Castle In The Sky

Castle in the Sky

Summary: You try sparring with Matt because he wants you to learn self-defense. A minor bump to the head, as it turns out, opens up many doors.

Pairing: Matt x f!reader

Warnings: Hit to the head, some physical intimacy (but no smut)

A/N: Haven't written in months because I've been working on a writing project of my own but here I am again!! I'm absolutely THRILLED to see the new photos of Born Again and I'm also dying to watch Kin season 2 (haven't been able to watch it yet unfortunately).

"Matt, I know it probably pains you to hear this, but I'm seriously going to be a waste of your time."

"You could never be a waste of my time."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but really, I don't think you understand just how bad this is going to go."

"It'll go fine. Just give it a shot." Matt was in a tee and shorts, an excited energy in the way he beckoned you forward. Training, he called it. Self-defense lessons.

It sounded more like a painful exercise to you.

"Besides," you continued. "Let's say I was walking down the street and some malicious guy approached me with a knife and was all, Give me your money or I'll kill you—"

Matt scowled. "If that ever happens, I'll kill him first."

"In that situation," you pressed on, "I guarantee that I would freeze. Any punches or flying kicks or whatever that you have tried to teach me would be sitting uselessly in the recesses of my mind. I'd be scared or disbelieving and I wouldn't even move. Really."

"It wouldn't hurt to try learning, sweetheart."

You sighed. "I'll try, for your sake, but don't think that I don't see through your motivations."

"My motivations?"

"You just want to kick my ass and then laugh as I succumb to your ninja skills."

"It might possibly be a contributing factor."

You gave him a light push. "Alright, then. So you really think you can teach me something?"

"Sure. Anyone can learn." Matt quickly pushed the sofa backwards and faced you, suddenly appearing much more imposing than he did when... well, when he wasn't about to spar with you. You lifted up your hands uncertainly, trying to mimic the boxing pose you'd seen him take on in Fogwell's.

"Okay. That's your first mistake," Matt said, stepping forward to grab your wrists and adjust them.

"How did I already screw up? I only lifted my hands."

"When you're assuming a defensive stance, you don't want to keep your hands that low. It's better to keep them up a bit higher to protect your ribs and face."

He moved your hands upward. "Good. You've got your thumbs right."

"See, I know what I'm doing," you said dryly. "Next time I get attacked on the street they'll be intimidated by my correct thumb placement."

"And you'll be grateful that your thumbs aren't broken after you throw a punch. I learned that the hard way." Matt paused for a moment. "I made the mistake of putting my thumb out. Stick didn't tell me. He said he thought it'd be a good way for the lesson to stick if there was a physical reminder."

"Bastard. Now I want to learn how to fight." You lifted up your fists. "Because if I ever get the chance to meet Stick, I assure you that he will be very familiar with my fists."

"I appreciate that support, but if that ever happens, I very vehemently would recommend against that." Matt held out his hands. "Attack me. I want to see what your fighting style is."

"You mean my fighting style or lack thereof?"

"Just go for it." Matt stood there confidently, his hands crossed in front of him casually and his eyes trained on your collarbone.

"I don't want to hurt you," you said uncertainly. "I mean, I know how dumb that sounds, because you're freaking Daredevil, but it feels wrong to just... throw a fist at you."

Matt only laughed. "Sweetheart, you won't hurt me."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Um." You considered your hands, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "Don't judge me, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Tentatively you sent a fist towards the left side of his abdomen. You expected him to just sidestep it, especially since it was a slow-moving punch — you didn't have the heart to put all of your strength into it, no matter what he said — but instead he blocked your arm, braced his other arm against your own, and forced you to twist around until your back was against his front and his arm was around your neck. "Come on, sweetheart, you can do better than that."

He was taunting you, and it worked. "Fine," you said, and you tossed your elbow back with the intention of slamming it into him, but it hardly did anything at all; he took the blow as though you'd thrown a marshmallow at him.

"Go for the groin," he advised.

"Don't have to tell me twice," you said, lifting up your knee with the intention to nail him, but he took the opportunity to sweep your other leg out from under you. You fell to the floor, groaning. "I thought you wanted me to try getting you in the groin?"

"And I wanted to show you how that makes it easy for an assailant to knock you down. One foot on the ground is a surefire way to have zero feet on the ground."

"Come on, you kick all the time — flying kicks, spinning kicks, twirly-whirly kicks—"

"I don't do twirly-whirly kicks. And you can go for the groin, occasionally, but only when the timing is right and you won't get knocked down."

"I promise you that if I somehow manage to get in a fight with someone, the last thing I'll be doing is analyzing whether or not the timing is right for a groin kick, Matt."

"Okay. Try a heel palm strike." He took your arm and guided you through the movement, flexing your wrist and showing you how to pull your arm back quickly. "And go for the nose, or throat, if you can. That's effective. The ears are a good target, too. It's disorienting, even for someone who doesn't rely on their hearing to move around."

You gave him a look. "Please tell me that you don't get your ears boxed on a regular basis."

"Only twice." Matt kept going before you could say anything else. "There's several escapes I want to show you, in case you're ever being held against your will."

He proceeded to demonstrate to you the different ways you could free yourself, whether you were held in a headlock or your hands were tied; for his sake you tried to do as best as you could, though you felt fairly certain that each time you "freed" yourself, it was Matt letting you go, so you could experience the maneuver fully.

"Now get down," he said.

"On the floor?"

"For escaping while mounted. Lie on the floor, on your back."

"Why do I feel like you have ulterior motives?" you asked, smirking at him as you obeyed. He climbed on top of you and grabbed both of your wrists with a devious glint in his eyes.

"Never said I wouldn't enjoy myself," he said. He locked his legs around your waist and grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them to the floor. "So, if you ever find yourself in a position like this — God forbid — then what you're going to do is—"

"Panic and wait for the devilishly handsome Daredevil to show up and rescue this damsel in distress?" At Matt's expression, you backpedaled. "I'm kidding. Kidding. I'll fight back."

"Even though your wrists are pinned, your hands themselves are still free. Try to grab my wrist with your left hand."

You tugged, and Matt allowed you to pull your hand over so that you had your left hand securely locked around his wrist. "And what if my assailant is too strong and I can't do this?"

"Odds are that no matter how strong they are, if you can start kicking with your legs, spit in their face, or scream — anything to distract them — they're not going to be 100% focused on your one left wrist. They'll be contending with your flailing legs."

"Okay," you said doubtfully. "So I just grab your wrist... then—"

"Put your foot on my hip, push, and pull at my wrist simultaneously."

"But you've locked yourself around me," you said, struggling fruitlessly. "How am I supposed to move my legs?"

"Roll onto your hip. It'll create space. And if you can, reach up and grab the ear of the assailant, then pull them to the side."

"I'm not testing the ear move on you," you said firmly. "Nope."

"I second that," he admitted. "But try the hip roll."

To your surprise, it actually worked. And this time, you felt the natural shifting of your bodies, so that you could even slightly believe that it would work on your assailant no matter how big or strong they were. You rehearsed the move with Matt several times, swapping out which hand you used to reach up to him.

"Okay. Again, and faster. Real-time, if you can. And at the end, I want you to roll out all the way, and get out from under me," Matt said.

"Okay," you said, feeling that things wouldn't bode too well for you if Matt was going to put an ounce of effort in, but you got back in position. He grabbed both of your wrists, this time digging his knees painfully into your ribs, just enough for it to hurt without doing any real harm. You gasped, struggling for breath, and lunged forward to loosen yourself slightly, trying to roll over to no avail.

"Try again," Matt said, and you did, spontaneously leaning upwards as you jerked to the left and reached for his wrist. Once you had it, you pulled as hard as you could, pushing your knee against him. You could feel him yielding a bit, going easy on you — which slightly pissed you off even though you knew you'd have no chance against him otherwise — but at the same time it was still exhilarating.

Finally you freed yourself, and rolled out to the left and onto your knees, just as Matt followed through with your shove and lunged to block you.

"Keep going," he urged. "Get back on your feet."

You obeyed, adhering to his commands as he gave them, and it really was like a waltz once you got into the rhythm, dodging and learning to recognize which hand motions meant what.

"Now try dodging a new type of punch," he said, as a way of warning. "I'll be coming from this side over here."

"Which way do I go? To the left?"

"Right. And be ready, because this time I'm going to fight back more."

You weren't quite sure how it happened, though. The sweep of his arm, as you put all your weight to the left, resulted in you losing your balance and toppling over the follow-through of his leg, your arms to the side and unable to get forward quickly enough to brace yourself as your head made a beeline for the edge of the coffee table.

The impact it made felt as though someone had hammered a nail into the top of your forehead. You yelped, hand now free so that it could jump to the spot of impact.

Matt's reaction was visceral; like a TSA agent oddly eager to frisk, he had his hands out and seeking the exact spot where your forehead currently felt like the site of an excavation. "Dammit, I'm sorry — are you okay?"

"I'm okay. Sorry. I didn't think that would happen."

"Why'd you go left?"

"You told me to go left."

"No, I said right."

You snorted despite yourself, closing your eyes against the ebbs of pain. "I interpreted 'right' as 'correct'. My bad."

"No, it's my bad, I should have—"

"Not your fault at all," you managed, brushing at your head. You expected blood, but it was dry. "Just a bump. I should have seen that coming."

"You probably have a concussion." Matt's tone was strangled, his left hand cupping the back of your head while his right grazed the bump. "I could call Claire, and have her come over—"

"Uh, no." The thought of having Matt's practically on-call nurse drop everything she was doing to come help you was mortifying. "I don't even think I have a concussion. Ask me my name. Bet I can ace any question you've got." Physically you pulled his hand away from your head. "Matt, really. It's okay."

"You're trying to mollify me."

"You're too worried," you said playfully. "It'll take more than a little bump to take me out. If you can get sliced up by the Yakuza, I think I can handle a love tap from the coffee table."

"That wasn't a love tap. I could hear the impact on your skull. And I can feel the heat already from the bruise forming."

"See, we don't need Claire. I'll never need to go to a hospital again with you around." You patted at your head and ignored the accompanying stab of pain that would otherwise have made you flinch if Matt wasn't there to detect it. "Can we go through the move again?"

"No."

"But you were the one who wanted me to learn in the first place."

"We'll go to Fogwell's another time," he said. "Someplace with floor mats and no sharp coffee table edges."

You rolled your eyes, but you could already see that his mind wasn't going to budge. He sat in a crouch, his head still tilted towards you as though he couldn't help keeping a constant monitor on your head, and it struck you, with the position he was currently in, how easy it would be to knock him over.

"Cow tipping!" you hollered at him, diving forward and throwing all of your weight against his side; from his crouched position on the tips of his feet, there was nowhere to go but sideways, and for one delicious microsecond, Matt Murdock, the same man you had seen balance precariously on fire escapes and jump nimbly from roof to roof, was forced to fumble his arms out in time to catch himself as he fell to his left. You leapt atop him, straddling his chest with your knees.

"You took down a blind man who was trying to help you," he mocked. "Shame on you. Were you faking the head pain, too?"

"I'm not that devious," you said. "Say mercy and I'll let you go."

Matt tipped his head back against the floor, his eyes reflecting the evening sunlight as it came out from behind the clouds. Without seeming to notice, his hands crept up the outside of your thighs, making goosebumps prickle on your skin. "You think that I need your acquiescence in order to get up?"

You leaned forward, pressing your hands against his shoulders. The muscles tensed under your fingertips, the biceps under your thumbs ready to spring into action at any moment. "As far as I'm concerned, right now I've conquered you, and if anyone were to see us then I think they'd agree with me."

"It's touching to see how much this means for you," he said. "I'll let you enjoy your victory for a bit longer."

"And then?"

"And then I get to win." His voice was lower, reminiscent of the devil, and your stomach dropped. Still you could feel the muscles poised under your hands, and you could feel your blood rising into your cheeks as his own hands crept lower.

You egged him on. "You can try," you said. "I'm warning you, though, that I could beat you whenever I want, easily. I just like to pretend I'm not as strong as I actually am. Wouldn't want to hurt the ego of Daredevil."

"Of course. How thoughtful of you, sweetheart."

"Yeah, you know me."

"I'm guessing that was you who took down the trafficking ring a few nights ago, then? Left all those men unconscious in the alley?"

"Uh, obviously." You leaned in closer. "That's why you've got to play nice, Murdock. If I get mad, I might just go all Hulkish on you and you'll be begging for my mercy—"

Quickly enough that you jumped, startled, Matt rolled out from underneath you with even more ease than you would have expected, and with a swift grab of your wrists, he pinned you down beneath him, just like earlier when you sparred.

"You were saying?" he asked, grinning. Immediately you tried the move that had worked on him previously — he definitely was going easy on you earlier, then — but this time he blocked it. You scowled, and tried again; once more it yielded nothing.

"You're not getting up until you make some amendments to what you were saying, Y/N."

"Well, let me clarify," you began, and Matt's lips lifted upwards as he began to smirk.

Nope. He's not getting any satisfaction yet.

"I'm currently giving you the impression that you've won," you continued, and his expression shifted, as though he were trying not to laugh. "It's an important part of keeping your ego up, of course. Every so often I like to give you these little nuggets of delusion."

"Nuggets of delusion," Matt repeated.

"Sure. I'm selective with them. But when I feel like you need a bit of a self-esteem boost, then bam, you've got it. So right now, I'm giving you a nugget. It's all part of my strategy." You lay beneath him, the floor hard on your back, as he seemed to mull over what his response was going to be.

Instead, he simply took your wrists and moved them above your head, where he pinned both to the floor with his left hand and then moved his right hand down to your throat.

"What?" you managed. "You don't like delusion nuggets?"

"I want you to admit you're lying."

"But you already know I'm lying."

"I want the verbal confession."

"I confess to nothing," you said stubbornly, your heart picking up as his thumb brushed over the center of your throat.

"Try again, sweetheart. And remember that I know where you're most ticklish."

"Uh... you are by far the strongest man I've ever met and I could never compare to you?"

"And what else?"

"I love you?" you said, your voice higher than usual, because damn, Matt leaning directly above you was distracting.

"Better." He released your wrists and pulled you up into him.

You buried your head into his chest, sighing. "Can't believe you just tackled a concussed person to the floor."

"That was not a tackle. That was... one percent effort. Even half a percent." He paused a moment. "And you said the bump wasn't anything to be concerned about."

"Mm. Did I lie?" you asked him, kissing his hand.

"No," he admitted. "But I still don't trust you."

"You shouldn't. Because the next time you're tying your shoes, or cleaning out underneath the oven or something, I'm totally going to cow tip you again."

"Seriously? 'Cow tipping'? Did you make that up?"

"For a guy who knows everything, I'm appalled you don't know what cow tipping is."

"Please tell me you've never actually shoved a real cow over."

"You really do think poorly of me," you said, stretching. "Just you wait, Murdock. When you least expect it, you shall be cow tipped again. Just you wait."

Daredevil wasn’t just some silly superhero show. It grappled with big subjects like ethics, justice, religion, self-worth, friendship, disability, and family. The character of Matt Murdock meant so much to me as someone struggling from severe mental illness–seeing someone with a condition be a literal superhero was so uplifting for me back in 2015 when I was still neck deep in debilitating symptoms. And now in 2018, even though I’ve been stable for nearly 3 years, seeing Matt struggle with suicidal ideation really hit home. I can’t even imagine what he meant to people with physical disabilities. 

Not to mention Daredevil was just such a high quality show. The cinematography. The fight choreography. The acting. Charlie Cox deserves an award. Hell, all the actors deserve awards. The writing!! You rarely see that kind of quality and nuance in a superhero show. What they managed to pull off with FAR less a budget than what the main MCU movies get was amazing.

I’m going to miss this show so dearly. At least at the end of s3, Matt came to a place of knowing his own self-worth surrounded by loving friends, having kicked Wilson Fisk back into prison, and a bright future ahead of him. But we won’t get to see that future and it’s utterly heartbreaking.

That last line??! It’s everything

Hiii

I LOVE your work, and I was wonderful if you could write something with hurt/comfort with Matt Murdock?

Like you were coming home late and someone was following you home, and Matt hears you heart beat and comes to find you juste before the creepy person makes a move on you? And the reader is like “I’m fine, I’m okay” even tho she crying very hard and can’t breathe and Matt is like “no you’re not, but it’s okay I’ll take care of you” and then he takes care of reader and it’s fluff and comfort?

Thank youuuuu

Savior (Matt Murdock x Reader)

A/N: Hiiii! Thank you for reading! It's a short ficlet, but I ended up really liking how it turned out! Also, Charlie Cox is so, so PRETTY. A special thank you to my beta reader @wheredidiputmyfish for being so great! <3 (Word Count: 1.0k)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAGLIST

You didn’t fully comprehend the predicament you were in until it changed from sketchy to dangerous. Hell’s Kitchen was especially quiet that night, though the argument could be made that it never fully went to sleep. Bodegas, laundromats, and diners stayed open late into the night, and it was the light spilling from their fogged windows that lit your route home.  

You knew Matt wouldn’t be happy with your decision to walk home alone. He’d warned you time and time again to wait for him, or get a taxi if he wasn’t around, but taxis were expensive, and he hadn’t answered your call earlier. Now, you cursed yourself for not waiting. 

The man behind you had been following you for thirteen blocks – you'd counted in nervous breaths – and he was gaining on you. You walked at an increasingly rapid pace, heart thundering as you blindly dug through your bag for the pepper spray Foggy had gifted you when you’d moved to the city. It was big and a stark blue, with the words “I Heart NY” stamped around it, but your hands were shaking so badly that even if you could find it in the black hole that was your tote bag, you weren’t sure you’d be able to use it.

You turned the corner, nervously glancing at the stranger out of the corner of your eye, and almost yelped at the proximity he had gained. He was within ten feet of you, and you didn’t give yourself a chance to hesitate before you took off running. 

“Hey!” He called. 

You ignored him, pushing your legs to move faster. You could see the entrance to your building, a tiny speck in the distance, and you prayed Matt was close enough to hear your racing heart. The man’s feet pounded on the concrete behind you, and you let out a wild shriek that you hoped would alert someone nearby. If it was heard by anyone, they didn’t make it known. You were alone, and the man was so close to you now that you knew you’d be grabbed by him before you could make it to the safety of your building.  

Arms wrapped around your middle, hauling you into an alley. You began shrieking at the top of your lungs, if only to make it harder for your attacker to get away with whatever he planned to do. 

“Leave me alone! Stop!” You fought with all your might, swinging and kicking wildly in front of you in a last-ditch effort to get away. “Get off me, you fucking creep!”  

Hands cradled your face. 

“It’s me. It’s me, sweetheart.” Matt’s smooth voice coaxed your eyes open. You hadn’t even realized they were closed. “You’re safe, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” 

You blinked up at him in relief. Your heart thundered in your chest, making it hard to breathe. He wasn’t in his Daredevil suit, but the way he clenched his jaw told you that the Devil was itching to come out and play.  

“There was a man,” you started, voice scratchy from the screams you’d let out, “He was following me. I-I know I should’ve waited for you to come get me, but I didn’t want to bother you and then this guy showed up and I was trying to find the pepper spray but-” You were rambling now, gulping in air and waving your arms around as you explained.  

“Are you okay?” Matt asked, softly caressing the curve of your cheekbone.  

“Yeah.” You nodded. The lie tasted ashy on your tongue.  

“You’re crying, sweetheart.”  

“I-I’m fine.” You stuttered, attempting to blink the tears away. “I’m fine.” You tried again, but your voice wobbled as the words left your lips. You couldn’t tell if you were trying to convince him or yourself at that point. Matt nodded along with you, kissing your temple.  

“Let’s get you home, okay? You’re safe now. No one will ever hurt you again, okay? I’ve got you.” He led you to the apartment you shared with him, only letting go when you sunk into the cushions of the couch. “I’m going to make you some tea, okay?” 

“Okay.” Your voice was wispy, barely audible to anyone besides Matt, who had tuned himself to you so thoroughly that you sometimes felt like he could read your thoughts. Like right then, as the thought entered your brain, and he responded before you could even finish the thought. Some Chamomile tea would be grea- 

“Is Chamomile alright?” He called, clinking the mug against the counter. 

“Yeah, Matty. Thank you.” You breathed through your anxiety and wondered what happened to the man who’d been following you. 

- 

Later that evening, after he’d drawn you a bath and tucked you into bed, the Devil finally got what he wanted. Matt hadn’t mentioned it to you, but he’d been diligently tracking the stranger’s heartbeat since he’d intervened earlier that evening, and as soon as your heartbeat evened out, suggesting your deep slumber, Matt was jumping across rooftops towards the irregular heartbeat he’d been listening to all evening.  

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do once he got his hands on the guy who had followed you earlier. The blood curdling scream you’d let out was indication enough of your fear, and it echoed in Matt’s ears as he got closer to his target. 

He wouldn’t kill the man. That wasn’t a line Matt was willing to cross, but the thought certainly crossed his mind. If he’d put his hands on you, touched you with his filthy awfulness, Matt might’ve been angry enough to do it, though, and that terrified him. He’d never been so close to murder before, besides maybe with Fisk, but no one fucked with you and got away with it. He wouldn’t kill the guy, but he’d hurt him. Badly.  

Matt took a deep breath and let the Devil creep out. May God have mercy on the stranger’s soul, because the Devil surely wouldn’t.

Tag List:

@xleiaorgana @mukbee @soft-emo-enby @purple-amaranthe @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @mossexe @alina02 @spikedhe4rt @fictional-hooman @thedevilwearsblack @merleisapartygod @legocity2 @violet-19999 @quackson03 @certifiedhunter @shoxji @layazul @dumb-fawkin-bitch @americaarse @lazyxsquirrel @honeysucklepotter @m0nster-fvcker @matthewmurdockswhore @thatgirljayy @hiyabyeyababy @scoliobean @infinityisbright @myguiltypleasures21 @thegirlwiththeeyes1297 @goddesspsyche @mxxnligxt @ladamari68 @dnxgma @evyiione @twsssmlmaa @gpenguin666 @desert-fern @day-dreaming-goddess @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @deliciousfestsalad @lilyevans1 @22carolina08 @definitelynotsugar @casualchaoticdevil @peachy-flxwr @nashja @xshewayout @blep--bloop @kpopgirlbtssvt

matt murdock is an overachiever in everything he does and loving people is no exception

hands off | matt murdock

matt murdock x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k

warnings: ADULT CONTENT MINORS DNI (mutual masturbation, mxf intercourse, dirty talk) swearing, established relationship

a/n: okay. OKAY! okay. be gentle with this one because it’s my first matt fic!!! also, i saw this video on tik tok about ppl doing this game thing, but idk who posted it first and i don’t have the videos, but that’s where the dies comes from. also this is literally just smut, don’t even look at me ITS BEEN A LONG WEEK. okay bye. literally posting this and running away to sleep bc i am afraid BYE.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Sooo? You like it?” You keep to your side of the couch as Matt brings the glass up to his mouth for a second time. He hums, swallowing and licking his lips, and you have to bite down on your own to control yourself.

Asshole.

“It’s…”

“What?”

“Sweet.” His voice rumbles. You think you should have tied yourself down or something, because there’s no way you can win this stupid bet if he was going to keep teasing you like this. He wasn’t even doing anything, really. Everything he did seemed to turn you on in some way or the other, especially now, as the alcohol starts to kick in, warmth spreading through your face, flowing all the way down.

Weiterlesen