Matt Murdock Fic - Tumblr Posts

The Lawyers 2

PART 1 // PART 3 // PART 4

Pairing: Matt Murdock x GN!Reader

Words: 1,216

A/N: here’s the second part that people wanted, and I had some help from @pbeckn26 (thank you, by the way)

A/N 2: also you have the same abilities as Matt but not as blind as him

After unpacking the last box into your new apartment, you flop down onto the couch. Ever since you called things off with Matt, you’ve managed to find a place almost immediately.

You had to sell your last apartment since most of the time, you were at Matt’s.

The past few days, you’ve been cooped up in your new home, never really leaving the place, only going out to get some fast food. 

Foggy and Karen have offered to help you unpack, but you wanted to do it yourself. They’ve also tried to get you to come out to Josie’s, but you had a feeling that they were gonna bring Matt, who you can’t face right now.

Hearing knocks at the door, you groan, not really wanting to deal with people. But concentrating on the heartbeat, you knew it was someone you never thought you’d need right now.

“It’s open,” you say, knowing the man on the other side of the door could hear you.

The door clicks open with taps and footsteps coming in. The door closes with a whack from the tap-maker.

Feeling the tap-maker, knowing it’s his walking guide, pat your leg a few times, you sit up before shuffling over to make room for the old man. He feels you rest your head against his shoulder, having him do the same against your head.

Silence sits there between the both of you two; it’s comfortable. You’ve known Stick longer than Matt has. 

“What’s going on between you and him?”

Looking down, you grab one of his hands to start playing with it. He knew that it was one of your anxious moves; you knew that he trained you to not get close to people. 

‘Cause this was the outcome.

“You were right. I should’ve listened to you. I shouldn’t have gone close to people; ‘cause one way or another, they leave.”

“When was the last time you went out?”

“Last night, doing the night jo-”

“Properly.”

“...the night I knew he was with her; was with Karen and Foggy at Josie’s.”

Feeling his body shift, you knew he was getting up, so that’s what you let him do. “Get ready to go.”

Not even asking on where you were going, you just followed his order.

Sweat beads on your forehead before it steamed down your face. Stick knew taking you to Fogwell’s would help release the tension and anger out of you.

In the corner of your eyes and from your swinging at the punching bag, you saw the old man walk out, yourself thinking that he needed to go to the toilet or get something to eat.

Not focusing on who just walked back in, you got more angry from the voice. “Uh, hi, (Y/N). Can we talk?”

With one final blow to the punching bag, it goes flying towards the owner of the voice, just missing their body. Their eyes meet yours after they watched what just happened with the bag. 

Your chest was calming down from the heaving breathing your body went through. “What is there to talk about, Jennifer?”

Jennifer took a few steps forward as you were grabbing another punching bag and dragging it over, one handedly. 

“Matt hasn’t been doing well. He hardly leaves his apartment; when he does, it’s only for him to go to work. And he hasn’t been going out at night either, and not sleeping enough.”

“Unfortunately, Jennifer,” you lift the bag onto its hook and looking at the She-Hulk past it, “I couldn’t give two shits what’s going on with him. He knew that there are consequences to actions, some stronger than others.”

It was a lie. You cared a lot, but you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it.

“Can you please just come see him?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I- I don’t know.” She watches you move to your back whilst unwrapping your hands. “We haven’t done it since. It was a second time fling. We just wanted to see if there was anything there, but there wasn’t. He still loves you.”

The next morning:

Balancing the holder of coffees in one hand and holding a bag of baked goods in the other, you open the door to the attorneys with your hip. 

Karen squealed at the sight of you. You and Matt cringe a bit at the noise, which Karen immediately noticed. “Sorry! I forgot about the super hearing.” She takes the coffees and baked goods away from you before giving you a hug.

“Karen, it’s only been a few days,” you chuckle out.

“Few days too long.” She presses a kiss to your cheek before separating from the hug. 

When you look at Foggy, he’s already munching on his baked good and sipping away at his coffee. “Foggy! You don’t even know if that was yours.” Karen scolded him.

“They get the same thing for us. And I couldn’t wait! They bring the best stuff.”

Karen rolls her eyes before getting her things. She looks at you and asks, “Would you like to give him his things? He’s in his office.” Nodding, you grab the cup holder and bag from the table and walk to the said office.

Gently tapping the door with the tip of your shoe, you hear a quiet, “Come in.” Doing so, you nudged the door closed.

Looks like Jennifer was right. Matt looks like he hasn’t slept since you left. 

Placing the bag and holder on the desk, you place the baked good on a napkin on the side for him. “Give me your hand,” which he does. You help him wrap his hand around the coffee cup.

He feels your presence close to him as you’re leaning against the desk. Sipping his coffee, he hears you speak up. “Jennifer came to see me yesterday at Fogwell’s, talked about you.” 

He looks at you, his eyes widened. “Jennifer came to see you? Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she did, and she’s okay. I didn’t hurt her if you’re worried about her. I did hurt the punching bag though, made it go flying.”

Furrowing his eyebrows, he places his cup on his desk to grab one of your hands. “Any major injur-”

“Nothing’s broken, only small bruises. Stick checked when I got back home.”

“Stick was with you?”

“He somehow knew I hadn't left the house properly, only to go to the nightly jobs.”

Matt immediately stands up, dropping your hand in the process. He picks you up to sit you on his desk before standing in between your legs. His hands go to your sides, pressing against them. Once he heard you groan in pain, he asks, “What happened?”

“What do you think? I got taken down, thinking I could take on 10 guys at once. I took down eight of them, but one of the last two had a gun and shot me in the side. Bullet gave itself an exit wound, though.”

Nothing is said for the next minute. Matt closes his eyes and gently bumps his head against yours. “I love you.”

“Matt, I- I can’t do this right now.”

That was the last thing you said before you left his office, bidding your goodbyes to Foggy and Karen.

Matt just stands where he is, feeling his heart break again.

MARVEL TAGS

@lilian-maximoff - @spnfanboy777 - @wolf-knights - @blurredx18 - @emmaandkodak - @lvrsath​

The Lawyers 3

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 4

Pairing: Matt Murdock x GN!Reader, Frank Castle x GN!Reader

Words: 630

Crashing through your apartment’s window in the very early morning, you groan in pain as you land on your wounded side, which is covered in blood and bruises. “Fuck.”

“Never would have thought I’d hear that leave your mouth.” After hearing the voice, you jump to your feet, a plant pot in hand, ready to throw.

“What the fuck, Frank?” The pot plant slips out of your hand, splitting into pieces of shards and dirt. “How’d you get into my apartment?”

“Came through the same window you came in, but I didn’t fall over.”

“I- why are you here?”

“I heard about you and Red, wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“Why start now?” Placing a hand on your wound, you walk to the bathroom, Frank following you. As soon as you sit on the side of the tub, Frank leans against the doorframe. “Why start caring now? You don’t give a shit about him, and you and I haven’t talked since him and I got together, only when we see each other on some night jobs.”

“Where’s your kit?” Pointing at the sink, he goes to it to grab the first aid kit at the bottom of him. You watch him do it before he kneels in front of you, in between your legs. 

His hands grab the bottom of your shirt, waiting for the go-to. He sees you raise your arms as far as they could go, letting him peel your shirt off to show a slash across your stomach, blood continuing to pool out.

As he cleans away at it, he lets you fist his shirt. He watches the blood flow down to your legs and collect on the sides of the bathtub. 

“You can’t keep going out, especially if this is what happens.”

“Well, it’s not like he’s doing anything, or you.”

Once finished and the wound is bandaged, Frank stands up, still in between your legs. He watches you lean your head against his stomach. “I don’t know what to do, Frank.”

Nothing is said for a short moment before you feel his hands cup your face, lifting it up to meet his. As soon as you look into his eyes, his lips are pressed against yours. 

Separating from the kiss, your foreheads are pressed against each other. 

“(Y/N)?!” The both of you hear from the lounge.

“Bathroom!” Footsteps come to the said room, having enough time for Frank to be leaning against the sink and not like the both of you just kissed.

“I’ve been trying to call- oh fuck! What happened?” Karen exclaimed, eyes widened. 

“Work,” was all that was said from you, which she knew what you meant.

“Have you heard from Matt?”

“No, not since I left the office after yesterday morning with your coffees.”

“And why would they hear from him?” Frank asks, getting Karen’s attention.

“I’m sorry, why does it concern you, Castle?”

“Because I’m their friend, and I care about them.” Frank gets up from the sink and walks towards her. He stops when you step in front of him.

“Go make something to eat,” you tell him. Looking back at Karen, he walks out of the bathroom and to the kitchen.

As you sit back down on the tub, Karen crosses her arms. “When did he get here?”

“When I came back from patrol, which was around 10 minutes ago. He helped me with the cut,” you answered, pointing at the bandage. “Now, why are you asking about Matt?”

“He didn’t come to work today and he usually calls one of us that he won’t come in, which is very rare. When Foggy and I went to his apartment, he wasn’t there. Do you think he’s in trouble?”

“My best bet is that he’s at hers.”

MARVEL TAGS

@spnfanboy777 - @wolf-knights - @blurredx18 - @emmaandkodak - @chrisevansangel

SERIES TAGS

@yarrystyleeza​

The Lawyers 4

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3

Pairing: Matt Murdock x GN!Reader, Frank Castle x GN!Reader, Matt Murdock x Jennifer Walters

Words: 535

Standing outside his apartment door, you hear both of their voices more clearly than Karen and Frank do. “Yeah, Karen, they’re in there. He must've forgotten to call in.”

“It's very unusual for him not to call in though, and you know this.” She gives you a soft, knowing look.

As the three of you start to walk away, the door opens to reveal Matt, his hair standing all over the place, him fumbling with his pants. “Karen?” He hears her heartbeat before hearing yours and softly calling your name, completely ignoring Frank.

You immediately knew that he had sex with the woman who claimed that they haven’t done it since the second time and it was a one time fling. “I hope she’s fucking worth it, Matthew.”

He knew he was in trouble when you used his whole name, but it broke his heart more when you used it from finding out he fucked the same woman he fucked his relationship with again.

“Don’t bother coming into work today, Matt. Foggy and I aren’t gonna be there.” Karen says before following after you. Frank says nothing as he pushes off the wall he was leaning against and walks after you and Karen. 

Karen had messaged Foggy to meet at Fogwell’s. As soon as he walks through the door, he almost jumps out of his skin as the punching bag goes flying towards him. “Fucking flying- you almost killed me!” He gets nothing said in return from you as you try to calm your heaving chest. 

“Let’s go, Foggy. We’re going for a walk.” Karen pushes him out.

“But I just got here.”

“Too bad.”

Once they’re out of Fogwell’s, you’re now leaning against the bottom ring rope. “Let me see your hands.” You hear Frank say as he steps into your vision, about to touch your hands.

Feeling a bit too overwhelmed to be touched right now, you immediately stand up, your hands away from him. “Don't. Just- don't.” You walk away from him and to the punching bag that flew like a fucking eagle towards one of your friends.

An eagle that is 68kg and used for punching, or making it near attack someone.

Once you pick it up, sand starts to pour. It doesn’t help you being so overwhelmed, so in this case, with all of your strength, you throw it to the other side of the building, mostly by where Frank is.

“Is today the day to kill everyone with the fucking punching bag?” He asks, grumpily and sarcastically.

“Today is the day is where I am so fucking confused with what’s going on.” Before Frank could say anything, you continue. “My fucking ex goes back to the woman he’s been fucking for the unknown millionth time after the both of them saying it was nothing.” You start to unwrap the bandages on your hands to reveal reddened and slightly bleeding knuckles. “My ex best friend and I kissed, to which I don’t know where either of our feelings are. And my said fucking ex is here with his woman.” 

Turning around, Jennifer is standing behind a baffled Matt and in the doorway. “Out of all the people, you kissed him?”

Marvel Tags:

@spnfanboy777 // @wolf-knights // @blurredx18 // @buckysbrattybaby // @chrisevansangel // @misha-collins-is-a-dilf

The Lawyers Series Tags:

@yarrystyleeza // @arsonfrogger

Are You Okay? | Matt Murdock x Reader

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (gender neutral)

Masterlist

Summary: Sometimes, all you need to hear is one question and one person to make your shitty day not so shitty anymore.

Warnings: Emotional hurt/comfort, fear of failure, not proofread (I put Grammarly over that bitch, but that's it), no y/n

A/n: I wrote this in an hour because I'm stressed as fuck and my state of mind is so complicated right now, I didn't know how else to explain it. Also, why is statistics such a bitch to study? And what do I care about fucking behaviorism? I'm already done with Freud and Piaget and those get on my last nerve already, I don't need Bandura to add to my emotional despair, but oh well, here we are. This is completely self-indulgent and I channeled what's happening in my school life into this one, so if it doesn't fit with the American school system, I'm sorry, but I didn't want to research.

Word Count: 2.7k

You’ve been locked in your room for the majority of the past week, the study notes of the past semester strewn around you, and you swore at the beginning of the week that you would revise every last note at least once. In the end, you panicked more than you studied, but you managed to summarize about half of your notes, which should fill you with glee, but as you stare down at your stack of cards, you’re filled with dread and the purest form of self-hatred. What did you do the entire week that you only got so far? You left your room once, but it was a short walk around the block to air your head, with still many hours of the day left to spare. You swore you would get everything you needed to be done, and you swore to yourself that the next five weeks of exam season were going to be your bitch, but looking at the calendar now you realize, those five weeks still lay ahead of you and you are not even nearly done with everything you swore you would get done. 

Your head screams, “Failure!” And you’re starting to think that maybe your head is right. Maybe you are lazy and that is why your grades have been dropping or your teachers are disappointed or you just can’t seem to get the information into your thick skull even though someone once told you, “You can do it!” You figure that was a lie too. There is no way you can manage to ace all your upcoming tests and the final exams, and part of you is starting to fear you might not be able to graduate. There is too much in your head, too much stress, and too much performance anxiety, but as you look around yourself you don’t realize why you’re so stressed - in your head, it appears as if you spent the entire week playing video games and did the bare minimum, and not even that did you manage. You really don’t understand how you can be stressed and not even halfway done with all of your schoolwork. You’re stressed about being stressed, and you’re stressed about studying so you try to study, but your head blacks out and the day suddenly doesn’t have enough hours for you to think about yourself and the work you have to do, so you just sit back and stare at an empty page in the hopes the words will come out and you can just memorize all of the fucking information on your study notes. You don’t want to be the best, you’ve given up on that, but you want to pass, you need to pass because damn, you want to get out, you want to move on and get out and get on with life, but the load keeps getting bigger and your grades keep swindling. How can the load get bigger when you haven’t left your room in a week, and how did you not manage to finish revising all of your notes even though you definitely had the time and the means? You don’t understand and at this point, you have resorted to watching trash tv to keep your mind from reeling, but even that seems not enough anymore. You can’t eat without upsetting your stomach and the thought of going back to class the next day, having to study more and revise more, and the end moves closer and closer, but never close enough, and the entire pile of documents, anxiety, and stress starts to bury you alive. You can’t remember a second you allowed yourself to properly breathe, to stop your thoughts from racing and focusing on something else. You can’t remember a time you allowed yourself a step away from studying or procrastinating and freeing your head so you can get back to work with newfound energy. All of that seems so… impossible now. You want to pass, but your head keeps telling you that you won’t. You won’t pass. You will fail and everyone will hate you because you will be the only one. You’re scared, you’re terrified even and you can’t do this anymore. You want out of your body, out of your mind, and out of this life just for a second, just until the worst is over and everything has resolved itself. 

You know that’s not possible. 

Your friends are emotionally unavailable, busy with themselves, mostly, and your family is as annoying as ever. No one’s asked about you, most of them have dodged your messages or answered with a clear, “Sorry, we can’t.” It feels as if no one can help you out of this hole you’ve dug for yourself, so you decide to sit in it and wait for the dirt to swallow you. 

Your skin tingles, you’re tired and there is this overwhelming urge to cry. You miss being touched, you miss being taken care of, but there is no time and you just can’t ask. The one person you can ask is across campus and has no idea what’s going on because you told him you’d need the week to study, so he told you he’d leave you alone until then. It’s Sunday now. He hasn’t called or texted and you’re starting to wonder if he’s sick of you as you are of yourself. 

Before the thoughts can turn any darker, and they have gotten significantly darker, there is a knock on your door. You probably smell disgusting, your room is a mess and you should have opened a window, but it’s significantly colder outside today, there is snow and you just hate the way everything but your blanket and the new episodes of America’s Next Top Model make you feel. You’ve driven yourself so far into loneliness, you’re starting to believe that this is actually just who you’re supposed to be. 

You get off the makeshift seating area among your study notes off the floor and walk to the door. You don’t bother checking who’s outside. If it is a murderer, at least you can miss your exams and not feel guilty, and the general heavy pain that drags your soul down to your feet and keeps it there would finally go away. 

Seeing Matt Murdock’s face at your door doesn’t surprise you, you simply step aside and let him in. doesn’t say anything, simply taps his can forward until he can find his way into your room. His nostrils flare, but either he doesn’t smell the bucket of untouched fries and garlic sauce on the counter and how you haven’t showered in four days or he’s being respectful about it. You kind of wish he would just flat-out tell you that you smell and probably look like shit, not that he could judge, but he could probably sense with the way everything feels like a mess around him, that would make your guilt and pain so much worse but at least you could feel something else for a change. You’d be hurt, but it would be a different kind of hurt, one that could distract you from the demons gnawing at your heart. 

“You want a drink?” you ask, your voice hoarse from both the lack and the overuse of sleep as a coping mechanism. 

He stands lost in the room, or maybe he’s waiting, you’re not sure. You get a beer for him from the fridge, but instead of drinking it, he takes it and places it back down on the counter. 

You stare at him, a little confused, and maybe your pride is also a little hurt that he would turn down your nice gesture. 

“Are you okay?”

The question confuses you, at first, and you’re not quite sure how to process it. Those three words sound so foreign, the week you’ve been through suddenly feeling like years without him, and as he’s standing before you now, his question awakening something in you, unscrewing the lid and popping the cork, you realize just how much you have missed him. How you have missed this. How you have missed being acknowledged and asked about, even if it was just a simple, “Are you okay?” 

It finally settles in and the question makes you feel a lot of things at once, but none of them are simple, and none of them you can explain, but you know how they make you feel and they definitely answer his question with something he can feel in the way you tense up. 

You bite your lip. “No,” you admit silently, although it feels wrong to say it because why are you not okay? You should be. You have to be.

But Matt isn’t like that. 

“Do you need a hug?” he asks. 

Fuck him, you think. He’s read you better than you could have read yourself. 

You nod again. “Yes.”

“Okay, c’mere.”

As it turns out, a hug is exactly what you needed and half of the uneasiness you have been feeling must have been a serious case of touch starvation.

He opens his arms and allows you to take the first step, and you do. You step forward to lazily drape your arms around him, but he soon wraps you up tightly in his and squeezes you in the way he knows you need. The physical decompression, his fresh smell, the sound of his heartbeat, and his hands roaming your back open the flood gates, and seconds after you are crying heavily into his chest. You unload all of the stress and all of the anxiety, clinging to him for dear life, but he doesn’t mind. He lets you cry, sob and whimper until you’re too weak to stand and even then he only carries you over to your couch and sits down with you in his lap, still holding you like you are a fragile little thing (which you are, now that you think of it) and he refuses to even think about letting you go. 

He kisses your head. You’re still shaking, but there are no more tears to cry. “Why didn’t you call?” he asks you. 

His voice sounds so soft and it makes you whimper again, wiping your eyes on his already wet shirt. “Why didn’t you call?” you bite back. 

“Because you said you wanted to study. I didn’t want to interrupt you, sweetheart. I know how caught up you get and I wanted to give you space. If I had known-”

You can’t help it. You are safe from the world in his arms so you allow yourself to voice the one thought that has been keeping you on edge, “I’m going to fail, Matty.”

He holds your face away from his, feeling your contorted features and the stress wrinkles on your forehead. “What?” 

You only then realize he took off his glasses and you can see his brown eyes perfectly like that. That only makes you shake harder because he cares so damn much and you never have needed him more than you do now.

“I’m going to fail,” you say again, “because I’m useless and dumb and I can’t get anything right. I can’t even get anything done. I’m such a failure and I am going to fail every goddamn test and I am going to fail my finals and I’m-”

Matt shushes you again by taking you in his arms, and a new wave of tears rattles you. “You are not going to fail,” he murmurs into the crown of your head. “You’re not a failure, you’re not dumb and you are not useless. You made it this far. You passed all of your previous classes. You’re almost there, sweetheart,” he says, “so you are not going to fail now.”

“But what if I am?”

“Everything can happen, but you are not going to fail. I know you and that is not what you do.”

“I barely got anything done this week. I swore I’d study, but-”

“How much do you have left?”

You sniffle and look behind you. God, your floor is a mess. “A lot,” you admit. 

“Too much for one day?”

“Probably,” you break off with another sob. He keeps your head upright though. Instead of shushing you, he gets up, kneels on the floor, and touches your study notes. He can’t read them, they’re not in Braille, but he can smell the different highlighters you have used and he can separate the topics accordingly. “It’s the stack on the right, isn’t it?” 

You rub your eyes. “Yes.”

“And that’s what?”

“Statistics, behaviorism and, um… I don’t know, cognitive development, maybe. I can’t remember. God!” Thinking about it makes you nauseous. “I can’t even remember, Matt. I am so going to fail!”

He shakes his head, pursing his lips to shush you softly. His hand motions for you to join him on the floor. With some struggle, he finds the stack you’ve been talking about. He hands it to you. 

“You’re going to take these and spread them out,” he tells you, “While I take care of those you’ve already summarized, alright?”

You stammer, “What?”

“We’re gonna start with statistics. You are going to go through your notes at your speed while you tell me about them, and I’m gonna rub your back while you do. If you need a break,” he says, “We’re gonna take a break. If you wanna stop, we stop. And if you want me to stay until you’re done with both topics, I’ll stay for the boring behaviorism stuff, too.”

Somehow his readiness to help you without even knowing what he, ever the law student, is helping you with makes you cry even harder. He understands you in a way nobody can, and he never pressures you, not even when it comes to your classes. He knows you torture yourself enough and Matt being Matt, he can’t have you being sad. 

He stays true to his promise. He sits behind you, rubbing your back as you go over your notes, summarize them and tell him about them. Statistics are the bane of your existence, but psychology relies on them, so you’re forced to relive the worst module of your life. But with him by your side, telling you every so often, “You are doing such a good job,” and, “I know you can do it, baby,” it’s a lot easier. 

At around eight, your stomach growls, but you are long done with the statistics part and have decided, with some of Matt’s encouraging words, that there is still time tomorrow to get done with behaviorism and then when you’re done with both, he told you, he’d help you memorize. He hasn’t decided how yet, but he is determined and as the sun goes down and you lay in his arms, freshly showered and shaven on your bed, you can’t help but stare at his beautiful face. You would have lost your mind without him, you don’t doubt that, and he somehow always knows when to come and what to do. He knows when you feel down and when you need space. He knows you better than you know yourself and that is something no one but Matt Murdock has ever accomplished. 

Without him, you are pretty sure you would maybe not have failed your classes but you would have failed at life. Your mind would have failed you and you would have drowned. But with him, you’re a little more alive. 

“I love you,” you tell him sometime after he forced you to eat proper dinner, and he gently smiles against your hair. 

“I love you,” he says. “And you are going to do great, I just know it.”

“You have so much faith in me.”

“Well, one of us has to. Besides,” he flips you over so that he can hover over you, his brown hair falling from his face into yours and you giggle at his antics, “I am a good catholic boy. If I didn’t have faith in the divine, where would I be?”

His words leave you gasping, but nothing can match up to the force and passion he kisses you with. Psychology and messy room long forgotten, you melt into his touch and let his hands and lips speak a language only the two of you understand, and they always manage to pull you out of any hole with a symphony that has become your favorite music.

“Well, one of us has to. Besides,” he flips you over so that he can hover over you, his brown hair falling from his face into yours and you giggle at his antics, “I am a good catholic boy. If I didn’t have faith in the divine, where would I be?”

His words leave you gasping, but nothing can match up to the force and passion he kisses you with. Psychology and messy room long forgotten, you melt into his touch and let his hands and lips speak a language only the two of you understand, and they always manage to pull you out of any hole with a symphony that has become your favorite music.

Lingering | Matt Murdock x Reader

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader (no y/n)

Wordcount: 1.2k

Warnings: literally like none. Just a bunch of fluff and Matt taking care of you. This is entirely self indulgent.

Summary: You've been worked to the bone and slept a total of 3 hours, so Matt takes care of you during your burnout.

A/N: there will be a smutty part 2 to this 😌 This was made for ezra and i bc we're tired. Enjoy!

"Sweetheart," Matt whispers, knuckles brushing across your cheek as he pulls you back into consciousness as gently as possible. You had been working on his couch for hours on end, laptop screen now dimmed where it lay on your lap, forgotten as you slip in and out of sleep. His touch stirs you, dreams fading out into the background only to be replaced by the pleasant feeling of Matt’s touch.

Your eyes finally blink open enough that you can focus on him, smiling softly at the sight of your boyfriend kneeling in front of you, his hands warm on your cheeks. The billboard outside his window glows brighter now that the sun has dipped behind the skyline, reds and purples dancing across Matt’s face and you can’t help but wonder how he gets prettier each time you see him.

Then again, maybe it’s the lack of sleep getting to you, because the first words out of your mouth are “you look like a skittle, Matty.” He huffs out a laugh, thumb rubbing against your cheekbone, wiping away the tear that falls from the corner of your eye “care to explain?” You shake your head and lean further into his touch, fighting back against the urge to let your eyes slip shut again. “The candy, Matt. They come in rainbow colors, and the light outside is making your face purple. Need I say more?”

“No, I guess not,” Matt muses quietly, grin dimpling his cheeks, brushing back the hair that sticks to the side of your mouth from where you had leaned into your hand.

His touch drop from your face to take the laptop and move it to the coffee table, then gripping your waist so he can pull you to the edge of the couch. Your thighs press to his sides and you can feel each breath he takes, steady and a bit faster than your own sleepy breathing. “Sorry I fell asleep, I was trying to wait until you got home,” you mumble, leaning forward to place your forehead on his shoulder, cursing under your breath when your head thumps harder against him than anticipated. Damn your heavy head and sleep-deprived reflexes.

Matt hums in acknowledgment, tapping your arms until you get the gist and raise them to wrap around his shoulders. “You should’ve gone to bed sweetheart, especially if you’re this tired. Mind telling me how many hours you got last night?” He knows he has you when your breath hitches, face pressing further into his neck. You don’t want him to know just how late you had been up the night before while he was out deviling, finishing your notes for the day while you waited until you eventually passed out.

But you know that he’s just concerned, so you press a kiss to the junction of his neck and jaw in hopes that he won’t scold you when you tell him. “About three hours,” you whisper, stifling an obnoxiously timed yawn that almost seems like the universe picking Matt’s side. He sighs quietly, though there’s no real agitation behind it, just concern “let's get you to bed, then.” This time there’s no need for a tap before you wrap your legs around his hips, clinging to him as his hands slide under your thighs to lift.

Matt stands with no sign of strain, even as he holds your weight in his arms and carries you across the living room and into his bedroom, bending over to ease you onto the edge of the bed. The exhaustion that had seeped into your bones weighs heavier the second Matt steps back to rummage through the drawer that keeps your t-shirts, hands moving across each article of clothing to feel the fabric. He picks the one softest against his fingertips and plucks it from its spot, moving back to stand in front of you. He quickly picks up on the way that you’re swaying, eyelids moving slower with each passing second “c’mon angel, let’s at least change out of your clothes.”

Your stomach flutters with affection at the use of angel, a dopey smile finding its way on your lips. Matt reserved that name for you, the highest of praise coming from the catholic himself, love and adoration seeping through the two syllables. He loved listening to the way it made your heart leap to your throat, mapping the mental image of your blissed expression that his senses piece together, tucking it away for later examination.

Matt leans forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, placing the sleep shirt to the side so he could tug the one currently on you over your head, tossing it into the corner. You take the time to shimmy off your pants while he unfolds the replacement, placing it on top of your hair and tugging it down, placing yet another kiss to the tip of your nose the second the collar passes.

“Can you stay for a bit before you go out, Matty?” you speak in a hushed tone, letting your boyfriend maneuver your arms into the holes, limbs too tired to do much other than grab at him.

“Of course I can- lets get you under the blankets, baby,” Matt presses against your shoulder until you lay back, eyes already closing while he tugs the silk comforter up to your chest. There’s an attempt to open your gaze one more time so you can catch a glimpse of him to admire in all your sleep deprived glory before inevitably collapsing back into the arms of slumber, but you sorely underestimate the intensity of your fatigue, eyelids only twitching with the attempt.

Matt sheds his work clothes, head tilted just slightly to listen to the sound of you, breathing slowing until it evens out completely. The bed dips under his weight as he slides in beside you, reaching around to pull your body flush against his chest. Matt always needs to feel you in one way or another, needed to feel the heat of your form against his, smooth skin pressed to the marred flesh of his chest. You’d trace the scars late at night when it was just the two of you, curving your finger along them like his body was a canvas and you were the mastermind behind the art.

Your lips part, slow intakes of breath filling your lungs. “I love you so much,” you murmur against his neck, drifting away and leaving him to follow.

Matt holds you tighter “I love you too, sweetheart.”

—

Sometime around midnight is when you wake up again, hand thumping on the mattress beside you but finding no sign of Matt, only a lingering heat left behind from where he had laid next to you. You know he would probably resort to smothering you with a pillow if you attempted to stay up for him, so you decide against it, instead dragging his pillow to your chest and inhaling his scent, letting it envelop you as you close your eyes once again.

Somewhere on a rooftop, a few buildings away, Matt is listening to your breathing, pausing only momentarily to ensure that you get the rest you need before continuing on with his patrol. Slinking in and out of the shadows as fast as possible so he can get home to you.

sleepy

pairing; matt murdock x fem!reader

summary; re-adjusting to anti-depressants was never an easy task but you have your vigilante boyfriend to help.

warnings; fluff, just pure fluff, reader is on anti-depressants and very very sleepy, also a cheese lover

notes; this one-shot is definitely at least a few months old, i think i wrote it when i originally switched my dosage so it's a little chaotic. i feel like there's a lack of fics talking or discussing antidepressants so i like filling in the gap to comfort anyone who was suffering the sleepiness and shitty feelings like i was those first few months. also this is my first matty one-shot i'm releasing so please enjoy <3

masterlist

You were so tired. The first two weeks of antidepressants, you were told, would be the worst but it hadn’t prepared you for just how exhausted you felt. You had spent most of the first three days, curled up in bed and sleeping the day away. By the fourth day, your snack supplies had already begun to dwindle which is the opposite of what you needed right now.

And by the fifth day, you had to venture out to the store. And that had killed you off. You had gotten back, grabbed a bag of chips and curled up on the couch. Within a few hours you were asleep and you stayed like that for another four hours. The TV had suddenly seemed to get astronomically loud and it woke you from your slumber.

So, with a little huff, you rolled off the couch and began to make something proper to eat for dinner. But you felt exhausted. It clung to your mind, hovering over you as you tried to make cheesy pasta. Everything felt impossible and slow and it was frustrating but it was made better when you heard the familiar tap-tap-tap on the fire escape window. 

A grin spread across your face as you left your pasta to heat up the cheese, pulling the window open as Matt Murdock climbed through. He was still in his Daredevil costume and you thought he looked rather silly but he already knew that’s what you thought of his costume. He liked hearing you tease him.

But rather than saying anything, you just wrapped your arms around his torso and hugged him. Your eyes fell closed as you snuggled into him making him chuckle softly.

“It’s nice to see you too, darling,” He greeted softly. All you had the energy to do was hum in vague acknowledgement. His arms wrapped around your shoulders for a moment before he softly reminded you about the food on the stove. So, you reluctantly pulled back and went over to the pan. You split the pasta into two bowls and turned around just as Matt pulled his helmet off. He placed it down on the counter before cautiously walking over to you.

“I’m sleepy,” You mumbled softly as you passed him the bowl. He took a hold of it, searching for the fork before he began to eat it. You had added a little bit of seasoning, salt, pepper, garlic powder in hopes of giving it a little more flavour. But you knew within the first bite and from the look on Matt’s face that you had gone overboard with the garlic. A huff escaped your lips and you placed the bowl on the side, “I’m going back to bed,” You declared, giving up for the day. Matt chuckled, listening to your footsteps as you walked across the apartment to your bed.

The air moved around you as you face-planted and he couldn’t help another chuckle as he turned around. His gaze landed somewhere near you but you weren’t even paying attention. Sleep was desperate to crawl up your spine and take you in but Matt was here now and you wanted to see him for a bit.

He managed to place the bowl on your side before he navigated his way carefully through your apartment. He could smell a bowl of hummus on the floor somewhere, you had a habit of leaving random crockery on the floor so he was being careful before he reached your bed. He crawled onto it before he sat cross-legged across from you.

“How long have you slept today?” He asked curiously. You mumbled in vague response but he didn’t catch a single word of it. He reached out towards you and gently pushed your head back so that you would tilt your head to the side, “What was that?” He had a teasing lilt to his tone and it made you want to smack him.

“A while but I’m sleepy,” You muttered. Matt knew that you were on new medication. You had tried to hide it from him a few days ago but he could smell your body going haywire. It was the same with everyone he had known who switched medication. Body’s went haywire while they adjusted before eventually settling back into routine.

That’s all this was but he still found your sleepy-grumpiness adorable. Matt held his hand out towards you and you reluctantly dragged yourself so you could curl into his lap. His fingers began to run through your hair but the strands were getting caught on his gloves. You let out disgruntled noises before he decided to take his gloves off. Then his fingertips began to massage your scalp and you hummed happily.

“You feeling better?” He asked. You ‘mhm’d in response and he could tell that you were going to fall asleep in his lap, “I need to change, darling. Need you to get out of my lap.” There was an amused lilt to his voice and another disgruntled noise fell from your lips. You moved out of his lap before dropping onto the top of the bed. Matt always found your mood while sleepy to be not all that dissimilar to a cat. You hated being disturbed when you were curled up and comfortable and when you were, you gave the offender the evils.

You assumed Matt didn’t know that you did that but he could sense it. He had always been able to feel your gaze boring into him.

“In the usual place?” He asked. You let out another hum of agreement before you burrito’d in your covers, snuggling your face into the pillow. He changed silently, listening to your heartbeat and breathing to see if you had fallen asleep. But it seemed you weren’t falling into it quite yet. Once he had changed, he walked over to the bed and lay on top of the mattress.

And that was when you unburritoed yourself and crawled on top of Matt. You practically curled up on his chest, burritoing both of you with the covers as you snuggle into his neck. Matt’s arms wrapped around your back.

“Much better,” You mumbled under your breath. He chuckled softly at your words and you let your eyes close. Your breathe evened out relatively quickly, “Much better.” You snuggled up to him, peppering kisses across his neck before you nuzzled there. Matt grinned and pressed a kiss against your hairline.

“Glad I could be of service,” He teased. You grumbled against his chest but he merely continued to grin, kissing your hairline again before he let his eyes fall closed.

Has anyone ever written à Matt Murdock fic with a blind y/n or oc???? I CAN’T FIND ONE!!!! It’s not a want, it’s a need!

Icy Adventure || Ice Skating For The First Time AU

Words: 942

Warnings: none

SUMMARY: Ice skating is your life. Matt, as your friend, wants to try it with you for the first time.

Author: Cass

A/N: AU written for @caplansteverogers​ writing challenge.

You and Matt were friends many years now. He was a great lawyer and you were a young promising figure skater. You two were really close, he was your only real best friend. Despite the fact that Matt was blind, he still was coming to see your trainings or shows and to take you back home. You could always see his smile.

It was really sweet of his, until he got this crazy idea.

You were tying up his skates. "Matty? Are you sure about that? You know you don't have to do this."

He was leaning against a balustrade separating you from the ice rink.

"Hey. I've told you before. I'll try at least. Who doesn't risk, doesn't gain success."

Matt were already having his skates on. He was waiting at you to finish with your skates.

"It may be funny."

You shook head and laughed.

"The man without fear, huh?" You said as you finished. "Okay, now we can go, Matty. Grab my arm."

slowly entered the ice rink with Matt. It felt like home, but you looked at your friend worriedly. "How is it for you?"

"Hehe hehe..." he laughed shortly and within second he ended up on the cold ice hitting himself hardly in the back. "Oh Lord! I didn't think it's gonna be so slippy!"

He slowly rolled on his tummy and knelt carefully.

"Y/N, can you?" he questioned reaching his hand. "I won't get up by my own. Not this time, haha!"

You jumped a bit when Matt fell down. "Oh God, Matty. You see? That's why I didn't like this idea. This isn't your thing." You said and took his hand to help him up. "Now slowly... one foot... now the second one."

You smiled happily when he was standing on both feet. "There you go." You grabbed both of his hands tightly. "Do you trust me, Matty?"

He was trying to stop his knees from shaking but failed, in a result his legs again started to separate.

"Let's say I do.. To be honest, in my current position even if you'd be my enemy I'd have to trust you." He laughed making few little steps to put his legs back together. "Gosh. I can't catch the balance."

You waited until he catched some balance. "I told you it's a stupid idea, Matt. Now, take few breaths and stay calm." You ordered and pushed yourself off, pulling him slowly behind you.

"I got you, Matty." You whispered and started picking up on speed a little bit.

He couldn't help. He yelled loudly, but soon his yells turned into pure laughter.

"Aaahhh! This! Is! Awesome, Y/N!"

He was holding your hands strongly securing himself from falling down again.

You laughed loudly, observing his every reaction.

"You see, Matty? This feels so amazing, that's why I love it so much. I feel free." You explained and changed your direction. "How do you feel? Do you enjoy it?"

"I do!" He let your hands to clap his own. Matt completely forgot he had to hold on you and because of the previous speed you both got, he slided furter on ice

"Y/N! Look! LOOK! I'm standing! I'm sliding!!!" he laughed happily.

Unfortunately, taking Matt was blind, it didn't help him at all in avoiding obstacles. He hit in the balustrade with the full impetus, falling down.

You watched him and hissed covering your eyes when he hit the balustrade.

You rushed to him and got on your knees. "Matty? Hey, are you okay?" You asked taking his face into your hands. "I think we should end this for today."

"One more lap! Please!"

Matt caught the balustrade and pulled up getting back onto his feet. "One last time! It's the best fun I've ever had!"

You blinked surprised. "Okay, let's go."

You used balustrade to pull yourself up, then took his hands in yours.

You took him for another two laps, but after that, you walked off of the ice.

"I hope you didn't hurt yourself too much, Matty." You asked as both of you sat down on a bench.

"Trust me, Y/N, I went through worse things than that" he giggled happily. "It was worth all of this."

He leant down to take off the skates.

"Can you take me here more often, Y/N? I would like to learn ice skating. I think when I'll practice it'll be my another attribute."

"I can... only if you will stop hit the balustrade." You said with a soft smile and leant down to take off the skates.

After few minutes you left the building holding Matt by his arm.

You nuzzled to him softly on your way to his flat.

"It was really great, Matty. You were good but you need to be more careful.

"I know. I bet with you by my side I'll learn how to bw careful."

When you got to his flat he gave you a tight hug. "Thank you once again for today, Y/N." He muttered opening the door. But before he got inside, he turned to you and grabbed your hand. Matt pulled you to him and kissed you briefly.

You blinked but kissed him back, purring quietly into the kiss and wrapping your arms around his neck.

You broke the kiss and looked at him "W... What was that, Matty?" You asked shyly with a big smile on your lips.

"Just... Something" he said blushing. "Do you want.. Come in maybe? Of course if you don't have other plans.." he offered.

You took his hand and walked Inside with him. "No... I don't have other plans." You said, closing door Behind you.