#matt murdock being a dad

[proheromidoriyashouto]

The People VS Gwen Stacy au where Miguel and Jess just picked up the Vulture and left, not stopping Captain Stacy from raising the gun toward Gwen a second time and shooting her on reflex.

Gwen bleeding out on a stretcher to an ambulance, face exposed to the world as a million cameras flash.

Gwen twisted up in the agony of her father choosing to be a cop before being someone who loves her with a bullet in her liver but a hole in her heart.

Gwen Stacy's face posted all over the news before she's even on the operating table at the nearest hospital.

Gwen Stacy arrested for the murder of Peter Parker, handcuffed to the railing of her hospital bed.

Gwen Stacy arriving at the court house in a wheelchair because she is fresh out of surgery and can't walk, meeting her lawyer, Matt Murdock for the first time.

Gwen Stacy villified by J. Jonah Jameson and the police union to the point other heroes, like Daredevil, have to come out of the shadows to protect her from a public lynching.

Gwen Stacy, abandoned by everyone she should've been able to trust.

Spiderwoman alone against the court of public opinion.

[multiscribe]

Title: Just Like Daddy

Fandom: Daredevil

Characters : Matt murdock /female reader little mini Matt (you’ll see)

Rating: soft R for cannon typical violence and cursing and maybe some flirting

Notes: inspired by this pic I saw this morning-done in one day special thanks to @hellskitchens-whore for the inspiration

In memory of my darling Sammie who would fit right in with Matt

“Let me get you some excedrin honey” you whispered as you rose from the edge of the bed trying to be as quiet as possible.

Your husband Matt Murdock the devil of Hell’s Kitchen was having a rare night off. Not because he wanted to of course but migraine’s as a rule fucking sucked donkey eggs.

It had been a whirlwind courtship between the two of you but even Karen and Foggy could see just how far gone he was. And when you knew you knew right?

So it surprised no one when a year to the day you two broke the news that you were expecting your first child.

Of course there had been some heartbreak when you learned your little girl would never be able to see like normal kids. And it had taken some extraordinary prodding from you to bring Matt back from the utter ocean of Catholic guilt he had been wallowing in.

‘Teach her to defend herself Matt teach her how to fight like you do so we never have to worry’

Famous fucking last words as you would soon learn.

Because your baby girl took to it like a duck to water and these days when she wasn’t working on her homework she’d usually be up at Fogwell’s with Matt either helping him train or training herself

Even Stick had taken a liking to her.

By the time she was 4 and a half you two had learned that her senses far outpaced those of her father.

But she’d been content to do normal little girl things. Like paint Auntie Karen’s nails or braid uncle foggy’s hair.

Until tonight.

Until tonight Matt had never come down with a migraine so bad it stopped him from going out to his ‘night job’.

Gently pressing the two pills into his left hand and water bottle into his right you whispered “I’m gonna go check on her then I’ll come to bed okay?”

He had barely taken his meds when your panicked cry sent him rushing toward your daughter’s bedroom.

She was gone

Glass on the floor and perfume winding through the room. Someone knew they knew about her abilities and his.

He could only pull you close as the devil in him seethed and raged. Someone was going to pay dearly for having taken their little girl.

He had called Karen and Foggy to come sit with you in case she managed to find her way back. He also didn’t trust whoever took her to not swing back and try and snatch you too.

What he ‘saw’ down by the docks was not something he expected and a ton of emotions hit him at once

Pride

Shock

Worry

Fear

Relief

Because leaping silently from container to container there was his daughter.

She was dressed in a miniature replica of his black outfit and some pleased part of him saw that she’d remembered to wrap her hands.

He took off after her having to catch himself several times from stepping in. All that training with Stick had done her good. You were gonna kill the pair of them of course but that was a fight for another day.

She had found an illegal dog fighting ring and had beaten the fighters to a bloody pulp. This was no surprise to him as she LOVED dogs and you and he were discussing the merits of getting your daughter a service dog prospect for Christmas.

However hearing the unmistakable scrape of metal that signaled a gun being raised had him reaching for his Billie club.

But as it happened she didnt need his help

Because before he could even throw it there was a huge hulking black shepherd that launched herself out of the darkness and latched her teeth onto the man’s arm drawing a scream from him.

Once all of the threats were down he heard his daughter call softly to the dog who dropped the man’s arm before she could rip it off and came to sit by her side.

He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that when he approached there was an ominous sounding snarl from the dog.

The devil in him smirked. It seemed they found her Christmas present early

“It’s okay girl..that’s my daddy” before finally she stepped around the dog and launched herself into his arms

“God baby do you know how scared you made your mommy and I?” He knows he should loosen his grip but she’s here and real and safe thank you god above for protecting my little girl

“Didn’t mean to” she whispers against his shoulder “you was sick daddy people needed help. I was careful like uncle stick taught me”

Oh he was SO gonna kick Stick’s ass the next time he saw him!

“How many people did you help tonight baby?”

He felt her tiny lips curl into a smile “well I stopped some bad men from taking an old lady’s purse. I helped another lady when the guy she was with he was gonna hit her-you said a man should NEVER hit a woman that it’s..illegal? In the state of New York”

Matt could feel the tears pricking at his eyes. God when had his daughter gotten so smart?and so brave?

“That’s right baby what else?”

She leaned up looking thoughtful “well I thought I should come home soon and I was on my way I promise!! But then I heard someone hurting doggies so I came down here.. they kicked one and they hurt it bad so I made THEM hurt instead. Then you found me!”

Matt exhaled gently before setting her on her feet “right now little miss there’s gonna be some ground rules. First you do not leave the house without me understood?You scared me and your momma half to death when we couldn’t find you. Second your grades fall even a little this?is done” she gave a silent nod “okay daddy” he could tell she was confused so he softened a little “your grandpa Jack had the same rules for me.He didn’t want me to fight but kinda like you I found my way into it but not til much later”

She tilted her head “what’s rule 3 daddy?” He chuckled softly “you have to apologize to your momma for worrying her”

She nodded “Kay I didn’t mean to honest! But I’ll ‘pologize can we keep Sammie?”

How could he say no to his angel?

The trek back was slower on foot as both had to slow down to allow Sammie to keep pace. She had some glass shards in her foot that would be cleaned up as soon as the chaos died down.

The sound of the roof door opening had you running for the stairs before Karen or Foggy could stop you

“Mommy!!” A sob tore from you as your daughter launched herself into your arms

“Baby are you hurt?where were you what happened?” It took you a minute to process what you were seeing

Your daughter pulling the black mask off her dark hair tumbling down her shoulders in a mess of curls

You looked to Matt silently questioning caught between relief and pure mamma bear rage

“I found her by the docks. She wasn’t taken she just wanted to help out. We already laid some strict ground rules” because you knew she was as stubborn as your husband -at least this way you knew she would be safe as she could be.

“Oh and this is Sammie” the shepherd eyed you warily before drawing closer for a sniff. When she learned that you were related she merely laid down at your feet with a tired huff and rolled over on her back demanding belly rubs

You had a love of dogs too especially Shepherds so it was no real question there. But it took you a moment before you realized what Matt had said and looked to your daughter who smiled “the bad man was gonna try and hurt me with his gun..but she protected me. Just like you said ‘member?”

At that you fully broke embracing both Matt and your daughter fiercely.

You had told her that story when she was first learning how to be respectful of other animals. How when you were at your lowest long before you met Matt that you had a pure black shepherd who was insanely protective of you. When you had suffered being homeless not once but twice in the cold Pennsylvania winter she was the only thing that kept you going.

And how someone had placed a call to animal control and she had been taken away.. for good

A nudge under your arm drew your attention. The resemblance was uncanny but it couldn’t be.. you were told she had been put down as she had seemingly out of the blue turned vicious and it had broken you.

A little bit of gray on her muzzle she’d be the right age..

“Sammie..babygirl?” When you were knocked back onto the floor by a black missle of fur and began to weep hysterically at first Matt was concerned.

But then he picked up your words between sobs “it’s you! Oh my god it’s you! My darling oh god how oh I don’t care!”

Matt pulled his daughter up onto his lap his own mask discarded and smiled at his daughter’s questioning look “you know I was thinking she was gonna be your service dog…but do you think you could share with mommy?” The little girl nodded “sure! Why’s mommy crying though?”

Matt smiled and kissed her temple “despite you scaring us half to death…you made a miracle happen sweetie… that IS Sammie”

Your daughter’s eyes widened almost comically and soon the three of you were on the floor together alongside Karen and Foggy being covered in kisses and the occasional paw to the face (you’d allow it this once she was happy to be home after all!)

You leaned over whispering to Matt “I’m still gonna kick Stick’s ass the next time I see him”

Matt smirked and pulled you close for a kiss “gotta beat me to it first sweetheart”

The End

[echoes-of-a-dream]

mini me | matt murdock

matt murdock masterlist

synopsis: matt comes home from a long day of work only to get attacked and easily beaten up. luckily for his attackers, they're too cute to get the full wrath of the devil. unluckily for said attackers, he will have retribution--and it will be swift. or: a slice-of-life for matt, reader, and their kidditos.

established relationship | kid fic | married couple | literally just fluff | la lectora habla español por una frase (the reader speaks spanish for one phrase) | inspired by this post by @hellskitchenswhore and this post by @courtforshort15

Matt hears laughter before he gets to the door.

"Okay, bubs, great job," he hears you say. "Uncle Foggy is going to love these pictures."

Four heartbeats thud in the apartment as he opens the door, quiet in an attempt to not wake the slower-and-steadier-than-normal quick one coming from the crib in the bedroom. Three come from the living room, the two younger ones much faster than the older. He sets down his briefcase and removes his shoes, loosening his tie as he makes his way toward you three. Your back is to him and you're entirely focused on your activity of taking pictures of the kids, making this a perfect opportunity to surprise you; he wasn't supposed to get home this early, but the case wrapped up sooner than expected. It was more tiring than most cases, so he just came home rather than returning to the office, too tired to read through more legal documents. And causing you to jump three feet in the air? More than enough reward. Matt grins to himself, pressing a finger to his lips to make sure the kids don't say anything.

He gets closer and puts his hands on your hips, causing you to jolt--but not nearly as much as usual. He frowns as you merely turn your head, tilting it up for a peck on the lips he easily gives, calmly greeting him with a "Welcome home, babe."

There's no more time for conversation as he's jumped by his seven-year-old daughter, Jackie, named after his dad. "Daddy!" She yells as he releases you to catch her.

"Oh no! I'm being attacked!" He says as he 'fights' his oldest. To you, he adds, "You didn't jump." It's phrased as a statement, but you can hear the underlying question.

"Matt. Matty. Matthew, my love." He's pretty sure you're recording this. "Your children--fortunately for me--inherited your incredibly expressive eyes. I knew you were coming."

His huff of only half-faked displeasure at his surprise being ruined is interrupted as he lets out a little oof as a small hand punches his abdomen none-too-gently. Four-year-old-Michael, or Mikey (after Matt's middle name--you weren't a huge fan of the alliteration in Mikey's name, but Matt convinced you eventually) has joined the battle as a foot uses his as a futile step-stool to try to climb up him. He overdramatically doubles over with a groan, allowing Jackie to switch tactics and jump onto his back, hanging on his neck. There's a bit of restriction on his airflow, but he prefers it over, you know, having all his daughter's weight on one foot. It's not enough to make him pass out, at any rate.

"Mommy! Sword!" Jackie calls out as Matt drops to his knees, allowing her feet to touch the ground as she maintains the chokehold, so that it isn't as tight. Mikey continues pummeling Matt, no regard as to where he throws the punches but keeping them coming. He's not quite sure what the strange feel is from his son's hands, but is too caught up puzzling out the request for a sword to give it his attention. One of Jackie's hands leaves his throat to make a grabby motions in the air, and you're only too happy to fulfill your daughter's request, grabbing the plastic sword from the opposite counter--he can hear the shifts in air currents, locates it in his mind--and passes it to Jackie.

But Matt is faster.

"Sword?" He repeats as he unhooks Jackie and flips her onto her back, gently lowering her to the ground and pinning her. He tickles her, wracking his brain for information. Now that he thinks about it, he vaguely remembers you mentioning a costume birthday party for Mikey's best friend, Riley.

"She's-" You're cut off by a grumble from Mikey. No, not grumble. Growl. Or at least, as close to a growl as a four-year-old can get. He charges Matt headfirst, then, piledriving at top speed into his father and causing Matt to lose balance and land on the ground.

"Don' you dawe," Mikey says, register lower than usual. You're still working on pronouncing 'r's rather than 'w's, so it takes Matt everything in him not to laugh at what sounds like a four year old attempting the Batman voice. For your part, you have no such compunctions.

He allows Mikey to get in a few hits, feel like he's winning, while Jackie, no longer pinned, springs to her feet and takes the sword, pressing the point into his throat.

"Stay down, bad guy!"

"Yeah, s'ay down!"

"Oh, no! You've got me!" Matt grouses.

"Good work, guys," you input, smirking as you kneel beside your husband. He turns his head, sticking a tongue out at you. "What do we think should be his punishment?"

"Tickles!" Jackie, ever the ringleader, decides.

"Yeah, tickles!" Mikey agrees, ever the mimic.

Matt gasps in overdramatic horror. "No, not tickles! Anything but tickles!"

You click your tongue in mock sympathy. "Sorry, Mr. Bad Guy."

Matt has trained himself not to react, but for his kids, he'll gladly throw any training out the window, writhing far more than necessary for the delightful sound of his two oldest's giggles. He'd do far worse to get such a taste of what must be heaven. His pleas and 'no's, too, are theatrical, to the point that even you are laughing at his antics and there's no hiding that grin. After a minute, he's had enough, though. "You'll regret the day you messed with me, the horrible Mr. Bad Guy!" He threatens exaggeratedly, easily rolling over the kids and tickling them both. Jackie squeals and Matt winces as the sound seems to wake the littlest Murdock, Daisy, named for Sister Maggie, from her nap. Honestly, he's surprised she didn't wake sooner with all the ruckus.

"Help, Mommy!" Mikey cries.

"I would, but Mr. Bad Guy is too much for me alone, I need reinforcements. I'll be right back."

"No! No we-fowemints!" Mikey says, but it's too late--you're already gone. "N- no!" He gasps out, but is laughing too hard

"Da- addy, st- ahp!" Jackie tries, also fighting through giggles.

"Oh, yeah? What'll you give me?"

"In- in- infor- ma- ha- tion!"

Matt pauses, allowing the two to catch their breath. He hears Daisy quiet and you begin to make your way back to him. "Oh, really? What kind of information?" He hears you appear behind him, but pretends not to notice.

"Okay, Daisy-doo, there's Daddy, you're gonna get 'im, okay?" You stage whisper.

"Where Mommy is!"

"Oh, really?" He plays dumb.

"Yeah!" Mikey chimes in. "Wigh' behin' you!"

"Get him, Dais!" You say as you gently set your daughter on his back, one of Matt's hands coming up to support her there before you release your grip.

"No!" Matt calls. "My weakness! Babies! The cuter, the more lethal!" It's more a joke for you than the others, and he appreciates your snort at his attempt at humor.

"Tricked you!" Jackie sings as Daisy grips Matt's hair, mouthing at his back as if it's a teething ring. Matt "topples" forward, lowering himself between Mikey and Jackie in a one-armed pushup and removing his hand so Daisy can crawl around as she pleases.

"Yeah!" Mikey chimes in. "Twicked you, Daddy! Now you captuowed!"

"You'll never take me alive!"

"Sorry, darling," You say amusedly, turning his face towards you. "We found cure for Bad-Guy-itis. True Love's kiss."

"No, no! Please no!" He's given away by the curl of a smile peeking through.

You sigh heavily. "I'm afraid so." To Jackie and Mikey, you order, "Hold him down while I administer the cure."

Matt pretends to thrash while his oldest two comply, Daisy content to have moved mouthing at his back to gnawing toothlessly at the curve of his neck. His head stays still as you grin and lean in, pressing a kiss to his lips that he happily reciprocates, thrashing growing in intensity and gently bucking the kids around, who giggle as they hold on, before he stills. You pull away and he blinks slowly, as if waking up. "Wha- Where am I?"

Your serious tone is belied by the grin in your voice. "Welcome back, Mr. Murdock."

"You got sick!" Jackie chimes in as she climbs off, tired of not talking. "Mommy fixed you!"

"Yeah! Mommy kissed it all bettow!"

"Well, thank you," Matt says smoothly. He uses one arm to scoop Daisy off of his neck while rolling over, cradling her, as he sits up. "However can I show my gratitude?"

"Oh, it wasn't me," you deflect. "It was these other two heroes that saved you."

"Yeah! Saved you!" Mikey puffs out his chest proudly.

"Oh?" Matt's amusement shines through. "And who might they be?"

"Guess!" Jackie exclaims.

You laugh. "Jackie, baby, Daddy's got to feel it, remember?"

She grabs Matt's hand and yanks it to feel her jacket. "Guess!"

His hands run along the leather, over the fingerless gloves, jeans, and what must be a cotton t-shirt or tank-top. His eyebrows rise in confusion. "I thought you were a pirate?"

It was the wrong thing to say. Jackie huffs in frustration. "No!"

"If you're mad, use your words, baby," you chide gently. "Maybe let's let Daddy figure out Mikey's outfit, and then he can guess?"

Mikey excitedly thrusts a hand forward, accidentally smacking Matt's face. Matt snorts even as he coaches, "Calm down, buddy." He feels up the arm--a long-sleeve shirt, what must be... gauze? Why is gauze wrapped around his son's hands?

"Face, Daddy!" Mikey urges. Matt raises his hands and feels the mask and resists the urge to bust out laughing. He allows himself a large grin of amusement, a few more chuckles.

"I see I got brought down by the Daredevil," he observes. "Thank you, Mr. Devil."

"I'm the bestest!" Mikey agrees. "Bestest hewo in the whole wide wold!"

"No, you're not! I am!" Jackie argues.

Matt steps in before it can devolve. "However did I not recognize you? Thank you for your help, Jessica Jones."

"Sword Jessica Jones!" Jackie corrects vehemently.

"Right. Thank you, Sword Jessica Jones. And Miss Jones, Mr. Daredevil, I think there can be two bestest superheroes in the whole wide world."

Two responses hit him at the same time. "No!" "No, thewe can'!"

"How about you guys go grab Riley's gift and put on your shoes?" You divert. "Then we can settle who the best hero is."

Jackie takes off before yelling, "Last one's a rotten egg!"

"Hey! No faiw!" Mikey runs after her, having not gotten the same head start.

Matt turns to you as you offer a hand to help him up. Being the good, loving, exemplary husband he is, he instead tugs you down, moving Daisy out of the way so that when you land on him you won't crush your seven-month-old. "Hey," he greets.

You smack his chest lightly. "Asshole."

Matt gasps. "Mrs. Murdock! Such language, and around a child, too!"

"Matthew, I will divorce you."

He smirks. "Gonna need a lawyer for that."

"That's why I've got Fo- oh, no, you don't." You squeak as you avoid his pinch aimed for the sensitive spot on your side. He pouts, prompting you to give him a light kiss to turn that frown upside down. You turn to where your kids ran through, hearing bickering, and sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. "I really don't want to deal with this."

"I've got it," Matt offers, moving to push you off his lap and stand, but you resist.

"Just give me a minute, please." You don't want to move from the nice warm cocoon of being between his arm, wrapped around you tightly, and chest. "They've been at it all day, except for the two minutes I made them smile for pictures and just now, when the one thing that brought them together was destroying you."

"I'm glad I can be good for morale," Matt jokes, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Speaking of, how did...?"

"Sword Jessica Jones?" You finish knowingly.

"Yeah. And mini-me."

"Well, Mikey was actually the first on the costume front." At that, Matt makes a noise of pleased surprise. "Actually, let me correct myself. Riley was the first--she's going as Black Widow, her favorite superhero. So Mikey decided to go as his favorite, as well."

Matt lets out a hum, honored. Pride and fondness fill him, and he can tell from the sound of your smile in your voice that you feel much the same. "And Jackie?"

Your expression twists, a little more pinched. "She also wanted to go as Daddy. Which led to a fight and since Mikey came up with the idea first, I said he could go as Daredevil."

"How does Jess feel about being the second best option?"

"Very proud. She donated her leather jacket for the cause."

Matt chuckles. "I thought I smelled her. Figured she was just letting Jackie use it, didn't put the pieces together then."

"Yeah."

You're both silent for a moment, until Matt can't keep the question out of his head anymore. "So, what was up with the sword?"

"Jackie wanted to be authentic."

"And authentic means sword?"

"No." You tilt your head to gaze up at your husband. "Authentic meant carrying a bottle of booze."

"And you talked her down to a sword."

"And I talked her down to a sword," you confirm. Before you can talk further, Matt gently but efficiently moves you and stands suddenly, passing Daisy to you. It's just in time for you to hear a crash and get up in an instant, both headed towards where there is now the sound of crying.

"Mommy! Daddy!"

"A sword I assume she just used on her brother?" You ask, frustrated. It's been a long day and this just takes the cake.

"A sword she tried to use on her brother, who in avoiding it ran straight into the dresser. Knocked over the plant."

You enter the room to find, sure enough, the plant is on the ground, dirt spilled across the room and into the bag holding Riley's gift--which is also on its side. Mikey sits on the ground, cradling his head and crying, while Jackie stands there staring at him in horror. When she spots you and Matt, she immediately starts on her defense. "He started it!"

"Jackie," Matt admonishes, kneeling beside Mikey. In a gentle, quiet tone, he greets his son, "Hey, buddy, can you move those hands for me? Let Daddy check on that boo-boo?"

Tearily, Mikey complies, while you move towards Jackie. "Are you okay?" You check in first. She nods mutely. "Okay. Give me the sword, please." She shakes her head. You count down from ten, exhausted, fed up with the fighting, but refusing to take it out on her. "Jackie. If you can't handle having the sword, you can't have the sword. Give it to me, please."

"No."

"Jacqueline. I won't ask again. I will count down from three, and if I do not have a sword in my hand by the number three, you can stay home from the party with myself and Daisy, and Mikey will go with Daddy."

"No!" She stomps a foot. "How come Mikey gets everything? He gets to be Daddy! How come I don't get my sword?"

"Jacqueline Murdock." It's Matt this time, voice calm and even but not without soberness. He doesn't glance up as he affixes a bandage to Mikey's head. "Give your mother the sword."

She huffs but complies. "I hate you!"

You look to the ceiling. Señor, dame paciencia. "Thank you for giving me the sword, Jackie," you say. "I'm very proud of you. May I give you a hug?"

"No! I hate you! I don't wanna be with you!"

Okay, no hug then. "That's alright." You love your daughter, you love your daughter, you love your daughter. "I love you. Do you still want to go to the party?"

"No! You messed it all up!"

Matt presses a kiss to Mikey's head, having finished patching him up. "Jackie, please use kind words," Matt cuts in. "We can be angry, but we respect others even when we are angry, okay? They are still human."

Jackie ignores her father. "How come Mikey gets to have fun?"

Matt appears to have got it, so you stay silent. "You can have fun if you want, sweetheart. You just can't have the sword today. Would you still like to come to the party?"

Your oldest daughter hesitates before sullenly nodding. Tension leaves you as you mutter a Thank you in your husband's direction, who tilts his head in a silent you're welcome.

"I'm very proud of you," Matt continues. "Now, can you tell Mikey you're sorry?"

"'M sorry, Mikey." It's a half-assed apology at best, but it's an apology nonetheless.

You reintroduce yourself to the conversation. "Great job, sweetheart." Despite the encouragement--or maybe because of it--Jackie refuses to look at you. "Mikey?"

"I f'give you," he responds quietly.

Matt presses another kiss to the mop of his son's hair. "How late are we running?" He asks you.

"With or without cleaning this up?"

"Without."

"With this whole thing... about ten minutes."

"Okay. Jackie, please take Riley's gift to the car." At your look, he shrugs. "A little dirt never hurt anyone."

You lovingly roll your eyes and opt not to respond. "Can you grab Daisy? I'm bringing dessert."

"Yeah. Mikey, you mind following Jackie to load up?"

You stop your son on the way out, giving him a tight one-armed hug that he easily reciprocates, burying his head in your chest--larger than usual right now from breastfeeding--and causing you to wince slightly at the pressure. Matt smirks and mouths Like father, like son. "I'm very proud of you and I love you," you make sure to tell Mikey, faux-glaring at your husband simultaneously. You're a parent; multitasking is your profession.

"L'k like Daddy," he sniffles into your shirt.

"Yes, you do," you agree. "The blood on the mask makes it look more authentic. But next time let's go with fake injuries if we want to look like Daddy, okay? I don't want you getting as many boo-boos as really looking like Daddy would take." Matt coughs to cover a laugh at you pointed tone.

"Mkay," Mikey agrees. You squeeze him tightly, which he reciprocates, before releasing him and letting him take off after his older sister.

You brush your pants with your free hand and stand, exhaustion reigning. "They've been like this all day?" Matt asks.

"Try longer. More like all week."

Matt makes a noise of sympathy. "I'm sorry I wasn't-"

"No. You've been at court all day, every day. It's not your fault."

"It's just, sometimes-"

"Matt."

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I would not be married to a man who neglects his children. You have had an abnormally consuming case. If you regularly spent all week too busy for your children, I would have no qualms leaving. But you do not. This is an outlier."

"I still feel bad."

"I'm afraid you're actually not allowed to do that unless I approve."

"Oh?" His hand slides around your waist, other one coming to cradle Daisy's head. She coos at the contact.

"Yup. Had Foggy put it in the contract."

"Mm. I don't recall reading that."

Your own free hand comes up to the nape of his neck, working through the hair there. "We didn't put it in the braille version."

"I'm afraid that counts as fraud, Mrs. Murdock. I might have to sue you."

"That's okay." He hears the veiled laughter in your throat. "I know this really hot lawyer who can represent me."

"Sweetheart, if you say Foggy-"

"No, he's this blind guy, very sexy, very smart. You might have heard of him. Matt Murdock?"

Matt chuckles. "That might get a little confusing, representing two different sides. Pretty sure that might be called a conflict of interest."

"Huh. I guess you shouldn't sue me, then, if it's too confusing."

It's a full laugh, now. "Touché." Matt cocks his head suddenly, before dropping his head to your shoulder with a groan.

"Fighting again?" You ask knowingly.

His Yeah is muffled by your shirt. Like father, like son, indeed. He lifts his head. "You want to sit this one out? I can take them?"

You shake your head. "I need a break from elementary school speak. Some actual adult conversations." You pull away, and Matt lets you, taking Daisy and following you into the kitchen where you grab the cheesecake brownies you were asked to bring.

Matt's mouth and eyebrows quirk suggestively, voice lowering--not quite Devil-voice, more bedroom-level. "We could see if someone wants to have the kids over for a sleepover tonight. Have some... adult conversations of our own."

You grin back at him. "Renegotiate some terms of that marriage contract?"

"More like fulfill."

You laugh. "I could be amenable to such an idea," you agree. Your words cause Matt to speed up and you to laugh again, following him out. "What's got you in such a rush?"

"Easy." He gives you a peck as he locks the door from the townhouse to the garage. "Faster we get there, faster we can come back. I want a whole set of Avengers."

"That wasn't in the contract, dear."

"Maybe not in yours, but..." He winks. "It was in the braille one."

[matt-murdockk]

I can fix him (no really I can)

They shake their heads saying, "God help her" When I tell them he's my man But your good Lord doesn't need to lift a finger I can fix him, no, really I can And only I can

college!matt murdock x fem!reader | fluff— a whole lotta fluff | sorta friends to lovers? | fic from reader's pov, then a pov switch to third person

Matt Murdock famously doesn't stick around for longer than a month, tops. You were determined to change that.

Pre-law golden boy with an aura that exudes confidence, Matt was the person everyone either wanted to be, or wanted to be with. He knew that, and his faux modesty only made it worse for the masses desperate to get a piece of him. Am I one of—? Please, I'd fuck a tree before I fuck Matt Murdock. Not that I hate him or anything. I'm just not on the bed anyone with abs and a personality bandwagon. Good for him for all that attention he's getting, but my ties with him start and end in class. He's just a classmate.

Okay, maybe not just a classmate.

We share notes. Sometimes. Only when he forgets his, which is rare, because apparently being hot and capable is a combo this man insists on wielding like a goddamn weapon. Once, he offered to buy me coffee as a thank you and I made the mistake of saying yes. We ended up talking for an hour. One hour. And somehow I left that conversation knowing his middle name, his favourite diner his dad used to take him to, and exactly what kind of espresso he drinks before a big exam.

It was fine. It’s fine. People have conversations all the time. I’m not spiraling.

We became friends. Real ones. That was the problem.

Because here’s the thing: Matt Murdock is a disaster.

Not on paper. No— on paper, he’s perfect. He’s top of the class, charming when he wants to be, a little cocky, but in a way that makes you laugh instead of wanting to push him down the stairs.

But spend enough time around him and you start to notice things.

Like how he never lets anyone get close. Like how he flirts with half the campus but every single one of his flings ends in vague silence and awkward glances the next day. Like how he knows exactly how to listen to someone but refuses to let anyone hear him.

It’s not a red flag. It’s a goddamn red parade.

So of course I did what any completely normal person with an ounce of self-preservation would do.

I caught feelings for that bastard.

Of course, it's the emotionally unavailable mess with enough red flags to decorate a fucking carnival that catches my attention. Just my goddamn luck.

And, in a moment of sheer lunacy, decided I could fix him.

No really, I could. Just needed time. And patience. And maybe a crowbar for emotional extraction. Whatever. I’ve done harder things. If I can survive Mr Vasquez's class, I can survive whatever this is.

I just have to make sure he never finds out I like him. And also make him like me back. And maybe heal years of trust issues in the process.

Easy, right?

Well, it wasn’t.

Because what started as some deranged attempt to break into the fortress that is Matt Murdock turned into something else entirely. We became friends. Real friends. Somewhere along the way, it stopped being about fixing him and started being about just… being there.

And God help me, I think he needed that more than anything.

It wasn’t just me and Matt anymore, either. Foggy came into the picture fast— bright-eyed, effortlessly funny, with an incredible ability to sniff out bullshit in under five seconds. The three of us? Unstoppable. Study sessions, lunch breaks, late-night coffee runs before an exam. They were my people.

So yeah. The plan backfired. Spectacularly. But I had friends for life now, so I couldn’t exactly call it a failure.

It didn’t mean it stopped hurting, though.

Matt’s life… it wasn’t easy. I could see it in the way he shut down when he was overwhelmed, how he buried himself in work instead of letting anyone in. Some nights he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, but he’d still crack a joke just to make Foggy laugh.

And when he was with other women— when he flirted like it was a language only he spoke— it hurt. Even when I told myself I didn’t have a right to feel that way. He wasn’t mine. I made sure of that.

I’d smile through it. Tease him, even. Make some stupid quip about his tragic taste in women and let the ache settle where no one could see it.

Except Foggy noticed.

He always does.

One afternoon— study session turned snack break in our usual booth— Foggy caught me staring too long. Matt was across the room talking to a girl from one of our electives, charming smile and all.

“You okay?” he asked, nudging me with his elbow.

I blinked. “Yeah. Fine.”

“You sure? Because that definitely wasn’t your ‘fine’ face. That was your ‘I’m swallowing feelings and pretending to be emotionally stable’ face.”

I sighed, resting my chin on my palm. “He’s not doing anything wrong.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

I turned to him. “Foggy, I’m not gonna pull a dramatic ‘what are we’ in the middle of a group project. Matt may be a lot of things, but you really cannot force him to be something he doesn’t want to be.”

Foggy frowned. “But do you think he doesn’t want—?”

“Matt would probably suck at relationships,” I said, more tired than bitter. “Like, actual long-term ones. He likes the chase, he likes the moment. And that’s fine. He’s allowed to live how he wants. I just… I’m happy being his friend. Genuinely. Give it time. I’ll get over it.”

Foggy was quiet for a second. “That was… wildly mature.”

“Yeah well, personal growth is a bitch.”

He grinned. “Still. If it helps, he’s not as smooth as he thinks.”

I snorted. “No, but he is absurdly pretty. That makes up for a lot.”

We let the topic die after that. I figured that was the end of it.

I didn’t know Matt had heard.

—————————————————————————————————

Third Person POV

Matt had only come back for his notebook.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He hadn’t meant to hear that.

But he had.

He stopped just shy of the hallway corner, heart thudding loud in his chest. The way her voice dropped when she said “I’ll get over it.”

The words hit harder than he expected.

She thought he’d be a bad boyfriend.

Worse— she didn’t even think he was worth trying.

And Matt knew— he knew— he hadn’t been great. He had a lot on his plate, a whole goddamn feast of mess, but he never once thought she saw him like that. Not undeserving.

She didn’t know he stayed up wondering what it’d feel like to kiss her. For real. Without laughing it off or playing it cool. She didn’t know how often his fingers hovered near hers and didn’t reach. How badly he wanted to.

But if she thought he wasn’t capable of it? Of loving her the way she deserved?

He had to change that.

Not just for her. For him. For the version of himself he wanted to be—the kind that could love someone, openly and fully, without messing it up.

“Jesus,” Foggy muttered when he saw Matt later that night. “You look like you saw a ghost. Or rather... felt a ghost? I don't know, man.”

“I heard something,” Matt said, collapsing onto his bed, voice low.

“Define ‘something.’”

“(Y/N) said I’d be a bad boyfriend.”

Foggy blinked. “Okay. Context?”

Matt dragged a hand over his face. “She was talking to you. In the booth. Earlier.”

Foggy raised his brows. “You, uh, you were there?”

“I forgot my notebook.”

Foggy held up his hands. “Alright, okay. First off— she didn’t say you’d be a bad boyfriend. She said you’d probably suck at steady relationships. Big difference.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, because you’ve never tried a steady relationship. Which is kind of the point.”

Matt groaned. “I need to fix this.”

Foggy stared. “Okay, I’m gonna need you to walk me through your version of fixing this.”

Matt sat up. “I’m gonna prove her wrong.”

Foggy blinked. “You’re gonna… ask her out?”

“No,” Matt said quickly. “I mean— yes. Eventually. But first I need to become the kind of guy she thinks could be a good boyfriend. You know. Change her mind.”

Foggy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ. Just fuck already.”

Matt frowned. “What?”

Foggy threw his hands in the air. “You like her. She likes you. I have seen you two. Why do you think you want her to stay longer after we're done studying? Why do you think you linger? Why do you think you bring her coffee and save her a seat and remember her deadlines better than your own?”

Matt opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

“She fell first, you fell harder,” Foggy said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You know the drill, man.”

Matt stared.

“…Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. My brother in Christ, you’re in love.”

Matt exhaled.

“…Shit.”

——————————————————————————————————

Matt didn’t sleep that night.

He lay awake, headphones in, a lecture playing that he didn’t hear, the words echoing over and over again in his head.

“She fell first.”

“You fell harder.”

He didn’t even realize when it happened. Somewhere between her snorting at his awful Latin puns and handing him half her sandwich because he forgot to eat again— he’d fallen. And now she thought he was incapable of loving her the way she deserved.

It felt like a punch to the chest.

But instead of wallowing, he decided to do something.

Starting now.

The next morning, Matt showed up to your apartment with coffee. Your exact order. No text beforehand. No heads-up.

You opened the door in pajama shorts and a hoodie, one sock on and a pen still tucked behind your ear.

“Matt?”

He held up the coffee like it was a peace offering. “You mentioned your 9 a.m. was with Vasquez today. I figured you’d need a hit of caffeine and a minor miracle.”

You blinked. “…That’s weirdly thoughtful of you.”

He smiled. “I’ve been working on that.”

And then he left. Just like that.

No flirting. No lingering.

Just… left.

You stared after him, cup in hand, completely thrown.

It didn’t stop there.

Matt started walking you to class. All the time.

Not just when you happened to be heading the same direction. On purpose.

He’d show up at your building with some excuse— “I needed air,” or “Foggy wasn’t ready yet”— and fall into step beside you like it was routine.

Then came the favors. Printing your notes when the Wi-Fi was down. Fixing the broken strap on your bag. Letting you drag him to that awful late-night diner when you were too wired to sleep.

You didn’t get it.

This wasn’t how Matt Murdock operated.

Matt Murdock flirted, ghosted, and moved on.

This? This was effort.

It was also torture.

Because the more he did it, the more you started to hope. Stupid, dangerous hope. Maybe he did like you. Maybe this wasn’t one-sided after all.

But every time you thought about asking, about saying something— he’d flash that same unreadable smile and change the subject.

So you kept your mouth shut. Kept watching. Waiting.

Hoping.

Meanwhile, Foggy was losing his mind.

“You can’t just— Matt, you cannot boyfriend her without telling her.”

Matt frowned, folding his arms. “I thought this was the part where I prove myself.”

“To who? To her? She already likes you. You’re not proving anything except that you’re allergic to communication.”

“I’m building a foundation.”

Foggy looked pained. “You’re building a bad sitcom plot. Just tell her.”

Matt hesitated. “She said she didn’t want that. She said she’d get over me.”

Foggy sighed so hard, his soul probably left his body.

“Matt. Listen to me. She said that because she didn’t think she could have you. You have ghosted every girl before her, remember?”

Matt winced. “Not every—”

“Every.”

“…Fair.”

Foggy ran a hand down his face. “You’re gonna lose her if you don’t speak up.”

Matt didn’t respond.

Because deep down, he knew it was true.

——————————————————————————————————

It started with Foggy texting you.

Which was already suspicious, because Foggy never texted first unless Matt was—

foggy: hey can you swing by the quad after class?

foggy: matt’s planning something

foggy: i’m scared :,)

Now, when someone like Foggy— sweet, unshakeable, usually-down-for-anything Foggy— is scared, you listen. You changed your route and headed toward the quad.

And promptly stopped dead in your tracks.

Because what the hell were you looking at.

Matt Murdock stood on a bench.

On a goddamn bench. In broad daylight. Holding what looked like a beat-up portable speaker above his head like he was channelling John Cusack in Say Anything.

Button-down rolled to the elbows. Hair tousled like it’d been run through about seven too many times. Foggy was standing off to the side looking like he was actively regretting every life decision that brought him here.

“Oh no,” you whispered. “Oh no.”

A group of students was already watching, phones half-raised. Matt didn’t seem to care.

You watched, frozen, as he raised a hand and cleared his throat. Actually cleared his throat. Like he was about to deliver a valedictorian speech. You saw Foggy mutter don’t do it, like a prayer.

Matt did it anyway.

“I, uh… I know this is weird,” he began, voice carrying over the quad, “but I have something to say. Something important.”

The crowd murmured. A few giggles. One guy yelled “Murdock, you proposing?” which earned a sharp shut up from someone else. Foggy, probably.

Matt ignored it. His face was dead serious. “There’s someone I’ve been an idiot about. Someone smart and stubborn and too good to waste time on someone like me. But she did anyway. She does. And if she’s here—” his head turned slightly “— I want her to know I’m sorry. And that I like her. A lot.”

You blinked.

Foggy made frantic eye contact with you from the sidelines and mouthed stop him.

But you couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Matt continued. “I was scared, okay? I thought I’d ruin it. Ruin her. But then I realized I’d rather screw up trying to be with her than let her go without even trying. So, (Y/N),” he called, voice way too confident for a man committing this level of social suicide. “This one’s for you.”

A soft click, followed by the unmistakable synthy intro of Truly Madly Deeply by Savage Garden.

Savage. Fucking. Garden.

You clapped a hand over your mouth.

Someone nearby went “What is happening?”

Matt? he looked hopeful.

And you— stupid, stunned, wildly endeared— were just about to take a step forward when—

Cue the sprinkler system turning on.

Every. Single. Sprinkler.

They sputtered, then blasted to life across the quad like a synchronized ambush. A collective scream rose as people scrambled away, books and phones held over heads.

Matt? Got hit square in the chest, earning a strained Jesus from him.

Foggy somewhere in the periphery muttering “I told him” like a man in mourning.

You? Soaked. Wide-eyed. Laughing.

You actually had to cover your mouth, you were laughing so hard.

Matt stepped down, water dripping from his sleeves. He looked around like he was being personally smitten by the gods. It was like the universe waited for maximum dramatic tension just to drop the punchline.

The song cut out with a strangled sputter as the speaker died a wet, heroic death. Students screamed. Matt cursed under his breath as he was immediately soaked. Foggy, who had clearly seen this coming, was already power-walking toward the nearest tree, muttering “I’m too pretty for this.”

You stood there in shock as water poured down on everyone.

And then— you burst out laughing.

You couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop it. You doubled over, drenched, laughing so hard it echoed louder than the chaos around you.

Matt stood on the bench, blinking water from his lashes, the speaker dangling uselessly from one hand. He looked like a wet, confused puppy. A hot wet confused puppy. Weird analogy. But still.

You pushed your hair from your eyes and walked over, completely soaked.

“This was your grand romantic gesture?” you asked between giggles.

He ran a hand down his face, sopping. “It was supposed to be better.”

You looked up at him, the pathetic speaker still crackling faintly in his grip. “It was absolutely ridiculous.”

A pause.

You smiled. “It was perfect.”

Foggy squelched up behind you both. “Okay, you’ve both had your romcom moment, can I go home now? My socks are... squishy.”

Matt turned to him, still trying to catch his breath. “Thanks for… whatever part you played in this.”

“I want that thank you in writing,” Foggy muttered. “And a refund for emotional distress.”

You turned back to Matt.

“Do I get to keep the boombox?”

He grinned. “It’s mostly water now. But sure.”

You took a slow step closer. “So… boyfriend material yet?”

He reached out— careful, gentle— and brushed a piece of wet hair behind your ear. “Getting there.”

And then you kissed him.

In the middle of the quad. Soaked to the bone. Surrounded by students who definitely started applauding and whistling, because of course they did.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, Foggy just shook his head.

“Seriously. I hate you both.”

You smiled at him. “Love you too, Fog.”

And Matt?

Well, he didn’t run.

Not this time.

a/n: alright so the fic took a detour from what i had originally planned, it was going to be angst, reader was going to be fwb with matt, and well it's a whole thing, a lot of changes happened but i didn't change the title because well i got attached. i know it doesn't really make sense now with how the story turned out, but i'm leaving it in the story anyway, hope you liked it!

[lovelybucky1]

Just read the "teasing dad!Matt under the table" thing (yes, already) and I *NEED* to know daddy!Frank's reaction when you go and tattle 🫠🫶🏻

- @moth-murdock

AHHHH

“daddy,” you whine into the phone. “he was being so mean.”

“sounds like you were askin’ for it, sugar,” franks’ voice is gruff through the phone speakers.

“i just wanted to play.”

“does dad usually play with you when you break the rules?” he asks. why is he suddenly taking matt’s side?

“no but he didn’t have to hurt me,” you pout.

“hurt you?”

you sigh dramatically. “yeah, he grabbed my wrist and it really hurt. i have a bruise and everything.”

frank is quiet on the other side of the line. “fuckin’ red,” he finally mutters. “don’t you worry, baby. i’ll give him a call and set him straight.”

he gives you a quick goodbye and as soon as he hangs up, you hear matt’s phone ringing in the living room.

“frank? woah, slow down. what are you talking abour? that’s not what happened- excuse me? i was doing my job, not spoiling her rotten like you do. yeah? well fuck you too.”

matt must hang up on frank, because next thing you know, matt is calling you into the living room and his tone tells you this won’t be a pleasant conversation.

“sweetheart,” he starts. “did you call frank to tell on me?”

“am i in trouble, dad?”

“oh honey,” he chuckles. “frank’s gonna be pissed when he hears finds out what i’m going to do to you.”

[ticinhas]

The plot of end of days, in which Matt has like 7 kids with women he used to see and is an absent father to all of them. It’s his whole vibe!

matts like an absent father to me

[ravensmurdock]

innocence

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

warnings: age difference, implied daddy issues, freudian, impact play, no actual smut, thigh riding, oral fixation, reader calls him dad, mean!matt

matt likes to believe he's a patient man. many times he is, really, he is. except when you're running your mouth, or putting yourself in danger. in moments like those, when his patience is hanging on by a mere thread, you place yourself strategically on his lap and pout and pout— hoping to lessen your punishment.

it's his fault, really. you're too young for him, a little immature. what more can he expect from a 20 year old? what more can he expect from a curious, bright eyed intern who is always following him around like a pet? it's always 'mr. murdock this, mr. murdock that,' can he blame you? no. the fault is on him, for not being able to resist your charms. you never tried to be subtle either— he could quite literally hear your heartbeat rise whenever his voice would get too low while closing, when his smirk would get too cocky. he's sure if he could see, he'd be met with you constantly trying to shove your cleavage in his face. which, he would never complain about.

but he does feel like a dirty old man sometimes. he's had his own moral conflicts— deep into the night when you're pressed into his side, and all he can think is, 'im a fucking cradlerobber, tainting her innocence, corrupting her mind, devouring a little girl like a mad man with no self control—'

and the moment you mumble sleepily against his neck, those thoughts vanish and he's immediately pulling you closer.

he doesn't realize how much your age gap does for you. how the greys in his beard shine when he rises from between your legs, chin covered in your slick. how his strong, protective arms make you feel safe like nothing ever could. how his care taking tendencies are almost fatherly in nature, making you forget all about your own bad experiences with your own father. the rasp in his voice when he scolds you for being reckless, too curious, too presumptuous— it hits the right spots. makes you want to provoke him more. which is exactly what put you in this position.

you'd followed him down to an important meeting— one he specifically told you to stay away from, and you ended up witnessing him break the guy's hand. your heartbeat was indication enough, but it was your gasp that truly got his attention— his head snapping up in warning and you running away almost immediately.

catching you wasn't hard, and you weren't running because you were scared of him hurting you— you were scared of disappointing him. which is exactly what you did. and now you're here, pressed against his chest, his fingers gently massaging your scalp.

"what did i tell you, hm?" he asks, voice low, almost mocking. his hand suddenly tightens into a fist— yanking your head back by the hair. you whimper, eyes tearing up at the sting. you try to search for any mercy in his features— but his glasses stay as a barrier between your eyes and you sniffle.

"sorry," you mumble softly, gently caressing his chest, "i should've listened—"

"oh yeah, you should've." he agrees, a small smirk on his face, "but you didn't. you never do. all my little darling does is listen to herself and piss me off. do you want me to hurt you?"

"no!" you shake your head, desperately leaning forward to bury your head in his chest. he presses you closer, and you deeply inhale the comforting smell of his cologne. scratch your cheek against his beard like a cat. there's something so oddly comforting about this, even when you know he's mad at you. something about it is making your brain feel fuzzy— a kind of feeling that can only come from a grown, mature man. maybe that's what prompts you to mumble your next words, hoping to soften the blow of his wrath.

"pleeeaaase, dad." you whine, voice soft. he tenses under your body, and you immediately feel scared. you don't actually want to make him uncomfortable, you hope it doesn't. his chest rumbles with a chuckle.

"oh that one's new," he whispers, pressing a soft kiss against your temple, "is that supposed to make me feel sympathetic? you think i'm your father, baby?"

shit.

your heartbeat rises again, and he hears it. loud and clear. there's been a bit of a dynamic between you two, but you've never said something so directly out loud. and neither has he. but the 'father,' that's what gets you. and he hears the hitch in your breath, and the smirk that appears on his face is downright evil.

"oh you like that, huh?" he pulls your head back again, grabs your jaw. makes your lips pucker up. "is that what you want? you want me to be your father? you want dad to punish you?"

"fuck—" you breathe out, eyes squeezing shut. he thumbs your bottom lip, and your mouth snaps open. he slips his thumb into your mouth and you suck, head feeling fuzzy. your hips start gently grinding against his thigh, and it makes him moan.

"my stupid girl," he huffs with a chuckle, pulling his thumb out. you chase his hand with a whine, "what will i do with you?"

he presses your mouths together and you moan into his, crumbling in his arms. you're relieved that it worked, you won't get punished. as you pull away for air, his hand pulls back and smacks you across the face— making you gasp. you look back at him, wide eyed, and there's not one bit of remorse on his face. your cheek stings, the skin there feels hot. you're more in shock than you're hurt. he pulls his hand back again and you flinch. he chuckles, lowering his hand to your thigh.

"you're gonna make yourself cum on my thigh," he says calmly, but you can sense the threat behind his words. his thumb gently rubs against your skin. "and if you fail, dad will hit you again. you don't want that, do you?"

your lips wobble and you sniffle, nodding. your hips begin to move on their own, albeit messily. and you hope you don't disappoint him again.

it's going to be a long night.

for matt fans, girls with daddy issues and murdock circle

@deermurdock @fairymurdock @foxmurdock @https-murdock @jellyfishmurdock @kit-murdock2 @bunmurdock @lambmurdock @parker-murdock @pupmurdock @sirenmurdock @starmurdock @swanmurdock @moth-murdock @bumblebeemurdock @mewmurdock @froggy-murdock @sharkymurdock

[bucky-murdock-moans]

on the portrayal of grief and depression in daredevil: born again

so I don't think it's a secret that I am so far loving the new daredevil show. I want to preface that it's also completely fine to not like it. but I like the different approaches, the darker tone focusing more on the emotions of the human soul rather than the physicality (for now, at least) and yes, I can't write this without praising charlie cox for his acting. bite me. just like with any other medium, movies and tv shows often have a set mould in which they portray grief and depression. they tell or show us how it's supposed to be, what we are supposed to feel, the characters say the same old lines... the new direction is a lot more heavy on the show-don't-tell side and as someone who had to face grief at a young age while completely abandoned, I feel very strongly about this and I don't want to step around it without praise.

foggy neslon is the closest thing matt has ever had to a family, and the show opens up with him being violently murdered and matt's biggest fear coming alive. someone he loves, someone innocent getting hurt as collateral damage.

I love and adore foggy nelson with all my being not just in the netflix show but in the comics too. elden did an incredible job bringing him to life and showing that potential in the character that is often underestimated in the comics, too. he gave us foggy nelson filled with endless love, kindness, compassion and someone who is incredibly smart - even in the comics, matt admits that himself is more of a master of great speeches and bravado in the courtroom, while foggy is the one with an immense well of knowledge not just about the law but about specific cases that could grant them leverage. as foggy himself pointed out in s3, everybody abandoned matt in his life. his mother left the family (yes, she had ppd, but she abandoned a child nonetheless), his father did his best to raise a kid as a single dad but ultimately, he chose his pride of not willing to lose over staying alive and actually raising his son. stick abandoned matt for a lot of reasons depending on whether you look into the comics or the show. and in s3, while struggling with her own grief and anger karen was considering abandoning matt too. which is a very human emotion to feel on her side, to be fair. as for foggy, that was not gonna happen. foggy nelson loved matt murdock undonditionally. that was the single most powerful, the most priceless thing he could ever give to him. and after his death, we jump a year ahead in time and a lot of people are complaining about bad pacing but please, I am begging you to believe me when I say this was a concious choice to not give us closure the same way matt is not giving himself a chance at closure.

we see a matt murdock who is in survival mode. he moved away from hells kitchen (a palce he never imagined he could abandon), he is now at a new firm, adapting to changes and as you watch him get ready before that court hearing, it is clear to see that he is simply going through the motions. this man is on autopilot. he wants to get the thing done for the sake of being able to say he did it, he finished that task, that chore of making breakfast, getting dressed... and then you see him reaching for foggy's prayer card and you immediately clock in on how worn the edges are. he puts it in a pocket above his heart. at the end of the day, he takes it out, and the next day, picking it up again. he doesn't put it in his wallet, or a pocket permanently to carry it around passively like you would do with a photograph. it is a concious choice that he makes every day to touch it, to handle it, to not allow himself to forgive or forget. he is depressed, he is not letting himself process his own grief and it goes to show just how great of an actor charlie is to convey all that in the posture, in the body language, the way matt seems to stop dead in his tracks when met with inconveniences (sitting down, slumped over when he larns fisk running for mayor while while he ignores the smoke detector for example). we also see him (as of episode 2) abandoning his faith which happens often when people go through intense trauma. especially if religion is a big part of your identity, it's a connection that gets damaged along with your self image. just another sign that goes to show what kind of impact foggy's death had over matt. bottom line is, I love how matt is portrayed with a more high functioning depression (where even karen thinks that he is "doing well" on the outside) while on the inside, he is absolutely falling apart. grief is an extremely complex human experience that never really goes away. it is a long, hard journey that is different for everyone. and yeah, I'm not happy foggy died. I wish he didn't have to. but you could not have picked a better catalyst for matt's life to fall into nothing. and I think in a twisted way it is the most beautiful legacy you can give to foggy. that he was so incredibly, undeniably, unimaginably important and loved.

[nevarrhoe]

mea culpa (m.m) - 2

SUMMARY: "mea culpa" (exclamation - noun/legal term)

used as an acknowledgement of one's fault or error.

↪ in which matt murdock accidentally falls in love with the district attorney's daughter.

warnings: smut, angst, swearing, fem! reader

masterlist

It was a little hard to stop thinking about Matthew Murdock over the next few days. 

Nevermind the fact he’d left hickeys all over your neck - it was the fact he was texting you every few hours with absolutely indescribable fantasies that made it difficult to think about anything else. Your blood would run cold every time your phone buzzed, just on the off chance that one of your friends, or god forbid your father, see your phone screen. It put you on edge in the best way. This entire thing was already beyond fucked up for more than one reason and yet, you wanted more. So much more. 

Can’t wait to taste you again. 

Can’t wait to hear you scream my name again. 

Hope you haven’t been thinking about anyone else. 

And it was funny, really, because Matt was a perfectly respectable man from the outside. Quiet, unassuming, a dry sense of humour - you never would have taken him of all people to be the one to make you feel so fucking alive. It wasn’t just how good he was in bed, but rather the thrill of it all. Nothing got your motor running like a situation’s potential to disappoint your father but hey. That was for your therapist to deal with. 

Of course, your father had asked several questions about where you’d disappeared too after the gala on Friday. He was more concerned about it had looked for him, and to have his daughter run out on a big charity event. Your mother had been less worried about that part, and more about her vintage Chanel suit. You’d settled both their worries by a) telling your father you’d had stomach problems (because who was gonna ask about that?) and b) promising to send the Chanel off to a dry cleaner. 

It was on a slow Monday afternoon - exactly three days after you’d met him - that Matt sent you a not so dirty text. It was so casual, in fact, that it caught you more off guard than any of the filth he’d sent you over the weekend. 

Wanna grab lunch? 

“Are you okay, honey?”

You blinked, eyes shooting up to your best friend. Okay, maybe not a best friend - those were hard to come by in high-society. She was your most tolerable friend. It had been her idea to get martinis for lunch. Your idea of fun wasn’t exactly sitting around with five rich girls and their daddy’s credit cards but it wasn’t like you had work to do, right? 

Part of you so badly wanted to tell them about the escapade over the weekend - about how much better an older guy was than all their ridiculous, frat-house boyfriends, and how good he’d made you feel. But did you trust them? Not with your damn life. And for risk of being cut out of your father’s will, you figured it was something to keep to yourself. 

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat. “I gotta ditch. My dad needs me to get something from his office.”

Grabbing your jacket - a tan Chanel parka, naturally - you slid out of the booth and straight out of the restaurant. Matt’s number was dialed into your phone before you even hit the street. 

“Matthew, hi!” you greeted him. “I’m down for lunch.”

“Perfect,” you could hear the smile in his voice. “Wanna come by my office?”

“Sure. Want me to grab takeout?”

“It’s okay. I already have lunch here.”

“Okay. Text me the address.”

–

The Nelson & Murdock office wasn’t too far from where you’d been. Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t exactly your stomping ground but your Uber had dropped you off right outside, and you had a taser in your bag. Not to mention the years of Krav Maga and karate that you’d done in high school and college. You could have been a damn vigilante if you wanted to. 

It was the shorter, Nelson half of Nelson and Murdock that saw you first. He seemed taken aback at first - maybe by your expensive appearance, but also maybe because every other person in the room was a middle-aged man there for free legal advice. By the looks of your Chanel bag and red-soled shoes, he figured you probably didn’t need any legal advice for free. Especially not from him. It seemed much more apparent that you had the likes of Jeri Hogarth in your pocket should you need any legal assistance. 

“Hello. Hi.” Foggy greeted you with wide eyes. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Uh, no,” you turned around to face him, sticking out your hand. “You’re Nelson, right?”

“I am Nelson,” he replied, shocked look still not faltering. “How do you know my name?”

“I’m a friend of Matt’s,” you explained. “I don’t suppose he’s around?”

Speak of the devil. Your conversation was cut short by Murdock’s entrance. He looked hot in a suave sort of way; tie loosened around his neck, top button undone and sleeves rolled up. It was the first time you’d seen him since you’d left his apartment early on Saturday morning and frankly, you didn’t know how to act. Most of the men you slept with didn’t invite you to their offices for lunch - hell, most of them didn’t have offices. 

“Hey, Murdock,” you gave him a small wave.

“Hey - come in,” Matt shot you a grin, ushering over to his own office in the corner. 

It was neater than you’d thought it would be; there was a laptop perched on his desk, with a braille translator and a stack of legal files. They were probably the same legal files your dad had, just..the other side of the story. After all, Nelson and Murdock were known for looking out for the little guy. That was much more admirable than daddy dearest and his famously corrupt evidence. 

“Your shirt fits better today,” you commented, shrugging off your jacket. “That’s a real shame.”

“Is that a comment about my arms or the way I dress?”

“I think you know that it’s about your arms.”

You pushed aside the files, hopping up onto Matt’s desk. He had you caged in within a second, broad hands gripping your hips and guiding you up into a kiss. It was a little softer than the ones you’d shared on Friday night - there was less heat; a causal air to it. You didn’t think it was possible to miss the lips of a man you’d fucked exactly once. 

“So,” you murmured against him. “You said you had lunch here.”

“I do,” Matt gave you a shit-eating grin. “You.”

“Matthew!” you hissed, hitting his shoulder. “Did you seriously invite me over here just for a fuck?”

“Not exactly!” he quickly replied, raising his hands in surrender. “I wanted to check in with you and see how you were.”

“Oh, okay,” you raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. “I’m not too bad. I was having lunch with some of my friends when you texted-”

Matt suddenly attached his lips to your neck, teeth gently nipping on the same mark he’d left a few days ago. You didn’t mean to let out a moan, but how could you not? 

“Matthew!” you exclaimed again. 

“No, go on!” he stopped for a second. “I’m listening. You were having lunch with your friends and…”

“And you texted and I was bored, so I left and - Jesus fucking Christ, that feels so good.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “You left your friends to see me?”

“I would leave my dying Aunt Betty’s bedside to see you,” you said. Without a second thought, you grabbed him by the tie and pulled him back towards you. “Enough catching up. I’m good to have lunch now.”

He gave you a grin and a few moments later, his hands found your way under your ass. Matt shoved aside the pile of legal papers and moved you further onto the desk, lips back on your neck and working a thousand times harder than they had before. Instinctively, you tangled a hand in his hair and just let him have at it. 

The build-up wasn’t as tense as it had been the first time you fucked, but that was because Matt knew you better now. He pretty much had you memorised; the ticklish spot on your neck, the most sensitive spot on your hips, the way you liked his nails to dig into your back just enough to hurt. That was just a testament to him. Who else would remember that? Who else would take the time to learn what you liked after just once? 

“Not that I don’t enjoy this,” Matt paused for a second. “But my lunch break isn’t that long. If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna have to be quick.”

“You’re real cheap, Matthew Murdock,” you scowled. “Do you invite all girls over here for a fuck disguised as lunch and then rush them?”

“No, not all of them,” he shot back. “Some are more breakfast kinda gals-”

“- oh shut the fuck up.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him back into a kiss. Matt couldn’t help but smile against you - at how badly you wanted him, how you chastised him but still didn’t stop him. 

It was in that moment that you thanked every deity there was that you’d chosen to wear a skirt that day. But frankly, you wouldn’t have given a fuck if Matt had ripped your Versace mini-skirt to shreds. He would have been okay with that too, especially if it meant you have to borrow a shirt of his to leave in. 

Still, Matthew Murdock was nothing if not respectable - at least enough so not to destroy your designer clothes. Instead, he simply pushed it up, large hands making their way to your ass cheeks and giving one of them a light slap. You froze when he did - how many clients were out there in the waiting room right now? Even with the blinds closed and the door shut, how many of them could hear what was going on? 

“Problem?” Matt paused. 

“There are people out there who could hear us-”

“- not with the air conditioning on. Foggy always has it going. Don’t worry.”

You scowled. “How do you know that?”

“Just do.”

Matt wasted no time in resuming his activities. Grabbing you by the hips again, he lifted you with ease and spun you around so that he was the one on the desk, and you were in his lap. The friction of his hard-on in his trousers against your core was almost unbearable and he could tell you were desperate by the way your grip on him suddenly tightened. 

“Look at you,” he grinned. There was something about the way his voice dropped four octaves every time he was about to fuck you. “You’re calling me sloppy but you’re gagging for it, aren’t you?”

You let out a small grumble, shaking your head. “I thought you didn’t have time to tease?”

“You’re lucky that I don’t have time to do a lot of the things I want to do to you, sweetheart,” he said. “Everyone out there would be able to hear me fucking you if I didn’t have to be back in twenty minutes.”

“Matthew,” you growled. “I don’t care how long you have - if you’re not inside me in the next thirty seconds, I’m going somewhere else.”

“I didn’t think there would be many men around at this time willing.”

You let out a derivative snort, acrylic nails dragging down his neck and hand settling ever so gently on his throat. “You think I don’t have plenty of offers? You’re not the only man who can make me scream.”

It was almost like your words awakened something in Matt. In a flash, he’d pulled you off the desk and positioned you against it; there was the sound of his belt and a second later, his dick was inside you. Rock hard and beautiful, and the perfect length to have you clenching around him in mere fucking seconds. 

He wasted no time in pounding into you from behind, one hand tangling his fingers with yours on the desk and the other wrapped around your throat. You had complete and utter trust in him and maybe that was why you placed your own hand over his and encouraged him to squeeze harder. 

Matt’s movements were rapid and consistent: time was of the essence after all, and there was no way in hell he was going back to work until you came. 

It didn’t take much, to be honest. Not when you had his gruff voice muttering things in your ear. It was hard not to make noise then - Matt moved his hand from your throat accordingly, clutching it over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your moans. What an ass. Not to mention that it only made you even fucking louder. 

“Do they make you feel this good?” he teased. “Do they?”

He managed to hit the right spot over and over and it wasn’t long before you felt that knot in your stomach. It was a plunge; like a plane falling out of the sky, anything that caused a sharp drop in your gut. The room was practically spinning around you as you came undone, red acrylics digging into the skin of Matt’s arm for some kind of relief. 

“There we go, sweetheart,” Matt murmured. He softened his pace, slowing down for a minute to revel in his own high. “Good girl.”

He released his hand from your mouth, chest heaving against your back for a minute as you both came down from your respective orgasms. A broad arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you. Matthew Murdock was a gentleman, even when he was rearranging your guts. 

You slowly turned around to face him, pulling him into another desperate kiss. 

“Are you free tomorrow night?” Matt softly asked. 

“Yeah, I am,” you ran a hand down his chest, faltering for a second. “Why? You gonna take me out for dinner?”

“Yeah, but an actual meal. It’s not a euphemism, I promise,” he gave you a grin. 

You returned the gesture for a minute, a wide smile on your face - but then it faltered. “Matthew, I would love for you to take me on a date, and I adore spending time with you but…”

“But what?”

“My dad,” you groaned, dropping your head into his shoulder. “If anyone catches me with you, I’m done for - as hot as that is.”

Matt couldn’t help but chuckle. “Okay, fine. What if we just hang out at my apartment and get take out? You can dress like a slob and no-one will see us.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” your smile quickly returned. “But I am not dressing like a slob. I wear Chanel or I wear nothing.”

“I would much prefer it if you wore nothing.”

[holylulusworld]

No exceptions (3)

Summary: He likes your guts and your cake.

Pairing: Mobster!Frank Castle x Baker!Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of anxiety, mafia business, flirty Frank (he tries, okay), groping, mentions of domestic violence/violence against young Frank

Catch up here: No exceptions (2)

No exceptions masterlist

Watching the two men talk about business, you chew on your lower lip.

What did Mr. Murdock mean—does he want to take over your bakery, and you’ll end up on the street? Will you end up in jail because you got involved with the mob?

What if you end up dead or worse because of them?

You’re trembling, and your legs are about to give in as your anxiety spikes once again.

Frank is quick to react. He has you back in his lap before you can protest. “You have to sit down and drink lots of water, sweet cheeks. I told you to let me look after you.”

“I,” you’re unable to react. Dizziness and your anxiety hold your body in a tight grip. You try to focus on breathing to calm down.

“In and out, sweet cheeks,” Franks whispers in your ear. “No one is going to hurt you. You see, the gun in my pants is a real one. If someone tries to hurt you, they end up on the ground.”

“I don’t think this helps her right now,” Matt leans closer to whisper the words. “She doesn’t feel safe with you and your gun around.”

“Nah, she loves me.” Frank won’t accept any less than you in his arms. “I’ll make her see that I’m the good guy here.”

“I,” wheezing, you look at Matt. “I can’t do this. What if I get arrested? I won’t survive jail.”

“Whoa, calm down, sweet cheeks. No one is sending my girl to jail.” Frank pats your thigh. “You’re safe and sound, and I’ll make sure it stays this way.”

“I only want you to do us a little favor. No one will know about it but you, me, and Frank. I’ll let him keep an eye on your bakery and you to provide safety.”

Frank rubs your arms and murmurs in your ear to calm you. “I love keeping an eye on her. She’s not in danger.”

“Back to business, Frank.” Matt leans back in his chair, eyes glued to you. “I want you to take my money and make more for me. This way, a part of my business will be legal. I’ll be a silent partner—or rather, one of my companies will. No one will find out it’s my money.”

You don’t want his money or for them to get involved with your business. All your life, you tried to find your way. Now there are these men forcing their way into your life, and there’s nothing you can do about it, and it makes you feel sick.

“I think we talked about the basics. I’ll make an appointment to discuss the details. Frank, make sure the lovely lady gets a rest. Send the customers home, but let them pay first.”

Matt slowly gets up from his chair. He nods at you, saying your name with respect and a hint of softness. “I’ll enjoy doing business with you. I know this is a little much, but being under my protection means safety and stability for you and your business.”

He leaves, not before paying for the cupcakes and coffee. Matt Murdock is by all means not a nice man, but he respects your business and you. “Have a good day, miss.”

Frank watches his boss leave. He smirks while saying, “So, do you want me to kick them out, or do we wait for them to leave?” He says it loud enough for your customers to hear. They hurriedly get up and place the money they owe you on the tables.

“Finally, alone,” he hums when you start to squirm again. “I want you to relax. Don’t work yourself up, Y/N. I’ll take care of you from now on.”

You don’t know if you should be relieved or scared by his words. For now, all you can do is let him help you off his lap and lock the bakery.

He looks around your bakery, humming, before he helps you clean the tables. “My ma always wanted a bakery. She was a good baker. Her pie brought me to my knees.”

You glance at him while he continues. “Dad, the old bastard wouldn’t let her, though. He wasn’t good to her.” Frank taps his nose. “See this?” Frank asks as you glance at his nose. “He broke it thrice because I defended her.”

“Oh,” it’s all you get out. No parents are perfect, but Frank’s father sounds like the worst you ever heard about.

“He was a goddamn bastard, but he didn’t break me,” he says while following you to the back of the bakery with the plates and cups in his hands. “I’m telling you this to let you know that I’d never hurt a woman. I’m a bastard, but I’m not a goddamn bastard.”

“Your mom must be proud of you,” you say. “You tried to protect her.”

“She’s long gone.” There’s a hint of sadness in his eyes before it’s gone. “Cancer, ya know. Life likes to fuck you over if it gets the chance. Once free of the bastard, she got sick and died.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, carefully touching his arm. “That must have been tough. Your father was a bad man, and then your mom died.”

“I grew up, and—” he shrugs. “I did lots of shit, ended up in jail. When I got out, Matt found me and…” Frank pauses, eyes drifting toward you, as so often today. “He saved me. You’re scared of him, but he will not hurt you. I swear on my ma’s grave.”

Part 4

Tags in reblog.

[daydreamgoddess14]

The Reading Rooms

Time for the weekly round-up! The response to this last week was INCREDIBLE! I hope the writers listed got some amazing comments and plenty of love because they deserve it!

Always remember to heed the warnings posted by the individual authors. What I'm happy to read may not be what you're happy to read, so I take no responsibility if you find something you're not into.

And finally, Tumblr is a community. Reblog, gush like you've never gushed before - I promise you, the authors below will love it, and love you for it! We write because we love to, but we share our work because we love the community of it. If you read something you like, let the world know! 💕

The List

This week was a busy one! I've been trying to get the next chapter of For Your Consideration finished, and I also posted the first part of a new miniseries - Breakfast.

On reading, I actually read some non-Bucky related stuff this week (shocker!).

Roy Kent / Joaquin Torres / Bob Floyd

This absolute gem Blood, Mud and Everything In Between by @roseandxanderfics featuring Roy Kent and an F!Rugby Player.

Come A Little Closer by @yourauthorjen featuring Joaquin Torres and F!Reader

The magnificent @marvelwitchergilmore killed it with two Joaquin fics I read this week: Where it Hurts and One Night

Sweetness by @cowboybeepboop featuring Bob Floyd x F!Reader (so, so cute, I am becoming a Lewis Pullman girlie)

This cute friends to lovers with Bob x F!Reader by @withahappyrefrain AND also The 5 Times You Flirted with Bob (I LOVE the TGM gang in this one 🥰)

And then, of course, there was SO MUCH BUCKY this week. So much.

Busy Woman by @wbellab (which also has part 2 linked, so be sure to read both!) (F!Reader)

Sneaking Around AND admitting feelings for Bucky by @fanficgirl429 (F!Reader)

Guys.... I have a thing for the suit. I read two fics about the suit. in the suit?! by @delicatebarness and the new uniform by @buckysouvenir (F!Reader, both insanely hot. It's the suit, it's killing me.)

Y'all - have you read declassified by @dreamwritesimagines?? You need to. If Congressman!Bucky gets your vote (yes, yes please) then this is for you because it's PERFECT. Off you pop, go read it now. Three parts so far and I am ITCHING for more. (F!Reader)

We're all into our Tower fics again (🤘2012!) so Interim Measures by @cheekybarnes should be on your list! (F!Reader)

When @mandoalorian starts the notes with "eventual smut and there will be a lot of it" ... well, sign me up. It's the start of if this is war, i surrender (F!Reader)

@sunday-bug has got a glorious Stucky x F!Reader fic Their Little Spitfire

@lessersole has a really great Congressman!Bucky fic which features Matt Murdock (yaay!) Bridging Boroughs (F!Reader)

Everything's Just Perfect by @ama3003 - soooo good, I'm a sucker for an exes fic! (F!Reader)

If we're calling him Sergeant, I'm here for it pals. Hey, Sergeant by @marvelwitchergilmore is sooo good!

I literally read this because I loved that @little-miss-dilf-lover wrote the words "chub on" and I couldn't stop giggling. Nevertheless, Morning Wood was phewww so good!

GIRL DAD BUCKY?! @flowersforbucky, my love, mine all mine was gorgeous 😍

@daxisyzz gave us Light After the Shadows and fluffy, lovely Bucky.

You might recall my excitement about there only being ONE BED!! in this @fanfictiongirlie fic Perfect - which also has a part 2 linked!

Finally, we all need to show Skittle some love over at @mrsbuckybarnes1917 because she finished Plus-One Problems this week - 106k words!! An absolutely bonkers achievement 🙌

I think that was it for this week 😅 I mean, there's probably more. My notes app and my google doc reading lists are not it - I can't keep up! And trying to save stuff in my 'likes' doesn't work either. Also, I wrote this on my laptop this week not my phone. Much less stressful 😂

Happy reading, gang. Enjoy this bloody gorgeous gif I just found. I'll be rewatching it for the foreseeable.

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 19]]

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 and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 3.6k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

Frank, admittedly, isn’t as fit as he used to be. 

Running through the desert, carrying all his gear, used to be an everyday thing he could do no problem, but now, running through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he finds his breathing to be a bit labored. 

Then again, that might be because he’s pissed off. He, Jones, and Red were in the middle of setting up for a night of surveillance, something Red insisted they do, when the costumed idiot took off into the night without a word.

Normally, Red will give them the damn courtesy of letting them know before he disappears to protect his flock, so him just starting to bolt had Frank and Jones scooping up their shit and following. 

One thing Frank’s learned while working with Matt Murdock is to trust the bastard when it comes to his senses - when he says they need to clear out, there is usually a damn good reason to start running. But he has always given a reason or a head’s up - taking off like this must mean something is going down.

Jones gave up trying to keep pace a few blocks back, but Frank is determined to find out what the hell is going on. Red has the advantage of not hauling an additional fifty pounds of gear, and he has taken to parkouring over the roofs, so has gotten about a block and a half ahead. 

Frank can keep him in his sights, at least. He’s making a bee-line right towards Chelsea and that’s causing a pit to start to grow in the Marine’s stomach. Not many things override Red’s deep seeded commitment to his city and only one of those things resides outside Hell’s Kitchen. 

He adjusts his grip on his bag and forces his legs to move faster.  

The buildings around him shift from businesses to residential and about two blocks into the change, Frank knows what set the Devil off. 

His little girl is in the middle of the sidewalk, crying hysterically as her mother struggles on the ground against some fat fuck in a business suit. Frank only sees the attacker for a brief second before fury incarnate grabs him by his thick neck and slams him into the ground by Mom’s feet. The sound of a skull being cracked rings clear before it's covered by angry roars and the crunch and squelch of someone’s face being pounded in. 

By the Grace of all that is Holy, Red’s baby seems to not care her dad is about to kill a guy and scurries to her Mommy now that she is free. Frank kicks his ass into gear to get there before she can be traumatized anymore. 

He doesn’t know if the little girl recognizes him or not, but she doesn’t fight it when Frank picks her up. She clings to him desperately, burying her face against his neck and just sobbing. Instincts he forgot he had kick in and Frank bundles Minnie up in his duster, rocking her and trying to soothe her the best he can.

“Hey, hey, sweet girl, it's okay, it's okay. I gotcha. Everything’s gonna be okay, I gotcha.”

Frank cups the back of her head, careful to not tangle his fingers up in her curls and turns her away from her bloody mother. He needs to check on you, to make sure your wounds are something he can handle, and they don’t need to take you to the hospital, but he can’t do that with a crying toddler in his arms. 

“He hurt my Mommy!” The baby wails and his heart just about breaks. He wants so badly to join Red in stomping the piece of shit’s head into the pavement for endangering such a precious child, but he knows he can’t. She can’t witness any more than she already has. 

As often as Frank takes digs at Murdock for being an altar boy, he can’t let Red’s daughter see him lose control and step over the line he swore to never cross. He’d never forgive himself for causing that trauma for her. So, he hugs the little girl closer, kisses the top of her head, then grunts, “Red!”

Murdock stills mid-punch, his bloody fist raised and ready to continue his punishment. He looks feral - he is snarling, and gore has splashed up onto his face. He is shaking with rage and for a brief moment, Frank can see why he claims to have the Devil in him. Then, just as his little girl cries for her Mom again, control returns to him. Red tilts his head in a way Frank knows he heard something, then he pushes himself up into standing. 

Red rips his gloves off, throwing them to the ground, before taking the few steps to clear the gap between him and Frank. He barely starts to rasp out his daughter’s name before she’s turning in Frank’s arms and trying to throw herself to him, sobbing.

“DADDY!”

The noise Red makes is not at all human as he crushes his baby girl to his chest. A new round of loud tears start and Frank knows he has to work quickly before they start attracting attention. 

He pulls his duster off and throws it around Red’s shoulders, trying to hide his garish costume. Murdock seems to realize what he’s doing - he curls into it while ducking his horn-head and moving towards the shadows as he comforts his daughter. Frank can’t hear what he’s saying - his voice is low and the crying covers it - but honestly he doesn’t care.

He turns his attention back to your limp body on the ground, dropping down and letting his knowledge of field medicine take over.

Your forehead is bleeding pretty bad, but a quick assessment of the wound tells him it looks worse than it really is. You’ve got a pretty good gash, but it is shallow, and he doesn’t feel any bone breakage under it or swelling. You’ll need a few stitches, and a hell of a lot of ibuprofen, but you won’t need a hospital. You probably passed out from a combination of pain and exhaustion from an adrenaline rush. 

Still, Frank checks your neck before deciding to move you, just to make sure it's safe. 

As he starts to press his fingers along your spine, Jones finally makes her appearance, jogging up to the scene. 

“What the fuck?”

Frank barely looks up as he growls out his reply, focusing on his work while formulating a plan in his head, “It’s his kid.”

“Oh shit,” she replies, then after a beat, “Is he dead?”

Frank barely looks over to the beaten man in question - his chest is still rising and falling so that’s good enough for him. “Nah, not yet. Call it in - then meet us up in her apartment.” 

He rattles off the address and apartment number as he scoops you up into a fireman’s carry. He’s glad he doesn’t have far to go, because your weight, plus his gear, isn’t doing any favors to his back. As he gets you situated, Jones steps over to the attacker and nudges him in the side with her boot. His face isn’t recognizable as human, but that isn’t what she comments on. 

“What is that smell? Did he shit himself?”

“Fuck if I know, just call it in,” Frank grunts as he begins to trudge towards the right building. “Red, let's go!”

He knows he doesn’t have to explain the plan to Murdock - fucker heard him the first time. Red falls in line and by some miracle, his little girl’s crying has tampered down. She’s still crying - Frank would be more concerned if she wasn’t - but she’s tucked herself close to her Dad and seems to be just more upset than actively terrified. Frank’s got no idea what Murdock could have possibly done to soothe her, but he gives him props for doing it so damn fast. 

He can hear Jones calling for an ambulance as they enter into your building, and once in the lobby, Frank wastes no time barking another order, “Take off your helmet.” 

That earns him a glare, or what counts as a glare from the Devil, and Murdock uses one hand to pull his cowl off and stuffs it between his chest and his daughter before starting for the stairs. Frank is right at his heel and being so close means he can finally hear what Red is repeating to his girl. 

“Just listen to her heart, baby, everything’s okay. You know that sound. Just listen to her heart.”

Frank has a good guess what that means - his theory about passing out from exhaustion and pain is probably correct. If your heart isn’t in crazy panic ‘I’m dying’ mode, you should be fine after a good night’s rest. 

The only problem they encounter in the climb up to your apartment is your door. They have to do a weird song-and-dance of Frank turning so Red can get into your purse to get keys while also making sure Minnie can’t see your face. He hasn’t gotten the chance to clean you up in any way and he’s not going to let any little girl see her mom like that if he can help it. 

Once they are inside the apartment, Frank goes right to the couch to lay you out. As he does, he says over his shoulder, “I’m gonna call Curt.” 

Just because you don’t need a hospital doesn’t mean you shouldn’t see a medical professional. Frank knows what he is doing, but he does not trust himself to stitch up your face. Someone with delicate hands needs to do that, and the best person he knows for that is Curt. 

Murdock, however, disagrees. 

“Call Claire,” he counters firmly. 

Frank knows better than to argue - this is Murdock’s family and Frank ain’t got a dog in this fight. So, once you are down, and his gear is dropped, he fishes out his phone to call the feisty nurse. As he does, Red starts back towards what Frank assumes is the bedroom, talking in a sweet tone to his little girl, “It's okay, Frank’s gonna clean Mommy up, then we can go see her. She’s just got a scrape, everything’s okay.”

Frank focuses on his task at hand - as the line rings, he raids the kitchen for washcloths, bowls, and paper towels. He’s on his way back to the couch when Claire finally answers.

“What did he do this time?”

A little smile forms on his lips at her bluntness - he’s always liked Claire and her no-nonsense attitude. 

“Ain’t him. His girl got mugged, hit her head pretty good,” he explains, as he dips a washcloth into the water to start on cleaning you up. The cut on your forehead is still bleeding, but only a little by this point. He’ll have to retrace their steps to wipe away any blood droplets, so they don't leave a trail right to your door.

“So, take her to the ER.”

He hums at the response, then adds the crucial element, “His little girl saw it all.”

The line is silent for a good five seconds before Claire is swearing, “I’m on my way. How bad are we talking?”

He feels a little for the nurse at the moment - she’s always having to deal with Red broken and battered and is probably thinking she’s going to have to do some sort of impromptu surgery. He gives a rundown on your injuries, then adds, “Your stitches are nicer than mine.” 

“Exactly what a lady wants to hear. How’s the kid?” 

“Physically ok, but probably going to have nightmares for a while,” is his honest reply. There wouldn’t be an attacker left to pick up in an ambulance if Minnie had gotten hurt - he would have made sure of that no matter what Red would have said.

Claire groans in response, “I don’t know anything about child psychology, Frank.” 

“No one’s expecting you to.”

The nurse may be a miracle worker in the eyes of Red’s little vigilante group, but no one in this world is qualified to deal with all their mental problems.

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll be there. You’re lucky I’m on this side of town already.” 

Claire hangs up on him and Franks stuffs his phone back into his pocket. He’ll need to call Mirco later to set up a camera on your building, something similar to what he’s got for Karen, and arrange for some background checks on the neighbors. The area seems to be working class just trying to get by, but isn’t that just all of the city now? Even if one drunk-off-his-ass guy just made some stupid decision, it put you and the kid in danger and that is a no-go in Frank’s book. As much Red will huff and puff and growl, his family falls under Frank’s sphere of protection and that isn’t something Frank skimps on. 

So, a full security upgrade is in your near future. 

But that is something he’ll figure out the details for later on. Right now, he puts his full attention in cleaning you up. 

The worst of it is the cut on your forehead. He folds a washcloth and sets it on the wound to help the remaining bleeding stop, then moves onto your cheeks. You’ve got some gravel stuck there, but he doesn’t see any glass or metal. There’s some bruising, but he doesn’t think it will be anything to fuss about - it will fade away within a day or so. He’s seen worse coloring on a hickey. The bastard who attacked you didn’t seem like he knew what he was doing, or he was too sloshed out of his mind to be coordinated.

 Overall, you are just pretty banged up. 

But nonetheless, Frank takes care to make sure it just looks like you are resting, even putting the throw blanket left on the couch over you to hide the grime stains on your clothes. 

Red and his creepy bat ears must be listening, because as soon as he goes to dump the bloody cleaning water, he’s coming out of the bedroom with Minnie. She’s still in his arms, clinging to his neck like a koala, but her tears have stopped. She’s still sniffling, though.

Frank hangs back as the little girl is brought to her Mommy and his heart damn near breaks again when she starts talking. 

“She’s just sleeping?” 

“She’s just sleeping,” Red confirms. He carefully kneels down beside you and makes slow, exaggerated movements as he puts his hand over your heart. “You can feel, too. Just sleeping.”

He watches as the tiny little girl untangles herself from her father and stretches to put her hand next to his. She scrunches up her nose and gets a look Frank has seen a million times on Red. 

“Boom. Boom. Boom.”

“Exactly, boom. Boom. boom. The same heart-noises Mommy makes when she sleeps.” 

They stay like that for a few seconds before little hands go up to your face and Minnie is examining your cuts.

“He hurt Mommy,” she says so softly that Frank wants to stomp back downstairs and unload his Glock into the asshole. “She has ouchies.” She turns so quickly in Red’s arm that Frank sees him jump just a little - probably still on high alert - and she slaps both her hands on his cheeks, “You have to kissy it better.”

Her voice is so serious and demanding, he’s surprised Red doesn’t instantly comply. Instead, he kisses his little one’s forehead. 

“A doctor is going to come and make sure all her ouchies are taken care of. Then we can kiss it better.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Her curls bounce as the little girl whips around to address Frank, ordering in the same voice, “You have to kissy it better, too.”

He damn well knows better than to argue with a three year old girl - Lisa could put him in his place like no one's business - so Frank simply nods with a, “Yes, ma’am.” Red doesn't look thrilled at the agreement, but he's not the one who's opinion Frank cares about.

Her brown eyes sus him out, narrowing a fraction before he passes whatever criteria she has and Minnie turns back to her mother and father. “When is she gonna wake up?”

“She'll wake up when she's done resting,” Murdock gently advises. “She needs lots of rest right now.” 

Frank knows what question is coming before it is even asked. It is the universal toddler question. 

“Why?”

Red, it seems, needs to spend more time with his kid because he looks completely baffled by the question. He repeats the word, which just gets parroted back at him, and Frank can practically hear Lisa and Frankie chanting along with her. 

Why? 

Why? 

Why?

Why would you need lots of rest in a way a terrified toddler would get it? There's a slight hint of panic in Red’s sightless eyes as he fights to find an answer and Frank takes pity on him. 

He steps forward and asks the little girl, “Have you ever played really hard then needed a nap after?”

Attention swings back to him but this time he is prepared for it. Minnie considers his question, then nods, and Frank gives her a soft, friendly smile. “Same thing, sweetheart. Your Mommy’s body worked really hard and now she needs a nap.” 

“She needs a nap,” the baby replies and then, to his amusement, proceeds to stuff her fingers into her mouth and suck on them. He's got no idea what that means, but Red’s shoulders relax a fraction, so he assumes it's a good thing. 

He wonders if she's starting to get tired now that the action is over. He can't imagine why they were out in the first place, but he has to guess it was to get something from the store. That is his experience with bringing a baby in their pajamas out at night - there was something needed that couldn't wait until morning. That would also explain the black bag in your purse.

He looks to Red and his girl - Murdock has sat himself on the floor beside the couch, facing you, and Minnie is tucked in his lap, sucking her fingers still. Both of their focus seems to be on you. So, Frank lets curiosity get the better of him and he goes to snoop. 

There’s a bottle of Pedialyte nestled inside the bag, and by the tiny bit missing, he has a feeling he knows who it is for. He looks from it, over to the sweet child sitting in Red’s lap, and decides she probably still needs it if her mom went out in the middle of the night for it. So, he turns his snooping to the kitchen and opens and closes cabinets until he finds the one holding sippy cups. All of them have Braille labels on them and he briefly wonders what each says before grabbing one with Big Bird on it. He gives it a good rinse before filling it up halfway with the blue liquid.

He removes his tactical vest before he heads back to the living room. He thinks of it more of a sign for Red than Minnie. The little girl might be scared of the skull art, but he hopes it will help Murdock relax. He’s putting on a good face for his daughter, but Frank can see the tension in his jaw and how on edge and angry he must be, and he can’t be blamed. He knows how emotional Red can get and he’s surprised he’s managing to keep it together - so subtly letting him know ‘there’s no danger here’ and Frank isn’t a threat to his family might just get him to stop grinding his teeth. 

He approaches slowly and somewhat loudly, while holding out the sippy cup, “Here you go, sweetie.”

Minnie blinks up at him with those wide brown eyes and he can see the exhaustion starting to creep in - getting a bottle might just knock her out. He has to lean down so she can take it, but as soon as she does, her hand drops from her mouth and she politely mumbles, “Thank you.” 

“You’re very welcome, sweetheart.”

“What is it?” Murdock questions, nose twitching to try to figure out the smell. Frank doubts he’s familiar with the drink, but soon he’ll have it memorized.

“Blue Pedi-lyte,” the baby grumbles before the spout goes right into her mouth and she starts to nurse it. Almost instantly she starts leaning back against Red’s chest and Frank knows right away she’ll be asleep within minutes. 

He checks his phone as he goes to take a seat at the kitchen table. Claire should be here any minute and it's a toss up if Jones comes up or not. He’ll wait until everything is all settled to head out - he does want to make sure you are okay and he’s not going to leave Claire alone with an upset kid and her Dad-devil. 

Frank brings up his texts to Karen to start typing out that the op is a bust, when Murdock’s quiet voice interrupts his train of thought.

“Thank you, Frank.”

“Nothing to thank me for, Red. It’s your family. You don’t gotta explain that to me.”

“Still, thank you, Frank. I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Murdock.”

---

a/n: frank has entered the chat and assumed Alpha Dad role. his family now.

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath 

 @allllium

@anehkael

 @nennia-2000 @seasonofthenerd @abucketofweird  @mattmurdockstateofmind @imagineswritersblog @hazelhavoc @smile-child-13 @allst4rsfall @hashcakes @kezibear @mapleaye @sammanna @gamingfeline @moon-glades @nightwitherspring @phoenix666stuff @dare-devil

@ladyoflynx @hobiebrowns-wife @sarcasm-n-insomnia @lillycore

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare 

@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

@

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets 

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @nommingonfood @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

@

two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04  @ astridstark13

 @lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

[bluelotuswrites]

Some Matt Murdock fic recs because I've realized I don't promote him as much as Jason Todd :P

@ijustreallylovedaredevil has some good Matt-centric fics. The Murdock Mystery (Redux) A crossover fic with House M.D. Matt gets admitted to the hospital after mysteriously passing out, and for once it's not because of his nightly activities! At least in this one, it's not. It's a rewrite fic of the same premise, but different causes, so it was a very entertaining read. Not Your Damsel. Another one of those fics where Matt gets saved by the Avengers as his civilian persona in different scenarios. Natasha is the only one who knows, and fics the whole thing funny as hell. Faithful Unto... Matt gets shot by a cop while as a civilian. Warning for police brutality. It's a really good fic.

Our Daily Bread by torrential. Matt becomes a baker and opens up a bakery instead of becoming a lawyer. It becomes extremely popular to the point that the heroes and vigilantes of New York have taken interest in it.

Matt Murdock vs the Media by @jeannetterankin. Super funny fic of Matt Murdock accidentally becoming a media sensation by thwarting a villain's plan while in his civilian persona. Go read it, it's short but great.

@prettybirdy979 has a couple good ones that involve Matt meeting the Avengers in hilarious scenarios. Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost (But Matt's Not Wandering; He's Just Lost) Matt gets lost in Avengers Tower while on the way to a meeting with Stark's lawyers. Very funny. Look the Devil in the Face The Avengers think Matt is the actual Devil. Hilarity ensues. My Guardian Avengers (Can I Get a Refund?) has the Avengers trying to protect Nelson, Murdock & Page law firm from someone that's trying to get them to drop a case they're working on. Matt gets very irritated from the constant interventions.

Matt Murdock is a Really Good Lawyer by Seagull18. A two-shot series of Matt being a Really Good Lawyer. First fic has him helping out various Avengers stuck in legal situations as Matt Murdock. When asked how he's so good, he uses the same excuses of being a really good lawyer. The second one has Matt's perspective of No Way Home after claiming that his excuse works every time.

Shadowboxing by @thekristen999. Steve boxes at the same gym Matt does at night, and they become friends.

Garbage Day by @frownyalfred. This is technically Jason Todd-centric, but it has him meeting Hawkeye and Daredevil after he got beat up and thrown into the same dumpster the former two were in.

What Almost Was by spaghettixday. Bit of a sad one, but it's a 5+1 fic where 5 different families tried to adopt Matt and the one time the Nelsons succeeded.

They Do It With Mirrors by Prochytes. The Defenders get trapped in the Mirror Dimension by Dr. Strange for forced bonding time. They can only escape by working together.

it's cold out here in the trees by @deniigi. Matt gets asked to be interviewed about his dad for a documentary. A wonderful angst-filled introspection of Matt's relationship with his father.

Cousins AU by @sammyheroes. Fun little AU of Matt and Peter being cousins, and how that relationship influences some of Spidey's development in the MCU.

JJ and DD walking into a knitting shop by @orangechickenpillow. Matt and Jessica Jones end up bonding while knitting. Based off the behind the scenes photo of the two character's actors knitting while on set.

Blind Catholic Ninja Orphan by @loving-jack-kelly. Matt becomes a meme on the Internet when someone makes a tweet reminiscing about smol blind Catholic orphan Matt Murdock dealing out crazy ninja moves. It spirals from there.

The Devil You Know by Beguile. Matt gets taken, and the Defenders are the ones that have to rescue him.

Murdocks Never Quit by Lluvia_Heroes (Lluvia185) and Pikkulef. Instead of dying outright, Jack Murdock was in a coma for 20 years. He ends up waking up, much to Matt's delight, but now they have to come to terms with many things.

Cross-Examination by @ceterisparibus116. You've probably heard about the author from their post-No Way Home fic where Peter is helped by Matt, Hope (which you should also read). But I loveeeee their one-shot of Matt being a lawyer. It's short but amazing, and if you're someone that wants a glimpse into the more legal side of Matt's character, go read this fic. Ceteris is also a lawyer, so that's why this fic is so phenomenal.

[dyns33]

Devil may care

I needed to write a Dad Matt, because I love Dad Matt stories, this man would be the best and the worst of a father for so many reasons.

Oh and Born Again never happened here. Nope, nope.

Y/N had only had two great loves in her life.

The first, Matt Murdock, during their college years. They weren't really together. Matthew was gallant, but he didn't want to commit to a serious relationship, yet they saw each other regularly.

His best friend often teased him when he saw them together, that it was ridiculous to refuse to name what they were when it was so obvious, which made him groan.

Without going into detail, Matt had told her about his childhood, his mother's abandonment, his father's death, the loss of his vision, his ex. He had a hard time trusting after all that, getting attached to people.

Y/N had tried to understand, to accept. But she was in love, she could feel it, and it wasn't healthy to continue like this if he wouldn't agree to give her more. She'd tried to talk to him about it after graduation, and of course, he'd immediately shut down. That night, it was over.

Three months later, Y/N met the second love of her life. A stunning, surprising entrance, after several weeks of vomiting in the morning and being tired.

"… I can't be pregnant."

"Oh, but you are !" the nurse repeated happily. "The blood test is infallible, you're having a baby ! Congratulations ! The daddy will be delighted !"

Having not been in a relationship since graduating, she didn't have to think twice to figure out who the dad was, and that he wouldn't be delighted.

Y/N could have called Matt. If he hadn't answered, she could also have called Foggy, who had wished her well after the breakup, with a sad smile. They always said they were going to work together, avocados at law.

But he didn't want a serious relationship, much less a child. However, as a good Catholic and a man of honor, Matthew would take responsibility. Unhappy, stuck, he would agree to support her. She loved him too much to inflict that on him.

It was too late to have an abortion, otherwise she might have considered it. There was always adoption too. It wouldn't be easy raising a child alone, with her job and her tiny apartment.

But when that little boy stared at her with his big eyes, Y/N knew she would never leave him. It was love at first sight.

She named him Jack. It came out without thinking, a connection to his father and grandfather, whom he would never meet. He looked a lot like him : the hair, the eyes, the nose. That mischievous little smile, which you couldn't refuse anything.

As expected, it wasn't always easy, despite the help of her family and friends. But she didn't regret it. Every moment with her son was wonderful.

Walks in the park, trips to the pool, birthdays. Even grocery shopping became a game with him, talking to everyone and jumping up and down the aisles, asking to buy everything.

Normally, he stayed close to her, obeying, but that day, the five-year-old boy was probably in an adventurous mood. Y/N had turned her head for a few seconds to grab some cereal and he had disappeared. Panicked, she had checked everywhere, calling his name louder and louder, until she spotted him talking to a stranger.

Except it wasn't a stranger.

If you could say he had changed, it was only to point out that he was even more handsome, with his suit, red glasses, and neatly styled hair.

Head tilted to one side, gripping his cane, Matthew Murdock made a funny face as he concentrated on the long story the little boy was telling him.

He couldn't know. He had no way of knowing, and Y/N slowly approached to hug his son, whispering an apology, hoping he wouldn't recognize her voice.

"Y/N ! No way, what a coincidence ! It's been so long, you… Oh, hello, little man ! Is that your son ?!"

"… Hello Foggy. Yes."

"He's adorable ! Matt, he's adorable ! You should see him ! It's funny, he looks a lot like you, it's like…"

Despite what some might think because of his flashy appearance, Foggy was smart. His sentence cut off abruptly, his smile frozen, and he looked from Jack to Matt, and finally to Y/N, fully understanding what was happening. Forgetting her groceries, Y/N stammered excuses to quickly get out of the store with her son, not giving them time to react.

Perhaps she should have known this would happen when she moved near Hell's Kitchen. Matthew was proud of his neighborhood, born and raised, and never wanted to leave. But it had the cheapest apartments, allowing for a room for Jack.

Maybe he hadn't understood. Maybe he only suspected, but he would choose to forget what had just happened.

But Y/N knew Matt. He was stubborn, he was curious, and above all, he wanted to do good.

So it wasn't really a surprise to find him on her doorstep. She wondered how he'd found her address, but three days of panic attacks seemed about right for him before he presented himself to her.

"… Can I come in ?" he asked nervously.

"Of course. Jack's napping."

"You named him Jack ?"

His lips trembled, betraying his emotion. It touched him that she had chosen his father's name for their son. He admired his father.

Not knowing where to begin, Y/N invited him to sit down, offering him some tea so she could gain more time to find the right words. Beginning with an apology seemed logical.

"I didn't want to force this on you. I won't force it on you. I'm not asking you for anything. If you wanted to see him, I wouldn't object, but I would understand if you…"

"Of course I want to see him." Matt said, his voice full of confidence. "I want to be there for him. For you."

There it was, the famous duty of sacrifice she dreaded so much. Y/N bit the inside of her mouth, unsure how to push him away without hurting or insulting him. Because it was really nice of him to want to be there. But he hadn't asked for all this, it wasn't his fault. It wasn't anyone's fault.

"Look, Matt… You don't have to."

"It's my decision."

"I know, and I thank you. I'm sure you'd be wonderful with Jack, that he'd adore you, but… You don't love me. You didn't want anything serious, that's why we broke up, and why I didn't call you when I found out I was pregnant. I didn't want to put you through that. Think carefully, because if I tell him you're his father, then it'll be forever."

Matt listened patiently to her speech, swallowing each word and nodding, before placing his hand on hers.

"I don't need to think."

"Matthew…" she sighed.

"I loved you. I… I want you to know that. I was young, stupid, scared. I'm probably still pretty stupid and scared, Foggy told me that often. He yelled at me a lot when I left you, the biggest mistake of my life. I thought it was for the best. That I didn't deserve you, that I was bound to lose you or hurt you. Y/N… I don't feel obligated at all."

It was too good to be true. He wasn't a liar, she knew that. She'd always been able to trust him, always count on him. But as a mother, Y/N had to be careful.

Swallowing back a sob, she simply squeezed Matt's hand, and he tenderly stroked her fingers.

After a long silence, he resumed his thoughtful pout, indicating that maybe she wasn't entirely wrong to be on her guard.

He mumbled, before saying there was something he needed to tell her before deciding if she wanted him in her life.

Jokingly, she asked if he was married, which made him smile. No, there wasn't anyone else. Good thing, but that didn't mean he wasn't about to tell her something huge.

"So… I… I'm Dar…"

"Mommy ?"

Rubbing his still sleepy eyes, Jack trotted over to the couch to grab Y/N's leg. Frozen on his spot, mouth open, Matt didn't finish his big revelation, flustered.

"Who's that ?" the child asked in a small voice.

"Um… It's, uh…"

"I'm one of your mom's friends. We met at the store, remember ?"

"Oh, yeah."

Jack then flashed a big smile, considering his mom's friends to be his friends, and so he let go of Y/N to cuddle Matt's leg, gripping tightly like a little koala.

This could have panicked Matthew even more, but he couldn't help his beaming smile, patting his son's head before turning his attention back to Y/N, his face lit up with happiness.

They would take their time to catch up, then tell Jack the news, but everything would be fine, she could feel it right now.

Matt would also have to finish telling her his secret, but that couldn't be that important, right ?

[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.

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[matt-murdockk]

Killshot 0.1 | Welcome to New York

it's been waiting for you

series masterlist | full masterlist

matt murdock x black widow! reader | fluff | words: 2.7k | fic from reader's pov

summary: Killshot, meet Nelson, Murdock, and Page (ft. a very special appearance from Yelena Belova— we'll be seeing a lot of her).

I don't think there was ever a place I could call home. Be it the constant torture, shit ton of missions and moving around or whatever, I either never stuck around at one place long enough to call it home, or when I did, it didn't exactly go well. The closest thing I had to a home was my family. Not my mom and dad or whatever, never met them, don't care. My family, as in, the people who made even hell feel okay. The Avengers.

New York chewed me up and spat me out more times than I can count. I’ve bled in these streets. I’ve fought aliens, assassins, war criminals, gods. I’ve lost friends. I've lost Natasha. I've lost Tony. I've lost... a version of myself I don't think I’ll ever get back.

And still— here I am.

You’d think I’d run far away from this place. Most people would. But there’s something about this city. Something about the way it doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t care what you’ve done or who you were before. As long as you keep your head down and pay rent on time, New York minds its own damn business.

It’s loud. It’s grimy. It smells weird. But it’s honest. And after everything, I think that’s what I wanted most— something that didn’t pretend to be something it’s not.

So I found a shoebox apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. It’s not much. Leaky ceiling, noisy neighbors, the usual city soundtrack of sirens and someone yelling outside at 2 a.m. But it’s mine. My furniture. My mugs. My books. My life.

And now— my bookstore.

Yeah. A fucking bookstore. Can you believe it?

Turns out peace and quiet isn't a myth. It's just extremely underrated and criminally underfunded. But I saved up. I fought for it. And now, every morning, I unlock the door to a space that smells like coffee and paper and safety. It's quaint, it's cozy, it's so goddamn peaceful.

It’s the first thing I’ve done for myself in a long, long time.

And for once, I think I’m okay.

——————————————————————————————————

It was just past nine when I got to the bookstore— keys in one hand, half-spilled coffee in the other, hoodie sleeves still damp from where I accidentally elbowed the sink while washing my hands. So yeah, a normal morning. I almost tripped over a cracked bit of sidewalk again— mental note: report that or, I don’t know, start lifting your feet when you walk, I guess.

The shutters were halfway up, like always. I kept forgetting to pull them all the way down before I left. It wasn’t like anyone was dying to break into a place full of paperback classics and dusty murder mysteries, anyway.

I was halfway through unlocking the front door when I heard someone clear their throat behind me.

“Hey— bookstore?”

I turned around and found myself facing a woman with a leather satchel slung across her body and a smile that was… genuine. Not that fake retail smile. Not the “I’m-being-polite” one either. Just— nice. Blonde hair, neatly styled. Sharp eyes, a little tired. She looked like someone who saw everything and didn’t let it startle her.

“That’s what the sign says,” I said, glancing over my shoulder at the window decal I painted myself in a fit of DIY confidence and three cups of coffee. In retrospect, that looks awful. What the fuck was I thinking? Remind me to get one professionally made, yikes.

She smiled, holding out a hand. “Karen Page. I work next door.”

I shook her hand and followed her nod toward the office just to the right of my shop. Nelson, Murdock & Page. Huh. I’d seen the name a few times, but I hadn’t stopped by yet.

“Lawyers,” I said, accepting her handshake. “Brave of you to admit that before ten a.m.”

She laughed, warm and easy. “We try to keep a low profile.”

“I’m (Y/N),” I said. “Owner-slash-cashier-slash-bookshelf-assembler. Opened the place last month. Still figuring out if I need a real receipt printer or if handwritten notes give it a rustic vibe.”

“Well, it already looks amazing,” Karen said, peering through the window at the front table. “You’ve got ‘Little Women’ sitting next to a hitman memoir. Bold move.”

I shrugged. “I like balance.”

“Hell’s Kitchen could use more of that,” she said, and something about the way she said it made me pause. Like she knew.

Karen shifted her bag higher on her shoulder. “We’re next door— Nelson, Murdock, and Page. If you need anything, or just decent coffee, come by.” A pause. Then, more casual, “Or if you just wanna talk. No pressure.”

I blinked. “Thanks. That’s… actually really kind. Seriously, everyone here’s been so nice. I didn’t expect that.”

Karen raised an eyebrow. “In Hell’s Kitchen? Seriously?” Then she laughed, shaking her head. “Man, you must’ve moved in on a good week.” I did not want to explore what that meant. Nope. Only peace in my life starting now. Hell's kitchen better become my happy place or else.

And with that, she turned and headed into the law office, leaving me alone in front of my shop, coffee gone cold in my hand and a faint, weird smile pulling at my mouth.

For a second, I just stood there.

This place… it was starting to feel like something.

Not home. Not yet.

But something. And I liked it.

As my train of thought arrived at a halt, I went in and let myself glance around the shop.

Stacks of books waiting to be shelved. The soft creak of the wooden floor. The faint smell of cinnamon from the candle I left burning yesterday. It was quiet— still. That kind of still that sits on your chest but doesn’t press down. The kind you could almost mistake for peace if you weren’t paying too much attention.

And then the door burst open.

I mean burst.

The bell above it didn’t jingle— it screamed for its dear life.

“HELLOOOO, LITTLE BOOKSTORE!”

I nearly dropped my coffee.

There she was. Sunglasses. Combat boots. Too much attitude for 9:00 a.m. And a wide, shit-eating grin like she was about to punch me or hug me and hadn’t decided which.

“Yelena,” I said flatly, setting my cup down before it could tremble out of my hand. “Jesus Christ.”

She threw her arms out like I should be applauding. “I heard my favorite little assassin opened a bookstore, and I had to see it with my own two judgmental eyes.”

“You mean the bookstore I told you about four months ago?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t believe you,” she said, striding in like she owned the place. “I thought you were definitely joking, but this? You? This is… cute.”

“You’re cute,” I muttered under my breath.

“I know,” she said immediately, already wandering toward the front table. “Wow. You really did it. You actually retired.”

“Don’t say it like that,” I said, watching her poke at the table display like she was searching for hidden weapons. “It makes me sound old and boring.”

“You are old and boring,” she said sweetly. “But this is adorable. Like— look at this. Aw, paperbacks. So soft. So non-lethal.”

I rolled my eyes. “Alright. Why are you here?”

Yelena blinked, all faux innocence. “What, I can’t drop in just to say hi?”

“You don’t do anything ‘just’ to say hi.”

She plopped onto the arm of one of the reading chairs. “Okay, fine. I’m genuinely here just to hang out. No weapons. No missions. No ulterior motives. Okay, maybe like one weapon. Two tops. Three if we're being technical.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Missed me, huh?”

“I’m not going to say yes and let you gloat.”

A slow smile crept up my face. “You know you love me.”

She shrugged, picking up a book like it hadn’t just gotten incredibly obvious in here. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”

I leaned against the counter, watching her pretend to read the blurb on the back cover upside down.

Peace and quiet, my ass.

But honestly?

I’d missed this too.

——————————————————————————————————

Cut to: greasy takeout containers, chopsticks in hand, legs kicked up on mismatched stools in the back room of the store.

Yelena slurped a noodle and pointed at me with her chopsticks like she’d just remembered something important. “Wait. Have you met the hot lawyer next door yet?”

I blinked. “Karen?”

“No, the hot one.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Karen is hot.”

Yelena rolled her eyes. “Not that one. The other hot one. The tall one. Broody. Looks like he hasn’t slept since 2004. That one.”

“I haven’t met anyone else,” I said. “Just Karen. She was really sweet.”

“You need to meet the lawyer,” she said, like it was an emergency. “How have you not met the lawyer?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I’m running a bookstore and not casing the neighbors for eligible brooding bachelors?”

She popped another dumpling in her mouth. “I’m just saying. You’re doing your whole normal civilian thing now. He fits your aesthetic. Tortured, morally conflicted, probably has a tragic backstory— he’s perfect for you.”

I gave her a look. “Why do you know this? And how do you know this?”

Yelena pointed at herself, smug. “Baby girl, this is what I do.”

I groaned. “You are unbelievable.”

She grinned. “You’re welcome.”

I shoved a takeout box at her. “Eat your food and shut up.”

She did. But she was still smiling like she knew something I didn’t. And I fucking hate that look because that means she already knows she's right.

——————————————————————————————————

I was rearranging the front table display— again— because apparently, that was my new favourite hobby when I didn’t want to deal with actual work. My knee hit the corner of the shelf and I cursed under my breath, just as the bell over the door jingled.

I didn’t even look up. “Yelena, if that’s you again, I swear to God—”

“It is,” came her unapologetic voice. “But this time, I brought friends.”

That got my attention.

I looked up and, sure enough, there she was. Standing just inside the door like she owned the place, grinning like a menace, flanked by two men I definitely hadn’t seen before. One looked like he'd be someone’s favourite lawyer— pressed suit, hair barely out of place. The other stood slightly behind, cane in hand, expression unreadable. Curious, but guarded.

“Friends?” I repeated, squinting. “That’s new.”

“They’re real,” Yelena said, completely unbothered. “I checked.”

“You check everyone.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m here.”

She turned like she was introducing royalty. “This is Foggy. He talks a lot but somehow it works. And this,” she gestured to the man with the cane, “is Matt. Doesn’t talk a lot, but when he does, you should listen.”

I looked between them. “Lawyers?”

“Unfortunately,” Foggy said, smiling like this wasn’t his first time deflecting that. “We work next door. Karen told us you opened up shop, figured we’d stop by before she shamed us into it.”

I tilted my head. “Ah. So this is a guilt visit.”

“Strong coffee and guilt,” Matt said. His voice was low— smooth in a way that made it hard to read. “Two things we run on.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Fair enough. I’m (Y/N). I own the place. Unless Yelena somehow tricked me out of it and this is an intervention.”

Yelena held up both hands. “Hey, I only scam warlords now. Relax.”

Foggy was already halfway to a display table. “This is cool. Real cozy. I didn’t even know this was here.”

“Yeah, it’s new,” I said, sliding behind the counter like it would ground me. “Still figuring things out.”

Matt trailed his fingers along the shelf edge. It was subtle, but it felt… intentional. Like he was reading more than the titles.

“Quiet in here,” he said.

“Don’t jinx it.”

Yelena dropped into the chair by the window like it was hers. “I told you this place was legit.”

“You also told me there’d be pastries,” Foggy said, eyeing the plate beside the register.

“There were!” she said, pointing at the two sad, leftover cookies. “You’re just late.”

I caught Matt’s hand hover over a spine before he let it drop.

Foggy glanced over. “He does that in every bookstore, by the way. It’s freaky.”

Matt turned slightly toward me. “It’s relaxing.”

I glanced at his hand tracing the edge of the shelf. “What is? The books?”

“The quiet,” he said. “The way everything’s… still.”

I nodded. “Yeah, well. Kind of the point. Some of us open bookstores instead of going to therapy.”

He smiled — soft, but real. “You might be onto something.”

“You say that like it’s the first time I’ve been right today.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, just under his breath. “I’m reserving judgment.”

“Careful,” I said, tilting my head. “You come back too often, I’m gonna start charging you rent.”

Matt turned toward me slightly more, something curious behind his expression. “Is that your way of asking me to come back?”

I shrugged, meeting his gaze. “Is that your way of dodging the question?”

His smile widened, and just for a second, it felt like the rest of the room went quiet for real.

Yelena, of course, ruined it.

“Okay, wow. Should I leave? Or are we all just pretending this isn’t happening?”

I didn’t look away from Matt. “You could pretend harder.”

He grinned. “I think I’ll take that as an invitation.”

I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling too.

He smiled— just slightly. Not the kind that asked for attention. The kind that slipped past your guard before you realized it. I caught it anyway. The curse of being observant— you catch everything.

"Wait so, how is it that you've already met Yelena?"

“He represented me once,” she said lightly, walking to the counter like she owned the place. “Long story. There were knives involved. And some yelling. Matt’s very good at not looking surprised in a courtroom.”

I raised my eyebrows. That feels like something she should've told me earlier, but I let it slide cause I was in a forgiving mood.

Matt smiled faintly. “It was… a unique case.”

“I was innocent,” Yelena added. “Mostly.”

Foggy sighed. “She was technically not guilty.”

“See?”

“So how do you know her?” Matt asked, nodding toward Yelena.

I blinked. “Yelena?”

“Please don't say prison,” Foggy added.

“Classified,” Yelena chimed.

I deadpanned. “She showed up in my life one day and never left.”

Matt nodded like he wasn’t sure if I was serious. Which was fair.

“She’s the clingy one,” Yelena added helpfully.

“I’m literally not.”

She gave me a look from behind Foggy’s back. One of those looks. Eyebrows up, lips twitching. She might as well have yelled "He’s cute" across the room. I stared at her. She winked.

Foggy looked between the group of us, grinning. “God, I missed normal human interaction.”

“This is your idea of normal?” I asked.

Matt smiled again, a little more noticeable this time. “You get used to it.”

We didn’t talk about anything important, but it didn’t feel awkward either. Just easy. No pressure. No masks, surprisingly. Just enough banter to feel human.

They didn’t stay long— lawyer things to do, apparently— but as Matt reached the door, he turned back.

“Nice meeting you,” he said.

“Likewise,” I replied.

He gave a small nod— one of those subtle ones that meant something even if you weren’t sure what.

The door closed behind them.

Yelena immediately turned to me, arms crossed and smug.

“Well?”

I shrugged. “They seem alright.”

“You think Matt’s hot.”

“I think you should get out.”

“I think I’m gonna hang out by the window in case he comes back.”

I sighed and threw a cookie at her.

She caught it without blinking. “You know you love me.”

God help me— she wasn’t wrong.

I watched her kick her boots up and settle in like she planned on moving in. And yeah, it wasn’t quiet anymore. Not the kind I thought I wanted. But when I glanced back at the door— just for a second— I didn’t mind it so much.

Not anymore.

Mental note: Get some books in braille.