karen knew but he knew you did. He had told you about his past. You were the only person he trusted with that. Foggy probably didn’t want to come here.

“How does she know I’m alive?”

“I don’t think she does. If you need it, I will tell her to go away.” Matt was silent for a moment. He was bleeding out. He didn’t have time to think about this. Matt could let you go on thinking he was dead to keep you just a little bit safer. Or he could let you come down here and stitch him up and touch you. Just the thought made him feel euphoric.

“I want her to be safe,” he said.

“She may be safer knowing you’re out there,” Maggie said quietly. Matt winced as he adjusted his seating.

“Let her down.”

He heard Maggie leave and she was gone for only about three minutes. When she came back down there was another sound of footsteps following her. You slowed as you entered the odd underground space. You looked around before noticing Matt was there, sitting on the bed.

Your breath caught.

“I’ll leave you two alone. Just a reminder though, this is a church,” Maggie said. You nodded, still too shocked to move. She walked up the stairs and away.

“Thanks,” Matt said. Hearing his voice made you want to cry. He was facing the ground, his hand over his side. He could hear you sniffle. You were crying. “If you’re going to yell, go ahead.”

You rushed up to him and threw your arms around him. He winced but you didn’t hear it. You sat on the bed beside him, holding him as tightly as you could like he was going to slip away like water. You put his cheeks in your hands and you stared at him.

“I hate you,” you sobbed. “Please never ever leave again.” He nodded.

“I’m bleeding out.”

You backed away quickly, noticing the blood on his side.

“Oh!” You stood up and quickly found all the stitching supplies Maggie had out for when he came back like this. You brought them beside you and made him sit back. “Can I take off your shirt?”

He was silent for a moment.

“What do you think?” You scoffed, wiping the tears from your eyes to have clear vision. You lifted his shirt over his head and looked at the gash on his side. It wasn’t as bad as he made it sound. His breath picked up as you touched his bare skin.

He would never get used to your touch. It was kind of electric. Like every brush of your fingers could be a drug. It made him want to cry. He had suppressed all of the emotions of grief and loss and anger that he wanted to cry now. But he held it in.

“Done.”

He sat up.

“You’ve always been good at that.”

“I’ve had to get good. Though forgive me, I’m a bit rusty.” He smiled offhandedly. You put your hand on his. He held it tightly. “Why?” you whispered.

“I had to.”

“I was so angry with you,” you muttered. “That you could die and leave me here. Alone. I imagined seeing you again a hundred times, screaming at you, throwing things at you, giving you a piece of my mind.” You traced your fingers over the bruises on his chest. He was littered with cuts, stitches, yellow and purple skin. “But I knew I could never hurt you, no matter how much you hurt me,” you breathed.

“I never wanted to hurt you. I stayed away so you could make a life for yourself, without me.”

“I could never be without you. You could be six feet under and I would still have you.” You put your hand on his chest where the worst of the injuries was. It looked like he had been stabbed, fairly deep. He winched. “Baby-” He breathed in deeply at the pet name and you couldn’t tell but it was from relief and longing. Longing to have you call him your own again. “Baby how many stab wounds do you have now?” you asked quietly.

“13.”

“Matthew Murdock!” You tilted your head in surprise. “I’m gone for a couple months and you get stabbed 13 times. For fucks sake.”

“You’re in a church.”

“I’m sorry. For freaking sake.” You put your hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to help you any way that I can. But first I’m going to let you drop that guard.” He shook his head.

“If I open the floodgates now they’ll never close.”

“I don’t care.” You kicked off your shoes and took off your jacket. “You got a dresser down here?” He gestured to the pile of clothes on the ground. “Jesus. Sorry.” You grabbed one of his shirts and took off your tight one. You put it on the ground next to his things. You walked back to the bed and nudged his leg. “Lay down.” He did as he was told. You laid down beside him, putting your head above his. You put your arm around his shoulder. He put his head on your chest.

“What we’re you making earlier?” he mumbled.

“Were you stalking me Murdock?”

“No I just..missed you.” How many times had you thought he was dead but he was just outside your window?

“Soup.” You brushed a hand through his hair. “So this is where you used to have those nightmares huh?” you whispered.

“Yeah. I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“Are you ready to cry now?”

“No but keep going, I’ll get there.” You laughed. You kissed the top of his head. He put his arm around your stomach.

“I love you Matthew. I’m not letting you go again.” He was silent. You rubbed his back, careful of any scars or fresh wounds. You thought maybe he didn’t like what you had said since he wasn’t answering. You looked down at him and noticed that his chest was rising and falling quickly.

He was crying. You brought your other arm up to him and held him with both arms. He buried his head in your chest. He sobbed. He just sobbed. He sobbed for the pain, for the grief, for the worry, the stress, the sacrifices.

When he grew quiet you realized he had fallen asleep.

====

You woke up before him. He was still laying on your chest, gripping you like you were going to slip away. Your breathing changes woke him up easily. He was a light sleeper these days. Honestly he was surprised he slept through the night undisturbed.

He sat up, hair a mess. You smiled, brushing it.

“You look cute,” you whispered.

“I got your shirt all wet.”

“It’s your shirt.” He half smiled. He leaned against the wall, grabbing your hand.

“I’ve put you in danger. By letting you come down here. By letting you know I’m alive.”

“Yeah well I was in danger anyway. I can’t let you do this by yourself. I’ll help, even if it means I have to walk under the buildings you jump across.” He laughed dryly.

“You need to be realistic.”

“I am. I’m just not pessimistic.” He scoffed. You sat up and moved, sitting beside him against the wall. You still had his hand in yours. “Let me do this.” He was silent for a moment. IT was stupid. It would leave loose ends.

“I shouldn't.”

You leaned over and kissed him. It had been so long since you had kissed him. It felt like heaven. Like everything was worth it as long as this kiss never ended. Of course though, it did.

“You have to. I’m making you.”

“Karen and Foggy may never forgive either of us.”

“At least we’ll be together.”

Marvel Tag List: @dpaccione, @demonchick1, @karasong, @elisaa-shelby, @lov3vivian, @russian-soft-bitch, @alexxavicry,@valentina-luvs-u

FINGERS CROSSED - MATT MURDOCK

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 4,370

Summary: An old friend comes back to town and when she nearly dies, Matt lets something slip (loud enough that his actual girlfriend hears it). 

Keep reading

HAPPY 40th BIRTHDAY CHARLIE!

-gif edit by me✌️

Happy 40th birthday Charlie Cox!

“It’s so easy to become obsessed with the film industry and recognition that we can forget that we are not saving the world. We are just actors trying to entertain people.”

HAPPY 40TH BIRTHDAY CHARLIE THOMAS COX!

Born December 15, 1982 in London, England

(insp by)

karen: i found something you're not gonna like *shows matt a newspaper*

matt: ... well it sounds like a sheet of paper but i guess you're referring to whats on the sheet of paper

ITS BEEN TWO YEARS AND I HAVENT RECOVERED

Manacled should have come with a warning that you'll need a sick day once you've finished it. How am I supposed to work after staying up til 3am reading and being emotionally murdered.

thinking about booping matt murdock's nose and his face just scrunched up and his eyes is now invisible bcs how wide his smile is and he just chuckles and says "did you just... boop my nose?" GODDDD I AM SO IN LOVE WITH MY OWN IMAGINATION

DUDEEE IMAGINE y/n, matt, foggy, and karen are about to go to a halloween party and they are running out of ideas on what costumes they're gonna wear then y/n suddenly smirks and says the most absurd idea ever

y/n: matt...

matt: no. i know what you're gonna say. no!

foggy: what

y/n: 😏😏 you should wear the daredevil suit

matt: absolutely not! people will know!

y/n: matt, absolutely NO ONE will know! it'll be so funny!

matt: y/n no!! it's dangerous!

karen: i like your style y/n 🤣

obviously they didn't go with the idea but it was funny

oh my god this was heartbreaking... I LOVE IT 😭😭😭😭

90 days // matt murdock x reader

summary: it takes 90 days for you to break the habit of loving a dead man.

warnings: angst with a happy ending, TW: severe depression and shutting down so please please please read with caution if you are sensitive to material like this, season 3 matt so i mean...fake dead, lol. some cute foggy and karen moments for our little hearts perhaps? who knows, this is a long one, my bad guise

masterlist || add yourself to my taglist

inspired by 90 days by p!nk (well not really but i got the idea while listening to this song)

day 1 when you'd found out, you were a mess. you'd fallen to your knees in the police station, screams laced in pain and agony leaving your mouth as you sobbed. foggy fell to his knees besides you, scooping you up in his arms as you pleaded with a god you didn't believe in to bring him back to you. you'd spent the following week screaming and crying and begging any higher power that possibly exists to bring him back. you screamed at them in a fit of rage, infuriated that they took him from you. foggy had stopped by the day before the funeral and found you sitting on the shower floor, the bathroom door wide open, still in your clothes in a borderline catatonic state, letting boiling hot water pour on top of you.

he'd panicked and shut off the water, grabbing your face and checking for any real damage as he did his best not to cry. but when your eyes met his, you'd just broke down, grasping at his arms. without question or contest, he'd climbed into the wet bathtub and held you and your sopping wet clothes close to him. cradling your head against his chest, softly shushing you as you sobbed.

"i know y/n. i know." he whimpered, a small hiccup leaving his mouth as he silently cried with you.

"where is he, fog? where's his body? he needs to come home" you cried, clutching tightly to foggy's arms.

"i don't know." he cried, sniffling softly as he brushed your wet hair our of your face.

your painful sobs broke foggy's heart more than he thought it could break. you were struggling to breath as you let out loud sobs, and foggy wasn't sure how to help you. but he held you, and he stayed. once your cries softened, he helped you out of the bathtub and left to bring you dry clothes and make you something warm to drink while you took off your wet clothes and dried off your body. he turned on the heater to make the apartment warmer so you wouldn't get sick, and he'd stayed with you when you held tightly to his hand after getting you into bed.

foggy stayed and he helped you as best he could. because he knew that if it were him, matt would've taken care of foggy's family like they were his own, so he owed it to matt to take care of the only family matt had left.

day 8 it was raining the day of matt's funeral. you thought it was fitting as you watched the love of your life be lowered into the ground. or rather, his empty casket.

foggy held your hand as tightly as he could, pulling you closely to his side. and you weren't sure if it was more comforting for him or for you, but regardless, you appreciated it and him. the rain was pattering loudly against the umbrella that foggy held above the two of you.

ever since the shower incident, you hadn't spoken a word. hadn't cried, you barely ate, you had taken a sabbatical, which your boss was happy to give to you, offering you as much time as you needed. you were a shell of a person. you felt empty at best. so as you watched the priest say a prayer over matt's descending casket, you just leaned your head on foggy's shoulder, not saying a single word, not shedding a single tear.

once the funeral was over, you sat at a table in josie's, staring blankly at the wine glass in front of you. giving a tight smile and a nod when anyone would come up to you and offer their condolences. foggy sat with you the whole night, holding your hand through it all, trying his best to talk you through things. but as much as you loved foggy, you weren't interested in his endless optimism at the moment.

day 14 you could always be found in you and matt's shared loft, either on the couch or in your bed, on matt's side, clinging to his pillow. sometimes, you found the energy to sit at the counter and stare at the wall. you had nothing left in you to give. foggy and karen worried heavily. every time they'd come to see you, you were thinner, your eyes more sunken in and dark. today when they walked in, you were in bed, hadn't showered or eaten in at least two days from what they could tell. so foggy and karen helped you out of bed and into the shower where they sat you in the bathtub and foggy went to bring you some of your favorite soup while karen washed your hair. you remained silent and catatonic as karen gently gently rinsed you off. she'd dried you off and helped you into new clean clothes and sat with you on the couch, softly brushing your hair.

"i know it's hard. and it's okay to be depressed, but we're worried about you. i don't...i don't think you're okay, y/n. i think...i think you need some help." she sighs as she pulls the brush through your hair.

you don't say anything, you just sit there. you knew she was right. you did need help. and you were never against getting help. but you had no energy to get out of the house and go talk about your feelings. you didn't want to talk. you didn't want to do anything.

when foggy came back, he had multiple bags of food in his hands. each containing your favorite soups and foods from different take out places. they'd sat with you on the couch, making sure that you'd at least eat a little bit of the food foggy had brought you. and you did. you ate until you couldn't bring yourself to grab the spoon anymore. after a while, karen had gone home and foggy sat next to you in bed, and you'd laid you head on his lap, laying in silence as he softly pet your head.

"i know karen already talked to you, but you need help y/n. i'm so worried about you. i...i can't lose you too. you don't have to talk when you get there. i'll set everything up, and drive you there and pick you up. all of it just...please. you need help." foggy pleads.

you lay there for a moment, bringing the blanket further up your arms.

"okay" you squeak out.

foggy swore in that moment, he'd never heard a sound more beautiful than when you'd spoke.

day 35 after some time, the antidepressants and the therapy started to help and you started to speak again. and then you started to go out. you started small. first it was the corner store, then it was the supermarket, then it was target, and suddenly you found yourself back at work. your coworkers offered you as much support as they could, but remained at a distance, not wanting to feel like they were pushing you. the first week or two of work was difficult. you kept hoping you'd come home and he'd be in the living room. and coming back to an empty home that used to be shared did more damage than you thought it would.

"you want to sell it?" karen asks, furrowing her eyebrows

"yeah" you mumbled, poking at the pasta on your plate.

"why?"

"i just...i can't do it anymore, karen. it feels like i'm living in a tomb. i have to move on. i have to get better." you sighed, putting your fork down and picking up your drink.

"don't." she shakes her head.

"don't?"

"you should move out. move on. be happy. but don't sell it. i'll pay the bills. just please, don't. not yet at least." she pleads, reaching across the table and grabbing your hand.

you pause, contemplating it for a moment, and then you nod.

"okay."

day 53 you'd found a beautiful apartment not too far from your workplace. the neighborhood was nice, mostly families. it took you a little while to adjust, but eventually, you did. your routine began to look a little more normal. and every sunday night, karen and foggy would come over for dinner and you did your best to move on and be happy. you were sure that at some point, you wouldn't be pretending anymore, and that you'd actually be happy.

you were right.

you were slowly reverting back to the social butterfly that you used to be. of course you missed matt. everyday you did. but you'd accepted that he wasn't coming back, no matter how much groveling and praying and begging you did. he was gone. and all you had left was the memory. and you had learned to be okay with that.

of course every now and then you'd find yourself stopping by the loft and sitting in front of his closet, leaving the doors open and breathing him in. finding comfort in the lingering glimpses you'd catch of him. you were sure that there wouldn't be a day that goes by where you didn't think of him, miss him. he was the love of your life. and he always would be.

but you also knew that at some point, you had to let him go.

day 76 you regularly visited his grave. keeping the stone clean and adorning his final resting place with beautiful fragrant flowers. a piece of you hoped that if they smelled strong enough, he could smell them even in the afterlife.

most times you went, foggy came with you. foggy did his best to stick by you, to support you and your choices, and you two had leaned on each other a lot through your grieving processes. you both had attempted to cling to the pieces of matt that he'd left in you both. and you'd found peace in each other.

"i like it short like this." you smiled, spinning around in the barbers chair next to foggy as he looked nervously between you and the mirror.

"you think so?" he asked, scrunching his eyebrows.

"i do. it looks good. you look very clean cut. but in a good way" you nodded, a small smile on your lips as you brought your coffee up to your lips, taking a sip.

"good good." he breathes out nervously as the barber brushes the fine piece of hairs away.

you and foggy leave the barber, walking along the street and as you toss your coffee away, foggy just smiles at you.

"you look better." he notes, making your chest swell with pride.

"thank you. it took a while, but...i'm getting there and for now, i'm okay." you smile.

and for the first time in a long time, you weren't lying when you told foggy you were fine.

day 90 you were stood inside of matt's apartment for the first time in a very long time. you breathed in the air, the surrounding smells were still the same despite karen only coming occasionally. you stood there in silence, just looking, when suddenly the door slams open, making you jump.

"matt!"

you furrow your eyeborws as karen storms in, foggy in tow.

"what the hell is going on?" you ask, looking as karen searched the apartment.

"did you know?" she asked, turning towards you.

"know what? foggy, what's going on?"

foggy sighs, his entire demeanor falling, his shoulder drooping as he walked over to grab your hands.

"let's sit down, yeah?" he says, grabbing your arms and seating you on the couch.

"foggy please, what's going on? why is karen looking for matt? he's dead the last time i checked." you chuckled nervously, the nerves bundling in your stomach.

foggy paused, his mouth opening and closing.

"no...he's not."

you suck in a breath and your chest starts to tighten. you just smile, shaking your head.

"that's not funny, fog."

"i wish this was a cruel joke. i do. but it's not. he's alive. he came and saw me last night. told me that we were in danger because fisk is out now." he explained, petting your head and keeping hold of your hand.

you didn't know how to react, so you sat there, a blank stare on your face, your moth fallen slightly open, and a single tear falling down your face.

"a-alive?" you whimpered.

foggy quickly wiped the tears from your face and nodded.

"yeah. alive."

"w-why would he do that?"

"exactly! why would he let us think he was dead!?" karen shouted making you wince.

you sat there trying to process as foggy said that the matt who came to see him wasn't the same matt that we knew, that something was wrong, missing.

"i have to go home." you breathed out, just standing up from the couch and walking out the door.

you couldn't handle any of it. so when you got home, you sat on your floor, and you cried.

day 92 you were stood with foggy, smiling and talking with everyone as foggy campaigned. foggy had his hand placed on the small of your back as you took a photo together in front of the banner. as he announced he'd be there to answer any questions, foggy's gaze shifted to a man walking in.

"i got a few." he asked, taking slow steps towards you two.

"like...what's the secret ingredient in your world famous nelson's sub?"

"a uh, soft robiola."

"mmm...perfect. team at work is gonna love that. uh. give me six."

"oh, theo can help you, actually. he's at the counter." you smiled, shifting your weight slightly to create a window to theo.

"is there anything else?" foggy asks.

"yeah, when was the last time you or ms. y/l/n saw matt murdock?"

"who're you?" foggy asked, standing up taller.

the man said nothing, just held up his badge. and your stomach dropped, causing you to lose your balance. foggy grabbed your arms, stabilizing you.

what the hell have you done, matt

day 105 foggy and karen tried to keep you out of everything going on at the request of matt. despite what matt had done, he did it because he loved you. he did it to protect you. and foggy and karen just wanted to shield you from more hurt.

but they weren't there to stop him from climbing into your window the evening after he'd finally defeated fisk.

you were stood in your kitchen, humming along to the song on the radio.

"hi."

you jumped and let out a yelp, dropping the knife on the ground and turning around to see matt stood on your living room, a somber look on his face.

"what're you doing here?" you ask, your voice harsh and cold.

matt let out a breath, feeling his way across your apartment, closer to you. he could hear your heartbeat accelerating. and as angry as you were, and as much as you wanted to hit him and scream at him, which you would, you wanted more to just hold him.

you'd had time to come to terms with the fact that matt was alive. you were still angry, unbelievably so, but you'd guessed that one of the gods you'd prayed to had finally listened.

"can we talk?" he asked, leaning on your kitchen island across from you.

you stood there, staring at him, tears prickling your eyes.

"now you want to talk? after i screamed and cried and spent thousands of dollars at a mental health facility and on antidepressants? after i buried you into the fucking ground!" you cried, taking a step towards him and hitting his chest.

"y/n i-"

"i wanted to die, matt! i didn't want to live anymore! your death broke me and it was all for nothing!" you yelled as you threw punches into his chest like he was a punching bag.

and at some point, you were just hitting him as you yelled and cried. tears were running down matt's face and he eventually grabbed your hands, stopping you, and pulling you into his arms.

"i'm sorry. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry." he whispered into your hair and he held you tightly against his chest.

"you're not here. you're not real." you cried in denial of the man holding you in his arms, and he shook his head.

"i'm real. and i'm here, baby. i'm here and i'm not going anywhere." he breathe out, entangling a hand into your hair and clinging to your body like you'd wither away soon.

you cried and breathed him in, letting any guard you'd previously put up fall. your knees buckled and matt gently kneeled, sitting on the ground as he held you. you clung to his shirt and you both cried. matt pressed soft and gentle kisses into your hairline.

you'd eventually cried yourself out and you were just sitting on the kitchen floor with matt, your half cooked dinner now cold and sitting on the stove. your wine on the counter now warm. matt's fingers combing through your hair. you'd sat in silence until your phone rang out. you just stood up without a word, silencing your phone and grabbing the pill case on your counter. you stared at it, and matt stared at you. he stood up, walking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, tucking his head into your neck.

"i'm sorry."

"i know."

you quickly took the pills before shutting the case and just leaning on the counter, letting matt hold you some more.

to be quite honest, you weren't sure what to feel. you weren't sure if you should be angry still or if you should just enjoy that fact that the love of your life was in fact, not dead. but for now, you just wanted to be with him.

you grabbed his hands, unwrapping them and intertwining one of your hands as you walked over to your bedroom. you'd changed into a sleep shirt and without having to say anything, matt had taken off his shirt and pants and crawled into bed with you. you laid your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, confirming that he was alive, that he was here.

"i promise, i'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. if you'll let me." he said softly

"please don't leave again." you whimpered.

"never. i promise." matt tightened his arms around you and you looked up, placing a hand on his cheek.

you scooted up and leaned your forehead on his, your noses touching.

"i'll stay for as long as you let me. and even after that." he said, softly confessing to you.

you just look into his eyes, your hand on his cheek, and you lean in slowly. matt's arm moves up and he gently places his hand on your jaw before meeting you halfway, pressing his lips on yours. he could heart your heart quite literally skip a beat, and you let your hand move into his hair.

you pulled away and gently pushed the hair out of his face.

"i can't handle it again. i'm serious. i can't."

he just nodded, and held you close to him as you both drifted to sleep. and for the first time since his death, you slept through the night without any nightmares.

and when you woke up every day after that, he was still there, like he promised he would be.

taglist:

@luvr-bunnyy @glowstick-lesbian @anothersworld @mrbillymontgomery @inas-thing @fuck-goes-on @eddiemvnsonss @nia_um @multibishh @takeyour-pants-off @afootnoteinyourhappiness

EXACTLY!!!

The LA sunlight, happiness, and being free from the throes of chronic depression (even if it's just for a little while) is a good look on you, Matthew 💕

OH MY GODDDD NOOOO YOU CANT DO THIS TO MEEEEE /j /nm /pos

Charlie Cox with kids pt III  🥰

creds: @/lifeofasillygirl on tiktok

headcanon: matt's favorite movie before he lost his sight was top gun, and he was so obsessed with it that he wanted to be a pilot. but of course it changed and especially after his father's death that he wanted to be a lawyer. present day, now hanging out with foggy, karen, and you, the live musician played great balls of fire and you've never seen him this happy jamming to his childhood jam

AND I MEAN LIKE IMAGINE HIS EARS PERKED UP WHEN HE HEARD THE FIRST PIANO NOTES AND HE IMMEDIATELY JUMPED BEING SO EXCITED AND joined the singer to sing and dances with his whole heart and you're just sitting there amazed with a big smile on your face thinking this is the man you love and then he asks you to join dance with him and you said yes and soon the whole bar dances to the song and it just became the best day ever oh my god

Obstinacy

Summary: You get sick and refuse to let Matt help you because you don’t want him to get sick, too — the question is, how long can you keep him away?

Pairing: Matt x fem!reader

Warnings: Some gross pneumonia descriptions, light swearing, nothing else!

A/N: So I’ve been away for awhile, and I’m really sorry about that. I’ve been trying to write my own book and I finished the second draft, so taking the time for fan fiction has been on the back burner lately. But of course with the RETURN OF OUR BELOVED KING on She-Hulk, I had to take the time to write something because IM STILL FREAKING OUT GUYS MATT IS BACK AND HES SO AMAZING AND HOT AND ALLSKJF LSDKFJLSKDJFLSDK

You felt the chest pain on your way home from work — the kind that arrived out of nowhere, as though it dropped from the sky into your lungs, and seriously made you wonder how colds were able to work that quickly. 

Of course, maybe it wasn’t a cold. You kept your hopes up as you cooked dinner, testing your chest a few times with a few large intakes of breath, but each time was the same result: a small tickle in the back, like a little voice saying, Hey, I’m here, and you’re going to be miserable for the next couple of days! 

Which really stunk, if you were being honest. It was getting towards mid-October and you were hoping to carve pumpkins with Matt or do some other corny autumn activity that every other normal couple did in the city. Not that you two weren’t normal. But other couples didn’t really have to contend with the whole I’ll-see-you-later-honey-after-I-beat-up-some-bad-guys-tonight, and you figured it must make movie nights a lot more frequent for most people than it did for you and Matt. That was another thing on your list, too — watching a horror movie to get into the Halloween spirit. 

“I’m not into horror movies,” Matt had said when you’d pitched the idea to him. “Audio commentary kind of kills the whole scary aspect.”

“Then you’re watching the wrong movies. I don’t mean movies with gallons of blood and cheap jump scares. I mean psychological horrors, the kinds that make you stay awake at night because they’re that freaky. We’re doing it, Murdock, whether you want to or not.”

Whether you want to or not, however, didn’t include the extenuating circumstances of getting sick.

It took longer than usual to get up the stairs to your apartment. You felt so drained that you wouldn’t have minded showering and then crashing into bed, if you weren’t hungry. The wind rattled at your windows as you cooked a big pot of rice, enough to last the next few days. You’d bought fixings yesterday to make a homemade curry with it, but one look at your pantry and you scrapped those plans in exchange for half a jar of pesto with a dubious expiration date on it. Matt wasn’t supposed to be over until after seven in the evening, thanks to the unforgiving hours of lawyering, but you called him as you stirred the pesto in with the rice. 

“I was wondering when you’d call,” he said. His voice was lighthearted. 

“Hi,” you said, as casually as possible. “How was your day?”

“I officially reduced the pile of paperwork on my desk from ten inches high to eight inches high, so I’d call it a success. You at your place?”

“Yeah. Hey, I wanted to let you know that I think I’m coming down with something, so maybe you should stay at your own place tonight.” Before Matt could ask, you added, “I’m fine. Just one of the colds that’s going around. But I’d feel horrible if you got it.”

“What about the pumpkins?”

“Pumpkins can wait. I haven’t even bought them yet.”

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed, and your stomach flipped. What a way to boost my self-esteem that he actually likes me. “How about we just don’t share sodas, then?”

You frowned. “Last time this happened, I told you to stay away from me and then you just ended up kissing me. The next day, lo and behold, you started coughing. So, no. Not happening.”

“You kissed me, if I remember correctly.”

“Excuse me? What kind of a lawyer are you? That’s gaslighting, sir.”

He continued, ignoring you. “Maybe I’ll just hear some suspicious noises coming from your apartment tonight. And then I’ll have to investigate, because it’s my civic duty as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. And when I see a beautiful girl, sitting on the couch and pathetically eating rice and pesto alone, I’ll just have to join her. Accidentally, of course.”

“What I’m interpreting from that is that you go cuddle up with any girl that you find eating alone in her apartment.”

“What I’m interpreting is that Matt says he’s doing all these dangerous things at night but really he’s just chilling out while enjoying the lavish praise of being a local superhero,” Foggy said, his voice distant in the background. 

You snorted. “Am I on speakerphone?”

“No,” Foggy answered, sounding far too cheerful for someone working far beyond sunset. “Matt just keeps his phone volume weirdly high for someone who supposedly has super-hearing.”

“I do have super-hearing, Foggy.”

“Then how are you not shattering your eardrums? Between your phone volume and crashing at girls’ apartments to eat rice and pesto, I’m really doubting this whole Daredevil façade,” Foggy said. 

“Anyway,” Matt cut in, “I’ll pop in tonight, just to bring over some food and meds. Do you want anything specific?”

“Matt, really. I don’t want you catching this. And it’s late, you should get home and actually get some sleep for once. I’m fine, it just feels like a cold.” You would have elaborated, but your chest decided to seize at that moment, and you had to trail off quickly before it became apparent in your voice. 

He sort of listened to you that night. He had swung by (through the window? Or with the spare key you’d given him? There was no way to know) and dropped off food, but it was while you were asleep, and it looked as though he’d only gone into the kitchen then left. 

You’d only found the food when you wandered in blearily at three in the morning, sweating and freezing at the same time. There was no point for the thermometer; a fever was obvious and you didn’t particularly care what the number was. The cough was worse, though. It made it hard to fall back asleep — every few seconds you’d feel as though your lungs were spasming, and the back of your throat felt as though it had been bitten by fire ants. 

Sirens rang in the distance. You hoped it wasn’t for something Matt was involved in; not because you didn’t trust him to handle it, but because it was three in the morning and you’d kick his ass if he wasn’t sleeping at this point. 

Then the headache hit you. Maybe you wouldn’t be kicking his ass anytime soon. 

The pressure was enough to make you stumble into the counter as you rummaged for a glass of water. Everything about your arms felt off, as though your muscles had been crushed into powder, and you misjudged your grasp on the glass. It fell, crashing to the floor and skating outwards like a nebula of knives. Automatically you reached for the paper towels, and in your haze you stepped forward. 

Barefooted. 

Glass crunched under your foot and you swore, not at the pain but at your own stupidity. It took another half an hour to bandage up the bottom of your foot and at that point you were too exhausted to finish cleaning up the glass. 

When you woke up next, sun was filtering through your curtains and your mouth was as dry as though you’d swallowed ten cotton swabs. Dazed, you picked up your phone, and squinted at the notifications; one missed call from Matt and a followup text. Quickly you sent him an I’m okay message and then fell back onto your pillow. 

The fever felt worse. Goosebumps ran up and down your legs, but you were simultaneously sweaty under your sheets, so you threw them off to go shower. Only then did you remember the glass you’d stepped on because your foot protested angrily as soon as you placed it onto the carpet. 

Hopping was the only option remaining, and that expended just about every ounce of energy you’d garnered while sleeping, so that you just about collapsed against the bathroom wall, wheezing, by the time you’d made it. And of course that was when your phone rang, so you hopped back to your room, and barely made it in time before it went to voicemail. 

“Hello?” you croaked. 

“That’s all I need to hear. I’m coming over.”

“I… what?”

“Yeah. You sound terrible, Y/N.” Matt’s voice was overly concerned, and you didn’t like it at all; you could practically feel the pity coming off of him. At least, it felt like pity. And that wasn’t what you wanted. 

“Matt, not only will I personally make you rue the day that you step foot in here while I’m sick, but—” You broke off, coughing, and wincing at the same time because you could imagine Matt’s expression on the other end.

“I don’t like talking to you over the phone,” he said in a low voice. “I hate not hearing your heartbeat, hearing your lungs, feeling your temperature. You’re being overruled. I’m coming.”

“Don’t you have to be at the court today?”

“Not until ten.”

Defeated, you flung the phone on the other side of the room. That conversation sucked out everything you had, and you gave up on the idea of taking a shower. The bed looked much more comfortable. It didn’t help that your breaths were getting alarmingly short, and it was difficult to draw in anything more than a quick inhale. Your eyes were closed for about five seconds before they popped back open. 

Matt was coming. Damn it, damn it, damn it. You went to the windows and locked them all, then crossed to the front door. He had a spare key, but you also had a bolt, and you slid it across, feeling somewhat proud of yourself for having made the trek to the entryway. The bar is very, very low at this point. 

You’d run a marathon right now before letting Matt get anywhere near you. That resolve was the only thing penetrating the fog around your head, and you double-checked the windows again. It wasn’t as though he’d be leaping and climbing up to them, anyway; he was coming from the office, and would therefore be in his lawyer suit. With the number of people down on the streets and the broad daylight, Matt would be hard-pressed to make it up to your fire escape without the newspaper headline being BLIND ACROBAT BREAKING AND ENTERING IN HELL’S KITCHEN the next day. 

Sure enough, ten minutes later Matt was outside your door, and his sharp rap on the door did nothing to make you move. You sat at the counter, sipping on some water, and shook your head. “Nope. Not happening.”

“Y/N, I can hear the crackling in your lungs,” he said, his patience more intact than you would have expected. He thinks he’s going to win.

“My lungs aren’t crackling. They’re just… not feeling so hot.” Now overly-conscious of your breathing, you tried to make your breaths smoother and less obviously sick. 

There was a pause on the other side of the door. “You’ve got too fast of a heartbeat. Unlock the bolt or I’ll kick the door down.”

“Yeah, my heart’s racing, because there’s a man threatening to kick my door down,” you said, and feeling inspired, you clicked the on button of the remote next to you. The television flashed to life, showing the weather report, and you turned the volume up. Take that, Matt. “See? No more lung crackling or racing heartbeats.”

The only issue was that now you could hardly hear him. You barely made out his next sentence, it was so faint on the other side of the door. “I can still hear both, you know,” he said, muffled. “You know how many televisions there are in the average block of apartments that I have to filter out every single night?”

“Shit.” You shut the television off. “Listen away, then. It’s not going to change anything because I’m not letting you in.” 

“I wasn’t kidding about kicking the door down.”

“And I’m not kidding about not letting you in. Plus, you’d have some tough questions to answer when my neighbors report you for kicking down my door, Devil Man.”

“Why won’t you accept help when you need it? You really need a doctor.”

“Hypocrite,” you said under your breath, relishing the fact that he could hear you.

“I can hear you.” Just as you’d expected. “And what I do is irrelevant to the fact that you’re currently sitting in your apartment with what’s probably pneumonia.”

“Oh, it’s not pneumonia,” you said dismissively, though you felt awful enough that he was probably right. At least, your lungs seemed to concur with that diagnosis, and as if to verbally agree with him you coughed, wheezing and choking for air.  

“If I didn’t have to be at the court in half an hour, I’d go home and get into the suit just to have an excuse to come through your window right now.” Matt was pissed, that was for sure. There was a dangerous undertone to his voice, softened only by that ever-present concern in what he was saying. 

“I know, Matt.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s a lost cause, alright? Tomorrow I’ll be feeling a lot better and then maybe — maybe — I’ll let you come in. And that’s if we keep all the windows open for fresh air and—”

“Why do I smell your blood?”

You glanced down at your foot. Traitor. It had stopped bleeding ages ago, but you should’ve changed the bandage again one more time before Matt showed up. “I’m… doing acupuncture. On myself.”

“Y/N.”

“Fine. I made a blood oath and pricked my thumb to assure myself that I will never, ever let you catch a sickness from me.”

“In ten seconds this door is coming down unless you tell me. And if you could hear my heartbeat, you’d know I’m not lying.”

“Fine! I just stepped on some glass, okay? But my foot is fine, it’s seen worse days. I mean, you should’ve seen that time that I got a pedicure and the lady told me my heels were the most cracked she’d seen in a long time.” You were rambling, and that wasn’t a good idea, because it made you lose your breath and then you were gasping for air. 

After another five minutes of arguing that ended only when you swore to call the doctor if you got any worse, he left, grumbling that Foggy would kill both of you if he was late for court, and that was the only reason he was giving up — “temporarily”. 

Only when it was too late did you realize that was a mistake, and that you should have let him help.  

It was past two in the afternoon when you woke up from a nap, and every muscle in your body felt as though it were frozen. You were trembling slightly from the cold, but couldn’t muster the energy to even sit up and grab the blanket at the foot of your bed. It was difficult to swallow, and you clutched at your throat, certain that someone must be standing over you and clasping their hands around your neck, but there was no one there. 

“Matt,” you whispered, expecting him to be there, or to hear you, but there was no one. Taking slow breaths, you tried to calm down on your own. One, two, three. One, two, three. All you could manage were short, raspy breaths that hardly got enough air, and your head pounded. Blindly you reached out for your glass of water, and nearly dropped it again, your hands were shaking so much. The feeling of your lips against the rim was like pressing a dried sponge to the edge of a bowl and the water tasted sour in your mouth. 

And then you tried swallowing. It was as though someone had blocked up your throat, because you couldn’t swallow, and you gasped, heart racing as panic flooded through you; for a moment you couldn’t breathe and then you finally coughed up the water, chest heaving from the sharpness of each cough. You grabbed a tissue, hacking into it for at least another thirty seconds, and finally a glob of mucus came up and your airway cleared up just enough that you could breathe a bit more. 

You almost tossed the tissue to the floor without looking at it, but a flash of red caught your eye. 

Blood. In the mucus. 

That was the tipping point for you. Didn’t people die shortly after coughing up blood in the movies? That was how it went. A character coughs, looks into their hand, and then resignedly tucks it away without the other characters seeing. It was like the knoll of death, ringing in your ears. 

You hardly knew what you were doing as you dialed Matt’s number, not even thinking about what you were tapping into your phone but allowing muscle memory to guide you. 

“Hello?” He picked up almost immediately. 

“Matt—” You started to speak his name, but halted; it was too painful. Dropping your voice to a whisper, you started over. “Matt, I think I need you here.”

“What? What is it?” 

“I’m—” You glanced down at the tissue. Literally dying here? That was a surefire way to make Matt have a heart attack. “I’m not doing so well. I might take you up on your offer to help.”

He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be over in five minutes. Did you call the doctor already?”

“No.” The thought of calling the doctor was exhausting on its own. 

Matt seemed to notice that. “I’ll call,” he assured you. “Can you breathe alright?”

“Not really.” Tears were spiking in your eyes and you brushed them away. “I just coughed and… there was some blood in it.” You wheezed for breath, the drawing in of air rattling everything inside of you and getting caught at the top of your throat.

“I’m taking you to a hospital.”

“But—”

“No, sweetheart. You need a real doctor. I’ll be over in a minute.”

Somehow you must have fallen asleep again, because Matt was lifting you from the bed and you wrapped your arms around him. “Can’t breathe,” you whispered, gasping for breath. 

“I know. I can hear your lungs,” Matt said, voice strained. “I’ve got a cab waiting on the street. Can you walk or do you need me to carry you?”

“I… I can walk.” You slung an arm around him and made your way slowly out of the room, limping with every step on your bandaged foot. Matt, to his credit, allowed you to do what you could. His tie was loosened and his suit jacket was gone, but he still wore a button-down, tucked into his pants. 

“Bet you won your case, then,” you whispered, hardly even aware of what was coming out of your mouth. “No one can… say no to this.”

“This?”

“Hm. This.” You meant to nod up and down at Matt, but it came across as more of a head shake. “You.”

And then your assertion that you could walk proved difficult to fulfill, so you redirected your efforts to not face-planting in your living room, despite the strong, steady hands Matt kept on you the entire time. Once you reached your stairs he took over for the most part; your feet were hardly touching the ground with the amount of support he was giving. 

That was where your memory cut out. You must have passed out, because the next time you opened your eyes, it was in the hospital bed, and Matt was reading next to you, his long gaze fixed on the wall in front of him as his fingers danced over the text. 

“Hi,” you whispered lamely. Everything about you was groggy and it was hard enough just to focus on him. 

Him. Only he could look handsome in a hospital. At some point he’d exchanged the suit for a tee shirt and sweats, and his hair stuck out at every angle possible. You wondered vaguely if he’d come from Fogwell’s. 

He set the book down, relief evident on his face. “Hey, sweetie. How are you doing?”

You ignored his question. “How do you always manage to look good?”

He nudged you. “I should be the one asking you that.”

“That’s… the biggest lie I’ve ever heard. Even if you weren’t blind, it’d be a lie.” You closed your eyes, then opened them again. The ceiling was too white. “What happened?”

"Aspiration pneumonia.”

“Hm?”

“You have aspiration pneumonia,” he said. “Which just happens to be a type of pneumonia that’s not contagious.”

You meditated on this. “So?”

“So you could’ve let me into your apartment, that whole time,” he said, looking distinctly indignant, and it was enough to make you laugh. The laugh was short-lived, because it quickly transformed into a wracking cough that made your entire chest throb, but Matt was on his feet in an instant, holding your hand.

Only when the coughing stopped did you remember the bolt on your door. “Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“How’d you get in?”

“Broke down the door, like I promised.”

“Are… are you serious? What about the neighbors?”

He laughed. “You know, breaking down a door isn’t incriminating evidence that I’m Daredevil. I told them you were having an emergency, and when they saw you, they believed me.”

“They saw me?” You didn’t remember an audience when Matt was helping you out of the apartment.

“Well, you were taking your sweet time on the stairs, and coughing loudly enough for anyone in a mile radius to hear you, so yeah, they wanted to see what was happening.”

You buried your face in your hands. “That’s just great. And now, what, is my apartment wide open for anyone to go in?”

“No, I called in a favor with Foggy, and he’s hanging out there until someone can come in and fix it.”

“Even better. Now I’m indebted to Foggy.”

Matt smiled coyly. “Oh, and I should mention—”

“Oh, no. What?”

“—that there’s something else you’ll love about all of this.”

“Stop smiling like that. Why are you smiling like that?”

“Aspiration pneumonia is commonly associated with the institutionalized elderly. In other words, it’s a nursing home problem.”

“A nursing home problem?”

“A nursing home problem,” he confirmed. “I was thinking that maybe for your next birthday I could get you fitted for dentures.”

“Hilarious. Really, so funny. You really should have been a comedian. I swear to you that the next time you get sick, I’m going to make fun of you and you’ll never hear the end of it. Got it?”

He grinned and squeezed your hand. “Murdocks don’t get sick.”

“That is the second biggest lie I’ve ever heard. I seem to recall that time you projectile-vomited off of the Ferris wheel.”

“Because I was motion-sick, not sick-sick.”

Your eyelids were already getting heavy just from the five-minute conversation. You beckoned him closer and leaned onto his shoulder, pressing yourself into his warmth. He smelled like fresh deodorant and coffee. “Pumpkin carving as soon as I can leave?”

“Definitely,” he said, placing your fingers onto the pulse that drummed under his wrist. “And this time, I’m not lying.”

LMAOOOO THIS IS WHAT IVE BEEN THINKING TOO LIKE JEN PROBABLY THINKS "uhhhh and im supposed to know that?? "

matt was shooketh when jen didn't know him as if he doesn't operate out of a literal garbage bin in a random alley in hell's kitchen. mans got on a local newspaper a couple times and suddenly he thinks he's LA famous like no bby girl-

she hulk ep 8

matt murdock is a slutty whore, an essay

have we, as a fandom, like collectively agree on matt's birthday? or is there already a canonical date on matt's birthday? BCS WHEN ARE WE GOING TO CELEBRATE HIS BIRTHDAY?? 😭😭😭

My husband has finally returned from war

Digital drawing of Matt Murdock!

Instagram | Redbubble

Overwhelmed

A/N: Reader has a hard day and basically goes into panic mode. Matt Murdock, perfect boyfriend he is, is there to help.

You’re late. It’s your first day and you’re late. Not for a lack of trying to get there on time, but you got lost. The campus is so immense and it’s your first time taking a class in this building. You realize that you should have toured the building before the semester started, but you didn’t and now you’re late. You race to the classroom, muttering “306, 306, room 306,” to which a passing professor kindly says, “Don’t worry, hun, you found it.” You throw her a grateful smile as you rush into the room, as discreetly as possible (not that it stops every eye in the room from staring at you), only to interrupt a professor in the midst of lecturing. He throws an annoyed look at you and carries on as you try to get settled as quietly as possible. As he goes over the syllabus, you’re trying not to shake as you type out your notes, overwhelmed by the amount of information being thrown at you. You were supposed to have the easy major in your relationship, you think bitterly as the professor explains your final project. Once he wraps up for the day, you rush out of the classroom, trying not to burst into tears at the idea of having to deal with communications theory for 14 more weeks. A class required for your major, only taught by an adjunct who only offered this class for one semester a year, at this one specific time, that you had no chance of doing remotely. You swallow around the lump in your throat as you make your way outside, to where you have to walk to your 5 hour shift at the bookstore for the rest of the night. You can’t wait to get home.

Matt is sitting on the couch, listening to case files for one of his classes when he hears you in the hallway. Even from his position, he can sense the tension radiating off of you, can almost feel the lump in your throat. Oh no, he thinks, pausing the case file and moving to the kitchen. He gets out the fancy tea you like that he knows comforts you on days like this, when your anxiety gets so bad that it’s almost suffocating, and he feels around for your favorite mug, shaped like a pig. He puts the kettle on, and unlocks the door, waiting for you to trudge up the last of the steps to get to your apartment. As you reach the door, Matt opens it for you and you launch at him, enveloped in his arms. You finally let the dam burst and you’re sobbing into his chest as he holds you, rubbing your back as he lets you let it all out. As you calm down after what feels like hours of just crying into your boyfriend, he leads you into the kitchen, where the water for your tea is ready. You watch as Matt maneuvers expertly around, preparing the tea with precision, then he hands the mug to you. The fact that he used your favorite mug almost makes you cry again. You start to drink your tea, and after you calm down further and finish it up, Matt looks in your direction, where you’re sitting on the island.

“So,” he starts soothingly, moving so that he’s situated between your legs, “wanna tell me what’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

“It was just a stressful day,” you say shakily. “I was late, and the class is a lot and with work and my other classes to think about, I spent half of the class thinking about how I can drop it, and when I realized that I can’t if I want to graduate, I spent the other half thinking about dropping out altogether, but I can’t drop out because do you know how much I’ve already paid for these past few semesters? How much my parents paid? And not to mention all the scholarships and grants and stuff, and if I throw it all away that is so much money down the drain, and I just have to get through this semester and then I’ll graduate, but it’s so much to do. And it’s like, I am a communications major, Matty. You’re the fancy lawyer who’s supposed to have the hard major, dammit, not me,” you let out in one breath. The last part makes him chuckle, but he’s still looking at you with concern after watching you work yourself up again. He can taste the tears that have started to well up in your eyes again.

“Baby, look at me,” he says, holding your face. You comply, letting the tears fall. He catches them with his thumb. “First off, how about we make a plan, hm? We can sit down together and plan out how we get you through this semester, with those lists that you love to make, sit down and make a little calendar that you can keep track of. How does that sound?” You nod a little, eyes becoming more focused as you start to formulate a list of assignments and due dates you know are coming up. “Next, you don’t have to worry about the money that was already spent. I have it on good authority that you deserved it, you earned that money from the grants and scholarships. Y/N, you are the best student I know, you work so incredibly hard for all of your many,” he drops a kiss on your nose, “many,” another on your cheekbone, “accomplishments. Your parents are proud of you, and you know they’d support you on whatever path you decide to take. I am so proud of you for getting this far, sweetness. And also, no one will be disappointed or upset if you take a little time to yourself for a while if school is too overwhelming. Got it?” You nod again, head starting to clear up. Because, he’s right. Your parents have supported you your whole life, no matter what decisions you made and what paths you chose. They paid for 4 years of your education for God’s sake. They’re in your corner. Matt continues, a little sheepishly, “and I should have taken you on a tour of the ARC before the semester started, I’ve had classes in that building before, so you being late is kind of my fault. But, on the bright side, now you know where it is. So, honey, we’ll get you through this semester, okay? First days are always overwhelming, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you repeat faintly. You follow it up by meeting his lips with yours. The kiss is slow and sweet, languid almost and you both melt into it. When you break away, he pulls you into another hug, his chin resting on the top of your head. It’s nice, but you’re thinking it could be better as you say, “Matty?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he murmurs softly.

“Take me to bed?” you ask, words starting to slur as the exhaustion caused by the day’s mental state finally sets in. He presses a smile into your hair as he lifts you up.

“Yeah, honey, let’s go to bed.”

matt: is jay z really your favorite artist?

foggy: yeah, obviously!

matt: lie

foggy: your detector skills is busted!

matt: is it? or is your favorite artist really taylor swift?

foggy: pfftt... no..

matt: lie

foggy: alright fine! she is

foggy: she makes me feel things

matt: SHE MAKES ALL OF US FEEL THINGS!!

ok but Matt Murdock is so funny bec he’s like ‘i would never judge anyone ever’ and then proceeds to be the most judgemental bitch ever

THIS IS SO CUTE IM GONNA CRY

his wife and nothing more

pairing: Matt Murdock x reader

warnings: suggestive dialogue

word count: 1,200

summary: Matty wants a housewife and no one can convince me otherwise. fluffy.

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Matt had been spending long hours away from home. The difference this time was that he was spending time at the office, not on the street, which meant that he really couldn’t stay home. He didn’t always make his own hours as a lawyer. He had to make a three week trip to Boston for the case he was working on. Tonight he was back in Hell’s Kitchen and he promised you that he would be home by dinner. He knew how much you missed him, and he hated to leave his girl alone. He hated to be without his girl even more.

When he got into the building he could smell your cooking. You were making his favorite. He could hear the sounds of Aretha Franklin on his record player. A dopey smile spread across his face as he clicked the elevator button, feeling blissfully happy now that he was so close to you. He pulled open the door and began slipping off his shoes and placing his glasses on the shelf by the door.

“I’m home, baby,” Matt called as he put down his bag. When he turned around you were wrapping your arms around him and kissing him lovingly, your tongue sliding into his mouth. You pulled away only when your need for air demanded it, taking in a deep breath. Matt chuckled against your lips.

“I missed you,” you purred.

“I can tell,” Matt said with a smile.

“Never leave me for that long again,” you practically whined.

“Come with me next time,” Matt suggested. You let out a dry laugh.

“Miss three weeks of work and still have a job? You’re funny, Murdock,” you said as you tangled your fingers in the hair at the nape of Matt’s neck. His hands slid around your waist so that they rested on your lower back, his fingertips just barely brushing the swell of your ass. The two of you began slowly swaying to the Aretha Franklin record you had playing.

Matt’s head was tilting a bit as he took in every detail of your presence. He could smell your shampoo still lingering from a shower you must’ve taken that morning. Your heart was beating a bit faster than usual, he assumed from the excitement of his arrival. Then he realized that you were wearing his Columbia sweatshirt. His heart ached as he thought about what it would be like to really see you in his clothes. He had almost lost track of the conversation, but his words came out before he could think better of it.

“Then quit,” Matt said as he leaned in, brushing his nose against yours. He surprised himself, but when he heard the thought out loud he knew that he meant it. “I can take care of you.” His heart stopped for a moment as he thought of what it would be like to have you as his wife and nothing more. Completely and totally taken care of, with nothing to worry about at all. You chuckled.

“We aren’t even married,” you pointed out.

“Not yet,” Matt said assuredly. You raised an eyebrow, a smile dancing across your lips.

“All you have to do is ask,” you said, your voice as sweet as syrup. Matt’s heart warmed. He raised a hand to your cheek, running his fingertips along your soft skin and pushing a few loose pieces of hair out of your eyes.

“Not tonight, sweetheart. You deserve a proper proposal,” he said. You smiled.

“I think you already know the answer anyway,” you said. The corner of Matt’s lips tipped upward and he gave you a quick peck.

“But we’ve got to do something about that job of yours…” Matt said. His tone sounded more serious than teasing and you couldn’t tell if he meant what he was saying.

“Are you serious, Matty? You want me to quit?” You asked.

“I want to take care of you,” Matt said. “And if you let me take care of you, we could be together a lot more.”

“You’re serious about this?” You questioned again, needing to be sure. Matt nodded.

“Business has been good lately. I’m making enough for both of us,” Matt said. You were considering his offer when you had a sudden thought.

“What about when we have kids?” You asked. Matt beamed excitedly.

“Are we having kids?” He asked. You blushed.

“I don’t—I mean—I just thought…” You stuttered. You took a pause. “Do you want to?” You asked. Matt gave you a sweet smile.

“Yes, sweetheart. I want to have kids with you,” Matt assured you. He gave your hips a gentle squeeze. “I want to give you a family.”

“Well, I’ll need a job for us to be able to take care of them,” you said.

“No, you don’t.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Matt, if you’re making so much money then why are we still living in this neon lit atrocity of an apartment?” You asked. Matt chuckled.

“I thought you liked it here,” he said. You rolled your eyes.

“I do, but there’s a reason the rent’s so cheap,” you replied.

“I have something worked out. You don’t have to worry that pretty little head, baby,” Matt said.

“What are you talking about?” You asked. Matt paused for a moment, nervous about telling you what he’d done.

“I bought us a townhouse in Astoria,” Matt admitted.

“You bought a house?!” You exclaimed in question. Matt nodded.

“It’s got three bedrooms, we’ll have plenty of room for kids. There’s a fireplace in the living room and a basement that I was gonna renovate so you could have your own space,” he said. You looked at him in awe, taking a moment to process everything he was saying. Matt started getting nervous that you weren’t responding. “If you don’t like it—”

“Can we go see it?” You asked. Matt’s heart lifted. He had been worried that you might be upset for making such a big move without asking you, but he had also wanted to surprise you. He was quite the fan of grand romantic gestures when it came to you. He’d never met anyone like you. He wanted to give you everything and he’d been working harder at his day job to make that dream a reality.

“Not today, the current family’s still living there,” he explained. “In two weeks.” You took a moment and realized just how much Matt loved you, how serious he was about you.

“You bought a house for us,” you said in amazement, your voice just barely a whisper. Matt smiled softly.

“For you, sweetheart. Everything I do is for you,” he whispered back. You leaned up and kissed him tenderly, running your fingers down his chest.

“I love you, Matty. So goddamn much,” you said.

“Language,” he chided. You chuckled. You reached up to rest your arms on his shoulders, linking your fingers together at the nape of his neck.

“Matthew Murdock,” you murmured to yourself. “My good catholic boy. How did I ever get so lucky?”

“I’m the lucky one,” Matt said. You scoffed.

“Yeah, the one who bought the house is the lucky one,” you said. Matt chuckled.

“I was hoping to get lucky tonight too,” he said with a smirk.

“You don’t want your dinner?” You asked.

“I think I can find something else to eat.”

isolation

Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: Based on 2.2 when Matt becomes deaf after a gun fires close to his head. You are there to try to comfort Matt as he is unable to see or hear. Hurt/comfort. 

Warnings: Injuries, blood, mentions of guns, Catholicism

A/N: I haven’t posted a fic in like 2 years, but Matt is bringing me out of hibernation. 

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im sorry for you guys who are following me because the second i see matthew michael murdock in she-hulk on my 4k ultra high resolution plasma flat screen television i will obtain 83 gifs of one scene and plaster all of them all over your following page, so that everyone, young and old, close and far, will be converted to mattmurdockism by my singlehanded endeavors

Tiny