#father matt murdock x reader

[spnjediavenger]

I Need My Brother (Chapter 5)

Title: I Need My Brother (Chapter 5)

Type: multi-chapter; matt murdock x sister!reader

Warnings: canon-typical Daredevil situations/injuries, blood, angst, sibling argument

POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNINGS: none

Spoilers: S1 SPOILERS

Notes: As always, love and/or constructive/friendly criticism is welcome and encouraged!

Word count: 1531

Need to catch up? 

(Chp 1) (Chp 2) (Chp 3) (Chp 4) (Chp 4.5)

“Y/n, I can get it myself, don’t worry about it,” Matt said, gently pushing his sister’s hands away. 

Y/n had been dressing Matt’s wounds and redoing any stitches he popped by doing things he shouldn’t be. He appreciated her willingness to help but fixing her brother’s wounds wasn’t something she should have to do - something he’s explained to her many times at this point.

“Matt, I can do it, don’t worry about it,” she mocked monotonously, going back to work.

“But you don’t need to. I’ve done this for long enough. I’d be a bad brother if I had you do it.” He poked at her stomach, earning a yelp.

“Dohon’t do that when I have a needle in my hand, jerk,” Y/n said, unable to help giggling at the feeling. But she shook her head and grew serious again.

“You already-...” Matt thought about his words carefully. “You already have been having a hard time with…all of this.”

“Matt, please!”

Not expecting her to yell, the older Murdock flinched.

Y/n looked away for a moment to compose herself before looking back to Matt’s blind gaze. “I’m…I’m sorry…Just, please,” she whispered. “It…It helps when I can do something. Patching-Patching you up helps me feel some semblance of control…It helps ground me in the fact that you’re still here…”

Matt paused for a moment and sighed. He had a feeling this conversation was coming. “You’re still having nightmares, aren’t you?

Y/n bowed her head.

Matt sensed this and hooked a finger under her chin to tilt her head back up. “Y/n, why didn’t you tell me?”

The girl sighed. “I didn’t want to bother you,” she whispered before sniffing and composing herself, sitting up straighter. “And I can handle it. You need to focus on resting and healing.”

Matt leaned forward, suppressing a grunt. “I can’t focus on resting unless my sister,” he poked her nose, “is able to rest.”

A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed. Y/n sighed.

“I can’t. I won’t be able to.”

“Then start bunking with me. Like when you were little.”

“You don’t get it, you don’t get it, Matt!” she yelled, standing suddenly. “I can’t rest because every time I close my eyes I see you bloody and dying on the living room floor! And if I can get past that and fall asleep - I dream of that night over, and over, and over again!” Her voice began shaking. “When I’m awake - I have to deal with the anxiety and fear of knowing this wasn’t the first and I know it won’t be the last time something like this happens. I have to deal with the anxiety and fear that one day my big brother is going to die doing this and there is nothing I can do to stop that!”

“Ok ok ok, please calm down, bug. I don’t want you to have another panic attack. I didn’t mean to set you off,” Matt apologized, grabbing her hands to hold tight.

Y/n ripped her hands out of his and backed away sharply; she took a deep breath, letting it out in a huff of air. She looked back to Matt. “You promised, Matt. You promised you would be more careful.”

“I know. I’m sorry.“

“Stop saying that!” she yelled. “Just stop! Stop saying you know! And stop apologizing when you don’t mean it!”

Matt went to stand, suppressing another grunt. “Y/n, I do mean it.”

Y/n shook her head. “No you don’t,” she said hotly, angry tears in her eyes. “If you did, you would change. You would do something to make it right. So until you do that you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t take your apologies seriously because you clearly don’t.” With that, Y/n spun on her heel and stormed off to her room, forgetting about her previous insistence on cleaning Matt’s wounds. 

Even though he knew it was coming, Matt flinched when her bedroom door slammed shut. He sighed for what seemed like the thousandth time that day and pinched the bridge of his nose. Back when this whole thing started - with Y/n storming out of his office, Foggy told Matt he had a hell of a mess to clean up…now Matt couldn’t help but think that was still accurate. Or maybe the mess had never truly been cleaned up in the first place. 

Matt walked stiffly down the aisle of Clinton Church, sliding his walking cane as if he needed it. He slowed his steps and listened.

Steady heartbeat up to the left. Wooden cross tapping against fabric. Father Lantom was sitting in the pew five rows up from where Matt was standing and turned around to see him walking in.

Matt kept walking until he stood next to the father’s pew. Father Lantom turned further to look at him.

“Matthew,” he greeted, looking him up and down. “Do I want to know what happened?”

Instead of answering him, Matt asked, “Got time for another latte, father?”

Matt and Fr. Lantom sat in the break area of the church, lattes in their hands, though Matt’s remained full. They sat in silence for a few minutes until Fr. Lantom realized a push would be necessary.

“You didn’t come just for a two-star latte, did you, Matthew?”

Matt scoffed a bit through his nose. “That obvious, huh?”

“I hope you’re not here about another person you’re thinking of killing.”

“No, no, I promise it’s not…Father, did I uh…did I ever mention my sister?”

Fr. Lantom paused for a moment, wondering where Matt was going with this. “I know you have one. And that she was raised in the orphanage with you. I know things the nuns have told me. But the only things you’ve ever shared with me have been inside confessionals about your…nightly activities.”

Matt’s heart dropped a bit. He never stopped to think about how he only ever talked to Fr. Lantom from his vigilante perspective. He knew he mentioned his father before. He couldn’t believe he never mentioned Y/n.

“That upsets you,” Fr. Lantom noted.

“She’s everything to me,” Matt said. “Clearly I uh…I haven’t done a good job of showing it…to you or her…” he continued, bowing his head. The father waited patiently for him to continue. Matt swirled his now-lukewarm latte around in its paper cup. “I’ve hurt her…it seems like I can’t stop…and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Does she know your secret?”

“Yes. She did from the beginning. Not my choice. But I didn’t realize how good she had gotten at tricking my senses when she was younger. And even then she knew me too well for me to be able to lie to her.”

“Smart kid. Seems to run in the family.”

Matt chuckled. “As far as the kids go, anyway. That’s why our dad didn’t want us to end up like him. Knew we had the brains not to.”

Fr. Lantom smiled a bit before getting serious again. “You said you hurt her. What do you mean?”

“Everytime I come home, battered and bruised, I know it upsets her. But lately I’ve had more…dances with death than either of us would like.”

“It’s natural to worry for those we care about. I’d be concerned if she wasn’t upset by those things.”

“I know. But I made her a promise that I’d be more careful. And I want to keep it but…”

“You don’t know if you can.”

Matt nodded. 

“So are you looking to quit your duties?”

“No,” Matt said without a single thought. 

“Alright…Are you going to send her away?”

“No, of course not.”

“Involve her?”

“No.”

Fr. Lantom paused for a moment, analyzing the man before him. “Then what is it you want, Matthew?”

Matt sighed through his nose and turned his head down. “I don’t know.”

“You do know that there will never be peace with this situation? You’re never going to stop being a vigilante. And she’s never going to stop worrying about you.”

“I guess I’ve just been trying to convince myself and her that I’d be able to catch Fisk easier and at least be able to slow down.”

Fr. Lantom thought for a moment then clasped his hands, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. “I don’t think you came here looking for a solution, Matthew.”

“What do you think I’m looking for, then?”

“Forgiveness.”

Matt paused. “That does sound nice.”

“The kind of forgiveness you’re looking for won’t be found within the walls of this church.”

“Something tells me I won’t be able to find it at all.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Fr. Lantom said, leaning back in his chair again. “With time you may get there. Couple smart kids like you? I think you’ll be able to figure something out. In the meantime, I think Y/n has to try and take some time to deal with her emotions. I’m assuming she’s mature for her age - that will serve you both well in this situation. She just has to realize it. And I think you need to be careful…and take your time healing.”

(Chapter 6)

Taglist: @babybeeelle

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

but daddy, i love him - m. murdock

a/n: hey guys it has been a month since i posted a fic but. i wanted to write this blurb and see what i could do. remember folks-- you can't choose your dad but you can choose your daddy. happy fathers day. warnings: cursing, mentions of readers father being awful, cheating at poker, a suggestive ending, mommy and daddy kink (not in a conventional way) word count: 1.3k summary: your matthew finally comes up with a way to get back at your dad. pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader now playing: but daddy, i love him - taylor swift "screaming 'but daddy, i love him'/i'm having his baby/no i'm not/but you should see your faces'

He listens to your anxious heartbeat all the way to your dad’s house. He knows you’re nervous. He knows you can’t help it. It’s years of manipulation and trauma built up, but this year, he tells you, is different.

You started dating Matt just after Father’s Day last year—So he does not understand the horrors associated with it. Sure, he’s met your dad a few times. Christmas, once or twice throughout the year..

And while your dad loves Matt, because he puts on a smile and a charming laugh, Matt hates your dad. He cannot fucking stand him, mostly because he spends most of the year comforting you after your dad pulls something.

So when you told Matt about the yearly poker match that he hosts on Father’s Day, your lovely Daredevil boyfriend decided that the only thing he wanted for the holiday was to see you happy.

The plan was easy.

He would listen to the other players’ cues, and tap your hand once to bet, twice to call, three times to raise. Then, from there, he’d read the nerves of your opponents and write the initial of whatever he thought was best to do from there.

And it’s not like you let your father win, either. You and your siblings do your best to beat him, but every year, he manages to find a way to win. You suspect he’s cheating.

But as you pull into the driveway, Matt’s head tilts.

“Baby,” he starts, his tone dripping with affection, “You need to relax, or else you’ll never be able to win,” he tells you, “Your dads gonna be able to read you like a book.”

You sighed, taking a deep breath. You manage a soft smile before nodding.

“You’re right. Ready to go in?” You ask, and Matt’s hand finds yours. He brings your hand up to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of it.

“I am.” He hums.

• • •

As your dad deals out the cards, Matt finds himself sitting right next to you, his hand resting on your thigh. He’s usually affectionate, so no one bats an eye.

He looks at your Matthew, before asking,

“You playin’, Matt?”

Matt smirks and takes a sip of his beer. He’s not only playing, but he’s already won. Sure, a poker face is hard to maintain, but a nervous heartbeat is impossible to hide from Matt. Not only that, but the nervous sweat, or small bouncing of a leg or a finger that you might think was hidden. Matt could read easily.

Of course, Only you and him know that. And sure, it’s pretty much cheating, but you have been losing to your dad in poker and have listened to him brag about it for years on end, since you aren’t playing for money, only bragging rights.

Besides, your dad is a piece of shit and has done nothing but manipulate and torment you, driving you crazy, for as long as you can remember.

So, fuck ‘em.

“Somehow,” Matt replies after a moment, “I don’t think I’d have much fun with cards.” He tells him, and you and your siblings, as well as an uncle or two and your grandfather, laugh. Your dad’s face hardens as if he’s been one-upped.

You play cards for a while—Going on three hours by the time it gets down to just you and your dad. Your brother was the first one out, then went your sister and uncle, then your other uncle and grandfather. You stand face to face with the beast. And you’re so close to winning.

Matt listens as he deals the cards. When he glanced to the card, Matt takes a moment to listen. He tells you to raise with his finger, and you do. Your dad scoffs.

“That’s a dumb move.”

“Why?” Matt answers you. “Scared to be beat by your own kid?” he asks, and his voice is teasing, but when you listen to his voice for a second, you can hear the snark, the venom laced within. The devil has come out to play.

And he is insistent on you winning.

Your dad scoffs, shaking his head.

“This one? Not one bit.” He hums, placing his cards down, what you recognize to be a tell of his bluff. You don’t need Matt to tell you to go in for it, because you realize you know this game, and you know this man. He is so close to winning that he thinks if he can convince you that he has a good hand, you will probably believe it.

So, you go all in.

And Matt just leans back, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as his smile grows. The other players that are out of the game stare at you like you’ve just thrown the whole game away. But Matt begins to hear your Dad’s heart stutter.

But you study his face, and you have to give it to the man, despite the fact that you’d never ever give him credit, he has an incredible poker face. Luckily, not only do you have a boyfriend who helps you win, you also learned a long time ago that your father is gifted in lying.

He is also incredibly egotistical, so he goes all in too.

So, when it’s time to reveal cards, your dad smirks.

“Flush.” He tells you.

A thick silence fills the air, before you turn over your cards.

“Four of a kind.” You smirk, and your father’s face drops. Matt and your siblings start clapping as you start laughing, and everyone in your dad’s backyard quickly learns that there is a new Father’s Day poker champion.

You grin as you lean over to Matt, kissing his cheek.

“My lucky charm.” You say, scrunching your nose at him.

He sends you a wink back.

• • •

You ride the high of beating your dad all night, giggling softly as you stumble out back to the car. He holds your hand as you lean on him.

“I cannot believe we fucking did that,” You tell him. “That was amazing!” You grin, and he laughs.

“You’re amazing! You went all in and I didn’t even have to tell you!” He grins. You sigh, leaning back against your car. Matt’s arms wrap around your waist. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips, and you hum happily.

“Happy Father’s Day,” You whisper as you kiss repeatedly, the passion between you growing. His arms move from around your waist, to moving his hands up and down your sides.

“Mmm..” is all he hums back.

“How can I say thank you for today?” You ask him, and he pushes his body against yours.

“Maybe you could give me something to celebrate next year..” He says softly. You smirk.

“You want me to make you a daddy?” You ask, and he groans against your skin.

“Mm, Maybe.” He says quietly, leaning in to kiss your ear. “What do you think, Mommy? Wanna go home and continue to feel good?” He questions, biting the skin right below your ear.

“As long as you keep kissing me like that, daddy.” You smirk, leaning in to kiss him again before biting his lip, tugging on it a bit.

“Now that’s something I can do. Easily.” He smirks. His lips come down to start kissing your neck, leaving little kisses and bites on your neck. “You’re gonna make such a pretty mommy..” He tells you, his hands squeezing your thighs. He thinks he might go crazy if he doesn’t get a hold of you, a better taste.

His mind runs wild with thoughts of all the things he could do to you. You cannot stop thinking about making him a father, about him filling you up.

You love the holidays.

[angelyuji]

what romance trope would they have?

characters: miguel o’hara, matt murdock, father paul hill, peter parker (any live action), natasha romanov, regulus black, harley quinn [all x gn!reader]

warnings: angst... idk... none really lol kinda cute too kinda idk im insecure about my writing

this is non-yandere sawry guys, also when i started this, i started with miguel so his kinda almost ended up being the shortest cuz i got inspiration halfway through lol and also mixed styles of writing for each character becuz the one thing i am not is consistent.

each character is written in order as listed above saur if you're looking for characters near the end of the list, you're gonna have to scroll... sorry

miguel o’hara: unrequited love

miguel had been on a mission on another earth when he had seen you. you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. with one glance, he had felt things he hadn’t felt since… since he lost everything. he came to see you every day, never talking to you, but watching you from a far. he knew better than to disrupt your life, he knew better than to disrupt the timeline. he watched and loved and protected you, like a guardian angel.

“you’ve been watching that screen for a long time.” jessica comments, giving miguel a knowing stare.

“it’s nothing.” he’s short with her. he knew she’d get it, but she would also try to talk some sense into him. he knows that it can’t happen. everything he touches, he ruins.

“miguel. i don’t know what you’re doing, but as your… friend, i know that this isn’t healthy.” jessica places a hand on his shoulder, he brushes her off.

“i’m not doing anything that needs to be worried about. i’ve sent you a mission.” he hears jessica sigh before leaving him alone in solitude.

he felt better knowing that he was protecting you and keeping you safe, but he knew that it would end. even with the sense of foreboding lingering in the back of his mind, he fell deeper and deeper for you. for your kindness, for your beauty, for your silly laughs and stupid jokes. he loves you more and more with every visit. but then he saw it, he saw the end.

“hey parker.” you pull your earth’s peter into a hug, miguel imagines that it was him.

“i love you.” you tangle your hands in peter’s hair as you both kiss, miguel imagines that it was him.

“i know you’ll always protect me, peter.” peter wraps an arm around your waist and you both fly through the city, miguel feels himself shatter.

he watched as you met peter parker, he watched as you fell in love, he watched as you stopped needing him. he knew that it was never meant to be, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

matt murdock: right person, wrong time

you and matt clicked the moment you met. after bumping into you walking out of a coffee shop, he felt sparks the moment you touched. you relentlessly apologizing to him, pressing a handful of napkins to the stain on his shirt. he barely felt the pain, focusing on your touch. with that one moment, everything fell in place. every moment with you felt magical, he wanted to be with you for the rest of his life, and your quiet moments together, daredevil doesn’t exist, only you and matt. but as your relationship progressed, it was getting harder for matt to keep daredevil a secret: canceling dates, sneaking out in the middle of the night, giving you shitty excuses for his mysterious bruises. he knew you don’t believe him, but he knew you loved him enough to trust that he would tell you the truth in time. he wanted to tell you so bad, but when he wakes up in the morning, hearing your peaceful breathing, your soft skin pressed against his, he holds back. all he wants is to tell you, but he knows that to keep you safe, you must remain oblivious. but he can see the lies weighing on you. he knows you stay up at night waiting for him, he can see the worry ruining your health as you fuss over his injuries. so he let you go. it was hard, letting you sob and scream, fighting the urge to comfort you. he felt his heart shatter as you packed your things. you were the love of his life, but he doesn’t deserve you, not yet.

father paul hill/john pruitt: forbidden love

you were new to the small island, new to the church. you had caught his eye when you had left sunday mass the moment the eucharist had been given. from the corner of his eye, he had seen bev frown as you leave the church. he had put it out of his mind, of course, focusing on mass.

“are you new?” he had seen you walk in with a dog on a weekday, while he was writing his sermon inside the sacristy. with his interest piqued, he walked out. you looked up at his voice and he felt his heart stop. you were beautiful. two paws launched themselves onto his chest and he stumbled backwards, falling to the floor. you raced over, frantic.

“oh my god, father, i’m so sorry. i didn’t think anyone was here so i had let go of his leash.” you frantically explain, trying your hardest to pull your big dog off of him. john paul couldn’t help, but laugh as the dog licked at his face.

“it’s fine, (y/n). it’s very… friendly.” he chuckles as you manage to wrestle the dog off of him. once your dog had settled down, you both sat down on a pew near the back. your dog had jumped into both of your laps. “you’re new, right? i saw you at sunday mass, but i hadn’t recognized you.”

“oh, yeah, father. i just moved here. just like you.” you let out a small laugh.

he bumped your shoulder with his, “guess we’ll have to help each other out then.” from that point on, he noticed that you had been coming around the church more often. soon, he was dropping by your house for dinner and wine once the town goes quiet. both of you sit on the couch, watching some movie that you had picked. he enjoyed every movie you pick, loving every interest you have. you set a plate full of pasta in front of paul and poured him a generous amount of wine. paul felt his eyes drift to your face as you watched the movie. he noticed every little detail about you: the way you bit your lip in concentration, the way your hands gripped the couch in suspenseful moments, your eyes welling up and your lips quivering when the scene gets sad. you turn and paul quickly turns away, feeling his face burn. he feels the cold touch of your hand on his cheek. he looks back and you smile, your eyes trail from his eyes to his lips.

“father, w-will you kiss me?” you stammer and he feels his heart stop. you take his silence as rejection and your eyes shine, “i’m so sorry, father paul, i didn’t me-” he presses his lips against yours as he pulls you into his lap. from that moment on, his daily dinners turned to something more secretive, more taboo. he felt like he was betraying everything he had been taught, but how could your touch be sinful if it feels like an angel’s. every wink, every secret smile, every late-night escapade, his heart had never raced like this. he knew that it could never be, his soul would always belong to god, but he lets himself get fooled by his heart. especially if it means he can feel your skin against his every night.

peter parker: friends to lovers

you had been friends with peter since freshman year. you had been with him through everything: every heartbreak, every broken friendship, every death. you gave him a safe haven after spider patrols. you hadn’t thought of peter as anything more of a friend till he saved your life. you had gotten mugged and peter had jumped in, in that moment, you felt something wash over you. you couldn’t place the feeling till you saw him the next day. peter had pulled you into a hug and you felt your stomach flip.

“i’m so glad you’re okay, god (y/n).” he mumbled into your hair.

you feel your heart beat faster, hyper aware of his arms around you. you laugh, trying to sound normal, “thank god spiderman was there.” he pulls away and laughs.

“yeah, yeah. sorry i couldn’t stick around though. you can’t be too careful.” he bumps his shoulder against you and you felt the butterflies in your stomach rage. since then, you became more aware of the quick touches, the secret glances, the subtle flirting. at first, you really thought it was in your head.

“i really don’t think it’s on purpose.” you frown, recounting to your friend about your feelings.

“you don’t seriously believe that, do you?” they look at you, eyebrow raised. you look back, doubtful. they groan, “oh my god, (y/n), you guys have been so weird around each other for like two months now. everyone has noticed. i mean, you remember when we went to go see a movie last week?”

“i’ll buy it for you, don’t worry. go save our seats.” peter smiles at you. “everyone else is also inside, so just save me a seat.”

 “but, i don’t want you to be standing out here alone.” you frown, looking around. the concession area was almost empty as most people were already inside, waiting for their respective movies to start.

“i’ll be okay, what’s a movie without our food.” he winks and gets into the line. he shoos you off. you wait for peter in the theater, your friend sits in his seat.

“hey, peter’s sitting here.” you whisper.

they laugh, “he’ll be fine if he’s away from you for a couple of hours.” peter walks in, hands full with popcorn and icees. he walks over and stops, he gives you a look and you shrug.

“move down, guys.” he calls to the rest of your group. everyone moves down, but your friend stands their ground.

“peter, there’s a lot of seats, pick one.”

“i want to sit next to (y/n).” he shrugs. your friend gives you a shocked look and you shrug again. they roll their eyes and moves down. peter sits down and hands over your things. as the movie went on, you could feel peter’s arm lightly touch yours, his foot bump into yours. at one point, you can feel him staring at you, but when you look over, his eyes are on the movie. your heart raced, but you grabbed his hand and entwine your fingers. he looks over and you can feel your face burn.

“i know it looks like he likes me, but what if he doesn’t? he hasn’t said a word to me since then. like no surprise visits, no texts, nothing.” you groan and lean your head against the table. your friend hums, but doesn’t respond. the next week, peter showed up at your door.

“i need to be honest with you.” peter sighs. you let him in and he steps in, looking around awkwardly. you gesture to the couch and peter sits down. “look, (y/n), i just feel so- i don’t know. i have to say this, but i don’t want to- to ruin what we have, you know?” peter stumbles through his words. you don’t say anything, heart in your throat. you can feel dread, ‘he knows how i feel, he’s uncomfortable. oh my god, i ruined our friendship.’ you feel like throwing up and tears well in your eyes. “hey, hey, hey. what’s wrong? why-” he puts a hand on your arm, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“i’m sorry, peter, i know i must have made you uncomfortable during the movies. god, i don’t even know what came over me. i just really, really, really like you. i-i’m so sorry, peter. i’ve ruined everything.” you break down, and peter gets up and kneels in front of you.

“(y/n), baby, no, please don’t cry.” he pulls you into a hug and you feel worse, how can he comfort you when you’ve messed up your friendship? how can he sit there and treat you like you’re a good friend? “i like you too, that’s-that’s what i wanted to say. i thought…” you pull away, in shock. “i thought i ruined everything, but i guess,” he laughs and looks up at the ceiling, “i guess we’re both kinda stupid, huh.” you sniffle, letting out a mix of a sob and a laugh. he laughs and you notice the tears in his eyes.

“yeah, i guess we are.” you cup his face with both hands and pull him into a kiss.

natasha romanov: office romance

you’ve been working at S.H.E.I.L.D for a 6 months and natasha has had her eyes on you for 6 months. at first it started harmlessly.

“hello agent romanov, i’m (y/n) (l/n).  director fury told me i’d be handling your cases from now on.” you keep a neutral face as you address her, and she smiles.

“good to meet you, agent (l/n). i’m glad to know that my cases are in such good care.” she looks you up and down, you quirk an eyebrow before smiling. you stick a hand out and nat examines your face. she smiles before shaking it, “i think we’ll make a good team.”

you let go of her hand, “i think so too.”

she doesn’t really know when friendly interactions turned flirty. it was so easy to talk to you, easier than the others. you were just so… patient, so understanding. she hadn’t felt this way about someone in a very long time, but it was just so easy with you.

nat trailed her fingertips along your arm, she had pulled up a chair next to you as you sat in your office. “what’s our next case?” you ignore her, but don’t make any effort to move away from her antics. “(l/n).” she whispers into your ear. you look over, eyebrow raised. “case?”

“hmm,” you flip through the stacks of manila folders on your desk. “nothing for this week, so you can go get some beauty sleep, nat.” you smile and turn back to your paperwork.

“maybe you should come over tonight, (l/n).” nat smiles at you, mirth twinkling in her eyes. you look away, smiling wide, and decide to indulge her.

“i don’t think that’s very appropriate, agent romanov, i mean what would people say?” you act as if you said something scandalous. nat bites her cheek to fight a smile before leaning in to press a kiss to your neck.

“i don’t know, baby, but i think they’d kill to be me.” she mumbles into your neck, playfully biting you.

regulus black: rivals to lovers

you were the first one to raise your hand, first to make potions right, first to turn your tests in. regulus black hated you. you were a stuck up, know-it-all, whose only purpose for existing was to piss him off. you’d smirk at him when you get the answer before him, when he gets it wrong. and he especially hates that stupid laugh you have when you see that your test scores were higher than his. regulus black hated you. and what makes it worse is that his parents loved you. you were so respectful and good when they were around, hooking your arm with his, smiling and laughing, making his heart beat faster, and his stomach turn. regulus doesn’t really know when that happened. when your stupid face started seeming less stupid and more… pretty. when your ugly laugh was more amusing than annoying. and he doesn’t like thinking about it. you and him? you’ve been enemies since the first year, and even as fifth years, you’ll continue to be his sworn enemy.

“reg?” your angelic irritating voice brought him back from his daydream. he had been sitting under a tree near the whomping willow, reading a book. he looks up to see your face, crouching down in front of him.

“what?” he looks back at his book, you huff and pull his book out of his hands. “(y/n)!”

“listen to me! ...please.” for the first time since he met you, you sounded utterly pathetic. he bites back a gleeful smile.

“fine. you are holding my book hostage, i might as well listen, for its safety of course.” he rolled his eyes and leaned back against the tree.

you sit down onto your knees and laugh and regulus feels like grinning, “of course, for your book’s safety.” you rip a couple blades of grass out of the ground and bookmark his page. he feels his heart jump, but clears his throat. “you know how the parkinson’s are holding another winter gala during the break?” you look at him with your dazzling eyes, he nods, “well, i was wondering if you wanted to go with me… as my date?” he straightens, eyes widening before he narrows them, examining the hopeful look on your face and your wringing hands.

“are you joking with me right now?” he scoffs, leaning back, feeling a twinge of hurt.

“no! no, listen, i’ve really liked you… since maybe the third year? i don’t know, i know we haven’t been the nicest to each other, so i understand if you don’t want-”

“well, i never said that.” he interrupts you, your eyes shine and regulus fights the urge to kiss you. “and i’m fine with putting a pause on our… rivalry.” he rolls his eyes, feeling his face burn in embarrassment. you drop the book onto the ground and toss yourself onto him. regulus starts to shout, but he feels your arms wrap around him.

“thank you, thank you, thank you! i’m so excited!” you hug him tighter and regulus relents quickly, hugging you back. he buries his face into your shoulder, squeezing you against him.

“yeah, yeah, you don’t have to be so excited.”

harley quinn: partners in crime

you met Harley while shoplifting at the jewelry store she was robbing. she had a gun pointed right at you when she paused.

“oh. my. gosh. you are absolutely…” she pauses, tilting your head, before squealing “adorable!!!” she grips your face in her hands, gun still cocked. you feel true fear spreading through your body. “absolutely adorable, we should be friends!” she swings an arm around your shoulder before ordering the jeweler to give her everything. then in one blink, you were in her apartment (lair?) and making out on her couch. you became the planner and she became the plan-ruiner, she did the real action and you were the getaway driver, she brought you the money and you made sure to keep everything off of batman’s radar. even if the plans you make go sideways cause of harley, you couldn’t find it in yourself to get mad. you fell in love. she always made sure to protect you from joker and batman, putting herself on the line when shit hits the fan. she’d never let anyone hurt you, she’d rather be in danger before you.

“angel-cakes! let’s go get some sandwiches from that place near the bank, i’ve been dyinggg for an egg sandwich.” she jumps onto the couch, tossing her legs into your lap.

“you planning on getting some money from the bank?” you start rubbing her feet, as a reflex, eyes still on the t.v.

“no, silly, i just want a sandwich.” she pulls her feet off and twists herself to get her head in your lap. you smile and play with her hair.“alright, let’s go get some sandwiches and some money.” harley shoots up and leaves a big, wet smooch onto your cheek.

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

Okay now I wanna write father figure Matt Murdock

[aza-writes]

Blood Red : Chapter 14

Doodles of Saturn

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF BLOOD AND VIOLENCE AND PAST SEXUAL ABUSE

Hell's Kitchen : 2016

Aleksandra's POV

A euphoric feeling lingers as I ride my bike to the meeting. I weave in and out of cars in a rush to get there, worried I'll crash if I ride on this high any longer. I've never had to ride my motorcycle or drive a car while my head remains stuck in this haze, but I kinda like it. I like the absence of worry and strategy; I like the recklessness.

Tonight's meeting is at the Ranskahov garage, where they stash their taxis. It's a typical meeting spot, unassuming. You wouldn't question a bunch of cars going into a garage. That would be a ridiculous thing to be suspicious of.  I'd almost feel bad for the idiot who thought, "Huh, I wonder why cars are going into a garage?"

I don't slow down as I navigate into the opening of the garage, allowing the ramp to pull me down even faster than I was going, adding extra adrenaline to my already excessive-high. My heart is going incredibly fast; I fucking love it.

My bike comes to a skidding stop, forcing all the momentum to stop at once and forcing my bike to turn 180 degrees to avoid crashing into something or someone. Besides the usual people at Mr. Fisk's meetings, there were also the people the Ranskahov brothers employ. Bloodstained water covered the ground and slowly drained.

More blood.

This night keeps getting better and better.

The smell is dull, diluted with water. It doesn't matter, though; blood is blood.

Even over the sound of the power washer the Ranskahov employees are using to get Anatoly's head bits off the door frame of the car, Leland's voice echoes throughout the garage. Even though he is a loud talker, I cannot fully grasp what he's saying. There's a soft ring in my ears that, combined with the power washer, drowns out the actual words he's saying. I know it's his voice. I know he's speaking, but I can't register anything.

As I approach the group of mobsters and drug dealers, I take the helmet off; my mask and hair are still intact. The instructions for the meeting said to keep the blood on my face, so I do just that. I'm not complaining; I get to ride out my high for longer and relish in a well-done job. My eyes scan the circle, acknowledging everyone I see.

There are so many mobsters in one room. Harsh faces that have or been an accomplice in a murder or assassination. Except for one. In a sea of drugs, sex, and crime, there's an angel sneaking glances and smiles at me.

Under my mask, I want to smile back and let him know I see him, too, but would we risk being in trouble? In the Red Room, we would be punished for anything that indicated a connection, romantic or platonic. We, of course, cared for each other, but no one knew what was a genuine connection or simply bonding because they were there. Although I don't want to, it's the ladder.

Maverick's face melts away all of the other thoughts in my brain. Nothing else matters right now. I've just met him, but I feel like I've known him for years at this point.

Why am I feeling like this? I have been around boys my whole life, yet he makes me feel something. He isn't just an object; he means something. Fuck, I must be going crazy.

The illusion of it being just us is quickly fading. Our reality crashes back as Leland continues to ask questions. Gao just giggles at him.

Leland looks me in the eyes and says something to me. I can't make out his words, but I can sort of read his lips. He repeats the word "look" several times, but he mumbles so much that I don't catch the rest.

His eyes dart to something behind me that shuts him up immediately. I push my shoulders back, making myself look more intimidating as Fisk's car pulls up.

Fisk's car is silent; if you weren't completely quiet yourself, you wouldn't be able to hear it.

Wesley steps out of the car first, straightening out his suit jacket. Not even a millisecond later, Leland starts to run his mouth again.

"Why aren't we meeting in the usual place? And what's all this?" He gestures to the bloody cars and garage.

"An opportunity," Fisk's voice echoes throughout the garage, controlling the conversation. "for those willing to seize it."

Madam Gao laughs again. I can't tell if she's crazy or just a bitch. She is my favorite out of the group, though. She finally speaks up.

"最后，我们看到了主销。是什么花了你这么久." (Finally, we get to see the kingpin again. What's been taking you so long.) Her voice is very cheerful, with a hint of sarcasm. She truly is my favorite mobster.

Wesley turns his head to Fisk, not making eye contact. "She's happy to see you." His voice is quiet like it always is. It has a false calmness; if you weren't familiar with reading people, you would think it's true. He tries so hard to behave how mobsters do in the movies, but it seems almost too natural to him. He's still wearing a mask, though; he's not born for this like Fisk.

"My apologies," He leaves a long pause in the middle of his sentence, "for my absence of late." His voice grows louder, and he becomes more controlling of the situation. "And for calling you here on little notice."

"Where are the Smiley Twins? Sleeping off another kidnapping?" Leland, who had no impulse control, decides to interrupt Fisk again. As silence hung for a moment, his eyes drifted to me, then back to Fisk. "What's with bloody over there?"

That sentence caught Maverick's attention. He looked up a bit at me, then put his back down and continued to write. My eyes had to stay focused on Leland, not allowing me to see Maverick's facial expression without looking. Is he disgusted with me? Ashamed?

"The Ranskahovs are no longer a part of this organization."

"Since when?" Leland's annoying little voice butts in.

"Since I removed Anatoly's head," the silence was deafening, "with my car door."

I take a sharp inhale, the memories of blood and carnage rushing back. My brain goes fuzzy again. Madam Gao's voice becomes distant again.

The smell of the blood from last night still lingers in my mind, mixing with the scent of the blood on my face now. I want to resist getting lost in my thoughts, I really do, but it's hard not to. My brain is hardwired, too. Not just psychologically but biologically and chemically, too. I'm fucked in the head on a neurological level.

I want to move my head and look at Maverick and see his reaction to everything. In meetings like this, I feel sick to my stomach seeing his reactions. Today's worse than the others; I've never had blood on my face and clothes before. I've never been on a blood high around him before.

He seems almost unbothered by the meeting and the topic being covered. He's unfazed by the blood, talk of murder, and the mobsters surrounding him.

I allow my eyes to drift up and down, analyzing Maverick; his head is down, taking notes. His sleeves are rolled up to just above his elbows, and his tie is a bit loose. The paper he's holding isn't very big, but big enough for me to make out some of the things he wrote before Fisk came. Several long math equations are scratched on the paper, and next to them is a little doodle of Saturn.

He doesn't belong here. I need to protect him.

I've never felt this instinct to protect towards someone before. I guarded who and when I was told to, not when I felt it was right. Protecting Maverick feels right.

My view of Maverick is eclipsed by Fisk. He towers over Maverick. Maverick isn't a small man, but he doesn't compare to Fisk's colossal build. Although the most dangerous mobster in New York is glooming over not just Maverick but Leland, too, he doesn't care. He is unfazed, writing notes, equations, and the occasional doodle.

"The masked vigilante killed his brother."

I can feel my eyes dilate, the spike in my nervous system is evident, but no amount of blood-struck euphoria will make me lose my composure in front of Maverick. He doesn't need to see me this way.

"At least that's what Vladimir believes."

All eyes in the room turn to me. Everyone, except for Maverick's. His nose is in the notepad. Scribbling and scribbling to the point he needs to flip the paper again. His fingers are diligent. His hands are flexed, making the veins and muscles on his arms stand out against his rolled-up sleeves. Such strong arms for such a delicate person.

"Did your little widow-monkey-blood-girl do it?"

I know what my role is supposed to be here; say something intimidating to play into the part I've been cast in. Even though my brain is screaming at me to be the bad guy, I can't do it.

"You think I wear his blood for full day?" I tilt my head slightly, staring deep into Leland's soul "I'm not a monster." I relax my voice, creating a haunting whisper. I'm doing my job, what I'm doing is enough.

"Weren't the Russians terrified of you? I wouldn't exactly call you an angel-"

"I thought she was? Russia's angel of death." Maverick's voice cuts through like a knife. All eyes going from me to him. "I did my research. I do my job."

"Little sh-"

"That's enough." Wesley's eyes. "We came here to hear from our employer. Let him speak."

Fisk continues talking, everyone's attention turns back to him; all but mine. My eyes stay on Maverick. His eyes linger for a bit on me before returning down to his notepad. He flips it again, but very few notes are on the page. The majority of it is taken up by a doodle of an ocean wave, but it couldn't keep my attention. The opposite side of the paper had delicate angel wings and a halo. But between them, a little heart.

• • • • • •

Masterlists

[ophelia-loves-desdemona]

This is the first time I've ever posted something hear but I do kinda need help I'm currently writing a Daredevil fanFic and I need help for a Faceclaim of my character I give you infos about her down below 🥰

- she is Matt and Elektras Daughter

- she is in her teens (so preferably a actress that fits that age)

- has dark hair eye colour doesn't matter

-would be amazing if she looks similar to at least one of her parents maybe even her Grandpa

Thank you guys have a great day 🥰

[1rsoldiersince2012]

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Words: 2163 (chapter 23)

Summary:

You and Matt met in the courtroom. Now, you may think that Matt was a knight in shining armour and defended you in the name of all United States laws, but that was not the case. Matt was totally destroying your client, and you wanted to tear him into pieces right then and right there, because with Murdock as your rival, your head is on the firm's plate with each case. Did Matt care? No, he only cared about bringing justice, he was a human-machine, driven by the need to bring righteousness no matter the cost. Or was he just that? What happens when you get involved in Fisk's business and Daredevil's lies against your will?

UPDATES.... Some time??? (I'm super busy and super stressed)

Find my other accounts on ao3 and wattpad!

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1rSoldierSince2012

wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/1rsoldierSince2012

23. Smoking Day

The streets of Hell's Kitchen were too busy for Tuesday morning, and you were cursing the guy in a white Jeep in front of you non-stop for at least 5 minutes, until a familiar figure on the sidewalk caught your attention. Rolling down the window, you didn't think much before loudly calling the person, "Murdock, is that you?"

Matt turns to the left, startled again, and almost hits somebody's ankles with his walking stick. "Y/n?"

"Get in here before I drive off!" You open the passenger door and wait for Matt to get in, holding the traffic behind yourself now.

"How kind of you this early in the morning." Matt gets comfortable, feeling a little overwhelmed by the smells in your car - the cigarettes, car perfume and your own scent, plus the bag of leftover fries that you threw out this morning. 

"Yeah, this early, what were you doing here? As far as I remember, you live on the other side of the city." You say casually, maintaining your focus on the road and that white Jeep.

"Creep." Matt throws back just as casually, but then puts his seatbelt on, "I was in a church."

"Oh, living up to your nickname, I see." 

Matt remains silent on this remark, although on a different day he would've fired something back at you. "What got you so early?"

"I just wanted to grab something from the store." You lie, tightly gripping the wheel. You just wanted to get out of the flat as soon as possible, not standing the thought of being with Robert in the same room for longer than 5 minutes. Because of him, you left without breakfast or coffee. 

"Did you do it already?" Matt asks, visibly concerned about you lying of such a simple thing.

"No, it's... Not that important now." You pass the Jeep and notice a guy talking on the phone. "Ready for the court?"

"As ready as one could be with no real, jury-convincing evidence." Matt laughs lightly, even though his preparation for today's court was ridiculous. 

"I don't know why, but I just feel that we're gonna win." You say plainly, only later taking notice of how you used 'we' with such an ease.

"You know, I feel it too." Matt says, pushing his glasses up his nose. 

In the corner of your eye, you notice a new cut on his hand, and something upsets you. You don't try to keep the conversation going, focusing on the busy road, until you park almost outside Nelson and Murdock. Matt, understandingly, keeps silent until the roar of the engine finally quiets down. Uncomfortably, you clear your throat, "you want to go to the office?"

Matt unbuckles his seatbelt, and turns towards you, "what time is it?"

"Eight. Too early for Foggy to be here." 

"Yeah, you're right."

You reach for the glove compartment and it slightly bumps into Matt's knee. "Sorry," you mutter, quickly taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, trying to close the glove compartment but it falls onto Matt's knee again, causing you to drop your lighter somewhere near his shoes. "Fuck-"

"It's okay, I'll take it." Matt steadies your arm that was already reaching for the lighter, and holds it above his knee, next to the still open glove compartment, tapping around his shoe a couple of times, before finally grabbing the thing. "Here." He reluctantly releases your wrist, handing you the lighter.

"That damn thing never closes from the first time," you quickly close the glove compartment and pull back your arm, feeling your cheeks heat up a little. Matt bites a smirk, raising his eyebrows a little over the top of his shades. "Fancy a smoke, Murdock?"

"I... wouldn't say no." 

"I would've kicked you out if you said no." You grin to yourself, putting a cigarette in your mouth and lighting it up, repeating the last action with Matt. The reflection of the flame on his red glasses felt as if you just had a glimpse of what hell looks like. Matt inhales and then blows out some smoke, slightly opening his doors.

Another moment passes by in silence, and only when you feel the tension leave your muscles, and slightly slump in your seat, you finally say, "you know, I came to the conclusion, just now, that I know absolutely nothing about you."

Matt chuckles slightly, finally taking off his glasses, "I could say the same thing."

"Well, there's nothing fascinating about me, while your story is probably twice as interesting as mine would be."

"Oh, why's that?" Matt can't help but smirk.

"Well, for starters, you lived here your whole life, right? Why? What kept you here?" You steal a look at him, taking notice of his unfocused eyes looking into nowhere.

"My blindness." Matt blows out the smoke, turning his head away, "my dad."

"What about your mom?" You ask carefully, watching how Matt's jaw tightens.

"Never knew her."

"Oh." You fall silent again, looking at the cigarette slowly turning into ashes.

"But there's no need to pity me," he throws as casually as possible, yet the change in him is visible.

"That's why you're going to the church?" You blow the smoke out through your nose, feeling the slight stinging in your nostrils. 

"Kind of. What brought you back here? Life in LA wasn't for you?" Matt quickly asks, not liking the way his interrogation was going. The cigarette between his fingers felt weird, yet somehow familiar.

"LA was honestly too much. But I felt like I was needed here, in this God-forbidden city." You chuckle lowly.

"Hey, it's not that bad, is it?" Matt inhales the smoke again, feeling as if it became easier to be alive.

"Depends on which side of the society you are. But the crime rates are high enough to make one go insane." You look at him again, noticing how the early morning sun has illuminated his face. "My dad's words, not mine."

"Did you tell him," Matt quickly shakes his head, but now it was too late to drop the question, "or anyone else about the attack?"

"No. I don't want to worry him with such nonsense."

"You almost got shot, that's not nonsense, y/n." Matt turns back to face you, with a frown on his face.

"Key word - almost." You huff, suddenly feeling a warm, heavy hand on your forearm. 

"Please, just don't say that nothing happened-"

"Nothing did happen, and just-" you look at his bruised knuckles, and close your eyes for a moment. 

"Y/n, what is it?" Matt hears your heartbeat picking up, and a single tear running down your cheek, unnoticed and unfelt, leaving only a tickling sensation on your skin.

"I-" You remember the night you slept with a grazed arm, sweating, tossing and turning in your sleep, feeling like someone was going to break into your apartment and squeeze the life out of your neck, leaving your limp and lifeless body with the deep shade of blue handprints on your neck for your father to find. "Nothing." You smile instead, pulling your hand to yourself. "Not the time to worry you with my things when Melissa's court is coming up."

Matt bites his tongue, feeling like another opportunity to get you to open up slipped away again. He was about to say something, anything, when Foggy surprised him by opening the passenger doors abruptly.

"Morning, colleagues!" Foggy shouts, scaring the crap not only out of you, but of Matt as well. His next words were followed by a loud gasp, "Matty, you're smoking already?"

"Yeah, she's a bad influence on me." Matt chuckles, not lying a bit. After all, lying was a sin. 

"Come on, we have to finally set things straight," Foggy pulls away from your car and loudly takes a deep breath, "I'd say I can already smell the victory but all I smell is this horrendous lung-destroying stink." 

"Foggy-" Matt begins, getting out of the car and dropping the cigarette butt on the ground, "di-"

"Did you bring coffee?" you say, reading Matt's mind, and a stupid grin appears on his lips again.

"I sure did, now let's go, before I start asking more questions about all of this." Foggy quickly waves his hands around your car and turns to cross the road, leaving you as Matt's guide again.

*** 

"She told me yesterday that she'll be here." Foggy whisper-shouts near the entrance to the court, looking around anxiously.

"Did you call her?" You ask, fidgeting with your phone in the pocket of your coat, trying to ease your mind before you light up another cigarette.

"Of course I did. Many times!" Foggy throws his hands in air in a hectic manner.

"Foggy, just calm down, you're worrying about the wrong things now. Karen is a grown woman, we'll get to her after the court." Matt puts a hand on Foggy's shoulder, feeling how tense he is. 

"Maybe she's just sick, focus on winning the case." You say, looking at the two men in front of you - Foggy, who has been acting like he was sitting on a row of needles since morning, and Matt, unusually quiet, and... Observing. At any chance he got, he was trying to stay close to you, and that made you nervous. 

"Right, right, case now, Karen later." Foggy mumbles under his breath, slipping away from Matt's heavy hand. 

"Mr Murdock, Mr Nelson." Annie appears next to you, and you earn a suspicious look from her.

"Annie, about time we head in." Foggy says, smiling, yet his eyes told that he was scared. 

"You sure you're not going?" Matt asks you one last time, feeling that if you sat next to him, since Karen bailed, he'd feel more confident in winning.

"No, good luck." You pat his shoulder, as a way to control yourself from doing something else. Like kissing him. "I'll be back in the office in case anyone comes for advice." 

"Sure, goodbye." Matt says, savouring your touch, and listens to your heels clicking on the concrete.

"Shall we go?" Annie asks cautiously, eyeing Matt after this bit of conversation.

"Yes, trust us, we're going to win." Foggy guides Annie inside, keeping Matt on track with his elbow as usual.

*** 

Karen was busy trying to convince Urich to expose Union Allied and their lies. She didn't feel guilty about leaving Matt and Foggy, because for her, it was more important to catch her previous workplace in their web of lies. She also didn't feel guilty because you were there in the court. Karen, on any other day would be dropping everything just to go with Matt and Foggy. Well, especially Matt. She couldn't lie to herself and deny that he was an attractive man, full of mysteries and secrets that just waited to be unveiled by her. He was an attractive man and she was attracted to him on so many levels, that if he asked her to marry him, she would say yes without any doubts. 

Yes, that was her problem. Although not the biggest one at the time. Her biggest problem was Union Allied that was eating her brains at night, disturbing her thoughts and not letting her fall asleep easily. The feeling of hope was still alive inside of her, driving her crazy and desperate. 

So desperate that couple of hours later she found herself sitting in the auction, buying an old printer for the biggest price ever, hoping to find something useful for the last time.

*** 

Foggy and Matt returned almost before the work hours were finished, both laughing and nudging each other. "Uh, did something happen?" Foggy asks, still teasingly, but the look on your face said more than words could.

"What? What is it?" Matt frowns, quickly reading the room, although no one, beside you has been here today.

"Good news - I found Karen. Bad news - we're 3 thousand more in debt." You say, taking a look at Karen's computer, where the letter of her today's purchase was sent.

"What? How?" Foggy crosses the room and looks at the screen over your shoulder, quickly reading the letter. "Fax, printer, copier, conference phones? What?" Foggy reads the letter again, not believing his eyes.

"What's happening, y/n?" Matt comes next to the table and leans on it.

"Karen bought them from the auction, the equipment will be soon here." You sigh, leaning back in the chair.

"What was she thinking?" Matt asks in disbelief, feeling how the happiness abandoned him again. 

"And they're used. Half of this crap probably won't even work." You scoff, not even hiding how disappointed you felt. After all, your plan was to buy a new fully-functioning printer next week. Oh well.

"Okay, let's just wait for Karen tomorrow and listen to what she has to say." Foggy pulls away from the computer, leaving you and Matt facing each other. "Can we refuse to take them? Just in case?" He asks, slightly pacing around.

"We can throw them straight with trash, but we still have to pay for it." You answer briskly, feeling the urge to smoke again. 

"Well... Shit." Foggy sighs loudly, slumping into the nearby chair.

"Yeah, indeed." Matt bows his head as well. The previous cheerful mood, all gone in an instant.  

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

snow white

kinktober, day fifteen

a/n: i really wanted to play around with a fairytale this kinktober season and i came up with maybe too many ideas for a bunch of different ones, but this one just stuck with me for months, so i had to go with this one.

summary: that was often how it was with your seven miners. In certain moments, they just became something else, something entirely different and much more ethereal than seven mortal men, but instead fused together into a sea of love that they let you float in. 

warnings: snow white!reader x various, dark!prince!billy russo, miners!steve rogers, bucky barnes, thor odinson, miguel o'hara, marc spector, matt murdock, frank castle, dark content, smut, fairytale retelling, innocent!reader, references to loss of virginity, arranged engagement, assassination attempt, violence, poison apple, kidnapping, somno, polyamory, reverse harem, time jump (for domestic and slutty purposes), kissing, fingering, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, overstimulation, oral, handjob, squirting, multiple orgasms, gangbang, penetrative sex, anal, double penetration, double penetration in one hole, unprotected sex, creampie, dark ending

word count: 6746

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

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2024

Once upon a time, there lived a princess. 

You, to be exact. 

However, your day-to-day life, that wasn’t a part of you that one could define as something very regal, not lately, not since your father had died and left you in the hands of his late wife, a vain woman he had only married a short time prior to his passing. 

There wasn’t much you were allowed to do any longer as your stepmother was perhaps a bit too overprotective of you in her own cold way, even though many of the chores the sea of servants that buzzed within the castle took care of, that for some reason wasn’t off limits to you, if not encouraged by the queen. 

But it was all out of love, wasn’t it? 

“Oh, there you are!” your gaze fluttered up to find the prim and familiar figure stalking towards you in the gardens, “what in the world are you doing out by this ghastly old well?”

“Prince William,” you stiffened up slightly at his presence and swiftly did a curtsy, “w-what are you doing here?” 

“Ah, come on, Snow,” his palm brushed against the edge of the stone well, briefly cleaning it a bit before he leaned against it, “how many times do I have to tell you to call me Billy?” 

“Your Highness,” you swallowed nervously, “I’m just not sure that would be completely appropriate. You deserve to be paid with the utmost respect.” 

“Oh, I agree,” a sly smirk slithered across his chiselled features, “though, I do think my fiancé should be allowed just a little leniency.” 

“Oh,” you put on a smile for the royal, “you got engaged? Congratulations! Is it to someone I know?” 

“I’d sure hope so,” he grinned, and the next words that rolled off his tongue caused your face to drop, “it’s you.”

Blinking back at him, you couldn’t help but flinch as he stepped to get closer to you.

“…excuse me?” you breathed, your hand fluttering up to the neckline of your modest gown as you felt your heart begin to hammer in your chest.

“We’re to be married,” he caught your hand and kept on smiling, “I just sorted the last of the details out with your mother a few moments ago.” 

“Stepmother,” you corrected him hazily before uttering, “I–… how come I didn’t know about any of this? Why didn’t anyone think to ask me what I wanted?” 

Billy’s face then scrunched up at your question, as if it was the strangest of reactions to have at such news, “well you know now.” 

“That’s–,” you stared back at him, your eyes wide and horrified before you ripped your arm back out of his hold, “no.”

“What?” 

“No, I don’t wanna marry you,” the words flowed out of your lungs. 

But to your astonishment, the prince of the neighbouring kingdom then only chuckled, “what do you mean you don’t want to marry me? Of course you do, everyone does.”

“Well, I don’t.” 

Slowly, he seized your arm in a bruising grip before inching closer to you and leaning down to sternly whisper in your ear, “you better get rid of this attitude before you become my wife.”

The following week when the queen suggested that you go for a walk through the nearby woods, an activity you’d formerly thought to be banned as all your previous pleas throughout the years had failed, you nearly stumbled as you rushed to accept the opportunity. 

Where this newfound kindness had come from that you had no clue of, though you weren’t going to argue now as the chains around you slowly began to slacken. 

The queen’s protective nature for you stayed fast however when she sent a guard to accompany you, though one you’d never encountered before as you spent so much time in the castle that you knew all of the others by name. Perhaps he was just new? 

Though when you eventually came upon a clearing and you decided to take a small break in that peaceful and serene glen, it all changed so quickly that you nearly got whiplash. 

One moment, you were grinning up at the treetops, whistling back to the birds building a nest up there, and the next, the guard shadowing you had raised a dagger up high and lunged it down upon you. Thankfully, luck was for once on your side and you managed to twist just enough for it to miss your sternum and instead slice through your sleeve and cut your shoulder. 

When you tried to run, a shrill scream erupting your frame, the knight caught your arm before you could manage to escape.

Though just as all hope seemed lost, when the dappled sunlight caught and reflected in the shiny blade as he rose it back up high, it never pierced your heart as a pickaxe instead suddenly appeared from out of nowhere, flying through the air and lodging itself right above the guard’s brow. 

He stayed standing for a second, blood trickling down his face, before the warrior’s body fell backwards and collapsed on the forest floor. 

Your frame shook like a leaf on the wind as you stood there, eyes wide with horror, watching his brain leak and stain the moss below your feet. 

“Are you alright, my lady?” a deep voice called from behind you, though it still took you a moment before you were able to rip yourself out of your petrified state. 

As you slowly twisted around, you saw seven men standing at the edge of the clearing, all of them except the blonde one in the middle with a pickaxe clutched in their hands. 

“Are you hurt?” the miner missing his tool spoke again, taking a ginger step closer. 

Still reeling, unable to fathom that you nearly just lost your life, you blinked, “I–… I–…” though just continued to stand there, frozen in the middle of the storm. 

“You’re bleeding,” a dark-haired man further down the line uttered before the muddled confusion that bloomed on your horrified features caused him to gently gestured to your arm and guide your gaze down to your shoulder. 

“O-oh…” you blinked back at the gash, though still couldn’t pierce through the fog to do anything more. As your glossy eyes flickered back up to gaze at your heroes, the woods around you began to spin as you then blubbered, “you saved me… I–… I–…” before the whole forest went black and you collapsed into a pair of quick arms. 

“Wow, it’s alright,” a voice washed over you as soon as you came to, “you’re okay.”

After your eyes had found the source of the deep timbre, they then flickered around to take in the unfamiliar home you now found yourself in.

“Where am I?” you asked hesitantly as you sat up in the bed you’d been planted on. Looking around the space, it wasn’t the only one as the whole room was filled with enough sleeping arrangements for all of the strangers. 

“Don’t worry, you’re safe,” the long golden locks on the man sitting by your feet rustled slightly as he raised up both hands in a gesture of goodwill, “you’re in our home,” he informed you before his neck twisted and he shouted out the open bedroom door, “hey guys! She’s awake!”

As the rest of the men from the forest began to filter into the dormitory, your legs curled up beneath the blanket and you swiftly hugged your knees to your chest. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” one of them asked in a careful tone. 

“I–…” you felt your heart thump in your chest as your wide eyes danced between the burly figures, “what do you–, w-why did you take me with you?” 

Taking a step forward, a dark-haired one said, “well, we couldn’t in good conscience just leave you back there and let you bleed next to your assassin,” he then tilted his head, “plus my healing supplies were all back here.” 

As you glanced down to discover your slashed sleeve cut off and missing with a bandage instead wrapped around the ghastly cut on your upper arm, you then blinked back up at the stranger and asked, “you’re a healer?”

“No, not really, I’m a miner, we all are,” he gestured to the others. 

“Yeah, we work in the mines out west on the other side of the village,” the one leaning against the doorframe shared. 

You faintly recalled the mines they spoke of, though you hadn’t been out there since you were a child, the memory however of the glimmering jewels it produced still sparkled brightly in your mind. 

“Hey, do you mind me asking,” the one standing beside the pickaxe-throwing blonde spoke, “why in the world would a royal guard want to kill you? I mean, forgive me if your looks are deceiving, but you look like just an innocent young girl.”

Averting your gaze to the quilted blanket draped over your form, you uttered, “it’s probably because my stepmother commanded him to…”

“Wow…” one of them breathed, “she has that kinda power? Then you must be, what–, some kind of lady?”

“Princess, actually,” you blinked up at them and watched as they all froze up, instantly growing so quiet that you would have been able to hear a single pin drop in the cottage, “thank you all so very much for saving me. I can’t even begin to fathom what would have happened if you hadn’t intervened.” 

“Oh, well…” the blonde one in the middle shifted slightly, visibly nervous at the discovery of who you truly were, “you’re welcome, your–, uhm, highness.”

“Please, just call me Snow. That’s what everyone does,” you waved a hand and offered him a soft smile, “what are your names?”

“Well, I’m Steve,” the one who’d thrown the pickaxe pressed his palm to his broad chest, “and that there is Bucky, Thor and Marc,” he gestured to the other miners, “and that’s Matthew, Frank and Miguel.”

“Miguel,” you spoke the name of your healer, “thank you for patching up my arm.” 

“Does it feel alright?” he glanced down at the bandage, he too clearly not having a clue how one should act around a royal, “because I could go get some herbs if you–”

“No, thank you, I think I’ll manage” you gently declined before uttering, “although, I–… what’s to happen now? I can’t just go back to the castle, I’d be dead within minutes.”

“Don’t you have anyone you trust somewhere else? Someone you could stay with?” the one named Matthew asked. 

The only person your mind managed to scrounge up was the prince you’d been unwillingly promised to, and he wasn’t just an individual you didn’t trust, but also one you feared.

“No…”

“Uh…” Marc exhaled before his glance flickered across the rest, “would you excuse us for a moment?” 

And as you offered a nod, they all filtered back out the bedroom and huddled up just outside the door, though you could still faintly catch a word or two in their discussion.

“Okay,” Steve crossed his burly arms across his chest when they all entered the room once more, “you can stay here for tonight, and then tomorrow we’ll help you come up with a plan.”

The following day, when all the miners had gone off to the mountains for the day’s work, they’d said their goodbyes before leaving you in the cottage, fully expecting you to no longer be there once they returned. 

But you didn’t leave, you couldn’t have. Where would you have run off to?

So instead, to both try and convince the entire group of you staying, yet also in a makeshift attempt at thanking them for how they’d come to your aid, you spend the day cleaning their messy abode and welcoming them home to a dining table brimming with a roasted feast, a simple comfort none of them had seen in a while. 

It had only been one of them who hadn’t instantly jumped onto the unanimous agreement to let you become a part of their household, but he swiftly received an elbow to the rib to help change his tune.

Not long passed before you soon grew close, and one night, after weeks of you experiencing a sensation you’d never even known existed, something unfamiliar that each and every one of them evoke and flooded your senses with, you finally couldn’t hold your tongue any longer as your innocence had begun to thrust you into the abyss of worry. 

You still hadn’t received a permanent sleeping arrangement even though you’d been here for a while, each one of the miners still took turns letting you borrow one of their simple beds, all of them lined up along the perimeter of the shared bedroom, and let you rest there for the night while they took the humble couch. 

So as you sat on your bed for the night and your gaze shadowed the men as finished getting ready for the night, shedding their clothing and washing up in a small basin by one of the windows, the unfamiliar feeling fluttered once more in your lower belly and drove you to part your lips and utter, “hey Miguel?” you caught the attention of the healer of the lot, “I think there might be something wrong with me…” 

Patting his damp face dry with a small rag, he brought it down upon his shoulder as he furrowed his dark brows over at you, “why would you think that?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, you met his glance, “I feel strange…”

“Strange how?” he took a seat at the foot of the mattress you were curled up on, “explain it to me.”

“Well,” you began hesitantly, “ever since I got here, since I met you all, this weird feeling keeps bubbling up inside of me, like I’m about to faint or something, like I can’t think, and all I can focus on is just this odd tingling sensation almost, like–, I don’t know how to explain it, I know it sounds weird, but I swear, something’s going on, I don’t know what, but it’s weird.”

The man’s head then promptly tilted to the side and you heard him exhale, “oh, honey…” 

Your explanation also caught the attention of the rest of the miners and even conjured a small laugh in some, though Steve swiftly stepped in and barked, “hey! Shut it!” rapidly putting a holt to Bucky and Marc’s amusement. 

Placing a palm on your blanket-covered shin, Miguel then uttered gently, “I think what you’re describing isn’t something bad.”

“Are you sure?” you sat up a bit more. 

“Positive,” he nodded, trying his best to keep a straight face unlike some of the men behind him who still struggled even after getting scalded. 

“So, I’m not sick?”

“No,” he shook his head, “you’re not.”

“Your Highness,” Frank then spoke up, “have you never–, uhm, been with someone else?” 

“What do you mean?” your brows knitted together. 

“Okay, uh…” Thor sighed softly, taking your confusion as enough of an answer, “have you ever–, let’s say, kissedsomeone before?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve been kissed before,” your thoughts drifted to Prince Billy, though none of those times had stirred any sensations of this sort, “but I’ve never felt like this, not ever,” your gaze then danced between and caught each of the stares the seven miners directed at you, “what’s going on? Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Have you touched yourself while you feel like this?” your eyes suddenly grew at Bucky’s bold question, “does your little honeypot get all wet from this feeling?” and when you found yourself too stunned to conjure an answer, he went on, this time with a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, “I mean, if you’d like, one of us could help you. Teach you how to make it feel better…” 

“You know how to make it better?” you blinked back at him.

“Oh yeah,” his gaze dipped a bit as his grin grew wider. 

“Do you want one of us to help you?” you then heard Steve offer. 

And as your head began to rock in a soft nod, Marc asked, “which one do you want?”

But as you stared around at all of them, you murmured, “I–… I don’t know…”

“Just pick the one that gives you the most butterflies,” Matt tried to aid your decision, “the one that makes you feel like your heart lives between your thighs.”

“…do I have to pick?” you asked quietly as you blinked around at all of them, now clustered by the small bed, “couldn’t you all just help me?”

“…you want all of us to help you?” Miguel’s head dipped slightly as he tilted forward in surprise. 

“At once?” Frank asked. 

And as you offered them a nod, they all exchanged looks, silently agreeing before Steve uttered, “alright.” 

With all of the miners surrounding the bed, they swiftly kneeled down on the floor in a half-moon around you before they began. 

Before Marc, Thor and Frank the furthest from you grabbed a hold of the blanket draped over you and began to tug it down and let it crumble below your feet, Matt and Miguel to your right gently prepared you and began to undo your confusion. 

Each of their touches were feathery in the beginning as their fingers ghosted over your frame. At first, it wasn’t even in that scandalous of places as Steve and Matt even continued to hold your hands long after the thin chemise you wore had been tugged at, the neckline pushed down to expose your boobs, heaving with every fierce breath you sucked in, and the skirts shoved up, letting the linen bunch well above your hips to uncover the place where the dizzying sensation peaked to unimaginable heights. 

When the first touch fluttered between your legs, your eyes swiftly flickered up to find Bucky and Steve’s directly to your left as the pleasure was one you’d never even thought possible. 

You rapidly melted into the bliss as lingering embarrassment faded away and you soon let them crack you open even further, folding up your legs to grant them all better access to your haven. 

Even before your eyes fluttered closed, the job of deciphering which hand belonged to who was an impossible task. Floating in the sea of touches, not a millimetre of your skin was left unexplored, and neither were your untouched holes as they all turned you so molten that at one point everyone had at least one finger warm within you at once. 

Four digits stretched out your lips and both gave your mouth something to drool around and also let your moans melt against their flesh. Three of them slipped in and worked in tandem to stretch out your virgin cunt. They’d even gotten you so relaxed that two managed to sneak a finger inside of your tight little ass, plugging you up completely.

And when the still unfamiliar high began to bubble within you and creep near, worry first began to billow out of you once more, though after some soothing sentences and an ask of trust, they carried you through the overwhelming ecstasy till you were trembling in their hands and begging them to grant you that gift one more time, like an addict, already craving that sweetness once again.  

ONE YEAR LATER

“Ah-ha-ha!” Thor’s jovial rumble was the first sign you got that any of the fellows had returned after a day at the mines, “come here, princess!” 

As he entered the cottage, arms spread out wide, he excitedly caught you in a hug and lifted you up as he swung you around till you became no more than an ethereal giggle in his hold. 

“Oh, no,” you complained light-heartedly through your laugh as his stale smell of sweat mixed with soot flooded your senses, “you’re so dirty!” you tried to glance down at your dress to see if any of the grime from the mine had transferred.

Letting out a chuckle as he only tightened his hold around your frame, “you love it,” he tilted his head out of the crook of your neck and planted a kiss to your lips. 

“You’re not–,” you continued your giggle even as his own mouth tried to smother the sound, “Thor, you need to bathe first.” 

“Oh, really?” he cocked his head and slyly narrowed his eyes, “you sure you don’t wanna repeat the welcome home you gave me yesterday where you couldn’t wait? I mean, I could barely get in the door before you had your lips on me, struggling to fit my balls inside that little mouth of yours?” 

His lips first pressed against your now hot cheek before they wandered across in a straight line down to your own, not simmering down his eagerness even as the rest of his fellow miners began to filter into the cabin. 

“Oh, so that’s why you ran ahead,” Marc’s sigh caused you to break the peck, “of course.” 

Still entangled in Thor’s strong arms, you glanced over at the familiar men who crossed the threshold and slowly began to set down their tools and peel off their muddy boots.  

“Heya, boys,” a warm bubble burst within you as you flashed them all a smile. Attempting to slip out of the burly hug, Thor still kept his palm interlocked in your own as you made your way around through the crowd and began to greet the others, “how was the mine today?”

“It was fine,” Frank muttered in your ear when you hugged him. 

And as your free arm lastly found Steve’s broad shoulder in an embrace, his low voice tickled the side of your neck as he exhaled, “hi Snow.”  

“Hi,” you pressed a soft kiss to his bearded cheek. 

As you retracted and let Thor pull you back against his warmth, Miguel asked, “so, what’s for dinner tonight?” as Thor leaned back against the sturdy dining table and dragged you with him, half planting you in his lap as he leaned you back against him. 

Though as the softness of your bottom came to rest against the miner’s pelvis, a palpable hardness distracted you even through the layers of your dress, “uhm, I’ve got a lentil stew going over the fire,” your breathing began to grow unsteady as he discreetly grinded you down against his desperation, “it should be done soon.” 

“Good,” Miguel smiled, haven not yet noticed the nefarious activities that had begun right under his own nose, “I’m starving.” 

“What else have you gotten up to today?” Matt asked as he sat down on the bench where Marc had already planted himself, “did you begin that book we were talking about?” 

“I–, uh, I started it, but I didn’t get that far,” your words became a struggle to form as you tried to fight through the fog Thor thrust you into, “ended up taking a nap instead.”

“Well, that’s good,” Bucky noted, “you were tossing and turning so much last–,” though his sentence then promptly crumbled as a soft whimper finally slipped out past your lips and drew his attention to the way Thor’s hands on your hips subtly rocked you down against him, “seriously?” he swiftly scalded him, “you couldn’t keep it in your pants for even two seconds?” 

“Right,” Thor scoffed, “like I'm the only one who’s desperate,” he then buried his grasp in your skirts and before you had the chance to protest, picked it up to prove his point. 

It was frankly a bit embarrassing how wet you already were, though when Thor grabbed ahold of your thighs and lifted you up, your back plastered against his chest as his hold on you spread you wide for all to see, your cunt couldn’t help but drool for them so fiercely that even the one furthest away from you could catch a glimpse of the glimmer glinting back at him in a lewd plea.  

“Hm…” Bucky hummed warmly as he kneeled down before you, though only let his palm come up to ghost against your inner thigh and didn’t grant you the sweet relief of petting your pussy as she cried out for his touch, “your Highness, are you sure it wasn’t something else you were doing all day while we were off at work?” 

“I–,” an airy chuckle innocently escaped your lungs, “what are you implying?” 

“Well, either you were too impatient to wait for us,” you sucked in a breath as his hand finally drifted up to offer your core the softest of pets, teasing you further into madness, “or just the mere sound of the front door opening got you dripping the way that you are right now…” 

“So, which is it, princess?” Frank smirked, arms crossed as he leaned back against the wall beside the fireplace, “are you a whore or is it just for us?” 

“You already know the answer to that…” you hazily smiled, though swiftly let out a whimper as Bucky removed his hand, denying you of any further pleasure. However, before you could part your lips in a complaint, Thor set you back down on your now wobbly feet. 

Your gaze found Steve’s as he took a seat beside Marc, unlike the rest of the men who began to swarm around you, their broad hands swiftly reaching for your dress. It nearly didn’t even get the chance to drop back down and cover you from how Thor had torn it up, before they nearly ripped it to shreds. 

And when no fabric was left to conceal your frame, your moment with your feet on the ground turned out to be more fleeting than you’d thought as both Frank and Miguel then shifted to stand behind you and their grasps found your form, first guiding your arms around their necks for support before they plucked you up. 

As Matt stepped up and seized your flaming cheeks to dip his lips down to yours, a whisper then washed over you as the sweet kiss ended, “can I have a taste?” and as your head began to nod, your nose momentarily nuzzled against his own before his knees buckled. 

Both Thor and Bucky enveloped a hand around your ankles, keeping you spread wide even as Matthew dropped down and made you squirm as his hot breath fanned across your glistening core. 

As your lips parted in a gasp, staring down at Matt as he dipped down to kiss your puffy pearl, in your periphery you just managed to spot how everyone’s free hand had found the tent in their pants, squeezing it for an ounce of relief as they watched you intently. 

When Matt’s tongue lapped through your petals, it wasn’t till he tilted his chin and sucked your clit into his mouth that your gaze fluttered up to find Marc’s across the room. 

“O-oh, fuck,” you moaned into the cottage, “I need–, I–, I need more–,” the plea left your lips as you tried to keep your stare lock. Though the love pecks felt incredible, it was bordering the line of crude torture, only tickling at your senses and not granting you the sweet relief the deepest depths of you yearned for so fiercely. 

It seemed like an eternity that Marc took to get up from his seat and actually cross the small room, though when he did, his palm briefly patted Matthew’s shoulder and caused the kisses to cease. 

“How much more, princess?” Marc asked as Matt got up and let him switch places. 

Though when your answer came in the form of your gaze dropping to his hard length, freed and heavy in his tight fist, one of the men holding you up murmured in your ear, “you want him to fuck you, huh? Is that what you want?” Frank’s deep timbre seeped directly into your bones as his lips dipped down to nip at your neck. 

“Uh-huh,” you nodded hazily, keeping your eyes glued as Marc stepped up and briefly swept the bulbous head of his cock through your folds. 

For a second, you thought it had been Marc himself who had slowly thrust his entirety inside of you, though in actuality when Miguel and Frank’s hold on you tightened, they’d been the ones to tilt your body just as the girth caught your entrance, and lower you down on it in one fell motion. 

“There you go, Snow,” Bucky breathed as your eyes fluttered at the stretch. Halting his palming of himself, Bucky’s hand soothingly swept up the length of you till it found your tit and cupped it gently, his calloused thumb stretching up to flick against your pebbly nipple and get your eyes to blink back open. 

Marc’s efforts were purposely slow and he gently began to warm you up for what you expected was in store. Though on one of his long and deep strokes, plunging all the way inside of your little pussy before yanking himself out completely, you only blinked and when your eyes fluttered back open, it wasn’t Marc’s cock that was buried deep within you, but instead the last man to join the fray. 

“S-Steve, o-oh!” your head tilted back slightly as his fat girth split you open. 

“Oh, how do you always feel better than I recall?” Steve groaned, the tip of him already bumping against your cervix. 

“It’s that fucking princess pussy,” Thor grunted, “I swear it’s like magic or something.” 

“No matter how many of us try and fit inside of you at once, we just can’t ruin you,” Miguel kissed your cheek, “you just snap right back and we have to stretch you all the way back out again.” 

Steve, Marc and Matt before you then took turns, fucking you slowly and building a rhythm till they became like a river, each of them only sinking in and letting their balls tap against your slick skin before they pulled back out and let the other one take a dive. As the silky pattern pushed you closer to the peak and made you dazed out of your mind, you stopped being able to tell who was fucking you when, as they all just flowed together and worked your body as one soul being. That was often how it was with your seven miners. In certain moments, they just became something else, something entirely different and much more ethereal than seven mortal men, but instead fused together into a sea of love that they let you float in. 

Once your first of many orgasms washed over you and rocked through your soul, your body was set back down, though only for a mere moment before Bucky picked you up into his arms and carried you with him as he lowered himself onto one of the long benches that stretched out on either side of the dining table. 

As he settled you atop of him and slipped inside your still throbbing cunt, your head tilted up in the direction of the men whose hard lengths were still glistening with your juices and your hands fluttered up to motion for them, grabbing for their girths, way before your fingers could reach them, though when they did, Steve didn’t let your touch linger on himself but instead plucked up your face and parted your lips with his cock, letting your hands take care of Matt and Marc on either side of him while he gently fucked your mouth. 

“Oh, shit,” Frank then appeared before you, wedging himself in beside Steve’s bulky form, “share some of that sugar,” his palm found your cheek and stroked it softly. As your lips left Steve with an audible pop, Frank’s fingers drifted up to bury themselves in your locks before he guided you to him and groaned as he finally felt you swallow his cock, “yes…”

However, what you didn’t expect was how Steve’s hand too fluttered up to tangle itself in the other side of your hair before they both took over your head’s movements, passing you back and forth between the both of them, though only granting themselves one long bob at a time.  

When a pair of fingers softly swept over the last of your holes, your eyebrows knit together at the familiar teasing. 

“What do you say, Snow?” you heard Thor utter from behind you as he brought his palm down to smack the curve of your ass, watching intently as Miguel’s fingertips rub against you, only shyly dipping inside the hole just above where Bucky split you open, “exactly how much more are you in the mood for today?”

And when you took your chance to catch your breath, you shot back your needy answer through your heaving intakes of air, “all of it.” 

It wasn’t till Miguel let out a gravelly groan that you knew which one had gotten the chance to claim your ass first. When a dollop of his spit landed upon your skin, his thumb wasted no time to soar up and rub it in, swiping over your little rosebud as it stretched to take his girth. 

The task of keeping up your attention to the four miners at your head became an impossible task as they gave your mouth a break for your breathless moans to flow freely and they instead came to your aid and helped guide your hands around to grant them all a bit of affection. 

With both of your holes snuggly filled up, you felt yourself near the edge once more, though it was Thor who pushed you over it as his hand coiled around your waist and snaked down to find your swollen clit in a lavish pattern. 

Though when you buried your face in the crook of Bucky’s neck and trembled between his and Miguel’s burly forms, Thor’s touch dissipated and though you half expected him to join the rest up top, it still didn’t manage to surprise you what he opted for instead. 

“Holy shit!” you shakily gasped, your palm nearly slapping Bucky in the chest as you felt Thor angle himself behind you and press his cock in beside Miguel’s, who’s dick was already more than enough for you to handle on its own. 

“Shh,” Bucky tilted your chin down for you to catch his eye, “don’t act like this is your first time, princess,” he kept his own pace selfish as the silky wall parting him from the rest grew thinner than ever, “you can take it,” his palm tapped your cheek lightly as he smiled at how you overcame the staggering sensation, “just as you always do.” 

And take it you did, soon gushing all over them as the three miners emptied themselves into your holes, pumping you full and leaving you a leaky mess for the remainder to enjoy while they all found a seat to relax in and watch you descend further into madness. 

It was Frank who then flipped your molten form around, planting himself on the very same bench, and twisted you around for your back to be melting down against his front. He slipped in effortlessly as the two loads that dripped out of your ass aided his fat girth as he buried himself completely, fucking the other miner’s cum that much deeper inside your utterly wrecked hole. 

“How’s she doing, huh?” Steve asked as he and Matthew stepped up between your parted legs, his fingers coasting down to spread open and inspect your pussy as it too leaked, “you think she can take a bit more? You think she can take on the two of us?” he briefly pumped two of his fingers into your quivering hole as he awaited your answer. 

“I–, you can try,” you panted, hazily blinking down at how Matt’s digits too came down between your thighs and began to draw rude patterns over your puffy pearl, “I don’t know if I can do it, but you can try.”

“Atta girl,” Matt flashed you a smile before each of their touches was traded out for something much more overwhelming. 

With Marc as the last one remaining above your head, he stayed patient and simply stood there, stroking your hair and even dipping down to press his lips to your cheek as your poor pussy struggled to take the two cocks your loves attempted to ease in there. Though, when your eyes widened at the eventual success, the man behind you only let you stare at the severe stretch a moment before he tilted your head back, supporting it with both of his hands as you caught on and parted your lips for him. 

As he fucked your face, one of his hands briefly swept down to your throat as he fed you more of his length and spotted how a dull bulge of him appeared each time you gagged around his girth. 

You felt as if you’d slipped into a trance by the time everyone had gotten the chance to cum inside your sweetness, yourself falling apart around them enough times that you lost count. Though even so, as you layed there, various burly men enveloping your half-continuous form in their warmth, your eyes blinked open and spotted the few who’d gotten the privilege to go first and how they’d at some time grown hard once again and were now pumping their cocks in their fists, with all of their greedy gazes glued on you.  

The seven miners always warned you to be careful while they were off at work and you were all alone in the secluded cottage. Even though it was located in the middle of the woods, they still advised you not to open the door for anyone, not even if their looks deceived you. 

You should have heeded those warnings the day when an old hag knocked at the cabin door, because she didn’t turn out to be just a sweet old lady as you had thought when you first spotted her through the window, dark cloak drawn up over her grey hair as she clutched onto a heavy basket of apples in one arm and thumped her free fist against the front door. 

All she’d asked for had been a sip of water, one your kindness couldn’t deny her of. 

Though your gravest mistake came when you accepted her seemingly kind offer of gratitude in the form of one of her apples, because when you sank your teeth into the crisp red fruit, the produce suddenly turned rotten in your grasp, granting you a brief glance of the truth, of the potent poison it withheld, before the effects took ahold and cast you into an eternal slumber. 

The enchanted sleep however wasn’t like the one you’d heard tales about as it in truth only shut down your body as the rest of your senses still stayed awake, alert and aware as ever to the things around you, though forever helpless to whatever could occur. 

When your dear miners returned that day, the sight that found them utterly broke them all. 

And when they discovered that you’d received a fate worse than death, a few of them had to lean on superstition in order to cope. 

Though superstition was what superstition often is, just a fairytale. 

No matter how many of them attempted to press their lips to yours, you stayed asleep as true love’s kiss turned out to be no more than a bedtime story. 

That’s how you ended up in a blossoming glen, not far from the cottage that had grown to become your home, encased in a glass coffin. 

But that’s also how he found you again…

Prince Billy had been on a hunting trip the day he stumbled over the clearing you rested in, his deepest desires he’d assumed forever lost, so perfectly on display for him in the middle of the woods and with no one to stop him from taking you with him back to his castle. You had been his fiancé after all, so if your fate as his wife included you being a little less of an active participant than you’d been previously, then so be it. He could be content with you as nothing but a living doll… in fact, perhaps the royal even preferred it… 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[marifilue]

Attempted

Wordcount: 1.5k

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader (No use of y/n)

Oneshot: Takes place at Daredevil Season 3, where Matt faked his death. You find him in his lowest point.

Tags/Warnings: Mention of su!cide attempt, angst with comfort, blood, violence, established relationship.

You knew Matt was alive. At least, two weeks after you believed he was dead when a twenty-story building collapsed on top of him.

That was the longest two weeks of your life. Two weeks of waking up to the same nightmare, two weeks of staring at the empty side of your bed, two weeks of waiting for a ghost.

Denial clung to your bones like a second skin—no body was ever found, no trace of him beyond fragments of his suit, scattered among the rubble. No DNA. No sign of life.

It was as if Matt Murdock had never existed.

Then, one random Tuesday morning, Father Langton approached you. He didn’t have much to offer—just a few quiet words, hesitant but weighted with meaning.

Matthew was alive. Matthew was hiding beneath Clinton Church.

Your world cracked wide open.

You could have dropped to your knees, could have broken down right then and there. Gratitude flooded your veins, burned behind your ribs. And yet, before you could run to him, before you could beg for proof, Father Langton shook his head.

Let it be.

He said Matt needed time. That it would be easier for everyone. That if you truly loved him, you’d wait.

Three months passed.

Three months, and Matt never reached out—not to you, not to Foggy, not to Karen.

You've saw him around. Like a ghost, drifting through Manhattan, blending into the crowd. Jacket pulled tight, cap drawn low, always listening, always observing. Planning his next move.

Tonight, after your night shift, you walked home, the cold New York night never kind as the clock neared ten. Spotting Matt was the last thing on your mind. But then you heard voices—men, tense and aggressive. And there he was, caught in a fight in a narrow alley.

Your breath hitched as you instinctively stepped back, pressing yourself against the wall, hidden in the shadows.

He wasn’t exactly hard to find. Not in that all-black outfit, not in that mask.

You weren’t sure if he had sensed you yet. He used to be able to pick you out of a crowd with just the rhythm of your heartbeat, the faint scent of your perfume. But tonight, his head was bowed, his posture eerily still.

Two men. A fight. But Matt wasn’t fighting back.

He fell on his knees purposely, arms spread, unmoving.

A metal rod glinted under the glow of a streetlamp, raised high, aimed for his skull.

Your world stopped for a second.

Then you ran.

You didn’t think—you just moved. You yelled, the sound slicing through the night, drawing their attention. The one with the rod barely had time to turn before you tackled him, knocking him to the ground.

Matt startled at the sound of your voice. His head snapped up. And then, as if something inside him snapped back into place, he swung, his fist cracking against the second man’s jaw.

The one beneath you growled, tried to strike—you caught his wrist and snapped it. He screamed.

Before you could react, he flipped, hands closing around your throat. Your vision blurred, air cut off. Then—

A sickening crunch.

Matt’s boot slammed into the man’s already-broken arm. Another scream. His grip loosened, and you stumbled back, gasping.

But Matt didn’t stop.

He grabbed the man by his collar and hit him. Again. And again. And again.

The rage in his fists, the sharp sound of bones cracking. Three minutes ago, he had been ready to die. Now, he was desperate to live.

He was painting, his knuckles red. The body beneath him went limp. Matt stilled. Tilted his head slightly. Sensed you.

He muttered your name.

And all the grief, all the anger, all the love you had swallowed for the past three months tore out of you in one sharp, broken breath.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” you yelled, frustrated at him.

Sirens.

Matt’s head snapped up. “We gotta hide. Run. Now.” He said before spitting his own blood.

You get on your feet immediately and didn’t hesitate, he run followed you closely behind.

Six blocks. A sharp turn. Another alley. Neither of you spoke. The sirens faded, but the weight in your chest didn’t. You turned to leave.

His voice caught you, calling your name. “Where are you going?”

You kept walking. “This was a mistake.”

He reached for you, grabbed your arm, calling your name once again. “Stop it. You can’t just walk away.”

You flinched. Yanked yourself free. “Why not? Isn’t this what you wanted, Matthew? For everyone to be out of your life? For me to be out of your life?”

His breath hitched. He pulled off his mask, let it fall to the ground. “H-how long have you known?”

Your throat tightened. “As if you care.”

“Tell me—how did you find out?” he said voice laces with despair.

You turned, took a step back, shaking your head. “What the hell were you thinking, Matthew?” The bite in your words betrayed you, your heart clenched immediately at the sight of him. Exhausted, blood smeared across his mouth. His eyes screamed, help me.

He let out a bitter chuckle. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Exactly. You weren’t.” Your voice cracked. “Two weeks, Matt. That’s how long I thought you were dead. That’s how long I woke up every morning thinking I had lost you forever.”

Matt’s lips parted, but no words came.

“And then I found out you were alive. Still you never reached out. You just disappeared.”

His silence was deafening.

You laughed—sharp, humorless. “What did I do wrong? Why wasn’t I worth a single goddamn explanation?”

He exhaled, ran a hand over his face. “It wasn’t about—”

“Don’t,” you snapped. “Don’t you dare tell me it wasn’t about me.”

He reached for you again. You stepped back. He followed.

You turned. He caught your wrist.

His grip wasn’t forceful—just unwilling to let go.

“Let me go, Matt.”

“No.” His voice was quiet, steady. Unshakable. “Not this time.”

Your chest caved. A war raged inside you—anger and grief and longing, colliding like waves against jagged rock, tearing through the fragile walls you had spent three months building.

“Matt—”

“Just listen to me.” His voice was raw, pleading. “Please.”

You swallowed against the burn in your throat, blinking hard.

His hands curled into fists at his sides, like he wanted to punch something—maybe himself.

“I know I’d be condemned if I tried to take my own life,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

His next words were quieter. Broken.

“But I could let someone else do it.”

Your stomach dropped.

His grip on you tightened slightly, as if saying it out loud made him realize how fragile he still was. “I was done.” He said your name like it hurt. “But then you found me.”

Something inside you shattered.

Your vision blurred. “You can’t just survive death and take that for granted, Matt.” Your voice cracked, barely able to hold itself together.

His hands found your face, thumbs brushing away the tears that slipped free.

“I know,” he murmured, breath warm and unsteady.

You clenched your jaw, shaking your head. “Screw you, Matt.”

A faint, broken smile flickered across his face—gone before it could settle. And then, finally, he pulled you into his arms.

The second he held you, something inside you collapsed. His warmth wrapped around you, his heartbeat thrumming against yours—a rhythm you had feared you would never hear again. You buried your face against his shoulder, and your fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt like you were afraid he’d slip through your grasp.

Your sobs shook against his chest. “You’re such an asshole.”

His chin rested atop your head, his arms locked around you. “I know,” he murmured. “I’m sorry. I should’ve come back to you sooner.”

You pulled back, meeting his gaze—hazel eyes, exhausted and searching. A bruise darkened his cheekbone. Slowly, you brought your palm to his mouth, wiping the blood away with your sleeve. He shuddered at your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment.

You didn’t care that his blood now stained your sleeve. All that mattered was him. Just because he always took a punch like a champ didn’t mean he wasn’t breaking from inside.

His palm pressed over your heart, fingers splaying across your chest as if he needed to feel you—needed proof that you were real, here, alive.

“I missed you,” he whispered, the words raw and open. “The rhythm of your heartbeat—I haven’t felt it in so long.”

Your breath hitched. “What now?” Your voice was barely a breath. “We can’t just pick up where we left.”

Matt exhaled, and something in his gaze shifted—like steel reforging itself in fire.

“We can,” he murmured, conviction threading through his voice. “And we will.”

His hands framed your face again, his touch grounding you, tethering you to this moment.

“You’re here. I’m here.” His thumb traced your cheek, lingering like a silent promise. “That’s enough.”

Your throat tightened. Was it enough? You weren’t sure.

But as his fingers curled around yours, as his warmth seeped into your skin, as the exhaustion in his eyes softened into something steadier—something sure—you let yourself believe him.

For now, it was sure all you needed.

A/N: This was one of my oldest drafts. I first wrote it two years ago, and after proofreading it for a while, I finally decided to post it. I’m coming back to my roots with my Daredevil obsession, and I’m so excited that Born Again is releasing next month, just a few days before my birthday! Yippee!

[kitkatpadywaks]

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Key: 🔥Smut - 💢Angst - ❤️Fluff - 💀Dark Themes - 💕Slow Burn - ❤️‍🩹Hurt/Comfort - ✔️Complete(Series) - ❌Incomplete(Series)

Last Updated: 10th December 2024

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[jaggedamethyst]

that will be enough (matt murdock x reader)

pairing: matt murdock x reader

content: reader has holiday anxiety (me lol), angst, some fluff if you squint

notes: I have missed matt honestly...but this is something short while I work on some other things. if you also have holiday anxiety...sending love. as always, I dont believe in proofreading.

full masterlist linked here

For Matt, the holidays were yet another reminder of the love he had in his heart—most of all for his dad. The love he had for you was intense, yet differed from the emotion held for his late father. While having laid the great Jack to rest, the feeling of doing so always persistent in his mind, he could forget it was there. With you, the warmth consistently filled his body. It made sense, then, that he was exceptionally in tune to your every action. 

Matt dreaded his somber mood during this time of year. He quickly noticed, too, your feigned enjoyment. Whether it be a mindless repetitive tapping, or a grimace at the sight of even more holiday decor—the disdain was clear. 

You’d forced yourself to accept invitations, RSVP, and show up to events this year. With each one, you were reminded of how little you actually had. Not financially, per say, but the lack of family. It was easy to say that that intimacy could be found anywhere, but people sucked. It was officially true that with your low tolerance for bullshit, you had girl bossed your way into having no friends, no family to see, and nobody to love—besides Matt. The thought made you pull away from him. The thought of placing all of this onto Matt alone—to be the only important thing in your life—was a lot. So when you found yourself at another winter soiree, Matt attached at your hip, it was easy for him to notice you weren’t okay. 

He tried to talk to you a few times, you hadn’t responded. Not purposely ignoring him, he noticed, but regressing into that state you would sometimes when you were overstimulated. There was so much happening, you couldn’t process everything. The music was meant to be the obligatory party soundtrack. You let out a huff at the ambience seemingly blaring in your ears. Your head was pounding. There were too many people. Too much talking. Not enough quiet. 

You felt a hand on your back. You turned to see Matt there, as always. You tried to hide the immediate response your body had to him, but you both knew that he was aware. 

“You okay?” His voice the only thing making sense was common for you. He’d say the same about you. When you didn’t respond, he continued, “How are you feeling?” He rubbed a few circles into your lower back, before resting his hand on your waist. 

You nodded, a hesitance there, “I’m o-okay.” You turned your head away, embarrassed by your inability to say two words without choking up. 

Without a word, Matt grasped your hand and pulled you from the table you’d be standing at. You followed him, always willing to do so, you’d go wherever he went. Shut up. You quieted your own thoughts. How pathetic it was to be so incapable and reliant on a man. Your lip quivered. Matt turned to you, again, sensing it all. He moved to grab your coats—sliding on yours, then his. 

“Come on.” 

Your feet were moving on their own. You let the feeling of his arm pulling yours lead you into the elevator. You sniffled, still not much on your mind other than the immense failure you were. 

“Hey,” Matt turned to you as the doors closed. “Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.” 

You felt the tears building, the pressure burning your eyes. “It won’t.” 

He was in front of you now, the twinge of salt in your tears hitting the air and his lips. Matt turned swiftly, hitting the stop button. You stumbled at the jolt and grasped for the wall for support. 

“Matt! What are you doing?”

“What are you feeling?”

“Nothing, I’m good.”

He tilted his head as he did, “Lie.” 

“I hate you,” 

“Another lie.” 

You turned to face the elevator wall. You sucked your teeth at your reflection. He was always so in tune, whether good or bad you still were not sure. It was times like this, where you let as if you were crawling in your skin, that the thought of explaining that phenomenon made you feel ill. 

He interrupted the thought, “It’s okay.” Don’t get yourself worked up. 

A split second later you spoke frantically, “I don’t think I can live without you.” The words blended together, the embarrassment increasing with every letter that left your mouth. 

He smiled a bit, nodding, “Thats good to hear…seeing as I don’t really plan on going anywhere.” 

The sound of you inhaling and exhaling slow filled the elevator cart. You looked at him, then. “What I mean…meant…is that…I am overwhelmed right now.” 

An arched brow and a nod encouraged you to continue. 

“I have nobody,” He opened his mouth to interrupt. You quieted him with your hand up, “…except you. Which isn’t…ideal.” There was sympathy, but silence still. He allowed you the space, here, to say everything. “Whenever we’re out…when I’m out…I feel so lonely. It’s like this time of year just heightens that feeling I have that everything should be perfect. But nothing is. Nothing can be.” You paused, “But I want it to.” 

“I miss my dad.” Matt stated plainly. “And I don’t really talk to my mom.” It was your turn to nod this time. “I have a few people I care about, but sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough. Especially during Christmas.” He went to lean on the opposite elevator wall as you were standing. “I imagined myself having years way beyond what I had with my dad. In church on Christmas, or maybe watching movies with him…I didn’t get much of that.” He stabilized himself, removing his red frames with one hand. “I don’t want you to feel burdened by the expectation of what a cookie-cutter life should be. Sometimes there’s other plans for us…and honestly…if we only have each other, forever, that will be enough for me.” 

You nodded aggressively, trying to make sense of that. You tried to drill the words into your mind so as to never be in this state again. 

“I hate Christmas.” 

Matt moved to hit the button, “Me too, babe.”

There wasn’t much said on the way to his apartment, nor when you’d both crawled into bed. After a while, Matt grabbed your palm and kissed the back of your hand. He spoke into your now intertwined fingers. “I can’t live without you either, by the way.” 

“Good to know that we’re both extremely helpless individuals.”

He chuckled, “We truly belong together”

You hummed. The intense feeling hadn’t completely left you, but rather been satiated by the knowledge that despite its existence—Matt would always be there, too.

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 11: Girl Dad

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Girl Dad (🌼)

Summary: Your daughter likes to have tea parties with her father, and he is more than happy to play along.

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of pregnancy, parenthood, slight angst, established relationship, husband!Matt

Word Count: 1.4k

A/n: I don't know about you, but I see Matt as a Girl Dad who is more than eager to give his little girl whatever she wants. And yes, she would be just like him.

Read Me On AO3!

The apartment is quiet—too quiet. Normally, you wouldn’t complain about a moment of peace; with a three-year-old around, even a minute to relax would be heaven on earth, but there is something eerie about the silence in the four walls you call home. No laughing, no crying, and no pattering of bare feet along the floorboards. No shouting, ‘Mommy!’ Until you drop everything to pay attention to your very quirky and very eccentric daughter. She’s got that from her father, too.

Silence with a toddler is hardly a good thing when she is far out of your sight. You learned that the hard way the day she got into your makeup and decided to repaint the bathroom. Despite all of the chaos, you have never loved a tiny human more than her.

When you got pregnant, it came as a shock to you—both yourself and Matt. He’s always been Catholic, and you’d been together for years at that point already, but there was something about the thought of having a baby that scared him in more ways than one. The full extent only hit you though when you peed on a stick, and it turned blue.

What if he couldn’t do this, he thought. What if he couldn’t be the father your child needed? What if he was entirely too damaged to be a father? What if the fact he couldn’t see would make it impossible for him to have a relationship with his child? He told you all of that and more. His father was good, but he died, and his mother left him, and he turned into Daredevil because the world is just so full of endless injustice; what good could that possibly do for a child, he thought.

Needless to say, the first time Matt held his daughter, he was terrified. He thought, why on earth would anyone, in good conscience hand him, the man whose fists are scared from countless fights on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, such a small, fragile, and innocent human being? 

“Congratulations, Dad,” one of the nurses had said. 

Dad. For nine months, he’d heard her little heartbeat in your belly. He’d felt her kick when she was strong enough to do so. It was surreal to him that you were carrying his daughter—his daughter. You were really doing this. Having a family. 

Though when the air first filled her tiny lungs and the nurses placed her screaming form on your chest, reality hit him. 

All those fears he’d had at the beginning of your pregnancy bubbled back to the surface. The medical equipment around him was so loud he almost had a panic attack, but you were okay, and the baby was okay, and suddenly, you were asking if he wanted to hold her, too. You, the woman who just gave birth to his daughter, and the first love of his life. 

The first time Matt held his daughter, he was terrified, but when his shaky fingers brushed her delicate skin to see her face, it only took a second for him to fall in love. 

“Hi,” he’d said. “Uh, I’m your Dad.”

She was looking up at him, he could feel it, and all his fears melted away again. 

Grace Murdock. You knew her name before she was even born, but it hit him even more when she was finally here. In a way, she was his saving grace.

That was three years ago. Three magical, chaotic, and sleepless years ago. 

Grace was the best thing to ever happen to you after falling in love with her father, but she did inherit his tendency to get into trouble; when neither Grace nor Matt is anywhere to be found, all alarms in your head go off. 

You put down the towel and make your way from the kitchen down the hallway. 

Faint voices start to reach you the closer you get to your daughter’s bedroom. “More tea, daddy,” you hear Grace say. It’s not a question, it is merely a blatant statement. 

Matt hums. “Thank you, sweetheart. It’s delicious.”

“No, you dwink it!”

“I am drinking it.”

“No, you’re not. Dwink it.”

You peek through the gap in the door, not sure what to expect, but when you catch your husband sitting at the tiny pink table you got her last Christmas, surrounded by stuffed animals in princess dresses, you have to bite your lip not to laugh. You didn’t expect that.

Matt is draped in one of her blankets, wearing a pink crown that has certainly seen better days. His large frame barely fits on the children’s chair he seems to have been banished to, and he’s holding a teacup about the size of his pinky finger. But what surprises you most is how serious he looks as he takes a ‘sip’ from the imaginary tea to please his little girl. 

He’s never going to live that one down. 

Grace nods, hands propped up on her hips as her brown hair bounces up and down. She’s the spitting image of her father. “Good job, daddy,” she says.

Matt, sitting there in all his stoic seriousness, sips from his tiny teacup with the same level of focus he’d use in court. “Thank you, Your Highness,” he says. 

“You’re a pwetty princess.”

He nods, dead serious. “That’s right. I’m a pretty princess.”

You giggle quietly to yourself. It’s the expression on his face—this mix of pure, unfiltered love for his daughter—that gets you. No matter how silly or extravagant, for Grace, he’d do anything. He’s making memories with her that she will remember long after she’s moved out of the house, and that, to you, is what makes you fall in love with him all over again.

Grace refills his cup with expert precision. “Mommy’s the queen,” she states. “’Cause she’s the boss of you.”

Matt pauses for a split second, his jaw slacking slightly. “Hold on, sweetie. Mommy’s not the boss of me,” he says.

Bless him, you think. He’s so wrong.

“She is,” Grace insists. 

“And what am I?” He sounds almost hurt. 

“A princess. Duh!”

She goes about pouring tea for her stuffed animals next, not a care in her little world. Matt’s head turns toward you. Of course, he heard you coming. 

“You’re lucky she’s not calling you her peasant,” you say, your voice teasing. “You still get to be a pretty princess.”

He chuckles. “You’re the boss.”

“I am, aren’t I?” 

Matt shakes his head as if he’s giving in to some long-held truth. “Apparently, I’ve been dethroned,” he says. His smile, though playful, is full of warmth as he turns his attention back to Grace.

“You’re not dethroned,” you clarify, sliding into the room. “You’ve just… been promoted to Princess-in-Chief.”

He raises an eyebrow. “It’s Pretty-Princess-in-Chief, Mrs. Murdock. Thank you very much.” 

You laugh. “Apologies. Pretty Princess-In-Chief, of course.”

Grace notices you then for the first time since you’ve entered, and her face lights up. “Mommy!” she says. “I made tea.”

“For me?” you ask.

“Yes!”

“That’s so sweet.” You let her pull you to one of the tiny plastic chairs. “Thank you, baby.”

Matt instantly leans closer to you, lowering his voice just for you to hear. “You know, I’m not sure how I feel about the hierarchy in this household,” he says.

You snort. “Oh, you’re perfectly fine with it. Besides, you’re still her hero,” you say. “Even if you have to wear a pink crown to get the job done.”

He shakes his head with a sigh that’s far too dramatic to be serious. “Yeah, well… I’ll take whatever title she gives me.”

“And wear a crown,” you add, adjusting the slightly crooked plastic crown on his head. “Suits you, by the way.”

He takes your hand in his. “I’d wear a hundred crowns if it made her happy.”

The love in his eyes is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. He’s so in love with her it makes you want to cry sometimes because the man who once had been so scared of becoming a father now is the best he could possibly be for his baby girl.

Your lips ghost over his cheek, your kiss a gentle breath against his skin. “I know.”

Grace rushes back over with a stuffed bear and plops it on the table. “Mr. Bear says no kissin’!” she says.

You pull away from him. “Sorry, Your Highness.”

“Very demanding,” Matt murmurs.

From the corner of your eye though, you can see him smirk, and all you can say to that is, “I wonder where she’s got that from.” 

Your daughter is completely in her element, pouring more imaginary tea and singing quietly to herself. 

This is it, you think. These are the kind of moments that remind you why, despite everything—the sleepless nights, the chaos, and the uncertainty—you wouldn’t trade this life for anything.

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @thatonegamefish @amberritonicole @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart @ethereal-blaze @littleagxs @ravenclaw617 @lucienofthelakes @steve-chandler

[bellaxgiornata]

Seeking Forgiveness [Part Eight]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 6.4k

[Summary and Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader, mentions/fear of miscarriage

a/n: It's been awhile since this fic finally had an update, but here y'all go! Make sure you heed the added warning for this chapter--mentions/fear of miscarriage will be found in this update. Feedback is always appreciated!

Holding the soft cotton baby pajamas up in front of yourself, a faint smile ghosted over your lips. Unconsciously your left hand dropped down, landing on the swell of your growing bump as your eyes traced the cute pattern of white bunnies prancing around the yellow fabric. 

As you stood there staring at the pajamas in your hand, you could see a picture beginning to clearly form in your mind. A little baby with a dusting of dark hair like Matt’s was cradled in your arms, wearing this onesie. A clearly exhausted Matt shuffled his way into the bedroom, heading over towards you with a prepared bottle in his hand, his eyes half-lidded. His tee-shirt was wrinkled and stained with a bit of old spit up near the collar, but he clearly hadn't bothered to change. The only thing he seemed concerned about was his daughter in your arms. 

When he reached the pair of you, he extended his arms out to take her from you, eager to feed her. You passed her gently off to him, watching as he held her so carefully in his arms, pulling her in towards his chest like she was the most fragile thing on Earth. And then he'd lean down towards where she was cradled in the crook of his arm, talking in hushed tones with a broad smile on his face as tiny fingers reached up, brushing along the stubble of his jaw while he spoke. 

An expression full of warmth and love broke out across Matt's face, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he gazed down at the little baby in his arms hungrily drinking down the formula from the bottle with happy, soft little squeaks and grunts. That glimmer of love in his eyes only grew more as he glanced back up at you, a smile full of joy and pride stretched wide across his mouth despite the fact that it was three in the morning.

“I cannot believe you're having a girl!”

The sound of Marci’s excited voice had the mental image quickly fading from your mind. Tongue feeling suddenly thick in your mouth, you blinked back the tears threatening to spill forth as that smile on Matt's face vanished from your mind completely.

It had been a beautiful image while you'd imagined it, at least.

Clearing your throat, you set the pajamas back onto the display table. Your gaze lowered to your bump, your hand affectionately running across it.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Finding out I'm having a girl definitely made this feel even more real than it already had been.”

“Are you going to tell Matt?” Karen asked from behind the display table, her blonde brows high on her forehead. “That you found out you're having a girl?”

You nodded, your attention returning to the little yellow onesie you'd set back down. Running your fingers across the fabric, an ache hit you hard in the chest. You did your best to ignore it. 

“I am, yeah,” you replied, glancing back up at her. “But I just found out this morning and I…don't exactly know how to tell him, you know? We've exchanged a few texts since he stopped by the other week and dropped off that pregnancy pillow and weighted blanket, but things are still a little odd between us. And I feel like this is news you share with the father in person, not in a text.”

“So you've been talking?” Marci asked curiously.

You watched as she pulled a tiny hanger from the rack she was looking at, lifting up a small green dress and showing it to Karen. The pair audibly cooed at the little outfit.

“A little,” you admitted to her. “It's hard for me to talk on the phone with him because hearing his voice is just…hard. It makes me wish things were like they were before.” The smile on your face faltered as you stepped away from the table, glancing at the vastly overpriced baby outfits on another nearby rack. “I admitted to him that phone calls are still a bit much for me, so he's been texting instead. Even though I know how irritating the speech to text feature on his phone is to him. So I get it. He is trying.”

“Certainly hasn't bailed yet,” Marci muttered, hanging the dress back on the rack. “Which I'm honestly proud of him for.”

You caught the pointed look Karen sent you and you sighed, aware of what that look meant.

“Yeah, I've noticed,” you confessed. “I see he's trying to be present. I see how emotional he gets at the thought of not actually actively raising this child. But here's the thing,” you continued, both women now focused on you. “I'm bringing a baby into this world, right? I'm not adopting a puppy. We're talking about a little human. Someone who's going to be shaped by their parents and how they're brought up and raised. Someone who is completely dependent on us to take care of them for years . And meanwhile, Matt does…well–” you waved a hand in front of yourself, “– that in the evenings. I think it's only realistic that I'm concerned about how serious he is when it comes to actually being there for the both of us after how he wasn't there for me the one time I needed him. I need to know I can actually count on him, especially when things get difficult. Or exhausting. Or if there's an emergency. The city can’t always come first, even if I admire him for what he does.”

“But he is trying to show you that,” Karen pointed out gently. “He messed up and he knows that. Believe me, he does. And while I completely understand your side, it's not like Matt isn't trying to earn your forgiveness and prove all of that to you, too. But it's sort of dependent on you giving him a chance to show you that.”

Running a hand across your forehead, you nodded. “I know,” you told her softly. “I know. Which is why I've been trying to give him that chance. It's probably better that I do before the baby comes when emotions will be even higher and things will be more complicated.” 

Eyes dropping down to your feet, you nervously chewed your lip. You’d been leaning towards giving him that chance he’d so desperately and repeatedly been begging you for ever since he’d last stopped by, especially after seeing how much the thought of not being an active parent to his child really upset him. But that didn’t mean you weren’t still scared to give him that chance. To open up and let him back in knowing he could hurt more than just you this time.

“It’s just hard to willingly let him back in after what happened. After how he'd hurt me. Because I’m honestly afraid of getting hurt again,” you confessed. “And not just me, but I’m scared of his daughter getting hurt. Of him not being there for her like she’s going to need him to be.”

“You know, I’m surprising myself by saying this,” Marci chimed in, “but I agree with Karen. At first, after hearing the news that you were pregnant, I absolutely could not picture Matt wanting to be a present father with how much he does, well, you-know-what at night. But with how much he’s been over at our place talking to Foggy and I the past few weeks?” She shook her head, tsk’ing lightly. “Let’s just say I fear for the man, woman, or child that dares to say a single mean word to his daughter. I mean that man is fiercely protective over the both of you. I don’t think you have to worry about him not being there when either of you need him.”

Something warm slowly filled you at Marci’s words. Something like a tiny spark of hope. You hadn’t known he’d been going over to their place and saying these things, worrying about the pair of you so much. Granted, you hadn’t spoken to him much in months now so you didn't really know what he'd been up to lately. 

“Really?” you asked her, the threat of tears returning for a different reason.

Both Karen and Marci nodded their heads firmly, your eyes jumping between the two. That spark of hope burned a little hotter in your chest.

“He’s still in love with you,” Karen told you before pointing a finger at your belly. “And I can assure you, he loves that baby just as much as he loves you already.”

Crouched on the corner of a six-story apartment building’s roof, Matt’s head dipped and turned as he tried to remain focused on a conversation occurring in a nearby warehouse. He was doing his best to block out all the other distractions around him–like the sounds of car horns and the traffic below, sirens screeching in the distance as an ambulance made its way to the hospital, or the various arguments coming from inside the building he was perched atop. 

Something was happening tonight in his city. He could feel it. 

But as he tried to follow the conversation occurring half a block over, another noise abruptly broke through his carefully crafted concentration. Matt's gloved hands gripped the edge of the roof at the sound of it, his head instantly darting over his shoulder as the noise quickly overtook the sound of everything else.

Truthfully, he’d been attempting not to eavesdrop on you lately, trying to respect your wishes when he was out at night. Honestly he had been, too, especially since you’d actually been talking to him again, letting him in a little more even if it was only through texts here and there over this past week. He hadn't wanted to risk ruining the progress he'd suddenly made with you by trying to push your boundaries any further. 

But he absolutely couldn’t ignore the sound of distress coming from you in your apartment just a block behind him. 

You were crying. But not just crying in the usual way someone would if they were sad–something mournful and soft. No, it was a heart wrenching sound. Despairing. Painful. A noise that felt like an ice cold hand had gripped his own heart in his chest and squeezed .

Something was wrong.

A pained noise came from Matt as he rose to his feet, instinctively turning in the direction of your apartment. One booted foot took a step in your direction before he immediately halted in place. Gritting his teeth, his mind raced with a myriad of thoughts.

There was definitely a shipment of drugs being moved around in Hell’s Kitchen tonight, he’d absolutely learned that much from the conversation he’d been eavesdropping on. He had been on the cusp of uncovering where it was currently being held. All he needed was a location and he could alert the authorities to handle the rest. The streets of his city would once again be marginally safer because of him if he did. 

And you had already repeatedly asked him to stop appearing at your apartment as Daredevil and invading your privacy. If he showed up now, that would surely appear to you like he wasn’t respecting your clear boundaries. Which he knew wasn’t remotely true, but would you understand if he explained that he was just too in tune with you to not subconsciously pick up on a sound of distress like that coming from you ? That he couldn't exactly control his senses picking up on it?

Matt’s gloved hand ran across his mouth in frustration, his eyes snapping shut behind his mask. He was torn.

Did he force himself to ignore your cries in order to not possibly upset you further? To keep respecting your boundaries and to leave you alone like you’d repeatedly asked him to? Which would in turn allow him to attempt to focus on finding that drug shipment tonight instead, something he'd been determined to do. Or did he go to you?

Teeth still grinding back and forth, Matt fought to decide on the right course of action. But at the sound of a particularly heart-wrenching wail coming from your apartment combined with something like the noise of you falling down, his eyes snapped back open and he made up his mind. He didn't care if you threw things at him and yelled him off your fire escape when he showed up. There was absolutely no way in hell he was going to ignore whatever was happening in your apartment. Even if it meant he’d have to show up at your front door and beg you to forgive him on his goddamn knees for the next several months. He needed to make sure you and the baby were alright.

Taking off at a sprint, Matt darted across the roof he was on and headed straight in the direction of your distress. He barely registered much else in the city as he flung himself over rooftop after rooftop, the sound of his own panicked heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears. He was focused solely on you and the continued sobbing in your apartment, trying his best to keep his mind from racing to a number of terrible reasons as to why you might’ve been this upset. 

By the time he’d made it onto your building’s rooftop, he quickly dropped down two floors until he landed with a solid thud on your fire escape. He heard your terrified intake of breath from inside your apartment, the sound of your head swiftly turning in the direction of where he was outside your window. He felt bad for startling you as he reached a hand out, knocking on the glass.

He expected you to start shouting. To tell him to go away. To tell him that he was an asshole who couldn’t respect your privacy. That you didn’t want to speak to him anymore because of it. Maybe to throw something at the window even.

What he did not expect was the way you softly sobbed out his name in a way that sounded almost like relief. Or the way your hands had clawed at the couch cushion beside you as you pulled yourself up to your feet, rushing over to the window as more fresh tears spilled down your cheeks.

When you opened the window, the sharp, heavy scent of fear met his nose. The acrid tang was strong in your apartment, almost overpowering the salty taste of your tears in the air. And the sound of your racing and erratic heartbeat was roaring loud in his ears, mingling with the still frantic beating of his own heart. He could barely focus on much else as his own fear levels began to rapidly rise.

And then you surprised him yet again.

Your hands reached out through your window, grabbing desperately onto his shoulders and practically pulling him inside of your apartment. Speechless and concerned, he allowed you to drag him through the opening, moving as fast as he could to get to you. Though the way you whispered his name again as he climbed inside your apartment had his heart constricting in his chest.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he whispered. “What happened?”

He'd barely had a chance to stand upright before your hands on his shoulders yanked him towards yourself. Your arms snaked around his neck, drawing him into a tight embrace as you buried your face right into the armor of his suit as more tears began falling down your cheeks. A strangled sob left your mouth, the heartbreaking sound partially muffled against his body. 

Matt didn't hesitate. He wrapped his own arms around your waist and wrenched you in tight to the front of himself. His eyes closed as he buried his face into your hair, breathing in the familiar scent of you. Desperately he wished you were holding him like this under different circumstances because he'd missed you these past few months.

But something was wrong and he needed to focus on that right now.

“Sweetheart, you're scaring me,” he whispered, tears burning at his own eyes behind the mask. “What's got you so upset? Did something happen?”

You murmured something unintelligible against his chest, the words too muffled and disjointed for him to understand. 

“What?” he asked.

You pulled away from him, sounding as if you'd turned your head to look up at him as he reluctantly unburied his face from your hair. A large sniffle came from you before you answered him, this time more clearly despite the tremor in your voice.

“There was blood.”

It took Matt a moment to register what you'd said and what you meant. But when he did, he felt something ice cold flood his veins.

“I woke up a bit ago and needed to go to the bathroom. Like usual,” you explained softly. “And then I noticed that I–I was bleeding.” You sniffled again, your voice quivering more noticeably as you continued. “And it scared me. Because I'm terrified that–that something is wrong. With the baby.”

Matt's stomach dropped as you buried your face back against him. His gloved hands gripped your back tighter as he tried to remain calm and process what you'd said. 

“Was it a lot of blood?” he asked nervously.

You shook your head against him. “No. Not a lot. Just enough to notice it.”

“Okay, well that's good at least,” he said, running a soothing hand along your back as he tried to keep himself calm. “You're around twelve weeks now, right? It's not entirely abnormal for some bleeding to occur. I don't hear any cramping occurring and–” his head turned, his eyes narrowing as he focused hard to hear the baby's heartbeat over the panicked noises of your own body, “–the baby still seems to have a steady heartbeat in there. Which is–is good. From what I remember reading, that's a good sign that nothing is wrong. It's the first thing a doctor would check for to make sure the baby isn't in any danger. But if you continue bleeding we can certainly get you to a hospital, sweetheart.”

You drew your face partially out his chest, sniffling loudly yet again as Matt continued to stroke your back. It sounded like you had looked up at him, your tears gradually slowing. He focused back down on you, one hand leaving your back to gently brush some hair away from your damp cheeks.

“How do you know all that?” you whispered.

He shrugged a shoulder lightly, his hand still gingerly removing the damp strands of hair from your face that were stuck by tears. “I spend my free time reading up on pregnancy-related things,” he admitted softly. “So that I can maybe help if you need me. In situations like this.”

He heard the faint surprised intake of breath you'd taken at his answer, so quiet you probably hadn't even realized you'd made the sound. He felt your arms wrapping tighter around his neck, holding him close as you buried your face back against his chest. Despite how good it felt to have you back in his arms, Matt focused his senses back onto your body, doing his best to concentrate on the baby for a minute in the silence that filled your apartment.

“I'm not a doctor,” he murmured, still listening, “but nothing sounds different than what I've usually heard. I don't notice any more bleeding, and the lack of cramping is a good sign. Baby's heartbeat seems to be really strong.” 

Matt cleared his throat, turning his attention back on you. Your body had calmed in his presence–something that made him feel good but he was afraid to overthink about the why . Though your body still sounded panicked and stressed, something that concerned him.

“Maybe it's best if you take a seat and try to relax,” he suggested gently. “The stress probably isn't good for you or the baby. Let's just focus on calming down now, okay?”

“Right,” you said, the air shifting around you as you nodded against him. “You're right. It was just a little blood so I'm–I’m probably overreacting.”

“You're not overreacting,” he told you, guiding you carefully back to the couch and settling the pair of you down into the cushions. “You were scared. It's understandable.”

Matt sat down on the couch beside you, surprised once more when you scooted closer to him. He reached a hand up, removing the cowl from his head with one hand while running his other through his unkempt hair. 

“I'm sorry,” you whispered.

Matt's hand froze in his hair, his attention swiftly focusing on you. “Sorry for what, sweetheart?” he asked.

“For probably scaring the shit out of you tonight,” you replied. “I'm guessing that's why you showed up, right? You heard me freaking out?”

Matt smiled sheepishly back at you, nodding slowly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I wasn't trying to listen in to your apartment, but you sounded so upset that I couldn't help but overhear you when I was out. I was afraid you'd be upset with me showing up though, because I know you’ve wanted me to stay away, but I couldn't just ignore you like this. I had to make sure everything was alright.”

He heard you sniffling again, your hands wiping at your eyes. Carefully he slid his arm around your shoulders, moving slowly in case he was crossing a boundary and you wanted to tell him to stop. But instead you moved even closer to him, eliminating the space between both of your bodies as you wrapped your arms around his waist. You leaned in, resting your head against his shoulder. A small smile slipped onto Matt's face, his own head carefully lowering to rest atop yours. 

“Thank you for coming to check up on me,” you whispered. “I feel better with you here.”

Matt's heart thudded hard in his chest, that cold feeling of dread finally melting straight out of him as he held you against his side. You actually wanted him here. You were comforted by his presence, not upset by it. After the months apart from you which had felt like torture, hearing that had felt far too good.

“I'll always be here when you need me,” he assured you quietly. He hesitated a moment before softly adding, “Though I certainly wish I could be here the times you don't necessarily need me, too.”

He felt your head turn along his shoulder as you settled even more comfortably into the side of him. Your body was relaxing further now that the pair of you had sat down. But Matt could hear just how tired you really were from the sounds of your body and he figured the scare you’d just had hadn’t helped.

“I know,” you replied softly. “Maybe we should have a talk about that. About things between us.”

Hope fluttered in his chest at your words, excitement flooding through him at what that talk might mean. He absolutely wanted to be back in your life far more than he currently was, but he knew right now wasn't the time for that discussion, not after what had just happened and considering how exhausted you sounded to his ears.

“Maybe I can take you for coffee this weekend and we can discuss things,” he said, hoping he didn't sound as over-eager as he felt. “Tonight let's just focus on making sure you and baby are both okay.”

Your head shifted along his shoulder and Matt could feel the way your eyes were on him now. Then he felt the sudden nervous energy that washed over you just before you'd opened and closed your mouth a couple of times. Clearly you wanted to say something but didn't seem to know how. He sat there quiet and patient beside you, wondering what you were struggling to get out. 

“This is probably not fair of me to ask considering our…situation,” you eventually began, your nerves apparent to him in your tone, “but could you maybe please stay here with me tonight? In case something does happen?”

That hope in Matt's chest grew further at your question, his body feeling like it could float up through the ceiling right now if he wasn’t more focused on the feel of you at his side. He made you feel safe. Even after how awful he'd been to you and how that had led to the break up, you still wanted him here. To protect both of you. Maybe he hadn't messed things up entirely beyond repair like he’d been worried about for weeks. Maybe he could fix things. 

Maybe you could actually want him in both of your lives again. 

“I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't ask,” you began in a rush when he hadn’t answered. “If it's too much to ask, I completely understand. I just don’t really want to be alone and–”

“I'll stay,” he assured you, his hand reassuringly squeezing your shoulder. “I told you, I'll always be here when you need me. I want to stay and make sure you're both safe.”

He heard you release the quietest sigh of relief, your body once again relaxing into his side. In the silence that followed, he also swore he heard a smile draw itself across your lips with how close he was listening to you, the muscles ever so minutely shifting along your face.

“You know how I mentioned that blood test?” you asked, breaking the silence a minute later. “The one where I could find out baby's sex and whether we're having a boy or a girl?”

Of course he knew exactly which blood test you were talking about. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it all week. He figured with what you’d told him about how long it took to hear back from your OB that you already had the results by now. It had been a struggle for him not to text or call you all week to ask you what you’d found out instead of focusing on his work that week. He’d been so eager for the news.

“Yes,” he answered. “I remember you telling me about it.”

“Well, I got the results yesterday morning,” you said slowly. “Did you…want to know what they were?”

It took everything inside of Matt to not blurt the ‘yes’ he gave you too fast. Though he’d grabbed your shoulder tighter in his grip, struggling to contain his excitement in anticipation of the news.

“We’re having a girl,” you told him. 

Matt’s eyes snapped shut, a large smile spreading wide across his face. A girl. You were both having a little girl. A little version of you running around. Maybe she’d grow to have the same laugh as you, the same laugh he missed hearing in his apartment ever since you’d left.

“I can’t wait to meet her, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m sure she’ll be just as perfect as you.”

You curled up further against Matt's side, something like an embarrassed scoff leaving you. But as you sat there cozied up to his side, another thought crossed Matt's mind. One he'd thought about often lately. 

Nervously he chewed his lip as he focused on the sound of his daughter’s thankfully continuously steady heartbeat. Turning his head, he glanced down in your direction. He could feel the way you’d once again shifted against his shoulder, looking up to meet his eyes no doubt. There was something he’d been dying to do for weeks now, but he wasn’t sure if now was an appropriate time to ask, or if it would somehow make you uncomfortable. But he figured he’d try anyway.

“You can certainly say no,” Matt began cautiously, “and I would respect your answer completely. But…would it be alright if I could see if I could feel her moving yet? Is that too much to ask?”

You didn't answer him outright; instead he felt you reach your hands over towards him and pick up his right one. With ease you undid the straps of his glove, gently sliding it off of his hand before tossing it over onto your coffee table. Afterwards you slipped his hand up beneath your shirt, just over the slight bump his hands weren't used to feeling on you. His eyes closed again as he tried to concentrate his senses on your body in a way he'd never done before. A smile returned to his face as he felt you rest both of your hands over the top of his while he focused. He missed the simple feel of your touch.

It took Matt a few moments of concentrating before he noticed something ever so faintly shifting beneath your skin, something he’d never have been able to pick up on if it wasn’t for his senses. A soft, surprised chuckle fell out of him when he felt the faint shift again of what must’ve been a limb moving. There was no way for him to know whether it was an arm or a leg, but it was his daughter alive and well inside of you. The knowledge of that had tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

“What?” he heard you ask.

“She's moving,” he whispered in awe. “I can feel her. It's faint, probably because she's still so small, but I can–can feel her.”

Your hands tightened over the top of his, the sound of your heart fluttering catching Matt's attention as he continued to focus on the baby growing inside of you. He wasn’t sure if your reaction was from the tear that had suddenly slipped down his cheek or something else, but it didn’t matter. Because this moment was easily one of the happiest he’d ever experienced.

With a huff you readjusted your head along your pillow, eyes opening once again in the darkness of your bedroom. You'd been having trouble falling and staying asleep tonight, too stressed about the bit of blood you'd found that had upset you earlier. Thankfully there hadn't been anymore tonight, but despite Matt's repeated reassurance, you'd felt embarrassed about getting distressed so quickly. 

You'd just been so terrified waking up, still partially drowsy, to find that bit of bright red on the toilet paper when you'd gone to the bathroom. The fear that you'd somehow lost the pregnancy at the sight of it had immediately panicked you, because in these past few months you'd grown so completely attached to your little Devil. The thought of losing her–especially now knowing they in fact were a her–was too much.

Knowing Matt was out there sleeping on your couch in the living room hadn't been helping you to fall asleep, either. Not because you didn't feel safe with him here, but because it just felt wrong that he was asleep on the couch. He'd never slept anywhere else but in bed with you in the past, and honestly you couldn't imagine your couch was all that comfortable. Especially to him of all people. 

And truthfully, if you were being honest with yourself, it was because you wanted him in bed next to you. Not down the hall, but right here where you could feel that he was actually with you. Where you could feel his comforting presence. Because you really did miss him.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you tried to listen to the sounds in your apartment. For a moment you laid in bed, trying to hold your breath to see if you could tell whether Matt was asleep or not out in your living room. But as you sharply expelled the breath seconds later, the only noise you'd been able to pick up on was that of the city outside. 

Another few minutes passed where you laid there contemplating whether you should just try to close your eyes and fall back asleep, or actually get out of bed and ask Matt to come join you. But you weren't sure you should even ask anymore from him tonight, considering he'd clearly been interrupted from Daredevil-ing because of you. And then he had offered to sleep on your couch afterwards when you'd asked him to stay. Asking him to then come join you in bed–while you both were still broken up–seemed like such a gray area.

But at the same time, you were carrying his child. And you'd been afraid that something serious had almost happened tonight, and clearly he'd been just as concerned. It was obvious with the panic written on his face even behind the mask when he'd initially shown up. And he'd stayed . He could have left when he realized things seemed to be okay, but he didn't. And while it was only one situation that the pair of you'd encountered, it had meant a lot to you that he hadn't just left you. 

The pair of you were planning to get coffee together and talk this weekend too, so was it really all that bad to go out there and ask him to stay with you in your bed? 

For a while you just continued to lay there, your mind racing back and forth trying to land on an answer. Ultimately it was the memory of Matt shedding a couple of tears from earlier tonight when he'd felt your little Devil move–something you hadn't yet even managed to experience because you were not far enough along–that had you tossing the sheets off of yourself and climbing out of bed. 

Barefoot, you shuffled out of your bedroom before padding down the short hallway. When you reached the living room, you came to a stop just at the edge of the hallway, your eyes drawn to Matt. He was laying on your couch, his body curled in what looked like an uncomfortable position on the small piece of furniture. He had squashed a couch pillow up underneath his head, his eyes closed as he lay there. The plush blanket you always had on the back of your couch was draped over his lower half, but it was clearly too small to cover him fully as he lay there, his bare upper torso partially exposed. 

He looked like he was asleep, probably worn out from a long day at work and a night out as Daredevil before you'd gone and interrupted it. You'd almost turned around and gone back to your room, not wanting to disturb him, but then his eyelids flew open. Almost immediately his head rose from the pillow, his gaze landing on you across the room as a look of worry crossed his face, his brows drawing together. 

“Sweetheart?” he asked. “Is something wrong? Are you alright?”

Awkwardly you leant up against the wall beside you, your hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. You shook your head, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

“No,” you whispered. “Nothing is wrong. I just can't really sleep. My mind is too loud.”

The worried crease between Matt's brows slowly disappeared as he pushed himself upright on the couch. The blanket that had been draped across him slid down, revealing more of his bare chest in the dark room. He'd clearly been trying to sleep in his boxers since the suit would have been too uncomfortable, and for some reason that only made you long for the comfort of his warm skin cuddled against yours in bed.

“Is there something I can do to help?” he asked. 

Running a hand nervously through your hair, you tried to ignore your increasing nerves. You figured it was best to get to the point and just ask for what you wanted, leaving the decision up to Matt after that. 

“Would it be too much if I asked you to stay with me?” you whispered. “Not on the couch, but actually with me? Just for tonight?”

“If that's what you want,” Matt replied. “I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I assumed you'd prefer me to stay out here, especially because I don't exactly have anything to sleep in.”

You shrugged a shoulder, glancing down at your bare feet. “That doesn't exactly bother me,” you told him, aware he could hear the truth in your answer. “I just don't want to be alone after earlier. And I'd feel a little better if you were with me.”

Matt removed the blanket from his lower half, his own bare feet landing on the floor. Rising wordlessly from the couch, you watched as he maneuvered around the coffee table like he'd done so many times in the past before he made his way to you in nothing but his boxers. 

Hesitantly you reached a hand out, entwining your fingers with his when he neared. Turning in the hall, you guided him down the length of it and back to your bedroom. Matt easily followed your lead, his soft footsteps echoing yours as you led him into your room and towards the bed.

You released his hand when the pair of you reached the foot of the bed, making your way over to the side that was always yours. Matt continued on his way to the side that had always been his, his fingertips lightly dragging over the comforter as he moved. 

Climbing back into your bed, you felt the mattress dip under the weight of Matt settling onto the other side. You smiled a little to yourself as you tried to get comfortable on your side, wrapping your legs around the pregnancy pillow Matt had gotten you the other week.

“Would you prefer me to stay on this side, or…?” 

Matt's question hung in the bedroom, his meaning clear despite him not finishing it. Tongue darting out to wet your lips, your head turned just over your shoulder towards him as you answered. 

“You don't have to tonight.”

Without waiting for further invitation, you felt Matt shift along the bed closer to you. His warm hand carefully landed on your hip, halting there for a moment as if testing your boundaries. Then very gradually his palm slid downwards until it was gently cradling your bump over your shirt. His warm body slowly sidled up to the back of yours and your eyelids lowered, your body relaxing at the safety and familiarity of him.

“Thank you for being here,” you whispered into the dark.

Matt's fingers traced a light pattern over your stomach, the gentle touch causing a warmth to linger in their wake.

“I'll always be here when you need me,” he whispered back. “From now on, I promise you that.”

The smile on your lips grew a little wider as your own hand sought out his. Your fingers entwined with his over the growing swell of your bump, like a protective barrier that the pair of you were making between the world outside and the little life growing within you. Then gradually you finally fell asleep. 

Tag List: @mattmurdocksstarlight @just-going-through-the-motions @paracosmic-murdock @yeonalie @auroraslibrary @1988-fiend @will-delete-this-later-probably @two-unbeatable-beaters @danzer8705 @ragamuffin285 @callmebrooklynbabes @spookyboogyuniverse @peachy-aisha @stevenknightmarc @nerdytreeflower @fucktthisworld @remuslupinwifee @kmc1989 @thychuvaluswife @mywellspringoflife @thornbushrose @yarrystyleeza @shiorimakibawrites @marvelcinematiquniverse @vallovesthedilfs @scoliobean @this-is-music @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @swissy23 @babygorewhore @that-girl-named-alex @warsaur @lareinaisabelle @pazii @senjoritanana @mischiefmanaged71511-blog @xxdrixx @jess-rye @hannahbohen @theclassicvinyldragon @karolamurdock @theoraekenslover @mr-underhills-things @jennifer0305 @capswife @amazexng @blackhawkfanatic @ladywholikesreading @powellssaturn @sunflower-tia @indestructeible

[I have no idea why some of these tags aren't working 😭 If I misspelled something please let me know!]

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Judex, Judicum, Infantem

Reader x Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

my masterlist

summary: The positive pregnancy test sitting on your bathroom counter was the least of your worries, considering you had to tell both the men you'd been regularly sleeping with the news and figure out which was the father. A task that would be difficult for anyone, but especially difficult for you since the potential fathers of your child were Matt Murdock and Frank Castle. When the three of you come together to coparent, their complex relationship with each other and the lingering weight of their haunted pasts makes pregnancy and parenthood difficult for all, not to mention the lingering feelings each harbors for you and how they'll compete to win your love.

warnings: AFAB Reader. Love triangle that leads to eventual MFM throuple relationship. Eventual smut (DONT READ IF YOU'RE NOT 18+/YOUR AGE IS NOT LISTED IN YOUR BLOG) including but not limited to: three ways, oral (all giving and receiving), DP, etc. In depth mentions of pregnancy, birth, newborn, postpartum fem body, and parenthood. Matt and Frank's pasts being complex and traumatic. Parts of it will be canon for Born Again, parts won't: I'm picking and choosing which parts I want to be, okay? Be prepared for many chapters, slow burn, and angst that eventually gets happy.

a/n: I got to thinking how could you ever realistically get Matt and Frank into a throuple with you and I realized the only way to do it would be get pregnant and not know which is the father. So that's what this is. Yes I am still working on another multi-chapter series. Yes she is fully outlined and waiting to be written while I also work on this. Mind ya business.

Chapter 1: Coming Soon!

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || Ch. 32]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s while Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 3k🌶️

ao3 link

The billboard across the street shifts from casting a blue glow into Matt’s apartment to a warm purple one. It is bright enough for you to be able to see your keyboard, but low enough that everything is still in shadow. You can maneuver around easily enough, which makes it the perfect level considering you are apparently the only one in your family who needs light to do so. 

Paired with the overall lack of decor, it fosters a nice working environment, with the ambience of the city providing the perfect background noise. 

You have a fair bit of invoicing to catch up on, so you have set yourself up at the dining table as Matt readies himself for his own night of working. Luckily, all the excitement of temporarily moving into a new place left your little Mouse exhausted and getting her down to sleep was as easy as it has ever been. You wish you would be able to go off to Dreamland as quickly as she does, but you know your brain won’t let you drift off without hours and hours of worrying first.

“You don’t need to wait up for me,” Matt says for about the millionth time. He’s changed mostly into his red Devil suit, and it still baffles you how different he looks in it versus his Lawyer suit. It is like he’s been possessed or switched out with a twin - it’s not necessarily evil but it is a completely different aura. All his fun and charm has been replaced with a caged animal ready to rip someone’s throat out, and you just happen to be his keeper who he knows isn’t a threat. He’s of no danger to you, but anyone outside these walls is fair game. 

“I have about forty emails to answer and even more orders to review and this is the only time I’ll be able to sit down and focus on doing all that. These are my working hours, too,” you reply as you finish connecting your VPN. “Plus, I’ll be up worrying until you are home safe. Killing two birds with one stone.” 

“No killing anything,” he chides, his voice dropping an octave. It sends a pleasant shiver up your spine, and you are starting to think you may like this Devil-y side of Matt. 

“You know I can’t even kill a cockroach.” 

He huffs from across the room, then in a few long strides, he’s behind you, putting his large, gloved hands on your shoulders and rubbing at them, “I mean it. If you finish before I’m back, try to get some sleep. You need it.” 

You let your head fall forward and enjoy the way his thumbs dig into your muscles. “I need to make sure I get my work hours logged. When you get home, we can both get some sleep.” 

Behind you, a pleased rumble comes from Matt’s chest. He bends forward and nuzzles just above your ear, whispering in that deep voice that makes your core clench, “call it ‘home’ again.” 

Your eyes flutter shut as your entire being heats up again. It isn’t just his voice and actions - it's the implication of his request - that he wants a home with you. He wants your home to be here with him. You can’t even take a moment to think about it, because you just want to please the Devil behind you. 

“Come home to us.” 

He buries his nose into your hair and inhales deeply while his hands tighten on your shoulders. He nods after a moment, then you feel him have to force himself to step away. 

“I’ll always come home to you. I swear on my life.” 

You resist the urge to follow after him and say something cheesy or dramatic. You stay planted in your seat instead, eyes still closed and breathing through your nose, trying to calm your fast beating heart. 

Matt strides back to where his gloves and helmet wait for him, and you listen as he dons the last pieces of his armor. Only when he has fully become the Devil do you let yourself speak again, hoping to encourage the beast coming to life inside of him.

“Keep the Kitchen safe. For me. For Minnie.” 

----

It’s closing in on three am when you hear the crunch of boots on gravel coming from the roof above you. You expected Matt to be home closer to one in the morning, but that was just a time you made up. 

Your emails are still on your screen, so you close them out and clock out just as the door on the landing opens and the Devil returns to the apartment. There is a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and you scrunch up your nose in confusion as he makes his way down the stairs.

“I thought you would be asleep by now,” he growls out and you can instantly tell the poor man is exhausted. 

You are up and out of your seat in an instant, making your way to him with your water bottle in hand. You hold it out to him as he comes to a stop in front of you and he quickly drops the bag to his feet in exchange for chugging the rest of your water.

“I told you I had a lot of work. Are you okay? What is with the - “You cut yourself off as the light coming from the billboard changes from red to yellow and you see there is a slice of suit missing from Matt’s arm. “You’re hurt!”

You don’t give him the chance to deny or explain - you turn and hurry back to the kitchen to get the first aid kit. 

“I’m fine,” he grumbles from behind you. You hear something thunk on the ground and assume it is his helmet. “It went through and through.” 

The words take a second to process and color drains from your face as they do. “You were shot?” 

“I’m fine,” he insists, a small hint of annoyance in his voice. “I just need to wrap it.”

You yoink the first aid kit down from where it’s hidden in a cabinet and whirl back around the face Matt. He’s removed his helmet and gloves and is in the process of taking off his boots. Your mind swirls into overdrive, flying back to your binder pages about gunshot wounds and you find yourself huffing at the Devil as practicality fills you. 

“Wrap it?” You almost scold as you march back to him. His head jerks up and his brows furrow, but your Mom Mentality is quicker than the Devil. “You can’t just wrap it; it needs to be cleaned and disinfected. Who knows what is dripping off your suit into it. You can’t punch away an infection, Matt.” 

His face slackens into confusion as you move to squat in front of him so you can open the kit and begin to rummage through it. 

“What..?”

“I need to clean it,” you repeat as you inspect the meager contents of the kit. “And disinfect it. I’m not very good at stitches yet, but you have butterfly stripes,” you hold up the pack as you find it and continue your rambling, “and gauze, so we can wrap it, and hopefully that should be good enough. Do you know what caliber it was? Was it a hollow point?”

He doesn’t answer you right away, and you assume he is trying to remember what happened. You focus on reading the different packets you pick up, setting aside wipes and antibiotic ointments. If it was through and through, you shouldn’t have to get out any debris, but you add the tweezers to your pile anyway. Your mind is a step-by-step checklist of everything you need and you really hope all your studying has prepared you for your first real wound cleaning. You are a pro at scraped knees and paper cuts, but a bullet wound is a completely different level. 

“What?” Matt repeats and you look up to see he looks completely dumbfounded. “You…aren’t angry?”

It is your turn to be confused. 

“Why…would I be angry?” you ask slowly, trying to understand why he is asking. “You..didn’t mean to get shot, did you?” He shakes his head slowly, and your lips turn down into a frown. “Then..I’m not angry.” 

You slowly sit yourself down and cross your legs, trying to process your own feelings around your Fix It and Make Things Better thoughts, “I’m scared that you got hurt. And I’m worried..I worry about you every night when you go out, but this…this is small, right? It’s through and through and in your arm and you aren’t bleeding everywhere, and you are standing on your own. You’re…you’re okay. You’re hurt. You’re hurt. But you’re okay…you’re okay and I just need to make sure you stay okay.” Tears start to prick at the corners of your eyes, and you shake your head to chase them away. “Please let me make sure you are okay.”

Slowly, Matt kneels in front of you and takes your face in his hands. He thumbs away a tear that managed to escape before leaning in to press his forehead to yours. 

“I’m okay,” he whispers, the Devil gone from his voice, and he sounds so so tired. “I’m okay, my darling. Let me get out of this and you can clean it, yeah? Then we can go to bed.” 

You press into his touch, needing it to ground you and help you keep your emotions in check. 

Matt’s hurt, but he is okay. It’s just a little wound, something you can handle. You know he is going to get hurt, going out and acting as a vigilante, and it isn’t always going to be bruises and split knuckles. 

People shoot at him. They try to stab him. They might have weird fire breath or laser beams. 

He’s going to get hurt, but right now he is okay. He just needs to be patched up and that is something you can do. 

You’ve been practicing and studying to make sure he will stay okay. 

You take a shaky breath and center yourself, then let your lips turn up into a small smile, “You’re all sweaty, you need a shower before bed. Or Minnie will complain that you are stinky in the morning.”

Matt huffs a small laugh and tips his head up to kiss your forehead. “Well, according to her my whole apartment is stinky and dusty and cold.”

“That’s why we are playing housekeeper tomorrow,” you whisper as he pulls away. 

You allow yourself to wipe your eyes with your nightshirt as Matt removes the rest of his armor, leaving him in just his boxers. You then focus on double checking all the items you’ve gathered, letting your mind go back into Practical mode versus Emotional. 

“Why do you have a duffel bag?” you finally ask, curious as to what he had been up to all night and why he has a new accessory. 

Matt gives a quiet groan, then begins to explain as he sits himself in front of you. “I found an abandoned…lab is the only way I can put it, in one of the utility tunnels. I guess it got flooded out with all the rain and whoever was running it was clearing it out. When I got there, there was only one guy.” As he talks, you begin to clean his wounds, and you are not surprised at how stoic he remains despite the stinging of antiseptics. “I think he was just grabbing files, and that is what is in the bag. Paper files and what I think are thumb drives. I’m not too sure.”

You look up in time to see him turn his lips down into a hard scowl. “The whole place reeked of human blood, though. Not fresh - stale. And there were cages. It was just a few rooms, but someone was definitely up to no good down there.” He flexes his fingers, then says your name softly. “I think it was some sort of government agency. The gun the guy had was standard issue for the FBI and the way he moved was in line with their training, but it didn’t feel like the FBI. It felt more advanced and after everything with Fisk I don’t think they’d try something twice here so close together. But in my gut, it’s telling me this isn’t something like the Hand or something underground.”

You turn to look at the simple bag laying on the floor, your heart sinking as you take it in. You trust Matt’s gut with this - this is not his first rodeo, and he has so much more information about all of this than you ever will. 

“Do you want me to read them for you?”

He shakes his head, “No. Well.. yes, but no. I think this is something I need to take to everyone - Foggy, Karen, Frank, Jessica. Another piece of the puzzle of what has been going on lately. I think we all have different parts, and we need to start looking at what fits together.” He pauses, rolls his lip between his teeth. “I’d like for you to be there, too..if you’d like. I don’t want to keep you in the dark. You aren’t out there, like we are but..I’m dragging you into this just by being with you. I…” 

He stops, and turns to fully face you, pulling his bicep from your grasp so he can cup your jaw with his other hand. He runs his thumb over your lips. 

“I can’t risk losing you. If you being in the know and understanding everything that is going on is what is going to keep you safe - keep Minnie safe - then I can’t lie to you and I can’t hide anything. But I need you to understand that there is a risk of knowing what lurks in the shadows. It is your choice; I want it to be your choice. I need you to be okay, too.” 

You don't need to let the words turn over in your mind - you know your answer. “I want to be there. I want to help, even if it is just helping you talk through things. You don’t need to hide things from me. I…I understand what you are doing.”  You mimic him and reach to cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb so lightly over his lower lip. “I just want you to be safe, Matt. I want you to come home at night.” 

You purposefully use the word, knowing it triggered a reaction before. 

It does again.  

His eyes flutter close, and he kisses your finger gently. 

“I’ll always come back to you,” he breathes out before swallowing thickly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, and you wonder if he wants to say more.

Do you want him to say more?

You don’t know.

You don’t know and you don’t want to think about it. 

You just want Matt to be safe and right now that means finishing wrapping his bicep. You let your thumb linger on his lip for a moment before pulling away, “I’m almost done with your arm. I..I think it doesn’t need stitches. Everything here should be plenty.” 

“Okay,” he whispers as you hand drops, and he turns so you can apply butterfly strips to the holes in his bicep. 

You let your mind fall back to your guides as you wrap the gauze, mentally picturing exactly what you need to do while also making mental notes about directions you need to change and products you need to buy to fill out Matt’s first aid kit. While he has apparently been so much better at taking care of himself, his supplies are a bit lacking. 

As you finish, you hesitate before leaning in and placing a small kiss over the entrance wound, mumbling as you do, “Minnie would admonish me if I didn’t add a kissie for extra healing.” 

“She is the Doctor,” Matt replies gently, and you can’t help but smile.

You start to repack the first aid kit as Matt pushes up into standing to gather his own gear. You both clean in a comfortable silence and only once everything is put away, does Matt come back to you. 

“Shower with me?” He asks, his voice soft and low and your whole body quivers for him.

You don’t reply with words. You take his offered hand, and he leads you to the small room. 

The two of you can barely fit in the shower together, but it doesn’t matter. As soon as you are under the water, you are one.

Matt cups your jaw with both hands as he kisses you like he is savoring every microsecond. It is slow and languid, and you melt together so easily. Your hands are in his hair, pulling his closer, like you want to absorb him because maybe you do. Maybe you want him to absorb you, because you are safe in his arms, and nothing will ever hurt you or make you cry if he is there. 

You have Matt Murdock, and you have the Devil and he has you.

You don’t know if it's hours or minutes or days that pass before one callused hand drops to your thigh and with the lightest of touches, urges it up. Once it is around his waist, Matt rocks forward and slides into you with no resistance.

His pumps are as slow as his kisses and you lose yourself in him. If you could think, you would imagine he is lost in you as well, but the only thing on your mind is the pleasure he is bringing you and how perfectly full you feel.

His name is falling from your lips over and over, breathless and needy, but not for a release - just for him and it is like he knows that. His head drops to your shoulder, and he buries his nose into your throat, his lips moving in words barely heard above the spray of the shower.

Your name.

Mine.

Yours.

Perfect. 

Please.

God.

Love. 

((“I love you.”))

((“I love you, too.”))

---

:) <3

---

@two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04  @astridstark13 @hashcakes

 @lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday @midnightwonderlan

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

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@the-devils-angel @savvyreyes4587 @diasnohibng @blobygree18 @givemylovetoall 

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@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath @roxytheimmortal 

 @allllium @waywardcrow @thatkindofgurl @waywardxrhea 

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 @nennia-2000 @seasonofthenerd @abucketofweird  @mattmurdockstateofmind @imagineswritersblog @hazelhavoc @smile-child-13 @allst4rsfall @hashcakes @kezibear @mapleaye @sammanna @gamingfeline @moon-glades @nightwitherspring @phoenix666stuff @dare-devil

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@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @nommingonfood @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

[a-leg-without-fear]

The Miranda to His Ferdinand

this is actually the response to this ask from the lovely @yarrystyleeza!!! i was so frickin inspired and ended up writing this :)

Ship: College!Matt Murdock x f!Reader

Rating: 18+

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings: lots o' Shakespeare, kissing, suggestive material

Series: Request Fulfillment

Your dorm's mattress creaked as you and Matt settled on top. He sat to your left, braille script clutched in his hand, with his sunglasses tucked into his shirt collar and his hair ruffled after a long day. An easy smile settled over his full lips.

"What's the play, again?" he asked, an eyebrow cocked as a large hand swept over the front page of his script. Long fingers traced the raised bumps on the solid white pages.

"The Tempest," you replied with a sighed chuckle, "It's about a woman, Miranda, who's lived on an island her whole life, knowing only her father and their slave, Caliban. Ferdinand shipwrecks on their island, then he and Miranda fall in love. Typical Shakespeare stuff."

Matt laughed at your synopsis, shaking his head, "And you're auditioning for Miranda, I'm guessing?"

"Nope, Caliban," you snarked in return. Matt rolled his eyes as you stuck your tongue out at him.

"Alright, Caliban. Which scene are we reading?"

"The last part of Act Three, Scene One," you said, flipping your script to the correct page, "Should be page ten in your booklet."

Crinkling pages filled the comfortable silence between you. It was quick work to find the correct page, considering the section you'd be reading from was labeled "MIRANDA AUDITION." The booklet lay open in your palms as you scanned briefly through the lines. You could almost feel the adoration formed by the prose, the pure affection woven into the words. Shakespeare truly was a genius.

"Okay, page ten," Matt announced, breaking your silent reverence of The Bard. You cleared your throat.

"Right. Ready?" you asked as you straightened your posture. Matt nodded, gesturing for you to start. A deep breath filled your lungs, chest expanding like a balloon, as you tamped down your nerves.

"Do you love me?" you read from the script. You glanced at Matt out of the corner of your eye. His lips ticked up in the corners as he read his part.

"Oh heaven, oh earth, bear witness to this sound," he began, fingers rapidly skimming over the pages, "And crown what I profess with kind event if I speak true. If hollowly, invert what best is boded me to mischief. I, beyond all limit of what else in the world, do love, prize and honor you."

You couldn't breathe. Not when Matt's sightless gaze was fixed right between your eyes. Not when this profession of love came from him so earnestly. Not when your years of pining after him had finally bubbled to the surface.

"I-I am a fool," you stuttered. You shook your head, clearing the distracting thoughts, then tried again, "I am a fool to weep at what I am glad of."

Matt placed his free hand on your knee. Your heart pounded against your ribs, anticipation leaking into your blood like ink in water.

"Wherefore weep you?" he read softly. His dark eyes traced the space around your head. Almost searching, scouring for your answer in the planes of your face.

"At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer what I desire to give, and much less take what I shall die to want. But this is trifling. And all the more it seeks to hide itself, the bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning, and prompt me, plain and holy innocence. I am your wife, if you will marry me. If not, I'll die your maid. To be your fellow you may deny me, but I'll be your servant. Whether you will or no."

A tense silence fell over the two of you like a sudden burst of snow. Your pulse coursed rapidly under your heated skin. The weight of the line you'd read felt world-encompassing. Would he understand that it wasn't just you reading words? That the meaning behind them is what you felt?

"My mistress, dearest, and I thus humble ever," Matt whispered, a faint glance of understanding passing behind his eyes. You swallowed a lump the size of a baseball.

"My husband then?"

The hand nearly burning a hole in your knee wrapped its fingers around your own.

"Ay, with a heart as willing as bondage ever of freedom. Here's my hand," Matt breathed, fingers tangling with yours. Your breath caught behind your lips. This is happening.

"And mine, with my heart in it," you said shakily.

That same silence. Charged like the static before a lightning strike. Nearly choking you with how intense the moment felt. The pad of Matt's thumb rubbed circles into the back of your hand.

“Does Ferdinand get to kiss Miranda in this scene?” he asked, gaze landing on your lips. Your heart leapt like a horse over a hurdle. Swirls of anxiety and finally! chased each other through your mind.

“It-it’s not in the script, but I think ad-libbing is more than okay,” you said as your heartbeat roared in your ears. Matt’s signature, cocky smirk pulled at his lips.

His hand seemed to move in slow motion as it lifted from his braille script and cradled your jaw. Palm warm, almost searing, and calloused like you could barely believe. Yet you’d never felt anything softer. His thumb passed over your flushed cheek slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away, before it caught on your bottom lip.

“Is this okay?” Matt asked, voice barely above a whisper, as his thumb pulled gently on your lip. A shudder rolled over your spine like rumbling thunder.

“Yes,” you uttered with a quick nod.

Before you could blink, his lips were pressed against yours. Lightning struck your mind and rendered you breathless. Shocks coursed through your veins. Your heart nearly stopped beating.

He was kissing you.

Matthew Michael fucking Murdock was kissing you.

You quickly reached out and clung to him like he was your lifeline. You didn’t want this moment to end. This singularity that felt impossible, your whole life building to this one kiss. 

Warm fingers carded through your hair and tangled in the strands. Matt pulled you closer, your chests pressed together. He swiped his tongue along your lips to silently ask permission. You more than welcomed the intrusion as an involuntary moan kicked up your throat, opening your mouth to grant him entrance. A groan of his own matched yours in kind. He licked into you like you were the first drop of water after a month in the desert. Drinking from you, clinging to you, almost desperate.

Your head was spinning. You could barely breathe. Your hands shook where they clung to Matt’s t-shirt.

And just like that, it was over. Matt parted from you like separating two strong magnets. His forehead rested against yours, heaving breaths puffing along your cheeks. You screwed your eyes shut at the loss of his lips on yours.

“I could… I could do that forever,” Matt laughed breathlessly. You grinned as you opened your eyes. His sightless gaze was fixed on you. Pure adoration flowed from his joyful expression, how his eyes crinkled in the corners and how his dimples dug into his cheeks. You couldn’t help but match his wide smile.

“Me too,” was your clever response. You inwardly groaned at your quick wit. Matt chuckled, placing a chaste kiss to your hairline.

“When’s your audition?” he asked, like how close he was didn’t render your mind completely useless. You took a moment to gather your deteriorating thoughts.

“Tonight. At eight,” you said. Matt hummed.

“And what time is it now?”

You glanced at the digital clock that sat on your nightstand. In bold, red letters, the clock displayed “4:48 pm.”

“Almost five,” you replied. Matt ran the tips of his nails over your scalp. Pulses of pleasure coursed through you, your head tipping back in his hands, as your eyes fluttered shut.

“I think that’s plenty of time to run the scene some more, don’t you think?” he suggested, voice a low rumble deep in his chest. All you could do was nod.

And if rehearsal ran long, who were you to object?