#angst matt murdock

[starkenobi]

JAMAISVU | matt murdock x reader

masterlist — warnings: soulmates; hanahaki; angst with no happy ending.

Summary: Like it or not, every choice has a consequence. And no matter how much Matt Murdock and Y/N tried not to acknowledge its existence, the connection of the red thread was there all along.

The wedding took place on a spring day, with flowers decorating every corner of the hall and matching the huge garden of the house. But, despite the festive atmosphere illuminated by the sun, there was something tragic about the whole situation. The forced smile that didn't reach the groom's eyes and the pale face of the bride as the maid of honor (the groom's best friend) ended the toasting session right after the best man.

I just wish you two a lot of happiness because your happiness warms my heart, Matthew Murdock.

Matt and Y/N have always been very close, a friendship so strong and in such harmonious harmony that it was hard to imagine the two of them being apart for long. Until Elektra, an old and turbulent romance, returns on a stormy night, and from that moment on, absolutely everything changed.

Matt's focus became on helping Elektra, the two of them getting even closer than when they were dating. It all happened very quickly. What at first was just helping solve a case, suddenly became wedding planning.

To the surprise of many, Y/N kept supporting Matt - even becoming a bridesmaid alongside Foggy - and taking part in the organization of the big event. Ignoring Frank's silent looks, denying Karen's offers so she wouldn't be alone, smiling when Clint tried to talk about the subject, even laughing when Natasha tried to corner her to find out how she was really doing. The answer was always the same: Matt being happy made her equally happy.

However, the reality was very sad, no one seemed to understand the extent of the seriousness and Matt knew how to pretend that everything was fine. Not even Y/N seemed to notice at first, but the signs were right there. The month that was supposed to be for the honeymoon and for the couple to take advantage of getting closer was canceled halfway through. Elektra was getting sicker and Matt started working overtime to pay the hospital bills.

It didn't take long for the pretense to be exposed, and the truth came out that Elektra had found her soulmate but that it hadn't had the positive results she had hoped for. Her soulmate was in a relationship with someone else and had no interest in forming a romantic bond or maintaining contact. The worst part about finding your soulmate is creating expectations and plans, but not preparing or accepting when the opposite happens.

Of course, the group of friends pretended not to hear the newlywed couple's argument; no one dared to give their opinion on the irresponsibility of the two in making a hasty decision. What would be the point other than making everyone even sadder and more worried? Y/N made a point of donating her time to help pay the bills, even if it was for food or medicine. She made sure to make sure Matt was eating right, getting enough sleep, and always offering a hug as a form of comfort.

Until, after a few months of marriage, the worst happened: on a sunny Sunday morning, Elektra was found dead in her hospital room. The bedroom floor was covered in red-stained white lily petals, and on the bed was a destroyed bouquet of striped carnations, purple hyacinths, and white tulips with a crumpled card that said 'I'm so sorry'.

Matt was devastated. It was extremely difficult to get him out of the hospital. Foggy and Karen took care of Elektra's funeral in his place. While Y/N chose to stay with Matt. They didn't talk much. Matt was immersed in grief and guilt, repeating that he hadn't kept his promise to help Elektra as he should have. After the funeral, things didn't seem to get any better; on the contrary, Matt seemed to lose himself even more in his grief.

Y/N's attempts to reconnect with Matt were increasingly unsuccessful. No matter the moment or the affection, the result was the same: Matt would remain silent, an empty expression contradicting his pain-filled eyes, and then he would withdraw and lock himself in the room.

Until Y/N finally understood the reason, and in the worst way. Foggy, Karen and Frank had just left, after a dinner at Matt's house. Everything seemed calm after a night with friends, until Matt took a deep breath and coughed hard, as if he had choked on something. Bringing his hand to his lips, he coughed for several minutes, a strong pain in his chest making him almost fall to his knees on the floor, if it weren't for Y/N holding him by the waist. When the coughing fit finally passed, Y/N noticed his lips dirty with pollen and blood... And a single lily petal in the palm of his hand.

Like a switch, things between Y/N and Matt changed even more drastically. He started to avoid her completely. It didn't matter how many times she invited him to share a meal, called or sent him a message.

In fact, after a few days, she discovered that Matt had blocked her on all social networks and on his cell phone. Attempts to visit him were also frustrated, the lock was changed and both Froggy and Karen were forbidden from letting her into the office. Y/N was no longer welcome.

Their friends noticed the change, however, no matter how much they asked and tried to understand Matt's reason for making such a decision... He just ignored it. All that was left was for them to split up, they knew there was a connection between the two of them, but if Matt didn't want it anymore, they needed to support Y/N.

What they failed to notice, even with her warning, was the speed at which the disease was taking over Matt. Y/N began to prepare for the worst, created a shock plan, she would face him and find out why she was removed at such a difficult time. However, life had its own way of playing with fate.

"Miss L/N? This is Metro-General Hospital, you are registered as Matthew Murdock's first emergency contact. He arrived unconscious and was taken to emergency surgery due to the advanced stage of hanahaki. Please, we request your presence here."

Maybe, if they had talked, if Matt had been honest about what he felt and Y/N were more obvious, things could have happened differently. Matt wouldn't have gotten sick, wouldn't have pushed himself to the limit, and gotten sick during work. He wouldn't have had to undergo surgery because his respiratory system had been compromised by lilies.

And Y/N wouldn't have gotten on the bike even with an anxiety attack, wouldn't have forgotten to tell her friends because she was nervous, would have paid more attention to the traffic and wouldn't have gotten into an accident. However, the possibility of things being different was almost zero. At some point, the disaster would happen. They both lost the opportunity that life had given them. And that's how everything changed definitively.

"Karen, who gave me that book?" Matt murmured, frowning thoughtfully.

Karen, who was packing one of the moving boxes, turned to see what exactly the other was talking about, her eyes widening automatically. She stood up quickly and went to her friend, taking the personalized book from the other's hand, the card written in braille 'To my favorite lawyer. From: Y/N L/N' previously stuck to the cover falling to the floor. "Hm, it was Y/N."

"That name is not strange to me." Matt tilted his head, Karen felt as if he was looking into her soul. "Did she fight with our group? I don't think it was a client, you speak of her fondly even though you try to keep me from hearing."

Karen stared at him for a moment in silence, her eyes shining with a sad look. "She's just not here anymore, Matt."

"From the way you talk, she seemed like a good person... I wish I could remember it too." Matt finally commented, a sad smile taking over his face, but he soon went back to taking the books out of the box and putting them on the shelf.

It was a lie to take the weight off his friends' shoulders, who seemed full of fears and fear of hurting him. A big lie. Because the memories were all full of Y/N. He remembered, even though he missed some details. The surgery was only to remove the disease and the seed that caused it. It didn't matter if he moved to another apartment, the work routine, and his friends tried to avoid talking about Y/N.

Matt lived with sweet memories mixed with melancholy, what could have been a maybe became a never. It was all his fault. Guilty for once again putting the obligation to help others above his own feelings. He took it for granted that she would always be by his side and that everything was fine with the way they acted towards each other. He wasted time making mistakes that he had made after meeting Elektra again and lost the chance to be honest by diving into the feeling of guilt. So when he felt a small twinge in his chest again and coughed with a taste of pollen... It was a comforting feeling.

Flowers Meaning:

lily: innocence, pure love.

striped carnation: regret, unrequited love.

purple hyacinth: sadness, forgiveness and regret.

white tulip: forgiveness.

comments, likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated! thank you for reading and supporting my writing 💜

[l0caltiredgirl]

when i want fluff/angst fics and all i’m getting is smut

the struggle is real

[guardianspirits13]

what they won’t show us

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

i’ve never made a request before so sorry if this is bad but if you could write something about matt murdock with a fake dating trope like that would be so cute, especially if there’s feelings realized during/after it :)

a/n: i swear, i tried to just keep this short and sweet like how i usually keep requests, but then the fantasy i came up with was just too fun and too much like a fucking romcom not to just let myself go ham and turn it into a full-on long fic

word count: 3778

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

Leaning your weight against the bar, you waited for Josie to return with another round of beers for you and your friends, who still remained exactly where you’d left them, all clustered around the pool table further into the space. 

Absentmindedly, you fiddled with the ring so often glued to your fingers, passing the heirloom from each digit and sliding it onto the next. It had been your grandmother’s, and ever since her passing, the simple golden circle with a little jade embedded at the cusp of it, rarely stayed in your jewellery box as the act of simply glancing down at it on your finger somehow offered you a drop of comfort in moments of mundane gloom. 

As the heirloom arrived at your left ring finger and slid down over the knuckle, a familiar voice suddenly emanated like an echo after the bar’s front door had swung open. 

“Y/n?” your whole body froze up at the unexpected timbre. 

Slowly, you twisted around to discover none other than your ex, wide eyes trained on you as he clutched the hand of a leggy blonde. 

“Henry!” you gasped, hoping they mistook the horrified look on your face for innocent shock, “oh my god…” 

Without any warning, the next thing you knew, he’d yanked your stunned form into a hug, “how the hell are you?” he clapped your shoulder as if you were old school chums, “it’s been so long.”

“I’m–, uhm, fine,” you managed to reply. 

“Yeah?” he smiled, the insincerity in your tone completely flying over his head, “that’s great.” 

Simply to be polite, you awkwardly asked, “…how are you?” even though you truly didn’t wish to know the answer.  

“I’m good, yeah, life’s been kinda crazy lately because–, oh,” he suddenly paused to glance back at the girl by his side, “Y/n, you remember Rebecca, right?”

“Mhm,” you hummed and offered her a glance, fearing steam might billow out of your ears at any moment, “hi.”

“Hey,” she smiled brightly as she tossed her luscious locks over her shoulder, “and please don’t mind him,” she clapped a palm over Henry’s chest, “he’s just freaking out, you know, usual guy stuff before finally getting tied down.”

“I’m sorry,” you blinked, nearly pinching yourself to test if this was a nightmare or not, “before what?”

Rebecca then held up her left hand to flash you the massive rock nestled on her fourth finger. 

“I finally popped the question!” Henry grinned and draped an arm around his fiancé.

“Wow, oh wow, that’s��…” you sputtered as the blonde promptly shoved her hand in your face for you to get a better look, “that’s a really big rock, right there, on your finger…” your touch floated up and tilted her palm slightly, the light from the neon sign close by glinting in the diamond, “congratulations…”

“Thanks!” she smiled down at the ring herself before her fingers suddenly captured your own and twisted your hand around, “oh wait, congrats to you too!” 

“What?” you still simply tried to keep breathing through this agonising gut-punch of an encounter. 

“I know they say that size doesn’t matter,” Rebecca eyed the tiny green stone that adorned your grandmother’s ring, “and it doesn’t! I mean, that’s so pretty,” she uttered in a sugary sweet and insincere tone that made you feel as if you were back in high school again, “understated, simple.” 

“Ah, no way,” Henry peeked down at your hand, “you’re engaged too?”

“Uh…” you let out a shaky breath, “yep,” the lie then suddenly flew out past your lips before you had a chance to stop it, “that’s me! I’m getting married.” 

“That’s amazing,” your ex let out an airy chuckle, “who’s the lucky guy?”

But before your lips could part and let out another lie, Josie returned, “here you go, hon,” and slid four beer bottles across the bar to you before adding, “and would you tell Foggy to stop sitting on the edge of the pool table? It’s old and I can’t be responsible if it breaks on him.”

“Sure thing,” you promised and snatched up the drinks. 

“Is that your man?” Henry cast a glance to the lawyer Josie had gestured to, “Foggy, was it?”

“Foggy?” a soft giggle couldn’t help but bubble out of your lungs, “no! Don’t get me wrong, he’s great, but no, sadly, he’s already taken.” 

“Then who is it?” 

“Is it the other guy over there?” Rebecca chimed in as they both sent their glances towards your friends, “the one in the light blue shirt and tinted glasses?”

“Uh, yeah…” you squeaked as you slowly turned to look at Matt as well, “that’s–, uh, that’s him,” you watched as he readjusted his grip on the cue stick in his hand, “that’s my future husband…”

“Hm,” a sliver of judgment slipped out of Henry, “wouldn’t have pegged him to be your type.”

“Well, maybe my type has changed,” you stated, letting your lingering resentment show before you noticed how harsh it had come out and your stomach immediately began to twist and knot in regret, “I–…��� you swiftly winched, “sorry,” and averted your gaze, “have a nice evening, uh–, I’m gonna go back to my friends,” you stumbled as you tried to escape. 

Though as you turned to walk away, Henry’s voice found your ears one last time, “bye!” before you heard his fiancé turn to him. 

“Pookie? Would you order me a cosmo?” her voice began to fade into the background, “I’ll go find us a table…” 

You simultaneously felt as if a truck had just run you over as your feet carried you back towards your friends, yet also completely numb, as if you’d been turned into a floating ghost of the person you used to be. 

“Who the hell was that and why do you look like you’re about to throw up?” Foggy asked cautiously as he grabbed two of the bottles in your grasp and handed one off to Matt. 

Passing one of the remaining drinks off to Karen, you then lifted your own up to your lips before tipping it back and downing around half of its contents. Once you tilted the dark green bottle back down, you were out of breath as you began to explain, “that,” you wiped your bottom lip with one of your knuckles, “was my ex,” you used that same finger to hazily point back over your shoulder, “and his fiancé,” your eyes stayed fuzzy as you added, “who happen to be the girl that he cheated on me with for a year before I one day finally caught them together.”

“Oh my god…” Karen breathed, her bottle frozen halfway on its journey up towards her lips. 

“It was on easter,” you shared, “he thought I had gone back home to see my family, but I’d actually decided to secretly do this whole big surprise, like I thought I was in fucking rom-com or something,” you sighed at your past self, “but then when he got home from work, and I was all decked out, waiting on the bed, in bunny ears and everything,” you heatedly gestured to the top of your own head, “he wasn’t alone.”

“Wow…” Foggy stared. 

“Yep…” you exhaled heavily, taking another swig before you made the mistake of glancing back over your shoulder just as Rebecca shrugged off her coat and slinked onto a stool at one of the small tables, “fuck!” you exclaimed as if you’d just stubbed your toe, “she’s even hotter than I remembered. How is that possible?” 

“Oh, she’s not that pretty,” Karen tried, but you swiftly cut her off. 

“You shut your face, she’s basically a human-sized Barbie,” your glare roamed one last time from the top of her platinum locks to the bottoms of her high stilettos, “god…” you sighed as you finally averted your gaze and lifted your bottle to drown your sorrows, “I was such an idiot back there. It was like my brain just stopped working and–, oh my god!” your palm shot up to cover your mouth as you then suddenly recalled the lie that had slipped out. Slowly, your wide eyes drifted to Matt, who still remained silent, “oh no…” 

“What is it?” Foggy chimed in. 

“Matt…” you uttered tensely, knowing your friend well enough to be aware of just how much of the interaction with your ex he had overheard, “I am so sorry…”

“What?” Karen’s glance darted between you both, “what’s going on?”

Paralysing embarrassment churned your stomach and choked out any attempt you made to share the truth. But luckily, as your erratic heartbeat thumped and found Matt’s sharp ears, he eventually filled in instead, “…they thought that she was engaged as well and then assumed that I was the guy.” 

“I am so, so sorry,” you gasped, “I don’t know why I didn’t correct them.”

But to your amazement, Matthew simply shrugged and offered you a reassuring smile, “it’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“I was just fiddling with my ring and then they just–…” you then snuffed out your frantic explanation and instead repeated once again, “I’m sorry…”

Saddling up beside you, Karen planted a palm on your shoulder, “hey, if that was my ex, then I’d wanna give him some of his own medicine as well,” she stated, “if not just straight up cut off his balls, which is what he really deserves.” 

A faint smile then began to soften your expression as you glanced around at your supportive friends, Foggy briefly reaching out to pat your other shoulder. 

But as you averted your eyes to the nearly empty bottle in your grasp, a thought suddenly struck you like a bolt of lightning, “wait, I have an idea…” your gaze slowly lifted to lock on Matt, “I mean, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, I totally get it, but would you mind, just while they are here, to–, uhm…”

Cocking his eyebrow, he finished your sentence, “…to pretend to be your fiancé?” 

“I know, it’s stupid, and I should probably just go home right now instead of playing some weird and immature game of revenge or whatever,” you uttered as you made the decision to lie in the grave you’d dug for yourself, “but I would forever be in your debt, I'm serious.” 

Sucking in a breath, he barely had to think about it before he murmured, “sure.”

“Really?” you gasped, your brows shooting up, “you’ll do it?” 

“Yeah, why not?” Matt shrugged, “it’s the very least he deserves for treating you like that.”

“Oh,” you crossed the short distance between you two and threw your arms around him. It took a second before you felt him hug you back, but when the alcohol got to your head and made you mutter, “I love you,” into his shoulder, a low chuckle rumbled in the lawyer's chest before you parted ways. 

“So,” Karen then began to fish out the colourful spheres and roll them back into the green felt, “do we still wanna play another game?”

“Hell yeah,” Foggy picked a cue stick back up before adding a playful threat, “you’re not beating me again this time, Page.”

Once the table was set up for another round of pool and you were a few turns in, your gaze couldn’t help but wander back towards the other end of the bar too often to keep track of. Though, soon on one of the fleeting looks, your eyes grew wide as you discovered you weren’t the only one sneaking glances.

Discreetly, you shifted closer to Matthew and leaned in to whisper, “he’s looking over,” however, when he then draped an arm around your frame, you couldn’t help but stiffen up, as you hadn’t thought that far in the plan yet, “what are you–”

“Shh,” Matt hushed your squeak, “just lean into me,” he shifted to stand tall behind you, arms enveloped around your form as he slowly drew you back against his chest, “smile,” his low voice tickled the shell of your ear and caused goosebumps to erupt across your skin, “and don’t look at him.” 

Redirecting your vision back towards the game before you, you narrowly managed to catch sight of the silent slut-shaming the other lawyer flashed his friend with but a glance, before he went back to the mischievous mission he was on. 

“Foggy, would you quit it?” Karen grumbled at the man beside her as he wildly waved both of his hands in her periphery, successfully knocking off her concentration as she tried to line up her shot. 

“No way,” he kept up his flapping, even causing Karen’s golden locks to get picked up by the breeze he produced. 

“You’re cheating.”

“Nope, I am not touching you nor the table,” he stated as if he was in court, “distracting you doesn’t break any rules.”

And as she finally made her attempt, the ball didn’t go in, causing her to explode in a roar, “damn it, Fog!”

“Ha, ha, yes!” he jumped as she straightened back up, “you know, I taste something right now, what could that be? Oh yeah, victory. And it tastes sweet as candy store.” 

“Urgh,” Karen rolled her eyes at him before her glare landed upon the both of you, “Matt, your turn. Would you please set him in his place?”

“Gladly,” Matt chuckled, and as he shifted closer to the pool table, he nudged your side and asked, “hey, would you give me a hand?”

Swallowing a chuckle as you already knew he very much didn’t need it, you cocked an eyebrow, “you want my help?”  

“Yeah,” he uttered clearly and let his real message seep through his tone, guiding your gaze to flicker back toward Henry, who’s stare was still locked upon you both, “so come help me.” 

“Oh!” it finally clicked in your brain, “right,” and you swiftly slid in beside him. 

With bated breath, you grabbed Matt’s hand that wasn’t clutching the pole, and guided it over the ivory ball that rested close to one of the corners. As you began to map out and tell him where each of the other spheres were, your eyes flicked over to notice just how close you now stood, as your nose nearly grazed against his stubbly cheek as you murmured guidingly. When you retracted your touch, you barely noticed how a few of Matt’s fingers reacted, faintly following your fading palm for but a second before it floated back down to the white orb below it. 

Once he’d made his shot, you lingered in the proximity and whispered, “do you think they’re buying it?” 

“Hm?” 

“This,” your eyes momentarily flickered back towards your ex across the bar, “us.”

Matthew’s brows then floated up as you reeled him back in to the matter at hand, “oh, I–, probably.” 

“Or should we do something else?” your mind kept on spinning, “I don’t know, I feel like I’ve completely forgotten how all of that works,” you shared, “kinda just numbed and cut off that part of myself after he broke my heart, it was just how I had to get through it, shut down a little bit because suddenly romance was terrifying…”

“...can I ask you something?” he asked quietly after a breath, and when you offered him a hum in confirmation, he uttered, “are you still in love with him?” 

Time stretched out before you finally replied, “I was, for a very long time…” your voice stayed small, “…but no, not anymore… I kind of thought I was, but then seeing him again cleared it all up. All I feel when I look at him now is rage,” you exhaled, “and pity, just because I know him too well, know everything that’s messed up about him…” silence encumbered you both for a moment before you then opened your mouth once more and said, “so, should we hold hands or something?” you asked plainly, though when a genuine laugh then began to billow out of Matthew, your eyes blinked up at him as your brows swiftly knit together, “what?”

“You know,” he tried to snuff out his chuckle, “if I was actually your fiancé, I wouldn’t just stand around and hold your hand all night,” he then leaned in the short distance till his lips nearly tickled the shell of your ear, “I would have dragged you into the bathroom by now and forced the whole bar to hear us fuck.” 

“I–, u-uhm,” you flusteredly stammered as your face began to heat up, “y-yeah, yeah, that’s good too,” you barely registered your own words as they slipped out past your lips, “if that’s what you wanna do–, I mean! Shut up!” you squeezed your eyes shut as soon as you regained your own senses, “just hold my hand, you dick,” you cursed over his laughter as he swiftly slipped his palm into your own.

“Cut it out, Karen,” Foggy’s voice cut through your haze and caught your attention. 

Glancing over, you spotted as Karen was giving him some of his own medicine, pettily leaning into his eye line, “what? You were the one saying that distractions weren’t against the rules,” she continued to glare in hopes of throwing him off his game, “why? Is this not working? Do you need me to scream directly in your ear instead?”

“Oh, would you?” he sarcastically looked to her, his pitch climbing up high at his words, “going deaf in one ear is exactly what I need to beat you.”

As your wandering gaze then flickered back towards the opposite end of the bar, your eyes grew wide as you spotted only Rebecca still seated at the small table, pink cocktail in her grasp. 

“Shit,” you spotted Henry as he crossed the room, confidently walking precisely in your direction, “he’s coming over,” you hissed, and in your muppet-like panic, your hands clasped each side of Matt’s face and yanked him in for a kiss. 

At first, he froze up as you continued to freak out, but then, as his broad palms slowly slid over your waist, all of your alarm began to melt away. It felt as if you were drifting off to sleep as you relaxed into the kiss. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined that kissing Matt would feel like this, not that such a fantasy was something you pondered often or even at all, but as you felt his tongue flicker out to dance softly against your own, your knees beneath you wobbled as you lost yourself completely. How long the peck drew out remained a mystery, as when you eventually parted, the reasoning behind it wouldn’t emerge in your memory no matter how hard you tried. 

Though as you stood there, blinking back at Matt, still utterly spellbound by the unexpected feelings currently bubbling and bursting inside of you, the man now standing off to the side cleared his throat and brought you back down to earth. 

“Bunny–, I mean, Y/n,” you whipped your head around to catch sight of your ex, “just thought it would have been awkward if I didn’t come over here to introduce myself before me and Becca took off,” he muttered before his gaze fell to Matt, his arms slowly fading from your form, “I'm Henry, nice to meet you,” your ex then offered his hand, though the lawyer by your side didn’t grasp it, even if his heightened senses had lent him to pick up on the gesture. 

“Matt Murdock,” he uttered on a cold exhale. 

Stuffing his rejected palm into his pocket, Henry then asked, “what do you do?” 

“Matthew’s a lawyer,” you took over, slotting yourself into Matt’s side before you dramatically clasped a hand over his chest, “saves people for a living. That’s actually why we’re out celebrating tonight, he just won yet another case.” 

“Oh, well congratulations then,” Henry offered in well-forged petty politeness. 

“Yeah, I was there, watching him do his thing,” you uttered as some bitter goblin of resentment then took over your soul and caused you to say, “and oh boy, I tell you, if only it would have been socially acceptable for me to interrupt the trial just to rip his clothes off, because wow.”

A scoff then rippled in Henry’s chest, “okay, sure,” his stare upon you narrowed as he then grumbled, “we both know you’re not exactly the groupie type of girlfriend.” 

“Well, maybe your sorry ass was never worth her supporting you in that way,” Matt suddenly cut in, “maybe because you never bothered treated her that way in return,” his guess hit the bullseye, “and maybe that has a little something to do with why I was the one to put a ring on her finger and not you,” your heart thumped in your chest as Matt’s touch returned to the small of your back, protectively sliding over your waist as he continued to speak in a low and chillingly stern tone, “that or you really are as terrible of a lay as she told me you were, during those very first nights when she finally learned what it was like to be with someone who wasn’t a complete fucking idiot.” 

Utterly stunned, you watched Henry’s expression as he scrambled his brain for a way to crawl back from that, but eventually, when no suitable words came to his pea-sized brain, his feet slowly began to shuffle back till his hand had snatched up his fiancé’s and he’d yanked her with him out of the bar. 

As the door swung closed behind the pair, a celebratory squeal burst from your lungs, “oh my god! Matt, that was incredible!” you jumped in place before throwing your arms around him, “I don’t know how to thank you.” 

Tangling his own arms around you, he uttered, “I’m sure we’ll come up with some way you can make it up to me.” 

And as you withdrew, just enough to smile back at him, your gaze began to drift back down towards his lip just before Foggy’s voice cut through the palpable tension.

“Do I need to remind you guys that you’re not actually engaged?” 

“No,” Matt then murmured as the two of you parted ways, quietly enough for his words to be completely inaudible, “but we could be...” 

“What?” you glanced over at him. 

“What?” he echoed in return, though a bit too quickly. 

“Did you say something?”

“Me? No,” he tried to conceal his lie with a cough, “I-I, uh, think it’s your turn,” he then changed the subject, gesturing to the pool table behind you. 

  © 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[matt-murdockk]

Time

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

words: 2.8k

summary: On their wedding night, (Y/n) disappears in Matt’s arms-blipped without warning. For five years, he mourns her, tormented by grief and hallucinations. When she returns, unchanged, he’s convinced she’s not real. (angst mostly with fluff ending)

warnings: angst, cussing, lack of proofreading rip, set in infinity war - endgame timeline (reader getting blipped, etc)

a/n: Listen, my boy Matt is the PERFECT practice for writing angst. I just like to put him in situations and watch him like he's in a fish tank and I'm outside tapping on the glass. This man absolutely cannot catch a break and while I am partially to blame (cause I'm writing it this time), just how Matt is written in general is in a way that it just makes sense to put him through shit. He is a walking amalgam of Catholic Guilt, adrenaline, and poor decision making and I love him so much. This one is a boatload of angst but I threw in some fluff in the ending because well, we deserve good things.

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The apartment door creaked open with the softest thud, and then her back hit it as Matt pressed her gently against the wood, lips grazing her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. He was smiling.

That rare, devastating smile he only wore when it was just them.

“You’re supposed to carry me across the threshold, remember?” she whispered, breathless with laughter.

“Oh, I didn’t forget,” Matt murmured. “Just wanted a moment alone with my wife first.”

Wife.

The word made her stomach flip in a good way- warm and giddy and ridiculous.

He scooped her up easily, one arm beneath her knees, the other at her back, and she looped her arms around his neck like she’d never let go. “You’re enjoying this a little too much.”

“I’m legally required to now,” he said with a smirk. “It’s in the vows. Carry you everywhere. Worship the ground you walk on. Try not to lose my mind over how good you look in that dress.”

“Flawless delivery, Murdock,” she teased. “Truly. I can tell you definitely wrote your own vows.”

He chuckled against her shoulder as he carried her through the doorway into the quiet, dimly lit apartment. Candles flickered. Soft music still hummed faintly from the speaker they forgot to turn off before the ceremony.

And for a second- just one perfect second- it was all stillness. Just them. Just this.

He set her down gently, hands lingering at her waist. They kissed again, slower now. Softer. Everything feeling like it had finally settled into place. She pressed her forehead to his, heart beating a little too fast.

“I think I’m going to cry.”

“I’ll beat you to it,” he murmured, eyes closing, nose brushing hers. “You’re here. You’re mine. We made it.”

She smiled, eyes glassy. “We did.”

They stood there for a while. Just holding each other. Breathing the same air. Wedding bands warm against skin.

But then-

She shifted slightly in his arms. Her brows furrowed.

“Matt?”

He straightened a little, instantly alert. “Yeah?”

“I feel... weird.”

He tilted his head, concern filtering through his features. “Weird how?”

She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I don’t know. It’s like- I just got dizzy all of a sudden. Like the room’s moving.”

Matt gently guided her toward the couch, helping her sit down. “Okay. Just breathe. You might be dehydrated. Or just- adrenaline crash.”

She tried to smile. “Yeah. Big day. Lots of emotions. Too many speeches.”

She stood too fast. Her hand slipped from his.

“Careful,” Matt said, already reaching for her again. “Take it slow- ”

“I think I need to throw up,” she mumbled, voice shaky.

“Okay, yeah,” he nodded, already guiding her. “Bathroom’s just- ”

She staggered.

Her balance tipped.

Matt caught her by the waist before she could fall. “Hey. Hey, I got you. It’s okay- ”

She didn’t answer.

Her body felt... lighter. Unsteady. Like her weight was shifting in his arms.

He tilted his head, trying to focus on her. “(Y/n)? You with me?”

She looked up at him.

Confused.

Scared.

“M-Matt, I...”

And then her voice just- cut out.

His arms were suddenly empty.

He blinked.

No sound. No step. No breath.

Just... gone.

The faintest warmth lingered against his fingertips- and then something like dust scattered through them.

“What the- ?” he whispered, stepping back. “(Y/n)?”

His hand shook. Her scent was still in the room. Her heartbeat-

No. No, that wasn’t right.

He turned, listening harder, straining his senses.

Nothing.

There was nothing.

The silence grew louder. His throat closed up.

“(Y/n)?”

He moved down the hallway. Checked the bathroom. The bedroom. “(y/n), c’mon. Say something.”

No heartbeat. No motion. Not even the creak of a floorboard. Like she’d never been there. Matt’s chest started to cave in.

“Okay, this isn’t- this doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “Maybe you passed out. Maybe you hit your head. Maybe- ”

His foot bumped something.

Her ring.

Her wedding ring.

Lying on the floor.

His knees hit the hardwood before he could stop them. “No.”

He crawled forward, hands blindly reaching, as if she might be hidden just out of reach.

“(Y/n)!” His voice cracked. “Where are you?!”

Still nothing.

Just the flicker of the candles.

Just the soft sound of ash settling.

“No, no- God, no!” He stood again. Stumbled. Slipped.

“(Y/n)!” He shouted so hard it tore something in his throat. “Talk to me!”

He made it to the front door. Opened it. Nothing. No one. No footsteps. No sounds of retreat. Matt’s breathing picked up. His fingers trembled as he unlocked his phone, nearly dropping it before hitting Call.

Foggy.

It rang once. Twice-

Pick up.

The sound of the city outside had changed. He could hear it.

Screaming. Tires screeching. Glass shattering six blocks over. Someone crying for help. Sirens multiplying like wildfire. It all surged into his head at once- too much, too fast.

He pressed his palm against his ear, gritting his teeth. “Too loud. I can’t- ”

Click.

“Matt?” Foggy answered, out of breath. “Hey, shouldn’t you be- ?”

“She’s gone,” Matt said immediately, voice fraying. “Foggy- she was right here, and then she just... disappeared.”

“What do you mean ‘disappeared’?”

“I mean she turned to ash in my hands,” Matt snapped, breath catching. “I was holding her. She said she felt sick and then- then she just... she was gone.”

There was a pause.

“Matt, hang on- wait- ” Foggy’s voice shifted, panic creeping in. “I think... Matt, something’s happening. It’s not just her.”

Matt stilled. “What do you mean?”

“I’m outside and people are vanishing. Right in front of me. There was a guy walking beside me- just turned to dust. A woman screaming for her kid, and the kid vanished. A guy in a cab just disappeared behind the wheel, Matt. It crashed into a light post.”

Matt pressed a hand to the center of his chest like he could anchor himself to the sound of Foggy’s voice. But even that was drowned out by the chaos around him.

“I can’t hear her,” he whispered. “Her heartbeat- her breathing- it’s just gone. Like she was never here, foggy.”

Foggy’s voice came through again, strained and tense. “It’s happening everywhere. I can’t keep up. There’s shouting, people running- I think half the crowd outside just vanished. I’m not exaggerating.”

Matt stumbled toward the couch, hand landing on the coffee table. “She was right here.”

“I’m coming to you,” Foggy said quickly. “Stay there, Matt. Don’t go outside- Jesus Christ, someone else just- ”

The line crackled. Cut out. Came back.

Matt’s hands were shaking as he reached for the remote.

The TV flicked on.

"...mass disappearances reported in New York, Chicago, London- this is now confirmed to be a global event..."

Footage played- Times Square chaos. Pedestrians turning to dust mid-step. News anchors looking off-camera in horror. Phones on the ground. Car alarms going off in every direction.

“We are receiving reports that approximately half the world’s population has- vanished.”

The camera panned to a child’s stuffed toy, untouched, lying in a pile of ash. Everything was still. Except the noise. And the empty space beside him on the floor.

“She was right here,” he said again, softly. Like it might undo it.

“She was right here.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

five years later

She came back mid-step.

One foot lifted toward the bathroom- and when it landed, everything was wrong.

The apartment was darker. Colder. Rearranged.

The soft glow from the corner lamp was unfamiliar. The kitchen counter had a different crack. The rug was new. The air carried a different scent- like dust and time and a city that had moved on without her.

“Matt?” she called, voice hoarse.

Silence.

She stepped further in. The living room looked lived-in, but not by her. Not anymore. Not for a long time. The coffee table was cluttered with open case files. There was a cane by the door she didn’t recognize. Her heart pounded faster.

“Matt-?”

And then he was there. He stood in the doorway like he’d been carved from stone, unreadable and unmoved. Then, quietly- too calmly- he said, “So. You’re back.”

She stopped cold.

“Matt-”

He tilted his head slightly, almost as if studying her. “Took longer this time.”

“What…?” she breathed.

“Usually you show up around hour thirty-six,” he said, like it was a fact. “Right after the exhaustion hits but before the whiskey does anything useful.”

Her stomach twisted. “Matt, I’m not-”

“Don’t,” he cut in, sharp. “Don’t do that.”

She swallowed hard. “This isn’t what you think.”

“No?” His voice was soft, even, lethal. “Because it looks a hell of a lot like every other time I’ve lost my mind and imagined you standing in this room.”

(Y/n) blinked, her chest rising and falling too fast. “Matt, I- I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, no trace of humor. “You wouldn’t.”

“I was just- I felt sick and then it was cold, and everything looked wrong and-" Her words tangled, tripping over each other. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He didn’t answer.

“Matt?”

Nothing.

She took a tentative step forward. “Please. Say something. What happened? What- what’s going on?”

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. His voice, when it came, was low and sharp, like a scalpel slicing through skin without even trying.

“Don’t do this to me again.”

Her breath caught. “What- what do you mean, again?”

“I know your routine now,” he said, voice tightening with each word. “You show up, confused. You ask questions. You cry. And then just when I start to believe you might be real- when I almost let myself feel something again- you vanish.”

“Matt, I don’t- ”

“No,” he snapped. “Stop. Just stop.”

She froze. He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, his jaw locked, eyes unreadable.

“You know what it’s like to bury someone without a body, (Y/n)?” he asked. “To sit in this apartment with your ring in my hand, trying to convince myself that ash on the floor was all that was left of you?”

She shook her head, tears spilling freely now. “I don’t remember anything-”

“Exactly,” he said, bitter. “You never do. That’s the trick, isn’t it? You pretend like you’re all confused. Like you don’t know what’s happening. And I- I fall for it. Every time. Like an idiot.”

“Matt- please, just listen to my heartbeat-”

“I did,” he cut in. “I’ve heard it before. Right before it disappears.”

Her lips trembled. “I swear I’m not-”

“You don’t get to do this,” he said, his voice suddenly shaking, but no less cruel. “You don’t get to come back here like nothing happened. Like you didn’t leave me bleeding on the floor that night. Like I didn’t spend years trying to claw my way out of what you left behind.”

“I didn’t leave you,” she whispered.

“But you’re dead,” Matt hissed, stepping close enough for her to feel the heat off his skin. “You died. And whatever this is- this illusion, this dream- it doesn’t change that. You don’t get to hurt me again.”

He said it like a closing statement. Like a sentence passed down after a trial that never had a chance. But he didn’t stop there.

“You think this is easy for me?” he went on, voice low, cracking at the edges now. “You think I want to keep seeing you in doorways? Hearing your voice when I close my eyes? You think I haven’t begged for it to stop?”

(Y/n) stood frozen, lips parted, tears streaking silently down her face.

“I have spent five years trying to forget the exact way you said my name before you disappeared. Five years trying not to hear it in someone else’s mouth. Five years waking up thinking you might be there- just once- and then realizing that all I’ve got left is a bed that’s too big and silence that’s too loud.”

He was pacing now, hands in his hair, breathing hard, unable to stop himself.

“You were my wife. You were supposed to be the rest of my life. And I had you for minutes. You were ripped out of my arms before I even got to love you properly. Do you understand that? Do you even get what you left behind?”

“Matt-”

“I grieved you like a man who’d never believe in God again,” he growled. “I went back to that night a thousand times in my head-wondering if I missed something, if I could’ve saved you, if I’d just done one thing different-”

“Matt-”

“I begged,” he snapped. “I begged God to bring you back. I lost everything trying to survive you. And now you show up here, looking exactly the same, like time hasn’t touched you, like you’re just picking up where you left off- like you didn’t burn me to the fucking ground-”

“Matt.”

She said it once.

Quietly.

And then she reached for him.

He flinched on instinct, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, gently, deliberately, she took his hand in hers- still trembling from the weight of his words- and guided it up between them.

To her chest. To her heartbeat. Right there. Steady. Real. Alive. His breath hitched. She kept his hand pressed there, fingers wrapped around his wrist like she could anchor him to this one undeniable truth.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m not in your head. I don’t know how or why or what the hell happened, but I’m here.”

Matt didn’t move at first. Just stood there, hand pressed to her chest, like he didn’t trust what he was feeling. Like it might stop if he acknowledged it out loud. Then- suddenly- he let out a shaky breath and pulled her into him, hard.

His voice was muffled against her shoulder. “What the fuck.”

Her hands gripped his shirt like she was afraid he’d drop her again. “Yeah, what the fuck. I don’t know what’s happening.”

He laughed once, breathless and half-broken. “Yeah. Me neither.”

They just stood there for a second. Breathing each other in. Trying to recalibrate. Then, against his chest, she mumbled, “You look like shit, by the way.”

It slipped out before she could stop it. Matt let out an actual laugh- short, incredulous, almost like it startled him.

“That’s not funny,” he said, wiping at his eyes, still half-laughing.

She smiled weakly. “Little bit funny.”

He shook his head, still not quite believing any of it. “God, I missed you.”

And then he kissed her.

Desperate and real and messy- too much force, too much urgency, like he didn’t trust it to last. His hands found her face, holding her like he needed proof she was solid. She kissed him back just as hard, fingers in his hair, anchoring him to now. To her.

It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t perfect. But it was real. And that was enough.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a little bonus content because well it was funny in my head

A few days later

She was curled up next to him on the couch, legs tangled, one of his old hoodies hanging off her shoulder. The TV was on, volume low, neither of them really watching.

She was still catching up- on everything. The blip. The aftermath. The years she missed. Sometimes it hit her like a freight train. Other times, like now, it just snuck up and poked her in the ribs.

She turned to look at him, brow furrowed. “Wait a second.”

Matt tilted his head toward her. “Uh-oh.”

She sat up a little. “So… technically, you’re five years older than me now?”

He blinked. “That’s what you’re choosing to focus on right now?”

“It’s a valid question,” she insisted, grinning. “I married a man my age, not some grizzled thirty-something.”

He scoffed. “Grizzled?”

“I mean, I don’t see any grey hairs, but-”

“I’m blind, not deaf. I heard that smirk.”

She tried to hold back a laugh. Failed. “So you’re like… what, thirty-eight?”

“Thirty-seven,” he corrected flatly.

“Oh no. I married an older man.”

Matt deadpanned, “And I married a time traveler. Guess we’re even.”

She bumped her shoulder into his. “You gonna start calling me ‘kid’ now?”

He turned toward her, a slow smirk tugging at his mouth. “Only if you want to see how fast a five-year age gap doesn’t matter.”

Her face flushed. “Okay, grandpa.”

Matt groaned. “Regret. Immediate regret.”

She laughed, leaning back into him again, warm and solid and finally, finally real.

“Still married me,” she said, smug.

“Still would,” he replied, without hesitation.

And that shut her up for a minute.

[wolvietxt]

𝓢ILENT 𝓣REATMENT.

pairings : frank castle x fem!reader warnings : argument, crying, hurt / comfort, happy ending, established relationship au, shouting, implied size diff (like my fav trope if you can’t already tell) silent treatment  summary : after an argument with frank, you both end up giving eachother silent treatment, until the tension gets too unbearable for you in the car. wc : 4.5k a/n : i got a req for this a few days ago but i think i deleted it or something i can’t find it now💔 but it was from an anon so thank you for this one because i loved writing this ALSO!! thank you to everyone who leaves feedback + little comments on my frank fics i notice it happens more when i write for frank and it’s the absolute sweetest

the air in the apartment felt heavy, charged, like a storm was brewing right there in the middle of the living room. frank was pacing now, his big hands flexing at his sides, his jaw tight enough that you swore you could hear his teeth grinding.  

you didn’t fight - not like this. not with him raising his voice and you trying so hard not to let yours crack. it wasn’t how things usually went. frank was tough, sure, rough around the edges in a way that didn’t really go away even when he was at his gentlest. but with you, he was softer. he made an effort to rein it in because he’d told you once, in a rare moment of vulnerability, that he didn’t want you to ever be scared of him. and you never had been.

but tonight, he was angry. angrier than you’d ever seen him at you, and the worst part was you weren’t sure how it had even escalated to this.  

“so what?” frank barked, spinning on his heel to face you, his broad frame taking up what felt like the entire room. “you think i’m just gonna sit back and let this slide?” his voice was sharp, cutting, and it made you flinch, even though you knew deep down that he’d never in a million years actually hurt you. “you think that’s who i am?”  

you held your ground, even though your heart was pounding against your ribs. “it’s not about letting it slide, frank,” you said softly, your tone calm, measured - a stark contrast to the heat in his voice. “it’s about not making it worse. escalating doesn’t fix anything.”  

“escalating?” he repeated, his voice rising, almost incredulous. “this isn’t escalating, this is handling it. you don’t just let people treat you like crap n’ walk away. you should know that’s not how it works.”  

“sometimes it is,” you said quietly, refusing to match his volume. “sometimes walking away is the only thing you can do. not everything has to be a fight.”  

“bullshit.” the word came out harsh, and the bite in it made your chest tighten. frank rarely swore at you, and when he did, it was never like this, never with this kind of edge.  

your hands trembled slightly, so you folded your arms across your chest, not in defiance but as a way to steady yourself. “frank, please. i don’t want to argue about this.”  

“yeah, well, maybe you should’ve thought about that before you went and tried to handle this on your own.” he threw his hands up, his frustration spilling over like a dam breaking. “you didn’t even tell me, and now i’m supposed to just sit back and be okay with it?”  

“i didn’t tell you because i knew this is how you’d react,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.  

his face twisted, a mixture of disbelief and something else - hurt, maybe. but it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a hard, almost cold expression. “damn right this is how i’d react,” he shot back. “because i give a shit. because i don’t want you getting hurt or screwed over or whatever the hell else might happen if i’m not there to step in.”  

“i know you care,” you said, your voice still soft but firm. “but you can’t control everything, frank. sometimes things happen, and you just have to let them go.”  

he let out a sharp, bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “letting it go gets you hurt. letting it go gets you walked all over. i’m not gonna let that happen to you.”  

his words were loud, forceful, like he was trying to hammer them into your head, but they only made your throat tighten more. “i can handle myself,” you said, your voice shaking slightly despite your best efforts.  

“can you?” he snapped, and the doubt in his tone stung worse than any of the yelling.  

you flinched, your eyes dropping to the floor. “that’s not fair,” you whispered.  

“yeah, well, life’s not fair,” he shot back, his tone still razor-sharp.  

silence fell between you, heavy and suffocating. you could feel the sting of tears threatening to spill, but you refused to cry - not in front of him, not when he was like this, which he never had been before. you’d seen flashes of it occasionally, never once directed at you. so instead, you turned on your heel and walked out of the room, your steps quick but steady, your back straight even though every part of you felt like curling up into yourself.  

you didn’t look back, but you could feel his eyes on you as you left.  

the door clicked softly as you shut yourself in the bathroom, leaning back against the cool wood as you tried to pull in a steadying breath. it felt like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs back in the living room, and now the weight of it all was crashing down on you.  

you stared at the tiled floor, your arms wrapped around yourself like that might somehow hold you together. your chest felt tight, your eyes stinging with unshed tears, but you bit down hard on your bottom lip, refusing to let them fall. not yet, anyway.  

you weren’t used to this - not with frank. he could be sharp, blunt, even infuriatingly stubborn sometimes, but he was never cruel. not to you. in the years since you’d met him, since the whirlwind of your relationship had gone from cautiously circling each other to something real and steady, frank had always been your safe place. he was intense, sure, but his intensity had always felt protective, grounding, like you could lean on him no matter how bad things got.  

so why did it feel like he was the one knocking the ground out from under you now?  

you pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes, trying to will the tears away. it wasn’t fair to pin all the blame on him, you knew that. this argument wasn’t entirely about frank’s temper, or his need to protect you - it was about your own unwillingness to let him.  

the issue had started small, just a casual remark you’d made earlier in the week about someone you worked with - someone who’d been taking advantage of your kindness. you hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but frank had picked up on it immediately, and the more you’d tried to brush it off, the more his protective instincts had kicked in.  

at first, it had been sweet, his quiet grumbles about how people didn’t deserve to treat you that way, how you needed to stand up for yourself more. but somewhere along the line, it had turned into this - a full-blown argument where neither of you seemed to be able to see the other’s side.  

you weren’t blind to why he was upset. frank had been through more than most people could even imagine, and the idea of someone hurting you - or even disrespecting you - lit a fire in him that he couldn’t always control. but the way he handled that fire was what made your chest ache. it felt suffocating, like his need to protect you was overshadowing the fact that you didn’t want - or need - him to fight your battles for you.  

you let out a shaky breath, the first tear slipping free as the weight of it all settled heavier on your shoulders.  

frank had always been larger than life to you - not just physically, though his sheer size and strength made you feel small in comparison, but in the way he carried himself, the way he seemed to command every room he walked into. it was part of what had drawn you to him in the first place, the quiet confidence that bordered on intimidating until you saw the softness he tried so hard to hide.  

he’d always been gentle with you, even when his hands were so calloused and rough, even when his voice was so gravelly and low. it made the harshness of his words tonight cut deeper, the sharp edges of his anger something you weren’t used to being on the receiving end of.  

you wiped at your face quickly, straightening up as you tried to pull yourself together. you hated crying - especially over arguments like this. it made you feel weak, even though you knew it wasn’t, and the last thing you wanted was for frank to think he’d broken you. he’d never stop beating himself up over it.

still, you couldn’t bring yourself to go back out there yet. not with the way his words were still echoing in your mind, the frustration in his voice still ringing in your ears.  

you stayed there for a while, letting the quiet of the bathroom wrap around you like a blanket, giving yourself the space to breathe and feel without the weight of frank’s presence bearing down on you.  

meanwhile, in the living room, frank was pacing again. his hands were on his hips, his brows drawn together in that way they always did when he was deep in thought - or pissed off.  

he knew you were upset. hell, he wasn’t an idiot, and he’d seen the way your eyes were brimming with tears before you’d turned and walked away. it wasn’t the first time he’d pushed too hard, but it was the first time it had been directed at you, and it was eating at him in a way he didn’t want to admit.  

but the anger was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, and he couldn’t seem to let it go. it wasn’t directed at you - not at all. it was at the situation, at the asshole who’d made you feel like you had to handle everything on your own. but frank wasn’t exactly good at untangling those things, at separating his frustration from the people he cared about most.  

he scrubbed a hand over his face, letting out a low growl of frustration as he dropped onto the couch. his mind was running in circles, replaying the argument over and over again, each word sharper than the last.  

the silence in the apartment felt deafening, and for a moment, he considered going to find you, to try and talk this out. but he stopped himself, his jaw clenching as he forced himself to stay put. you needed space - he knew that much, even if it went against every instinct he had.  

he sat there for a long time, the tension in his body refusing to ease as he stared at the spot where you’d been standing just minutes before.  

the car keys sat on the counter, untouched, while the clock crept closer to the time you were supposed to leave. it had been a whole thing - this charity function a few towns over. someone important to frank had invited him, and even though it wasn’t the kind of event he’d normally go for, he’d said yes because it mattered to them.  

you had said yes because it mattered to him.  

but now, with the argument still heavy in the air, the thought of sitting next to him for almost four hours felt like trying to breathe underwater. the quiet that lingered between you wasn’t the natural kind you often enjoyed. it was thick and suffocating, and neither of you seemed ready to cut through it.  

you stood in the bedroom doorway, watching frank tie his boots like the act itself had wronged him. his movements were sharp, jerky, and his mouth was set in a grim line. you weren’t sure if it was guilt or frustration written in his expression, but either way, it left your stomach in knots.  

he grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, yanking it on with a force that looked like it made the seams strain. his head turned slightly toward you as if he was about to say something, but then he thought better of it, his eyes dropping to the floor instead.  

you didn’t move, didn’t speak, just hovered in the doorway as he brushed past you toward the front door. the weight of it all - the argument, the way he hadn’t looked at you since - pressed down on your chest like a boulder, and your throat burned with more unshed tears.  

when he held the door open for you, you walked through it wordlessly, your gaze fixed on the floor.  

outside, the crisp night air felt sharper than it should have, like even the weather was conspiring to remind you how raw everything was. frank locked the door behind you without a word, and the sound of the lock clicking into place made you flinch.  

he didn’t notice.  

the car ride loomed ahead of you like a punishment, the thought of sitting in that confined space together for hours making your palms sweat. but there was no way out of it, not without causing more problems.  

frank climbed into the driver’s seat, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles went white. he started the engine without looking at you, the low growl of it filling the space where words should’ve been.  

you slid into the passenger seat, keeping your hands in your lap and your gaze fixed on the window. the city lights blurred into streaks as the car picked up speed, but you weren’t paying attention to where you were going. your mind was stuck on everything that had been said - and everything that hadn’t.  

he’d been angry. louder than usual, harsher, the words tumbling out of him like he didn’t know how to stop them. but you knew frank. you knew the fire in him wasn’t because he didn’t care - it was because he cared too much, and it scared him sometimes.  

still, knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less.  

the silence in the car was unbearable, the kind that made you want to fill it just so you didn’t have to sit with the weight of it anymore. but frank wasn’t giving you an inch, his eyes glued to the road and his shoulders hunched up like he was trying to shield himself from the world.  

you stole a glance at him, your chest aching at the sight of his furrowed brow and clenched jaw. he looked tired - angry, yes, but tired too, like the argument had drained him in ways he didn’t want to admit.  

your own emotions were bubbling up, threatening to spill over no matter how hard you tried to keep them in check. your hands trembled slightly in your lap, and you clenched them into fists to try to stop it, but it didn’t help.  

you didn’t even realize you were crying until a tear slipped down your cheek, cool against your flushed skin. you brushed it away quickly, hoping frank wouldn’t notice, but you doubted he’d even glanced your way.  

the road stretched on, dark and empty except for the occasional glow of headlights from oncoming cars. the longer the silence dragged, the heavier it felt, like it was wrapping around your throat and making it hard to breathe.  

eventually, the ache in your chest grew too much to bear. you didn’t know what you wanted - comfort, maybe, or some kind of reassurance that everything would be okay - but the urge to reach out was overwhelming.  

your hand hovered hesitantly over the center console, your fingers trembling as you debated whether or not to do it. it felt like crossing some invisible line, like putting yourself out there in a way that left you completely vulnerable.  

but then you glanced at frank, at the way his brow furrowed and his jaw tightened, and something in you broke.  

with tears brimming in your eyes and a small, helpless pout tugging at your lips, you let your fingers reach up to grasp at his. the touch was so light it was barely there, but it was enough to draw his attention.  

he glanced down at your hand, his gaze softening instantly as he took in the way your fingers trembled and the sheen of tears in your eyes, the wet tracks of tears that’d already fallen etched on your face.

“ah, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice rough but laced with a tenderness that made your heart ache.  

his hand moved to cover yours completely, his fingers curling around your smaller ones in a gesture that felt both protective and grounding. his thumb brushed over the back of your hand in slow, deliberate strokes, and the tension in your chest eased just a little.  

you sniffled, blinking quickly to clear your vision as you looked up at him. his expression had shifted, the hard lines of his face softening as he met your gaze.  

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the engine.  

frank let out a heavy sigh, his grip on your hand tightening slightly as he pulled the car off to the side of the road. the tires crunched against the gravel as he put it in park, and before you could ask what he was doing, he was out of the car.  

your breath caught as he rounded the front of the vehicle, his movements deliberate but not rushed. he opened your door, the cool night air rushing in as he crouched slightly to meet your eyes.  

“c’mere,” he said softly, his tone a stark contrast to the anger that had been there earlier.  

you hesitated for only a moment before unbuckling your seatbelt and letting him pull you into his arms. his embrace was warm and solid, his arms wrapping around you in a way that made you feel small and safe all at once.  

“’m sorry, baby,” he murmured against your hair, his voice rough with emotion. “shouldn’t’ve yelled. shouldn’t’ve made you feel like that.”  

you buried your face in his chest, your own arms slipping around his middle as you let out a shaky breath. “i’m sorry too,” you whispered.  

“you don’t gotta be sorry, you did nothing wrong. my sweet girl’s just nice to everyone, isn’t she?” he cooed, his hand came up to cradle the back of your head, his thumb brushing gently against your temple as he peppered hard kisses over your face. “we’re okay?”  

you nodded against him, a small, shaky smile tugging at your lips. “we’re okay.”  

he pressed another kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment longer than before. but instead of pulling back completely, frank’s lips trailed down, brushing lightly against your temple, then your cheek.  

your breath hitched, your hand tightening around his shirt as he hesitated, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. when your eyes flicked up to meet his, there was something unspoken between you - an ache, a pull that neither of you could ignore.  

“frank…” your voice was barely a whisper, and it only made him lean in closer.  

his hand moved to cradle the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as his lips finally found yours. the kiss was slow at first, soft and careful, but there was a heat behind it, a depth that made your stomach twist in the best way.  

he kissed you like he needed you, like he couldn’t get close enough no matter how tightly he held you. his other hand slid to your waist, pulling you against him just enough to make you feel the strength behind every touch, every movement.  

when he pulled back, it was with a low, rumbling breath, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to steady himself. “you’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he murmured, his voice rough and tinged with something deeper.  

your cheeks flushed, your heart racing as you tried to find the words, but all you could do was nod, your fingers still gripping the front of his shirt.  

he pressed one last, lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth before stepping back. “c’mon,” he said, his tone softer now, his thumb brushing your cheek one last time before helping you back into the car.  

as he slid into the driver’s seat, his hand found yours again, holding on tightly. this time, neither of you let go.  

the rest of the drive was quiet, but not in the same way as before. frank kept one hand on the wheel, the other holding yours firmly in his grasp. his thumb moved in slow, lazy circles over your knuckles, a silent apology with every stroke.  

you felt the tension melting bit by bit, your chest no longer tight with the weight of everything left unsaid. instead, there was this warmth - a softness between you that hadn’t been there earlier. it was unspoken, but it was enough to ease the ache in your heart.  

“we’ll stop soon, yeah?” frank broke the silence, his voice low and softer than usual. “get you somethin’ to eat.”  

your lips curved into a small smile, your first real one since the argument. “i’m okay,” you murmured. “we don’t have to stop.”  

“nah.” he glanced over at you, his eyes lingering for a second longer than they should’ve. “you didn’t eat much earlier. ain’t lettin’ you sit through this thing hungry.”  

the tenderness in his voice made your cheeks heat, and you squeezed his hand lightly in response.  

it wasn’t long before frank pulled off at a small diner on the side of the road. the neon sign flickered against the night sky, casting a warm glow over the parking lot.  

“c’mon,” he said, cutting the engine and stepping out.  

before you could even reach for the door handle, frank was already there, pulling it open for you. his hand was outstretched, waiting for yours, and when you slipped your fingers into his, he gave them a gentle squeeze.  

inside, the diner was quiet, the hum of conversation and the clatter of dishes filling the space. frank led you to a booth in the corner, his hand never leaving yours until you slid into your seat.  

“what’re you in the mood for?” he asked, his eyes scanning the menu even though you both knew he’d end up ordering the same thing he always did.  

you shrugged, your fingers playing with the edge of the napkin in front of you. “maybe just some fries.”  

frank frowned, lowering the menu to look at you. “you need more than that.”  

“frank, i’m fine - ”  

“i’ll get you somethin’ else too,” he cut in, his tone leaving no room for argument.  

you bit back a smile, knowing better than to push him when he got like this. instead, you let him order for both of you, his gruff voice somehow softer when he spoke to the waitress.  

when the food arrived, frank nudged the plate closer to you, his eyes narrowing slightly when you hesitated. “eat, sweetheart,” he said gently.  

you rolled your eyes but grabbed a fry anyway, earning a satisfied grunt from him.  

as you ate, the tension from earlier felt like a distant memory. frank had a way of grounding you, of making you feel like no matter how bad things got, everything would eventually be okay.  

after the meal, frank walked you back to the car, his hand settling on the small of your back as he guided you outside. the night air was crisp, but his touch was warm, steady, and it made you lean into him just a little.  

“y’alright?” he asked once you were back in the passenger seat.  

you nodded, looking up at him with a soft smile. “yeah. i’m okay.”  

his eyes lingered on yours for a moment, and then, without a word, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. it was quick but tender, and when he pulled back, his hand cupped your cheek for a second longer.  

the drive to the function was quieter this time, but it wasn’t the heavy silence from before. it was comfortable, the kind of quiet where words weren’t necessary because you both knew everything was okay now.  

as you pulled up to the venue, frank cut the engine and turned to you. his expression was softer, his usual rough edges smoothed out in a way that made your heart ache.  

“you look beautiful,” he said, his voice gruff but sincere.  

your cheeks flushed at the compliment, and you glanced down at your dress, suddenly feeling shy. “thank you,” you murmured.  

he leaned over, his large hand settling on your knee as he pressed a quick kiss to your temple. “‘m gonna keep tellin’ you that all night,” he added, his lips quirking into the faintest of smirks.  

the warmth in your chest grew, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. “you don’t look so bad yourself,” you teased, your tone light.  

he chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, and you swore it was the best thing you’d heard all day.  

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he said, opening his door. “let’s get this over with.”  

as you stepped out of the car, frank was already by your side, his hand finding yours once more. he held it tightly, his grip firm and reassuring, and when he glanced down at you, there was something in his eyes that made your breath catch.  

it was love - raw and unfiltered, the kind that didn’t need words to be understood.  

and in that moment, you knew that no matter what, you and frank would always find your way back to each other.  

ᰔ frank castle : @stvr-dust, @uncertified-doc

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[dameronology]

matt murdock headcanons

i have about 4000 words to write for my thesis so instead i am writing these. enjoy xx

matt takes his coffee black. nothing else added, literally just black. anything else overwhelms his senses. for the first six months of your relationship, you kept accidentally leaving little coffee grounds floating in the bottom that made him want to die, but he loves you so he did not say anything.

actually, matt is the king of "i love you so i won't say anything." if you burn dinner or wear that one scratchy jumper that overwhelms him or flood the bathroom so it's a gosh darn slip and slide, he won't say anything. why would he? he loves you as you are.

matt doesn't need you to guide him in public but he will hold your arm or hand just because he wants too. he especially likes when your hands are loosely intertwined and he can feel your pulse against his skin. it's calming for him.

sometimes he forgets that you weren't always in his life. he'll tell a story from college as though you were because it just doesn't feel right to have lived a life where you weren't in it.

matt rarely calls you by your name. it's always sweetheart, and sometimes baby.

although one time foggy heard him call you the latter and then called matt baby girl and babycakes for a week until karen threatened to beat them both up

on the subject of foggy & karen -- they both love you!! they'd always been protective of their little trio but you fit in perfectly.

those two quickly become your best friends.

josie's for drinks after work on a friday is standard. matt will always have an arm looped around your waist, or a hand on your thigh, or just any form of physical contact really. mostly because he's over protective.

matt doesn't get hungover and it's really fucking annoying. you've seen him pound back pint after pint, just to wake up feeling fresh as a daisy the next day.

the good news?? he's vision impaired so he won't open the curtains when you're hanging out your absolute arse !!

he's the best at looking after you when you're hanging, though. he'll make you a smoothy and a greasy breakfast.

actually, matt is just the best in the mornings anyways. you'll always have a cup of coffee made before you're awake, with breakfast on the counter.

living with matt is domestic bliss tbh

that's not to say you don't argue -- you're both human and in his line of work, both day job and night job, it comes with its bad days and times when he keeps shit bottled up

so you prod and you poke until he explodes and finally, you argue and it's cathartic as hell

matty is very overprotective too, which has lead to tension

it was a little over the top at first, but you settle for having life 360 on both your phones and letting him know when you arrive places safely

even when you have really bad arguments, you always find your back to each other

one time you joked "i'll send you a text if wilson fisk murders me" and he didn't find it funny

actually he almost cried

the be all and end all though is that against the back drop of new york city, and even though you're in the arse, you are everything that's pure in matt's world.

[luffyssa]

i got bored so here's a meme

[petertingle-yipyip]

DONT BE A FOOL - MATT MURDOCK

Pairing: matt x wife!reader

Word Count: 2, 156

Summary: After a very tense argument about a misused name, your apologetic husband ends up getting looped in by your students.

//follow-up to three empty words but can probably be read on its own. i realize i lost the original plot so if it’s too bothersome, i’ll rewrite it// rewrite/part three?

The next morning, you refused to dilly dally your morning routine. Your shower was quick, your hair and makeup remained simple. Even your outfit was more or less the first thing you grabbed from your closet. You gathered all of your papers - which you hadn’t gotten around to grading the night before - and your laptop before Matt’s alarm had even gone off.

You skipped making breakfast, deciding to stop at a coffee shop on the way to work instead, and hustled out the door. You ignored the still sleeping figure of Elektra on your couch even though your brain wanted to soak her with cold water and kick her out. You did slam the door on your way out but that was just to satisfy your own anger.

You walked into your classroom and let out a loud sigh as you dropped into your deskchair. You were thankful to be out of the house, in your own space for the time being. As you began grading the papers and piling them according to the hours, your mind wandered back to the night before. You wondered if Elektra would be out of your apartment when you got back. You wondered if Matt would tell Foggy and Karen that you two got into a fight last night. You then found yourself wondering if Matt was actually going to go to work that morning.

You realized you were staring blankly at the student’s worksheet in front of you so you shook the thoughts and focused on the daunting stacks before you.

Most of the hours were business as usual. Your normal rowdy students were a bit extra, but that might’ve been due to your already grated nerves more than their own behaviors. It wasn’t until the hour before lunch that you found some of your students more huddled and secretive than usual.

“What are you doing in the corner?” You called, peaking over your computer at the small group. “There’s, what, five minutes till the bell?”

“Mrs. Murdock, what’s your husband’s name?” One of the girls, Liv, asked with an innocent expression. The same one she gave you when she explained her lacking assignments.

“Matthew.” You titled down your screen to see them better. “Why?”

“What does he do again?”

“Lawyer. Why?”

“Is he handsome?” Another girl, Nicole, asked with wiggling eyebrows.

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes at your middle schoolers.

“Yes, very.” You smiled slightly. “I wouldn’t have married him if he wasn’t.”

“And if he’s a lawyer, he’s gotta be smart, right?”

“Again, very. He went to Columbia.”

“So like… Is he why you’re so sad today?” Blake, the only boy in the group, chimed in with a nonchalant shrug.

“Guys.” You frowned slightly. “I’m not sure what you’re doing, but I’m not sad. Me and Mr. Murdock are fine. We’re happily married. And you should be worried about your own relationship drama, not mine.”

“So you admit there’s drama?” Nicole countered quickly.

“Between Blake and Emmy? Yes.” You nodded and Emmy’s jaw dropped while her friends poked her teasingly. “Between me and Mr. Murdock, no.”

“Mhmm.. So why is the photo face down?”

“What?”

“The photo by your computer.” She came across the room and lifted the frame near your laptop that was in fact, face down. “You told us on the first day that this was one your favorite photos and you have it on it’s face… There’s drama, Mrs. Murdock.”

“You’re very observant, Nicole. Thank you.” You said flatly as you took the frame from her hands and set it in it’s rightful position. “I must’ve knocked it over when I was trying to find you and Liv’s missing portfolio project.” “You can’t deflect, Mrs. M.” Liv added from across the room. “It’s all over your face.”

“Y’know what.” You announced, standing from your desk. “The bell rings in less than two minutes. You guys can all go to lunch early.”

A chorus of questions arose while you heard the door being pushed open.

“They can’t write you all up.” You shrugged and dropped back in your chair while the meddling group made their way into the hall.

The girls continued to whisper to themselves and glanced back at you, to which you shooed them away. When you were finally alone in your classroom, you let out a heavy sigh and rubbed a hand over your eyes.

Usually, you adored having open communication with your students because that meant they trusted you. But at the same time, that meant they felt entitled to know your life story whether you like it or not. The bell echoed in your ears so you spun your chair to the small fridge under your desk that held your lunch.

You clicked play on a playlist from your laptop and began eating your lunch, typing away to enter in grades. You knew you should just do nothing, scroll mindlessly on your social medias instead or maybe even call Foggy to ensure Matt made it to work, but the busy work for your eyes, head, and hands felt better. Plus, you weren’t exactly sure what you would’ve said that could’ve gotten your question answered without being a dead giveaway. So you kept working instead.

“MRS. MURDOCK!” Liv nearly yelled as she burst through your door, maybe halfway through the lunch hour. “OHMYGODYOULLNEVERBELIEVE-”

“Liv!” You said in shock, nearly dropping your water bottle. “What is going on? Is everything okay?”

“Look at this!” She hurried across and showed you her phone screen. Oddly enough, it was a photo of the back of a man exiting a taxi. What stood out to you was the white cane in his hand.

“It’s a guy getting out a cab.” You tried to reason, gently pushing her phone away. “That’s what you ran in here to tell me?”

“But he’s blind!”

“So it seems.”

“Don’t you know what this means?” She insisted with a small stomp.

You simply shrugged and raised your brows.

“It’s Mr. Murdock! He came to apologize!”

“Liv, I appreciate your concern for my marriage but we’re fine, okay? It’s not like he and I are heading towards a divorce. We’re just in a bit of an argument. It’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? Because I’ve never seen you so…” She gestured vaguely to you.

“Yes, I’m sure. Now go back to your lunch, please. I have to finish these.”

“But-”

“No.”

“Mrs. M, just-”

“Liv, boundaries, please.”

“Just listen!”

“No.” You said firmly. “Go back to your lunch.”

She huffed slightly but retreated to the door. As she was heading out, she nearly ran into one of the monitors.

“Sorry to intrude, Y/N.” The monitor said as she popped her head in. “I have a visitor for you.”

“Another one of my kids being a problem?” You sighed and wheeled yourself a bit further from your desk. “Send ‘em in. They can sit in the corner till next class.”

“Actually, I think you’ll be glad to see this one.” She smiled knowingly and reached for something outside the doorframe.

Before you could voice another question, she ushered Matt through the door. He said his usual thanks for being guided and the monitor gave you an approving nod and thumbs up. She mouthed a very not subtle ‘He’s very handsome’. You smiled awkwardly in agreement but once the door closed, you rolled your eyes and went back to your gradebook.

“Could’ve called.” You said simply.

“I didn’t think you would answer.” Matt replied honestly.

“Probably wouldn’t have… Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“I couldn’t focus.”

You heard the clicks of him folding his cane as he wandered around your classroom. You peaked up to watch him manueaver the desks with such ease that for a split second, you forgot he was blind. You watched him run his fingers along the bulletin board you had on one wall, leading into the standards and other required signage you had up.

“Did she leave?” You asked and returned to your prior task. You knew if you watched him for too long, he’d know and he’d show you that stupid lopsided smirk that he did.

“She was still pretty weak when I left.” He said and there was a slight sadness in his voice. Though if someone asked if it was for Elektra or your argument, you wouldn’t have been able to say. “But I did ask Stick to find somewhere else to take her to recover if she can’t leave on her own by the time someone gets home.”

“Chivalrous.” You made a face behind your computer screen. “You didn’t have to come all the way here to tell me that.”

He sighed slightly and you mumbled a short complaint to yourself before scooting away from your desk and spinning in your chair to face him, just as he appeared at your side. You folded your hands over your stomach and leaned back in your chair, giving an exaggerated sigh and nod for him to talk.

“Y/N, last night, I said something I shouldn’t have.” He began carefully, as if he was following a carefully rehearsed speech. For all you knew, he had rehearsed it with Foggy that morning before he showed up. “I let Stick push me and I just said the first thing that came to mind.”

“But she shouldn’t be the first thing, right?” You said softly with a small shrug. “Stick shouldn’t be able to push you into saying that, whether you meant it or not.”

“You’re right.” He admitted and your brows went up slightly. “I shouldn’t have said that. You are the only woman that I want to be with. I married you, without any hesitation. I never had second thoughts or second thoughts or anything. You, Y/N Murdock, have my heart.”

You nodded slowly but said nothing as you stood. You crossed your arms and looked up at him, him offering a hopeful expression in return. You broke into a small smile and nudged him with your shoulder before moving past him. He followed you almost instantly and you took him to the wall on the other side of your desk near the window.

“The kids started calling this the Sweetheart’s Spotlight.” You said quietly with a small smile. “They keep a polaroid camera in one of the cubbies and every Friday, they rearrange the couples in order of their favorites… They made me put a photo of us on here, too.”

“Where do we rank?” He smiled slightly.

“We’ve been number one since it started.” You laughed. “They tell me that you’re the best by default since I’m their favorite teacher.”

“Lucky me.”

“You know I’m still upset, right?” You said carefully when the air was too light between you two.

“I know.” He nodded. “I can hear it in your voice.”

“But I also don’t want to hold onto this fight. So here’s an idea. Elektra’s out of the apartment today. You two finish whatever crusade you’re on. You make sure you don’t get yourself killed. She leaves New York and it’s all put to bed.”

“Consider it done.” He nodded. “And I know better than to get myself killed. I’ve got it too good to die.”

“Yeah because then I’m a widow and there’s not much life insurance to cash in on.” You joked as the lunch bell rang.

“I should get going.” He nodded before gently taking your hand. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too.” You said softly as your students started filing in.

“OHMYGOD.” One of your students yelled and you closed your eyes tightly, quietly groaning in embarrassment. “IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS?”

“Yes, Luna.” You said, feeling the blush across your cheeks. “This is Mr. Murdock and he’s leaving.”

You pulled Matt towards the door as he laughed. Your kids yelled questions that you tried to ignore until Matt stopped, pulling you to stop with him.

“It’s career week!” One of the boys yelled. More so a demand.

“I’m aware, Jack.” You nodded. “What does that have to do with this?”

“He’s not here to talk to us about lawyers?” The boy’s head cocked as he asked his question.

“That’s exactly why I’m here.” Matt grinned and you groaned again. “Let’s give Mrs. Murdock a break, right?”

“You’re so dead.” You threatened quietly with a laugh before heading back to your chair. 

“Okay, kids.” You announced. “He’s blind and can’t write. I’m not getting up. Take your own notes and keep your questions relevant to his career, okay?”

“Yes, Mrs. Murdock.” They all answered.

“All yours, Mr. Murdock.” You gestured before returning to grading and the personal questions started flying.

“How did you guys meet?!”

“What’s her favorite color?!”

“Did you see the wall?!” “He can’t see!”

“Are they always this rowdy?” He asked you with a slight laugh.

“You’re new and exciting.” You shrugged. “Take it as a compliment.”

[atrwriting]

beneath -- matt murdock x you

what's up whores back with another porn no plot one shot

as always, warnings: smut, soft dom matt, sub reader, p in v penetration, swearing, oral, soft choking

happy reading >:]

he liked you beneath him.

matt murdock didn't have a lot of control in his life, as he felt like he was always one step behind everyone else -- trying to keep up with something that was easier for everyone else. his mask also was a constant reminder of this as he felt that, for his safety and those he loved, he could never show how capable he truly was. no matter what, he was always keeping a part of himself hidden -- burdened by the greater good, which always seemed to be present and always seemed to be to his detriment.

and that's why he liked you beneath him.

sex with you was the one place he didn't have to hide his strength like in his day to day life, nor his weaknesses when he wore the mask -- he could just be himself. he liked control, and he loved when you lost it.

matt wasn't into chains and whips, no -- and he'd probably laugh curiously if anyone had shown their spark of interest to him. nothing against it, he'd say, because how could he tell them the truth? how could he tell regular people what truly excited him? to use these hands, muscles, and skills for good? bringing someone to the brink of pleasure and holding them there until they begged him to stop? what really interested matt was how comfortable he felt letting every single part that he usually kept hidden shine in those small moments of intimacy.

he never had to open your thighs for him, no -- they always slid open just enough for him to fit snug against you before you would lock your ankles at his lower back. the soft tug from your heels would pull him into you, eliciting a moan and a roll of his hips from him. he couldn't see your face -- how your eyelashes would flutter closed when he touched you, how the heat would spread across your cheeks and the back of your neck when you could feel his breath, nor how the whites of your knuckles would show when you fisted the sheets when he was near. he couldn't see any of that, unfortunately -- but he could feel it.

with you beneath him, he could feel every part of it.

"close your eyes, sweetheart," he would say.

and you would. you'd follow every direction he gave you if it meant he would slip his perfect fingers inside the lace of your panties.

once your eyes were closed, you tried to use your senses to sense other things. the light stubble on matt's face. the way his muscles felt especially taut. his aftershave. the mint on his breath. the deepness of his groans. the lightness of his small laughs. how his kisses felt. it was like matt wanted to overstimulate your senses, making sure you were driven as wild by him as he was driven by you. and with matt -- you let him. you let yourself be consumed by him. you let that control go, because no one had ever made you feel safer than in the moments beneath him.

and when he finally dipped his fingers inside you, you let out a small sigh of relief.

"yes..." you couldn't help but whine. "please, don't tease -- i can't take it today."

he ran two pads of his fingers up and down your slit. the friction was barely enough to satisfy you, but definitely enough to frustrate you with the lack of it. and when matt laughed, it was like he could feel the frustration building inside your chest. he could hear the frustrated sigh push past your lips, the frustrated tear begin to prick at your eyes, and the frustrated heat build on the back of your neck. it bit and it snapped at you, rabid in its hunger -- and matt could hear the battle in your heartbeat. again, he couldn't help but laugh.

"i can feel how stressed you are," he spoke evenly, despite the hidden tease in the meaning.

"i am," you huffed, trying to lean further into the movements of his fingers.

"we should take care of that, shouldn't we?"

and take of that he did.

you kept your eyes closed, and your fists wrapped in the sheets. matt had one forearm placed beside you, holding up his weight. every so often his skin would brush against you, and you cold feel the power in those muscles. the strength. the talent. the capability. matt murdock was a fucking wonder and you were amazed at how you were so lucky to be in the position you were with him. he had shoved two fingers inside you, twisting his wrist so he could also use his thumb to rub those circles you loved so much. his fingers were coaxing your upper wall, finding the spot that made you melt in his hands. he felt you squirming underneath him, and a coy smile took over his features. neither of you could see his smile, but you both knew it was there. matt's cockiness. ugh -- it drove you wild. you had grabbed onto his neck for dear life, unable to do anything besides take everything he gave you from beneath him.

"thaaat's it," he would speak, after you would begin to let out strangled whines for him. "that's it. feels so much better, doesn't it?"

"yes, matt --" you'd cry. "please -- you can't stop."

"i wouldn't," he stated. "not when I can feel how close you are. still got those eyes closed for me, sweetheart?"

"yes, i promise," you sobbed, trying to still the stirring of your hips. you could lie, sure -- because who wouldn't want to stare at matt murdock in all of his glory? -- but something about the trust and the intimacy of the moment was so perfect, so sexy that you couldn't help but want to give over that control to him. it was his, all his, and no one else's. no one would ever treat it with such care, let alone be as deserving of it as matt was. "it just feels s-so good matt. i don't know how much longer i can take it..."

"shhh," he cooed. "i know you can. i'll make it better. take it, sweetheart."

"fuck --" you sobbed, pushing your forehead into the crook of his neck.

with his forearm still balanced on the bed, he grabbed your hair to pull your neck taut enough to hold you close to him. he had locked your hips with his, keeping you still and open just for him. matt and everything about him drove you wild -- wild to the point where you couldn't help but be frustrated and in need of release. but when he had you here? beneath him? giving you everything you needed? taking everything he needed? you couldn't help but let him take over all of your senses.

and when you came, every muscle of yours contracted. he held you as still as possible so he could feel every movement. he wanted to feel the jerk in your hips. he wanted to feel how your calves shook. he wanted to feel how you upper body went tight, and how your little strangled breaths felt against the skin of his neck. the smell of your arousal hung in the air, and he took in the deepest of breaths.

"all mine," he would say, before he slid one of his talented fingers into his mouth.

you would open your eyes, then -- just a tad, because you couldn't help it. you witnessed as matt's lips wrapped around his fingers, sucking in the tanginess of your essence. you stared in awe at hi beautiful face, finally able to witness that coy smile. heat once again reclaimed your cheeks, but not from embarassment -- from want and need. from his and yours.

"please," you would plead, even though you had no strength left.

he flipped you over then, onto your stomach. you tried to maneuver, but he wouldn't let you. he would press his front to your back, and slide inside you. you both let out a strangled gasp, unable to fight the demand of the sensation.

you would have to be the one to grab his arm and force him to wrap it around your neck. he secretly loved it, and you know knew that, but you also knew he was never comfortable being the first to ask for it.

every thrust was a tease. matt could fuck you both into the wall, as anyone knew how much power he had behind those hips. but no, matt murdock was a rat bastard through and through -- and he wanted to make you work for it.

"too much, sweetheart?" he'd groan into your ear, letting his length rock back in forth inside you.

"not enough," you spat through gritted teeth.

"oh, really?"

every thrust was a punishment then. with one arm, he held your hips upward so his length could hit that perfect spot inside you. stars was all you saw as you struggled for breath. each thrust reminded you that matt murdock was not to be underestimated, nor messed with. you could feel how you clamped around him, trying with every reflex and bit of strength you had left to keep him inside you. every thrust of his was a show of dominance -- matt controlled you, and all you could do was take it.

nothing had felt so good as when he began to groan into your ear, making the hairs on the bac of your neck stand up. you would shiver at the feeling of his stubble across your cheek, loving how he felt against you. and when he would slip a thumb into your mouth for you to suck on, to keep you anchored? oh, both of you were done for.

thrust. "so." thrust. "fucking." thrust. "good."

"please, matt --" you whined. "i want you to come for me."

"fuck..." he would grunt, before he adjusted the both of you.

with one arm still cradling your neck, the other slipped between the both of you. he found your clit once more, and drew the roughest, sloppiest circles he could. every circle and every thrust he gave you was just another reminder that only matt murdock knew your body this well. he could hear every thrum and vibration of every heartbeat, pump of blood, and breath you took. and you fucking loved it.

you closed your lips, wanting to keep the sob of pleasure hidden from it.

"that's it, sweetheart," he'd grunt. "i'm so close --"

and when he would bite down on your shoulder, you were through.

a loud scream would rip through you as you pushed your face into the pillow. so muffled the neighbors couldn't hear, but matt could. oh, matt definitely could. it racked through him like fuel, pumping his primal blood so full until all he could do was empty himself inside you. he held onto you as his hips stuttered as your cries filled the room. throbbing was all he felt as your walls clenched around him, and his length pumped you full of him.

"so pretty for me -- like this," he'd speak as he came down from his high, you still drunk on yours. you'd feel the calloused skin of his hands run across your skin, a comfort he wanted to provide but it only made you shiver in excitement and overstimulation. "all for me. you're stuck with me, sweetheart."

----

im so obsessed with this man - L xoxo

[realangelahernandez]

What’s your favorite time of day?

Oh you know the time where I get to read about fictional characters being in love with me

[outoftheseine]

- MATT MURDOCK FIC RECS 2 -

hot hot hot hot hot | note: please be aware of the authors’ warnings before reading. fics include canon tw’s like: violence, death, blood, swearing. some fics have 18+ content so minors please DNI.

part one | main masterlist

SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS

let you break my heart again | matt’s pov | part two • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @angst-cravings (some angst, fluff, unrequited love)

one more time | part two • matt murdock x fem!enhanced!reader

↳ by @murdock-barnes (flufff)

hold them gently (these confessions) | part two | part three • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @privateanxieties (fluff, some angst, mystery, pining)

sweetest poison • matt murdock x fem!reader

↳ by @place-called-space (this is so good i can’t wait for more parts)

seeking forgiveness • matt murdock x pregnant!reader

↳ by @bellaxgiornata (very angsty, a lot of grovelling, hurt/comfort)

sad girl • matt murdock x fem!reader

↳ by @cellophaine (fluff, smut, angst)

buttercup • matt murdock x baker!reader

↳ by @thyme-in-a-bubble (fluff, smut, angst, tw: rape, ptsd)

do no harm • matt murdock x fem!doctor!reader

↳ by @farfromstrange (angst, smut, tw: dv, child abuse, mental illnesses)

stitches | part two • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @megthemewlingquim (angst, hurt/comfort, kidnapping, second part is smut fyi)

ONE-SHOTS - BLURBS - HC’S

saw you dancing in a crowded room • matt murdock x fem!accountant!reader

↳ by @scarletsloveletter (angst but fluffy ending, second chance romance)

matt murdock as a dad would include...

↳ by @bowieandqueen11 (fluff)

home sweet home • husband!matt murdock x wife!reader

↳ by @maple-the-awesome (very fluffy, dad!matt, comfort)

tragedy • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @modern-vellichor (angst, comfort)

deserving • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @sgt-morgan (angst)

ask me tomorrow • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @murdockparker (fluffy adorable)

rising in the east • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @murdockparker (fluff)

choice and chance and promise • matt murdock x fem!reader

↳ by @courtforshort15 (slight angst, mostly fluff)

calling out • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @ithebookhoarder (angst, comfort)

the perfect cheesecake • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @cece-writes-fanfic (fluff)

be still • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @dameronology (comfort, a little angsty)

the defence rests • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @dameronology (fluff, a little angst)

the lakes • matt murdock x hard-of-hearing!reader

↳ by @goldenlikedayl1ght (comfort, fluff)

more of you • matt murdock x fem!reader

↳ by @chellestrash (smut, bantering)

your wedding dress • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @shadowbriar (very angsty)

sincerely, anxiety • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @brokebonewritings (veryy fluffy)

skin • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @reckoningss (angst, hurt/comfort, fluff)

black friday • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @goldenlikedayl1ght (very fluffy)

here • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @amberlynnmurdock (angst, comfort)

lifeline • matt murdock x fem!reader

↳ by @sunflowersandsapphires (angst, comfort, fluff, panic attacks)

play along • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @mayfieldss (fluff)

orange roses • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @bornagainmurdock (fluff)

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Judex, Judicum, Infantem - Chapter 1

(Eventual) Reader x Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

next chapter | series masterlist | my masterlist

gif by me

summary: Two pink lines stared back at you and began to blur in your vision as tears welled in your eyes. Shit. You think back on one of the possible encounters with Frank that could have resulted in this.

warnings: SMUT/18+ (don’t interact if your age is not in your bio) AFAB Reader. No use of Y/N. Mention of pregnancy. Unprotected P in V, Oral mention, aftercare. Pet names. Angst.

wc: 2,144

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on Tumblr to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platforms I currently post on are Tumblr and AO3. Thanks!*

The tile of the bathroom floor was cool against the back of your thighs as you sat there waiting. A welcome relief to how intensely it felt like your body was producing nervous sweat.

17 more seconds.

You squeezed your eyes shut and inhaled deeply, trying to calm your nerves. Your leg bounced up and down as you waited, feeling like the seconds dragging on were taking an eternity.

It was only a few days late. Okay maybe like a week. Or two. You’d lost count. But it was so unlikely.

You were just stressed, that’s all. There had to be an explanation.

Your birth control was 99% effective according to the doctor. And you had absolutely taken it every day. Right? Right. Maybe.

There couldn’t be any way.

You jolted at the sound of the timer on your phone and scrambled to silence it while also lunging for the little plastic stick balancing on the corner of the sink.

You held it with both hands in front of you.

Two pink lines stared back at you and began to blur in your vision as tears welled in your eyes.

Shit.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

A few weeks earlier

The moan started in the back of your throat and died just as it escaped your lips, muffled by the scratchy fabric beneath you where your cheek was pressed into. The flesh of your rear was hiked in the air and reverberated with a slapping sound each time Frank thrust into you harshly over and over. His grasp was firm, each hand anchored to where your waist met your hips. Mindlessly pulling you back into his body in a counter to his rhythmic movements.

“Just one more sweetheart” he cooed “Just need to feel one more from you.”

Your knees ached and your hip joints were starting to lock up, but you didn’t even dream of tapping out, too lost in the bliss of Frank pulling so many orgasms out of you tonight, you’d lost count. How long you’d thought of having him in a moment like this. Felt the tension between the two of you rise and rise until the coil finally snapped. Now the two of you were like animals, freshly freed from their cages and ready to pounce on each other until you collapsed in exhaustion under the dingy florescent lights of the small office in the abandoned warehouse where he was currently squatting.

His accommodations weren't particularly comfortable — the cinder block office of an abandoned electric company facility wasn't what one would call homey. Nor was the utilitarian and practical way he had it arranged, with floor to ceiling shelves of canned food and ammunition. You also wanted to make some snappy comment about the mattress on the floor with no bed frame, covered in worn bedding matching the singular lumpy pillow your face was now buried into as he fucked you mercilessly. Would this man ever allow himself a single damn comfort? A fuzzy blanket or even a throw pillow or a mug that didn’t look like it was dug up from a time capsule from 1982?

A firm slap on your ass had you whimpering as you clutched at the sheets beneath you.

“Quit bein’ difficult baby.” he commanded

Baby.

Fuck, you shuddered at the mere sound of that word in his raspy, fucked out voice. It seemed almost unbelievable to you that you’d ever hear him call you that in this manner.

You weren’t trying to be difficult. It was just that you knew as soon as this was over, as soon as the two of you would lay there together in the afterglow, that things would change between the two of you and a conversation would need to happen. One you so desperately didn’t want because you knew where it would lead. You knew Frank would never allow himself the warm and fuzzy hallmark ending. So you held off on your orgasms as long as possible. Which wasn't easy to manage considering how psychically he was reading every ministration of your body.

Adjusting his position, his large paw of a hand came to rest on the back of your neck. Not with the pressure of a full on choke, but enough firmness to steer you as he please like the rudder of a boat. You felt the thump on the mattress as his foot anchored beside your aching leg. His new stance placed him on one knee, increasing his leverage and depth. He fucked into you as if he wasn’t just chasing your pleasure; it was as if he was trying to expel the demons of how he felt about you. Seeking with each punch of his tip against your cervix to rid himself of the guilt of whatever spark he allowed between the two of you to grow and grow until it turned into this.

The hand on your neck pulled your head upward so his other hand could reach around to press two of his thick digits between your lips, along your tongue, and down your throat.

That did it.

You groaned on his fingers as your cunt clenched around his cock. His feral roar rumbled from behind you a moment later as he spilled himself inside your still trembling walls. Just as the last of your heat’s spasms died down, you felt the comfort of his fingers leave your mouth and a trail of drool dribbled down your chin. With feather light precision, he replaced his controlling grip on your neck with his chapped lips and the bristle of his 5 o’clock shadow. He continued kissing down your spine. You let his journey guide you, lowering your body vertebrae by vertebrae until you were flat on your stomach, finally letting your muscles relax with a groan.

“Atta girl, baby.” he whispered, followed by one final kiss to the base of your lumbar.

There was that damn word again. Baby. Almost as if he…

I love you

The words wisped through your train of thought like a siren’s distant call.

Shut up, brain.

A satisfied hum escaped him as he flopped on the bed beside you. Cocky grin growing on his face, he rolled on his side and traced soft circles into the heated and sticky flesh of your arm.

“You good?” he inquired

You replied with a content mumble, watching as his soft eyes drank you in beside him.

“So good, Frankie.”

“So fuckin’ beautiful” he murmured, almost as if he didn’t even realize he was verbalizing the thought out loud.

Your heart froze up at his words. He thought you were beautiful.

I love you.

The three words you so desperately wanted to say danced on the tip of your tongue in the spaces of silence between inhales and exhales, threatening to spill out of your lips and inevitably lead to what you dreaded.

The conversation.

Frank sensed the shift, clearing his throat as he rolled onto his back and all the way into a sitting position.

“Stay put. I’ll get you cleaned up.”

You tried not to let him hear the sigh that pushed from your lungs as you rolled onto your back, a physical release of the words you knew you felt but didn’t dare say.

He returned a moment later, clad in black sweat pants that hung low on his hips, and carried a damp grey washcloth.

“Ew, do I wanna know where that’s been?” you asked as he tapped at your knee, indicating for you to open your legs

“Can you not have a fuckin’ mouth on you for once? Tryin' to take care of you.”

You shrugged and parted your legs so he could clean you up.

“If you were a little less eager earlier, you could have known exactly what my fucking mouth is good for.”

“Christ.” he mumble with a sigh and a shake of his head, meeting your eyes with a smirk on his face

You couldn’t help but grin in return, noticing the flush rising in his neck and knowing it was you that got him all flustered. It was your favorite thing to do to Frank.

Well, after tonight, your second favorite thing.

You scrunched your nose with a giggle as he ducked back down, ever the focused Marine on the mission before him.

The washcloth hit the concrete floor with a splat as he finished and tossed it aside.

No sooner had you relaxed into the comfort of the bedding beneath you, still hazy and coming down from your bliss, a soft fabric something landed on your face. The projectile carefully aimed in playful retaliation for your previous comment. You swiped it away and sat as he climbed back onto the mattress beside you.

The faded olive sweatshirt he tossed at you was clearly old; the worn Marine’s emblem on the left breast and the holes along the sleeve banding indicative of it’s history of threadbareness. Still, it smelled like Frank, all comfortable and warm and familiar. As you slipped it over your head, you realized it felt like him too.

Just as you’d gotten the garment situated just right on your body, you felt the gentle pull of his arm around you. Drawing you against his chest, he pressed a kiss into your hair. His embrace, much like his sweatshirt, was warm and comfortable.

It was still. Silent and content in the air surrounding the two of you and what had just transpired. Maybe you could be at peace with how things had just changed between the two of you.

And then at your eye level came his hand, fiddling with the gold ring he wore on a chain around his neck.

A reminder of why you couldn’t bring yourself to say the three words that had been echoing in your conscience all evening. Why if you dared speak them, you’d never hear him say them back. Even if it was what he truly felt. It would only break your heart more than he was about to.

The calmness you’d just been feeling whooshed out of you like a hot air balloon popping and deflating.

Neither of you spoke yet, but the clicking of his tongue let you know he was trying to find his words.

“Sweetheart… I…” he stumbled

“I know. I shouldn’t have…” you trailed off

“No, hey. It’s just—”

You cut him off.

“Your dead wife.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Sorry.”

“It ain’t just that. Look,” he paused, still finding the line between expressing his feelings and not crushing you completely “the life I live, it ain’t... I mean I just can’t have someone waiting with the porch light on for me. You know?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake Frank, when have you ever known me to be the type—”

“I know, I know. But, baby,”

Stop fucking calling me that.

“You’re just too damn good.”

“Oh don’t give me the ‘you’re too good for me’ spiel Frank. You’re better than that.”

“It ain’t a lie though.”

He sat upright, undoing the arm that was around you to fully face you.

The soft way he caressed your thigh and the earnest look in his eyes was almost enough to make you forgive him for whatever he was about to say.

“I had my shot you know? Had it all and I blew it. Can’t tell you how many times she begged me not to go back, but I thought I had time. Thought they’d always be there. I had to keep goin' back and back and then they got taken. Finally decided I wasn’t goin’ back and didn’t even get a day with them then they were just gone.”

You had to look away from his piercing brown eyes, or the tears would start flowing and you just couldn’t bare to let him see you cry. Not now. You’d never heard Frank speak so candidly about what happened to his family, always skirting around the topic as if he was trying not to fall into the mouth of a volcano.

“And now,” he continued “I’m just this now. I don’t know if I can go back to bein’…”

Normal. Happy. In love with someone who isn't her.

He licked at his lips as his words began to falter again, thoughts coming out choppy and all over the place.

“… and you deserve, you deserve someone who can give you that, you know?”

“I don’t want that.” you replied, finally finding some courage to meet his gaze again

“Bullshit.”

“You don’t get to decide for me what you think I should or shouldn’t want, Frank! God, you always think you’re right and it pisses me off.”

“Hey. Shhh.” he cooed, trying to pull you back into his arms again

But, you resisted.

“I should go.”

“No, no. Hey.”

His firm hand reached up, cradling your chin and turning your face to his.

“Stay? Just for tonight?”

Those goddamn brown eyes.

“Okay.” you contested

Maybe you could keep pretending this was real until the morning.

next chapter

TAG LIST: @xxdrixx @a-leg-without-fear @echo-ethe @capswife @xoxabs88xox @allmyn1ghts @laaadygisbooornex3 @ninacotte @uncertified-doc @moth-murdock @danzer8705 @endofthelinegang @buckyssugarchick @hellskitchenswhore

[farfromstrange]

One Soul | Matt Murdock x Reader

Matt Murdock Masterlist

Summary: Matt gets hurt, badly, so you have to do the one thing you promised him you wouldn't: take him to a hospital.

Warnings: Angst, life-threatening injury, blood, temporary Major Character Death (he comes back, don't worry), mentions of CPR, religious imagery, conflicted relationship with religion, Reader is described as an atheist but Mad At God, prayer, hurt/comfort

A/n: This is a little angst piece I came up with yesterday. For me, personally, my atheism isn't always black and white. I know I don't believe in God, but I have found myself cursing him in the past because it was easier than cursing something I did not understand (like the death of a loved one). And I just know that being with Matt, chances are he will get himself hurt badly enough one day to the point he has to be brought to the hospital.

Read Me On AO3!

The heart monitor beside the bed signals at a steady eighty beats per minute. You follow the many lines of tubing from the machines to his frail body, your eyes lingering on the purple bruises adorning his pale skin—deadly pale, it is. 

His cheeks, once so full of life, are hollow now. His eyes are swollen, his pretty lips cut, and there is blood stuck to his hair, still, soaking through the bandage they applied. You’ve never seen him so broken, so utterly weak and fragile that you wouldn’t dare touch him. The tears refuse to stop falling. 

Years ago, you made a promise. You promised never to take him to a hospital, to protect his identity and him. Hell, he survived the collapse of Midland Circle, albeit with a scattered mind. He had broken bones and a broken spirit, locked away at Clinton Church for weeks, and still, he survived.

Tonight though, for the first time, you felt his heart stop. It wasn’t one of those ghastly nightmares that have been plaguing you ever since you locked Fisk away and he finally came back to you. It wasn’t a product of your imagination; you felt his heart stop. Hands covered in blood, you watched as the life drained from his eyes and he breathed out without breathing in again. 

You swear you can still feel his ribs breaking underneath your fingertips. “Don’t do this to me,” you cried. “Don’t you dare do this to me, Matthew! I can’t lose you. Please, come back. Come back!”

And you prayed to a God you don’t believe in not to take him from you. You begged for a chance to hear his heartbeat again, just one last time even if it kills you. 

You looked to the sky and swore you’d make a deal with the devil if you had to. You’d do anything for this man; this reckless, stupid force of a man you are so in love with that it hurts sometimes. You would’ve let God crucify you for the whole world to see just to get a chance to look at your beloved Matthew one last time, to know he’s alive. And perhaps God did answer your prayers, or maybe the CPR you’d never done before did its trick for he suddenly took a breath, and his heart started beating again.

You cried over his body like Mary over Jesus. You shielded him as if that would heal him, and he clung to you when he realized what had happened. He coughed, and he was bleeding, and you were paralyzed with the fear of losing him again.

What else were you to do but take him to a place where he could be fixed? If you hadn’t brought him here, he would have died. You shouldn’t feel guilty. It wasn't selfish. Yet, the fire within you keeps burning, and your soul keeps hurting as you watch him like a hawk, wondering what he’ll think of you once he wakes up—if he wakes up. 

“I know I’m not… religious,” you murmur, eyes directed at the ceiling now. “I’m not a good Catholic, far from it. I’ve done things… well, you know. And I don’t pray. Matt prays. I don’t,” you say. “I just wanna understand why.”

Another tear rolls down your cheek. The coil in your throat is tight enough to strangle the air from your lungs. One of the shards of your broken heart is stuck, and now you’re bleeding. Your soul is laid bare for everyone to see. 

It’s pathetic, you think, for an atheist to pray. Because you don’t believe, you never have. Matt believes. He has faith. You’re just… angry? Yes, you are furious, and even more now than ever you feel like it’s all a lie. Where’s the hope? Where’s the faith now?

“Why do you keep letting bad things happen to him?” you ask, your voice breaking. “All he’s ever done is try to please you because he thinks you gave him some kind of purpose. That accident… he thinks it happened for a reason. Going blind, losing every one. After all the hardships and the trouble he got himself into, he thinks he’s some kind of soldier. Even when he was at his lowest and stopped believing, he eventually came back to you. Like a dog on a leash.” 

If Matt heard you, he’d be deeply offended. Religion is so important to him, but tonight, he almost died. He almost died before, but it never felt as real as it did tonight, and the thought haunts you like a restless ghost. 

“I want to be supportive, I do. I mean, everyone’s beliefs are valid, in a way, but it almost killed him tonight. If you’re up there—if you’re truly listening—how can you just let that happen to someone you claim to love, God? I don’t–” You shake your head. “I just don’t understand.”

The heart monitor keeps beeping. The lights keep flickering. His chest keeps rising. No answer. The disappointment cuts you deep. Is there perhaps a part of you that does want to believe? Or are you just looking for someone, something, to blame? Instead of the men who did this to him, instead of the men who quite literally took him apart, you’re turning to the one thing you can’t touch. But you know it’s not what Matt would want. He’d want you to have hope.

How does one go about that when everything seems to be going wrong? When your very heart is lying in a hospital bed? How does even an atheist not curse God out of pure and utter desperation? 

Matt lets out a soft groan, and your eyes flick to him. Your heartbeat accelerates at the same time as his. 

“Matt?” you ask, inching closer to the edge of the bed.

He stirs. Every muscle and bone in his body is filled with a dull ache. First dull, then sharp. The stitches in his abdomen pull at the tender flesh with every breath that fills his lungs, the oxygen so rich and concentrated it almost sets him alight. The plastic tubes weigh heavy on his nostrils. 

His eyes pulsate, and there is this obnoxiously loud beeping in his ear. It’s screaming, almost. Beep, beep, beep. Faster and faster, and faster. But his eyelids are so heavy he can’t open them. There’s nothing but fire, and for a moment he forgets that he hasn’t been able to see for decades. 

In his head, he’s eight years old again, his head wrapped with a bandage that itches his skin so terribly, and the world around him screaming. It’s the same room, it seems, cold and dark and terrifying. 

Matt reaches for his eyes, fingers brushing against the bruises that resemble the shape of a fist—no light. He can taste copper on his tongue. The beeping gets louder and his ears are ringing, and why is the blanket made of sandpaper? He wants to tear the skin off his weary bones.

“I can’t–” he breaks off at the foreign sound of his voice. Another trace of his fingertips against the bruised skin. “I can’t see,” he chokes out.

“Matt!” you say a little louder, your hand finally touching his, and it’s as if the bubble he’s in bursts. 

He recognizes your voice. He remembers he’s blind. He remembers going out last night and kissing you goodbye. He was in good spirits then. But something went wrong. Somehow, his opponent had weaponry that could easily break through the protective material of his suit. He stood no chance against the number of men coming at him. They sliced and they hit, and he thought he saw God, but it was just the swinging ceiling light inside the abandoned factory building. It smelled of mold and water. 

He fought until he couldn’t bear it anymore. Until the opportunity to flee presented itself, and so Matt crawled home to you. With every last ounce of strength, he honored his promise to always come back home to you. 

He doesn’t remember much more, only falling down the stairs to the rooftop access to the living room. The crash. Your gasp. Your heartbeat. And then, nothing. Nothing but the comfort of darkness. 

“Hey,” you smile through your tears, “It’s me. You’re okay.”

He whispers your name, and you squeeze his hand.

“I’m here. Try not to move,” you tell him. “You’re at Metro General.”

The word makes his breath stutter. “The hospital?” he inquires.

“Yes. You were hurt… badly. They had to take out your spleen. Fifty-something stitches. Some brain swelling. I don’t know, it’s a lot.” 

“I told you,” he grunts, “no hospitals.”

Matt Murdock is not an ungrateful man. However, his words cut deep. You can’t take much more.

“You promised, no–”

“You died!” you cry out. The echo bounces off the walls and resonates in his ears like the sound of a bomb going off. 

“You died in my arms and I had to–” You look at your hands, stained with blood, “I had to break your ribs to bring you back. Your bones… breaking,” you cry. “You died and I thought I was gonna lose you, for good. You can blame me for breaking a stupid promise, but if I hadn’t, I’d be preparing a funeral now!” 

His head tilts in his direction—you’re serious—and his defenses fall like an iron curtain, shattering like glass. The sound of your voice in such a state of disarray, death by a thousand cuts. 

He almost died. Or, he did die, and you brought him back, but the things you had to do for that… you brought him back, but it hurt you. He hurt you. He swore he would never do so again, only over his dead body, yet it was his dead body that almost broke you. 

Matt never wanted any of this to happen. The love of his life, traumatized. What kind of man does that? Surely the kind of man that no one but the one person he never deserved mourns when he’s gone. 

The silence drags on, suffocating you. “Do you get that?” you ask, barely above a whisper. “Do you get that I’d die without you?”

“I’m so sorry,” Matt whispers. “I don’t remember…”

“Of course, you don’t. You’ve never been this hurt.”

“Sweetheart.”

“I would’ve traded your life for mine if I could’ve. I tried, Matt, I did. I prayed to God and told him to take me instead while I was trying to get your heart beating again. And I blamed Him for doing this to you ‘cause I didn’t know who else to blame.” 

His fingers brush against the back of your hand. A nurse kindly lent you clothes from the lost-and-found, but you can still feel the sticky substance on your skin, crawling like a parasite.

You shudder. “If you hadn’t woken up, I–“ 

“C’mere,” he says. 

Beep, beep, beep, goes the heart monitor, and sirens wail outside his window. 

“I can’t,” you whisper back.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Sweetheart, you could cut out my heart and I’d still want you.”

A shiver runs down your spine, settling in the pit of your stomach. You feel so sick, so detached from everything and everyone, but the piece of you that you almost lost is right there, and he’s alive.

He’s alive. 

You have to keep reminding yourself of the fact. His heart is beating. His lungs are filled with air. Those last few hours might have felt like a proper nightmare, but you made it through. He made it through. 

“Please,” he pleads. “I… I need you.”

It’s different now. He’s not asking to hold you for your comfort but his own, and without another second thought, you climb into the tiny hospital bed with him. 

Matt seeks out the comfort of your chest, but he’s aimless in his agony. You gently guide his head to your heart. Touching him, feeling him so close to you, melts away the last of your fears.

“You scared me,” you confess.

He exhales. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just… promise you’ll live for me.”

The silence wraps a noose around your neck. But then, “You own my heart,” he says. 

“So?”

“Yeah, I’ll live for you.”

Those four words mean more to you than a promise to die for you if push comes to shove. Because what are you supposed to do without him? You’d rather he try everything in his power to live for you than leave you. 

“If you live for me, too,” he whispers then, and a tear runs from his cheek down your chest. You can’t survive without him, that much is certain. That may sound like a state of unhealthy codependency, but when two people share the same soul, every breath one breathes sustains the other. There’s nothing you can do about that, nor would you ever want to.

“Without you, I’d–” he cuts himself off. 

Without you, he’d be lost. Without you, even in death, he would not be able to find peace. 

“I promise,” you manage to say, although the words come with a fresh flood of salty tears that mix with the ocean of his. 

He relaxes into you. “Thank you.”

As he falls asleep in your arms that night, you find yourself staring up at the ceiling again.

“Don’t fail him,” you whisper. To God, to the universe, to the moon and Saturn, and to yourself. 

matt murdock angst tag list: @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @thatonegamefish @amberritonicole @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart @steve-chandler @lucienofthelakes @mochie-is-a-librarian @buckyssugarchick

[matt-murdockk]

Stealth

pairing: matt murdock x Black Widow!fem!reader

words: 3.5k

summary: Retired from your old life, you had comfortably settled down at Hell's Kitchen running a bookstore next to Nelson & Murdock. When your past comes knocking at your door again, you pray to god it doesn't affect your relationship with Matt. 

warnings: cussing, lack of proofreading (rip), canon typical violence, it’s mostly action, fluff, and comedy 

a/n: going through the matt drafts like my life depends on it lmaooooo enjoy <3

——————————————————————————————————

Blood dripped from your busted lip as you looked up from your knees, another blow snapping your head to the side. Your assailant loomed above you, fists still clenched, breathing heavy. You laughed at him, knowing that even after his efforts and all that he's putting you through, he is either going to walk away without the information he's in search of, or he's not going to be able to walk away at all. 

"I'm asking you one last time, bitch. Where is she?"

"Go to hell," you sneered, your voice dripping with malice. 

Before he could react, you surged upward, slamming your shoulder into his gut. He stumbled back with a grunt— off balance just long enough for you to twist, swing your leg out, and sweep his feet from under him. He hit the ground hard, and you didn’t give him time to recover. You dropped your weight on his chest, drove your knee into his ribs, then slammed your forehead into his nose with a sickening crack.

He yelled, tried to shove you off, but you were faster— rolled to your side, hooked your tied wrists under his chin, and yanked back with everything you had. His head snapped back. The struggle was short. One last jerk, and he slumped beneath you, out cold.

You sat there for a moment, breathing hard, blood on your tongue and your pulse roaring in your ears. You managed to free your hands, the binds falling away. Instinctively, you brought one hand up to rub at the angry, red mark circling your opposite wrist— thumb pressing into the sore skin as you exhaled through your nose, steadying yourself.

Slowly but carefully, you staggered towards the dresser and pulled out the burner phone you had stashed away, to be used only in case of emergencies. You called the only other number on the phone, your voice strained but low. 

"Yelena. We have a problem." 

——————————————————————————————————

"Mac and cheese? I make really good mac and cheese."

"No, Yelena. I'm good."

"Suit yourself."

You sat at the counter of your kitchen, icing your split lip. Yelena rummaged through the pantry, letting out a satisfied 'a-ha' when she found a box of Kraft mac and cheese tucked all the way at the back. You know, the usual routine after you get rid of a body with your colleague from ages ago. 

"So, is now a good time for you to tell me why a guy broke into my apartment asking for you, or..."

"You sure you don't want my mac and cheese? Trust me, it's really—"

"Yelena." 

"Alright, fine. I may be on the run from the Ranskahov brothers."

You exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down your face, jaw tight and eyes closing in defeat. "You're what?"

"It is no big deal, I can deal with it."

"No big deal? Yelena, a man broke into my apartment at midnight and we just got rid of his unconscious body."

"Your point being?"

"Wh— This is a big deal!" you exclaimed, unable to comprehend how she was so relaxed about it.

"Relax, Sunshine. I got this under control, I promise."

You stared at her, slack-jawed. “Clearly, you don’t. I just took a punch to the face in my own apartment because of your mess.”

She shrugged, unfazed as she stirred the mac and cheese with a wooden spoon. “Well, technically he was already in your apartment. You were just... surprised to see him.”

You set the ice pack down with a thud. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Oh, come on,” she said, grinning. “What happened to that sharp reflexes, stone-cold killer, don’t-mess-with-me energy? Getting soft?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You think I’m out of touch?”

Yelena tilted her head, weighing it. “You’ve been... domesticated.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Try me.”

She considered you for a beat, then gave a small, amused nod. “Alright. Point taken.”

You leaned back, arms folded. “Let’s end this. You and me. Whatever's left of the Ranskahov crew— we shut it down.”

Yelena raised her hands in mock surrender. “Your words, not mine. I’m just here for emotional support and cheese.”

Then, a beat passed. She stirred the pot idly, quieter now. “You sure you're up for this?”

You gave her a look.

“No, I mean really,” she said. “You're not worried about the lawyer finding out?”

You froze, just for a second.

“It’s been, what— five, six months?” Yelena added, not unkindly. “You think he’s gonna notice if you disappear for a day or two?”

You glanced down at the counter. “It’s not about him noticing.”

Yelena shrugged. “So what is it?”

You didn’t answer right away. The silence between you filled with the soft bubbling of the stovetop and your pulse in your ears.

“It’s just... different now,” you said finally.

Yelena gave you a knowing look. “I mean, no one’s gonna know. It’s what we do, isn’t it?”

You looked up at her.

“Ghost in, ghost out. We finish what we started.”

“Let the record show,” you said, getting to your feet, “I’m helping because you nearly got me killed. Again.”

“Let the record also show,” she said, sliding a bowl across the counter to you, “I did not ask for help.”

You took the bowl, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself— soft, almost reminiscent. There was something familiar about the moment. The crappy mac and cheese. The bruises. The adrenaline still fading from your bloodstream. For a second, it felt like the old days. Like the good parts in between the hell you went through. 

Yelena caught the look immediately. “Aha,” she said, pointing the spoon at you. “You missed this.”

“Shut up.”

——————————————————————————————————

The next afternoon, your shop smelled like cinnamon and dust— paperbacks piled on mismatched shelves, the old ceiling fan overhead rattling faintly in protest. In complete contrast to your past, you had made quite a home for yourselves at a cosy little corner of hell's kitchen, snuggled right next to the Nelson & Murdock office.

Matt sat across from you at the little table in the back corner, his cane resting against the chair, his jacket draped on the back of it. 

The two of you had made a habit of lunching here once or twice a week— sometimes with food, sometimes with nothing but stubborn cases and terrible coffee. Today it was takeout from the Thai place around the block.

You pushed your noodles around with your fork, watching him sip his tea like it wasn’t hot enough to melt steel.

“So,” Matt said casually, “about tonight— I was going to ask if we could rain check.”

You blinked. “Oh— yeah. I was going to say the same thing. I’ve got some errands to run."

He nodded. “Foggy dropped a mountain of files on my desk this morning. I’ll be chained to the office most of the night.”

He said it too neatly. No stammer. No sigh. No frustration about the files. Just a clean, compact sentence, tied with a bow.

Your eyes narrowed— just barely. There it was. That was his tell. You almost knew it by heart now. He didn’t fidget, didn’t shift in his seat. He stilled. Too polished. Too calm.

He was lying.

You smiled like you believed him.

“That’s a shame,” you said lightly, taking a sip of your water. “I was kind of looking forward to it.”

“I was too,” he said, and he meant it— just not the way he said.

You nodded and changed the subject, let it drop between you like nothing had happened. If he noticed anything off in your tone, he didn’t show it. Eventually, he gathered his things and stood.

“I’ll call you later?” he offered.

“Yeah,” you said, standing with him. “We’ll pick a better night.”

He reached for his jacket, adjusted the fold of his cane, and turned to leave— when the bell above the door jingled.

Yelena stepped inside, sunglasses perched in her hair, a paper bag in one hand and a too-innocent smile on her face.

“Aw, look at this. My two favorite nerds.”

Matt paused mid-step. “Yelena.”

“Mr. Murdock,” she said brightly. “Fancy seeing you here. Hope I’m not interrupting any... legal bonding.”

You deadpanned. “You are. But don’t let that stop you.”

Matt chuckled under his breath. “I’ll leave you to it.”

You watched him leave— pausing just long enough to lean in and press a soft kiss to your lips, quick and warm, like punctuation at the end of a long sentence. Then he was gone.

Yelena waited a full beat after the door shut before turning to you with a look.

“You lied to him, didn’t you?”

You picked up your half-finished drink and took a long sip. “Only because he lied first.”

Yelena looked thrilled. “Ohhh, this is gonna be fun.”

——————————————————————————————————

The docks reeked of salt and rust, the fog rolling in heavy over the water like it had something to hide. Yelena crouched beside you behind a stack of shipping containers, her braid pulled tight, her knives already slick with someone else's blood.

"Four more on the upper level," she said, voice low and steady.

"Two by the crates, one pacing by the boat," you added. "Third’s probably on lookout.”

Yelena grinned. “Just like Budapest.”

“I’m not reminiscing with you while hiding and smelling like fish.”

You were already moving— silent, efficient. Two guards down in under a minute. A third turned, startled, just in time to catch Yelena’s elbow in the face.

You were halfway to the second stack when a thud hit the ground behind you. A figure in red.

You turned, ready to strike.

"Easy," came the familiar voice.

Your heart skipped once. Just once.

Daredevil.

Yelena straightened beside you, blade still in hand. “Dude. What the hell.”

“I’m not here to get in the way, I swear,” Daredevil said, tone even, unreadable. “We could work together.”

You exchanged a look with Yelena. Her brows lifted, daring you to call the shots.

"Fine," you said. “Just, don’t slow us down.”

He nodded once, readying himself— then tilted his head slightly in Yelena’s direction.

“She's new. Who’s your friend?”

Yelena smirked, stepping past him with a gleam in her eye. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

And then you moved— no time for anything else.

The fight was fast, chaotic— muffled grunts, broken bones, steel against skin. You worked like you'd never left the field. Knife, fist, elbow. Yelena at your side. And Daredevil... flanking, striking, always just in the right place at the right time.

But that was the problem.

He was too good.

He moved like he didn’t even need to look at the layout. God knows if he can even see anything through that mask. Dodged a swing from behind without looking. Tilted his head slightly every time someone approached, like he heard them coming—

And when you shouted, “Duck!” mid-sweep, he reacted a beat faster than sight could manage.

Your chest went cold.

Blind. Bruises. Lies. His voice. Your eyes locked on his masked face mid-spin and suddenly, everything clicked.

Holy shit.

Holy. Shit.

Matt.

You didn’t miss a beat— kept fighting, didn’t let it show. But you knew. And he didn’t know you knew.

And Matt? He was noticing things too.

The precision in your hits. The way you landed without sound. Your balance. Your calm. The way your heartbeat never spiked, even in the thick of blood and noise.

He’d heard it before— more than once, in quieter moments. In the space between conversations at your bookstore, when you handed him a cup of coffee and your fingers brushed his. In the office, when you laughed at something Foggy said and tried to hide it behind a file. He’d memorized your rhythm without ever meaning to.

And now, in the chaos, it was unmistakable. His chest clenched mid-fight.

You.

The realization hit him like a punch to the ribs, followed by an actual punch to the ribs. He quickly recovered and retaliated, still lost in his thoughts.

That was you moving beside him— calculated, silent, lethal.

You weren’t supposed to be here. You weren’t supposed to be like this. But you were. You moved like someone who didn’t just know violence— you had lived in it. Adapted to it. Survived it. He could hear it in the way you breathed, the way you anticipated hits like you'd studied the fight before it even started.

It clicked halfway through the second wave of men— when you threw your body in front of his and took a hit that should’ve been his. You winced, gritted your teeth, and kept moving like nothing happened.

He ducked under a pipe and drove his fist into a man’s gut, head spinning now for a different reason. You weren’t just the girl next door with the most cozy bookstore in the world.

You were trained. Conditioned. Deadly.

Widow, he thought. Of course. Of course, you’re a Widow.

The realization didn’t slow him down— if anything, it made him faster. He pivoted to cover your blind side just as you lunged forward to disarm the final gunman. Back-to-back, two silent protectors tangled in a storm of fists and steel and fury.

The last guy went down hard. Silence followed. Heavy breathing, the clatter of a gun skidding across the dock. You turned to look at Daredevil—

But he was already gone. Just like that.

Yelena jogged up behind you, wiping blood off her knife with a rag. “Okay,” she panted. “That was not part of the plan, but it was less of a shit show than I expected." 

You stared at the empty space where he’d vanished.

Your heart was still racing, but for a very different reason now.

“I… I think I know who that was,” you murmured.

Yelena raised an eyebrow. “Well? Don’t leave me hanging.”

You turned to her slowly, wide-eyed.

“Dude,” you said breathlessly. “You’re not gonna believe this.”

——————————————————————————————————

You slammed the door behind you, tossed your keys into the bowl by the entrance, and stood there for a second, wide-eyed and winded.

Matt. Murdock. Was. Daredevil.

You turned slowly to look at Yelena, who was flopped dramatically on your couch, one boot already off, the other halfway dangling.

"Okay," you said, pacing. "Okay. Okay."

Yelena raised a brow. “That’s a lot of okays.”

“He knows. He knows it’s me.”

"Did he say that?"

"No. But— he was there. Fighting next to me. You don’t just forget a person’s rhythm like that.”

“Alright, Mr Miyagi, calm down,” Yelena muttered. “Did he see your face?”

“No.”

“Then he doesn’t know,” she said with finality, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl she'd found somehow. “But you know he’s Daredevil?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Well... that’s fun,” Yelena said. “Kinky. Do you guys roleplay in the suit?”

You threw a cushion at her.

She ducked it easily, grinning. “Relax, Sunshine. He doesn’t know. We’ll deal with it in the morning.”

The next morning

You woke up to a single text on your phone.

Matt: We need to talk.

Your stomach dropped.

You stared at the screen for a full minute, then looked at Yelena, who was eating cereal out of your favorite mug like it was her house.

“He knows,” you said, voice flat.

She peered over the rim of the mug. “About the Widowing or the lying or the whole knife ballet by the docks?”

“All of it.”

Yelena snorted. “You’re being dramatic. He’s a man. I promise you he noticed nothing.

——————————————————————————————————

He didn’t knock.

You looked up from the counter of your shop just in time to see Matt step through the door— coat slung over one arm, jaw tight, his whole presence coiled and deliberate like he’d been rehearsing this confrontation all the way over. Your chest tightened. Behind the mystery section, Yelena dropped into a crouch like she was on mission.

“Hey,” you said cautiously.

Matt held up his phone. “Got your message.”

You blinked. “I didn’t—”

He arched an eyebrow.

“Right. That message.”

He moved to the counter, leaning forward just slightly. Trying to keep it civil. It wasn’t working.

“You lied to me.”

You crossed your arms. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“Fair enough,” he said flatly. “Last night. The ‘errands’ that somehow involved you taking out the entire Ranskahov crew with a very familiar blonde.”

Yelena’s voice drifted from behind the shelves: “Rude, I was extremely subtle.”

“You stabbed someone while humming Toxic, Yelena,” Matt said flatly.

“It’s called multi-tasking,” she shot back. "Wait, how'd you know I am blonde?"

Matt exhaled sharply through his nose, frustration leaking through his carefully even tone. “I thought I could trust you.”

You blinked, surprised by the weight behind the words.

“I don’t understand why you’d lie to me about something like this,” he went on. “You disappeared for a night, showed up in the middle of a takedown like it was routine, and didn’t think I’d figure it out?”

You crossed your arms, jaw tightening. “Pot, meet kettle.”

Matt’s brow creased. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve been lying to me for months, Matt,” you snapped, eyes narrowing. “So forgive me if I don’t feel guilty for keeping one thing to myself.”

Yelena’s voice chimed in helpfully from behind the shelf. “Technically two things. You also said you were allergic to cats and we both know that’s a lie.”

Matt didn’t even look in her direction. “This isn’t the same, (Y/n).”

“No?” you shot back. “Because I remember you brushing off every bruise, every night you vanished, every time I found blood on your shirt. But when I keep something close to the chest, suddenly it’s a betrayal?”

He looked away for a beat, jaw clenched.  You stepped around the counter, folding your arms. “Yeah. So let’s not throw stones, Daredevil.”

Yelena raised a hand. “I’d like to throw one.”

“Shush,” you and Matt both said in unison.

“You really want to stand there and pretend like you’re on the moral high ground, Matt?”

Yelena popped her head up just long enough to say, “Oooh, he’s going to need ice for that burn,” then ducked back down.

Matt turned back toward you slowly, the fight draining from his posture, replaced by something quieter. Something closer to hurt.

“I’m not mad that you can handle yourself,” he said, softer now. “I’m mad that you didn’t let me in. That you didn’t think I could take it.”

You stared at him for a moment, then sighed. “Funny. I could say the same thing.” 

Yelena coughed meaningfully. “Anyway, since we’re all being honest now, can I get a ruling on whether this is a breakup or foreplay?”

You and Matt both groaned.

Matt turned toward her. “Do you have to be here for this?”

“Yes,” you and Yelena said at the same time.

You exhaled through your nose, some of the tension bleeding out of your shoulders. “I didn’t keep it from you because I didn’t trust you,” you said, voice quieter now. “I kept it from you because I didn’t want to ruin this. Whatever this is.”

Matt nodded slowly, like he understood— because he did. “Yeah. I know the feeling.”

A beat passed.  

“I just didn’t want you in this world,” Matt said after a moment. “Not this part of it.”

You sighed. “I know. And I didn’t want you to see that side of me, either. Not if I didn’t have to.”

A pause. Something gentler settled between you.

“So what now?” you asked. “We just… go back to pretending we’re two normal people who work too much and flirt in the office kitchen?”

Matt smiled faintly. “That wasn’t pretending.”

You mirrored it. “Fair.”

He shifted on his feet. “We’re both good at lying. Maybe too good. But I don’t want to lie to you anymore.”

“Me either.”

Another pause, not quite awkward. Just full. 

From behind the shelf: “Boring. Now either make out or fuck. I need to know what genre this is.”

You and Matt turned to her in sync.

“Get out,” you both said.

Yelena grinned. “Love you too.”

She made for the door with a dramatic little bow. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” you muttered. 

After the door shut behind her, the silence felt warmer. Softer. Matt was still observing you, his expression a little looser now, the storm behind his eyes finally settling. You stepped into his space without thinking. His arms slid around you like they’d been waiting for exactly this. 

Your cheek pressed lightly against his chest. “Well,” you murmured, “now what?”

Matt’s hand traced a slow line up your spine. “She gave us options before she left.”

You glanced up at him. “Options? Sounded more like a to-do list to me.”

A small, crooked smile tugged at his lips. “In that case, I have some ideas.”

[wolvietxt]

𝓓ISTANCE.

pairing : frank castle x fem!reader warnings : slightly suggestive, implied age gap, super light barely there angst, implied size diff, fluff, established relationship au, petnames summary : you miss your boyfriend more than anything, even though he’s currently sitting right next to you wc : 1.7k

the apartment felt too big, even with frank sitting just a few feet away. he was at the kitchen table, leaned back in one of the rickety chairs, his broad shoulders and solid frame making the furniture look almost laughably small. he was nursing a beer, gaze trained out the window like there was something out there worth watching.  

but you weren’t looking out the window. you were watching him, the way his forearm flexed when he tipped the bottle to his lips, the way his jaw ticked as he thought about whatever was running through that head of his.  

frank castle, in all his quiet intensity, was here. but for some reason, it felt like he wasn’t, and you hated it more than anything.

“are you all good over there?” you asked, breaking the silence.  

he didn’t turn to look at you, but his lips twitched at the sound of your voice. “yeah, baby, m’fine. just thinkin’.”  

“you’ve been thinking all day,” you mumbled begrudgingly, leaning against the couch and crossing your arms.  

this time, he did glance at you, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “what’s wrong?”  

“nothing.” you bit your lip, shifting under his gaze, feeling the pout start to form on your lips. the truth was, you missed him - his touch, his warmth, the way he always made you feel so safe without even trying. but saying that out loud felt silly, especially when he was right there.  

frank, however, didn’t let much slide. “don’t look like nothin’,” he said, setting the bottle down and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “you gonna tell me what’s goin’ on?”  

you hesitated, cheeks warming under his scrutiny. “it’s dumb.”  

“you know i don’t care if it’s dumb, sweetheart,” he said, his tone softening. “what‘s the matter?”  

you huffed, feeling a little ridiculous but knowing he wasn’t going to let it go. “i just… really miss you, i guess.”  

frank frowned, confusion flickering across his face. “miss me? i’m right here.”  

“i know,” you said quickly, looking away, feeling small under the weight of his gaze. “it’s stupid, i know. but it’s like… you’re here, but you’re not really here, you know?”  

he didn’t say anything right away, and the silence made you fidget. finally, he let out a quiet chuckle, the sound low and warm. “c’mere.”  

you blinked, looking back at him. “what?”  

“i said, c’mere,” he repeated, sitting back in his chair and holding out a hand. “if you miss me so much, then come over here, baby.”  

you felt your cheeks heat even more, but you didn’t hesitate. pushing yourself off the couch, you crossed the small space between you and slipped into his lap, your arms looping around his neck instinctively.  

frank’s hands settled on your hips, big and warm and steady, and you let out a quiet sigh of relief at the contact.  

“that better?” he asked, his voice teasing but gentle.  

“a little,” you admitted, resting your head against his shoulder.  

his chest rumbled with a quiet laugh, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “needy little thing, aren’t you?”  

“maybe,” you mumbled, nuzzling closer.  

“it’s cute,” he said, his hands moving up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes. “you’re cute.”  

you tilted your head to look up at him, your heart fluttering at the softness in his gaze. “you think so?”  

“yeah,” he murmured, his lips twitching into a small smile. “damn adorable.”  

you felt a little ridiculous, sitting there in his lap, your arms tight around his neck like you couldn’t get close enough. but it didn’t matter. the way frank’s hands were soothing your back, the way he was looking at you, made everything else disappear. you weren’t aware of the world outside the two of you anymore, just the warmth of his chest beneath your cheek and the steady beat of his heart that you could feel through the thin fabric of his shirt.  

"so you really miss me, huh?" frank's voice was low, a bit rougher than usual, but there was no mocking in it. just something soft, something a little unexpected.  

you nodded, unable to say anything else. your fingers idly traced the line of his jaw, the stubble there a little rough against your touch. you could feel your heart race just being this close to him.  

“that’s cute,” frank murmured, his voice a little softer now as his hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer. "you know you're all i need, right?"  

“yeah, but you’re still so far away sometimes,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his neck as you settled against him more comfortably, your body fitting into his with an ease that surprised you.  

he tensed for a moment, but it wasn’t from discomfort. he just seemed… caught off guard by your neediness, the way it pulled at something inside him. you could feel his breath hitch when you nuzzled closer, the tip of your nose brushing his collarbone.  

“it’s not far away,” he said softly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “just been distracted, sweetheart. i’m here now.”  

you melted a little more at his words, your heart swelling. "i know."  

frank leaned down, pressing his lips against your temple in a gentle kiss that made everything inside you feel light and soft. his large hands moved again, this time running up your back before settling at the back of your neck, fingers gently threading through your hair.  

“you get all soft like this, and i can’t resist,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.  

you laughed, the sound shaky but happy. “i’m not that soft.”  

“yeah, you are,” frank teased, his lips brushing against your jaw now as his fingers lightly massaged your scalp. “so damn cute. don’t know how you do it.”  

“do what?” you asked, your voice a little breathless from the closeness, the heat, the overwhelming affection in the air.  

“make me wanna kiss you all the time,” he said, the words soft but full of meaning. “make me wanna keep you close, make sure no one else gets the chance to take you from me.”  

you bit your lip, your hands sliding up to tug at the collar of his shirt, the movement a little desperate but filled with a need you couldn’t quite hide. “don’t want anyone else. just want you.”  

that made his chest rumble with a soft laugh, but this time, there was something undeniably tender in it. he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he looked at you with that soft intensity you rarely saw.  

“good. ‘cause i’m not lettin’ anyone take you,” he said, his lips curling into a smile.  

you could feel the playful energy crackling between you, even as it was all wrapped in something softer, something more intimate. you weren’t entirely sure how you’d gone from missing him to practically begging for his touch, but it didn’t matter. all that mattered was that he was here, pulling you in even closer, his hands a warm anchor against you.  

“come here,” frank murmured, his lips brushing yours in the faintest of kisses. “let me show you how much i want you too.”  

without waiting for a response, he tilted his head, his mouth capturing yours in a deeper kiss, more forceful than before, but still tender. it felt like an anchor, like a reassurance that this - whatever this was between you - was real.  

you let yourself fall into it, your hands roaming down his chest, feeling the solid muscles beneath his shirt, your fingers tracing the lines of his body like it was the first time you were allowed to touch him.  

his hands slid down your back, his grip tightening just enough to pull you even closer, his body pressing against yours in a way that had your heart skipping a beat.  

“you sure you’re alright?” frank asked against your lips, his voice heavy with desire but still laced with concern.  

“yeah,” you breathed out, your fingers tugging at the waistband of his pants, the simple touch making him exhale sharply. “i’m more than alright now.”  

he smirked against your mouth, pulling back just slightly to look at you. “thought you were just missin’ me, not all... this,” he teased, his voice low, filled with amusement and affection.  

“missed you,” you confirmed, voice thick with the need you could no longer hide. “missed everything. all of you.”  

there was something about the way he looked at you then, like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. and you didn’t care how needy you seemed, didn’t care about anything other than him.  

frank brushed a lock of hair out of your face, his fingers lingering along your jaw. “you’re somethin’ else,” he muttered, eyes soft as he looked down at you.  

you smiled, finally feeling the weight of his attention in the most perfect way. “only for you, frank.”  

his lips quirked up in that familiar, barely there smile, his hands pulling you in again. “damn right, sweetheart.”  

and just like that, you were lost in him again, caught up in the softness of his touch, the warmth of his embrace, the undeniable need to be close to each other - always.

ᰔ frank castle : @stvr-dust, @uncertified-doc

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